Marriage By Arrangement (7 page)

She knew exactly who she was. She was bright and shining, inside and out. Sure of herself. Secure in her world, whether inside the castle or out with the common folk.

He heaved a sigh. Would that he had that ability. He growled deep in his throat. Since he’d wed, the darkness had grown worse. How much longer could he hide his past from Cailin?

He’d silenced her questions with anger he barely controlled. And turned a stony face from her hurt.

He’d hoped being away from court and living inside the MacMurry castle would help. Of course it hadn’t. He walked a tightrope. One wrong step and he’d tumble to his death. And he’d take sweet Cailin with him. He should never have married.

Yet he must produce a legal male heir.

Living with her family was proving even more difficult then he’d expected. Only during his nights alone with his sweet wife did he feel truly free. She was his rock. Yet the more time he spent with her, the less he wanted to confess. He hated to dim the love shining in her face.

She claimed his life lay in the hand of God. Hah! What man could understand God’s will? He stumbled to his knees and buried his face in his hands. When he searched to decipher God, God’s lack of concern stared him boldly in the face. He divined no heavenly design in his life. Not unless God planned for him to experience hell on earth.

God had forgotten him. What did the dark future hold? He pressed his forehead against his fists. With his tiny mustard seed of faith, he prayed he would not ruin Cailin’s life. How much longer could he hide the truth from her?

He’d keep his dark side away from Castle Drummond and Cailin. Perhaps she need never know. His knowledge of horseflesh, his fluency in French and their subtle deceits, and his ability to play a fair game of chess stood him in good stead with the rest of the family. With Cailin he could only skulk in the shadows. He rose and rubbed the back of his aching neck.

Her father was responding to Brody’s almost constant company with grudging respect. The older man yearned for a son.

Avondale groaned. He had wished to gain his father-in-law’s respect, as well. But how? He’d never known his own father. Yet he must remain distant with Lord MacMurry. He wished to bring no trouble to the family and his lovely Cailin.

He walked to the edge of the loch, pulled off his jacket, tossed it to the ground, and listened to the whisper of soft waves lapping the shore.

Nothing he did during the long days tired him enough to let him sleep at night. Only Cailin with her soft, even breath lulled him into sleep just before dawn broke. Then when the first ray of sunlight filtered through the window hangings, he woke, fully alert, with the need to be away from the sweet innocence of her eyes.

Fully clothed, he plunged beneath the still black surface. The icy water closed over his head. He’d do what he could to protect Cailin. His heavy boots pulled him down, down into the black depths.

He watched Cailin from afar when she was unaware. Her wonderful eyes and her generous service to the common people revealed how much she cared, especially about the little people, the ones he barely noticed, the servants, the working people from the village, and the hordes of people who begged at her kitchen door. She deserved every bit of love he had for her…and ever so much more.

Many men died—because of him. His boots dragged him down, down. The water rushed beside his ears. Eyes wide open, he could see nothing. How easy to let himself sink to the bottom. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the black burden. No. He had responsibilities—to Cailin, to his royal mother, to his estates, and all the people who looked to him for livelihood and protection. There was no easy way for him.

He kicked his feet and turned his face upward to the surface where moonlight flickered a path through the dark, still water. He would not shirk his responsibility again. Not ever again.

His head broke surface and he filled his lungs with sweet, fresh air.

He loved the warmth in her eyes when she didn’t think he saw her. Sometimes he let himself hope. Sometimes he dreamed of a normal life with her. When her tinkling laugh rang out, he believed the impossible.

He loved her laugh—though he heard from a distance, when she sat with Megan and Brody’s sister, Fiona, who’d come with her brother to live inside the castle.

Or when Cailin played with one of the kittens that scurried around the castle. He loved the creamy curve of her cheek as it rounded when she smiled. And the graceful line of her neck. And the way her long lashes framed her beautiful eyes.

His stomach churned.

He even liked the way she wrinkled her nose when she didn’t like something. And he loved the full blown beauty of her lips. Could scarce tear his gaze from them when they talked together. He loved her spirit, flashing through at unexpected times.

Last night, when she’d revealed her plan, his heart thumped fast.

“I have a mission for you.” Her sweet voice made his blood surge.

“You have plans for me?” His words emerged in staccatos like drum beats.

