Highlander Medieval 06 - Her Highland Hero (12 page)

She looked up at him, her eyes blurry with tears. “Where…where is he?”

“I dinna know for certain. Once I learned of this treachery, I had to ensure you would be safe.”

“Lord Wynfield…”

“He thought it best to send you to stay with King Henry’s court. That he would keep you safe. I feared you and your escort might be attacked by the same men who killed Lord Pembroke on your journey there. Had you found your way there without incident, I suspect whosoever this was would seek to have your hand, offering payment to King Henry for the honor.”

Every thought tumbled over the next. She was so distraught, she couldn’t grasp some of what Marcus was saying. “When…when you spoke of who my people were to the Kerr, why did you not mention my father is Lord Pembroke? Were you afraid he would warn Lord Wynfield I was not returning to Pembroke Castle?”

“He may have wondered how I had made you my wife, or if I had truly done so.”

She brushed away tears trailing down her cheeks and frowned at him. “You should not have said I was your wife.”

“Ah, lass.” Marcus pulled her tight against his body.

“I cannot believe it. My father…” She choked back a sob.

“‘Tis true. If I could have done anything to have prevented it, you know I would have. But now that we are here, how would I have explained your presence? Besides, I had already asked for your hand in marriage. Lord Pembroke wouldna accept. Now you are free to marry me.”

“I have no say in it either?”

His dark brows deeply furrowing, Marcus said, “Dinna tell me you dinna want me now.”

She couldn’t answer him. He knew how much she loved him. She always had and always would. She wanted no other man for her husband. Even now, she knew it wasn’t her choice. She frowned up at him. “I am an earl’s daughter. What if King Henry willna allow me to wed you? What if ‘tis the same as the trouble we had with my father?”

Marcus growled out his next words. “You are no more an earl’s daughter than I am the king’s son. Your da was Laird Laren MacLauchlan, but he wouldna recognized the bairn your mother was carrying as his own because he was married to another woman at the time.”

Isobel’s mouth gaped, and she slowly closed it. Feeling lightheaded, she couldn’t believe any of it. “You are wrong! ‘Tis not true!”

“I am sorry, lass,” Marcus said, gentling his words, stroking her arm, holding her close. He kissed the top of her head. “I didna wish to be the one to have to tell you all of this. But if it means you are free to wed me, I wished for you to know.”

Despite the upset to hear all the shocking news—her father was dead and he wasn’t even her father—she knew in her heart Marcus would never lie to her. She realized then he hadn’t cared one whit about her birthright. He had known all along and he had still wanted her. Though she feared King Henry would not allow her to do as she pleased, not with the earl’s title and lands at stake. Would he even believe she wasn’t Lord Pembroke’s daughter?

“Have you proof?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, more tears trailing down her cheeks as she recalled the last time she had seen her father, looking worried at her at the table when they broke their fast that morn before he left on business.

Marcus narrowed his blue eyes as he stared at her. “You need proof?”

She shook her head. “Not for me. But without it, I am afraid King Henry will not believe us.”

Marcus’s gaze softened and he tightened his hold on her again, as if saying she was his no matter what. And she wished it with all her heart.

“Your mother confided in mine. Your true da also kens the truth. That is another situation I am concerned about. What if he learns of your da’s death and Laren wants to use you as a way to tie his clan to another. He has no bairns of his own. But know this, lass,” Marcus said, “you
are
mine.”

So shocked at all the news, Isobel couldn’t believe Marcus’s words. She knew in her heart he wouldn’t lie to her about her father, and she suspected he wouldn’t have even told her the truth if he hadn’t believed she needed to hear it, but she was still having a hard time grasping any of it.

She bit her lip and turned her gaze from his worried one and stared into the fire. Her father, the only one she had ever known, was dead. And he hadn’t even been her
real
father.

“Did he know?” she asked so quietly, she wondered if Marcus had even heard her. Had her mother pretended that Isobel was Lord Pembroke’s own child?

“Aye, lass. He kenned your mother was with bairn, that she had no husband, and that she was hiding her…condition. But he had been smitten with her from the first and despite being a nobleman of Norman blood, he had loved her and wanted to marry her and call her bairn his own. My mother told me so.”

Isobel wiped away tears she couldn’t fight. He’d been a good father to her, his only fault in stubbornly refusing to allow her to choose Marcus as her husband. Mayhap because he didn’t want to lose her, afraid she’d vanish into the Highlands, live their way of life, no longer an Englishwoman, when in truth she’d never had a drop of Norman or English blood.

“Who else knew? Did my blood father truly know? And Lord Pembroke’s people?”

She had wondered why some had not treated her mother or her with the respect owed a countess and her daughter. She had suspected some of the animosity was due to her mother being a Highlander. Now Isobel wondered if everyone had known the truth. That not only was her mother not of English birth, but neither was her daughter. But mostly that she hadn’t been the earl’s daughter in the first place.

“I canna say.” Marcus didn’t remark again about her blood father, she noted.

“So if others knew that he was not my father, Mary had to have known then. Why did she not tell me?” She felt her skin chill when Marcus didn’t answer right away.

She could never go back there, knowing what she now knew.

If an English or Norman nobleman wished to marry her and then learned she was not even Lord Pembroke’s daughter when he was led to believe she was—what would become of her then?

“Do you think those who attacked my escort thought to convey me to some lord who would marry me for my father’s title and holdings?”

“Aye, lass, that I do.”

Frowning, she said, “Then we shall let the world know that I am the daughter of Ciarda of the Clan MacArthur and Laren, the MacLauchlan. No Englishman would be interested in marrying me then. King Henry can give the title and properties to someone else—hopefully my cousin, John, though I know very little about him.”

“I see only one problem with this notion of yours.”

“What is that?”

“Laird MacLauchlan and I do not see eye to eye. What if he knows you exist? But he did naught because he thought he could get his wife with child, and he hasna been able to. What if he knew he could never claim you once Pembroke had, who also had King Henry’s support? If Laren learns Lord Pembroke no longer lives, he may feel he is the one to decide who you should wed because he could use you for an alliance with another clan, especially if you are still unwed and now in the Highlands.”

“He cannot,” she adamantly said. “He gave that right up when he did not marry my mother. Nor did he recognize me as his daughter.”

“He had a wife already,” Marcus reminded her.

Isobel frowned, not understanding how her mother could have done such a thing. “Why would my mother—”

“She didna ken. He visited her clan and made her believe she was the only lass who mattered in the world to him. Then he was gone. Her da was furious, but he was only a minor chief. What could he do? He couldn’t force the laird to marry his daughter when he was already wed. Then Lord Pembroke saw her and continued to return to see her. He truly loved her, my mother said. He was willing to wed her and say he was your da. That you were his bairn.”

“They never had any other,” Isobel said sadly.

“He adored you though.”

“What do we do then, Marcus? You know I have pledged my heart to only you.”

“You will marry me.”

“If Laird MacLauchlan objects?” She wasn’t about to pretend she cared, except that she didn’t want Marcus and his clan to be in trouble for it.

“He objects. But he will have naught to say about it.”

“We marry then.” She had wanted this forever. Though she wished more than anything that her father was still alive. They would deal with whatever they had to later.

“Aye. We will handfast until we wed in the kirk at my castle.”

Someone knocked on the door and Isobel leapt off Marcus’s lap. “No one can see you in here with me like this.”

Marcus rose from the bed and frowned down at her. “We are to be wed.”

“But we are not
now
wed!”

“The Clan Kerr believe so. Or at least we have told them so.”

“
You
have told them so.”

“Because it had to be, for your protection.” Marcus strode to the door as if she had not objected and opened it just a wee bit. “Rob, what is wrong?”

Fearing more trouble, she tensed.

“We need to leave. I overheard Kerr say something to a young man about taking word to MacLauchlan. Do you think he kens who the lady is?”

“Aye, it sounds to me that is so. As much as I hate to take Isobel out in this weather, I dinna wish to be caught here should MacLauchlan send his men to fetch and bring her to him. Kerr will tell him how many strong we are and MacLauchlan will send more than enough of his men to outnumber our own.”

“I will see if someone has anything for the lady to wear so that she will be warmer when we travel again in this rain. It hasna let up in the least.”

“Do so then.”

“I will wear my own things. ‘Tis mostly just my cloak that is wet,” she said, not wishing to delay them. She did not want to end up being her real father’s pawn next. She felt only animosity toward the laird for getting her mother with child when he was already married and denying that Isobel was his own flesh and blood.

Rob didn’t make a move to leave and Marcus didn’t shut the door. “Is there something else you wished to speak to me about?”

“Did she agree to marry you?” Rob sounded hopeful.

“Oh, aye, willingly.” Isobel heard the smile in Marcus’s voice before he added, “Go. Tell our men to be ready. We will tell Kerr on the way out. I dinna want to leave the lady alone while we prepare to leave.”

“Aye.” Rob hurried off.

Marcus closed the door and turned. “Will you be all right in this rain?”

She hmpfed and grabbed her chemise. “I am all Highlander. So aye, I am ready.”

He smiled at her, his expression one of pride, but also he looked like he did not really believe she was that hardy. He nodded, then folded his arms while he watched her.

She raised her brows. “We are not married, yet. You will have to leave so I may dress.”

He sighed. “I will turn around.” He did indeed turn then and faced the door and continued to speak. “But we are as much as wed as you and I both have agreed to it. We dinna need witnesses, parents’ consents, a kirk, or banns to be posted, my lady. We dinna even need to consummate the marriage for it to be legitimate. You and I both agreed. As we have always wished this. And that is all that is necessary.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure if this pleased her or worried her more. She thought there would be more to it than that. Something that would legitimize the marriage so that no one would say later that they were not man and wife—like King Henry possibly. Her Norman suitors also.

As soon as she was dressed and her damp cloak covering her, she hurried for the door. “I am ready.”

***

Marcus hated taking Isobel out in the cold rain again, disappointed that they could not stay at the Kerr hunting lodge at least until the morn. But he would not risk getting into a fight with MacLauchlan should he learn about Isobel’s father’s death and that Marcus was taking her to his home. MacLauchlan would be dastardly enough that he would try to take her from him. Until now, Marcus hadn’t concerned himself with the notion, because he was certain if he could have gotten Lord Pembroke’s approval to wed his daughter, Laren wouldn’t have taken any steps to fight him for her.

But Marcus was glad Isobel had agreed to wed him, as he had always hoped it would be, and somehow he was determined that they would make it work.

She shivered in the damp clothes and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and headed out into the corridor. “Hopefully, they willna try to detain us. I suspect they willna wish to fight us, but rather warn MacLauchlan that we have you and then let him deal with us. I also suspect Kerr wanted us to hear of what was happening and give us the chance to leave so that we would run into MacLauchlan’s men on the road and not within his minor fortifications.”

“So what do we do?” She snuggled up to him.

At that moment, he wanted her as a man wants a woman—as he’d always wanted her and now he could have her. If only they had the means.

“He will ken where we are going. We willna go that way.” That was all he would whisper to her. Castles had ears and he didn’t want to alert the laird as to their change in plans.

He hadn’t made it far when Rob joined him and the laird’s steward headed for them, his red brows furrowed deeply. “Ye are leaving, Laird McEwan? Ye are no’ staying the eve? We thought ye would at least break your fast in the morn before ye left. Ye have not even eaten the meal with us that should be ready soon.”

“‘Tis trouble we will cause you if we stay,” Marcus said shortly.

“But the lass,” the man implored. “She shouldna be out in this weather.” He hurried after them as Marcus didn’t slow his stride with Isobel still tucked under his arm, trying to keep her dry as best he could.

Maybe Kerr
hadn’t
intended for them to overhear that he was sending word to MacLauchlan that Isobel was here. And now Kerr would fear Laren’s wrath once he learned the lass and her party had left.

Before even Kerr himself could see them off in the drenching, chilly rain, Marcus lifted Isobel onto her horse. Then he, the lady, and his men were off as the steward stood in the downpour before he hurried back to the keep.