“Yes.” Those lake blue eyes sparkled like sun on the flashing waters of the sea. “I need you to help me start a home for the Highland widows and orphans left by the battle.”

He hid the disappointment crinkling his soul. True, an orphanage would be a good thing, but he’d be no help. He’d never be able to face the children whose fathers he’d put into the grave.

He shook his head and water sprayed all around him.

He wanted to forget he was a murderer.

8

“Cailin, I’ve something important to tell you.” Megan whispered and tugged at Cailin’s sleeve. “Take a walk with me, please.”

Cailin stopped pacing the library floor and laid the book she had attempted, but totally failed to read on a corner table. “You have a secret?”

“Shush. Just come with me.” Megan rushed through the castle rooms as if they were on fire. At the back door, she pulled several capes from hooks on the wall and threw one.

After catching the cape with one hand, Cailin snugged the warm wool around her shoulders, and followed Megan out the door and down the flagstone path. Cool air blew through her hair.

Megan pushed her hand through the crook of Cailin’s arm, and they huddled together against the unseasonably cool wind as they walked. She glanced around.

Cailin followed Megan’s gaze and saw no servant, no member of the family, nor any of the remaining guests in sight. Apparently this was Megan’s plan.

“Brody and I ventured out last night and rescued a number of other wounded warriors from the cave where they all hid from the English soldiers tracking them down to kill them.”

Cailin sucked in a breath.

They passed through the portcullis and walked down the faint path that led to the broch.

“Don’t worry. We weren’t seen. We hid the men inside the broch for now, until they recover from their wounds, and then Brody can whisk them to a safer place.”

Cailin planted her boots on the grass. “But it is dangerous for our family to harbor wanted men.”

“Those men are Brody’s close friends. I can’t stand by and let the redcoats find and hang them. Besides, they are badly wounded. They would die if we left them inside that cave.”

“But—”

“Of course, it is dangerous. But Aunty Moira, Fiona, and several of the servants are caring for them.”

“But—”

Megan thrust a chilled finger against Cailin’s lips. “I am well aware of all the buts! This is something we must do. Papa turns a blind eye, though I am certain he knows the men are hidden inside the broch.”

“If Papa knows, then—”

“He does.” Megan gave a saucy smile. “Aunty Moira has taken a fancy to one of them.”

Cailin’s thoughts scrambled. If Papa and Aunty Moira thought their giving a safe haven to wounded Highlanders acceptable, perhaps Brody and Megan were not so addled as they appeared.

She gazed across the cloud-shadowed moor to the three-story round building no longer protected by crumbling rock walls, but tucked against a hill, and barely discernible to a gaze not searching for the ancient fortress. Gaping holes punctured the sagging brick walls, giving the impression the building verged on collapse.

“You condone Fiona nursing wounded men?”

“She’s nursed her brothers for years, and she’s acquainted with the men. They were all neighbors in the Highlands. And they are her brother’s best friends.”

“But she’s a young lady.”

Megan grinned. “Yes, and very mature for her age.” She put a hand on Cailin’s arm. “We should not go to the broch. I think it best that the fewer people who visit the better. There might be an English soldier lurking about, and we don’t want to raise his suspicions.” She turned to face the distant castle. “Let’s go back inside. I just wanted to tell you without any listening ears. One of our English guests might hurry to tell the Duke of Cumberland. Then where would we all land?”

“Inside the Tower of London.” Cailin shuddered and started walking home. “My family is all insane,” she muttered.

****

Barely two weeks had passed since Megan told Cailin of the wounded men hiding inside their broch.

No redcoats had set foot on their land.

“Come up into the attic with me, Cailin,” Aunty Moira urged, tying an apron over her navy day dress.

Cailin knotted the bow on her own apron, and followed her Aunt’s clattering footsteps up the wooden stairs.

“Aunty Moira, why did you lure me into the attic? I know this searching for an old painting of Mums is a pretense.” Cailin dropped to her knees to kneel beside her aunt in front of a dusty chest.

Aunty unfastened the hinge and lifted the lid.

Cailin sneezed.

Aunty put her warm hand over Cailin’s. “I’m in love.”

Cailin’s mouth dropped. “With one of the English gentry?”

Aunty’s cheeks were stained a pretty pink, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “His name is Ian MacDonald. He is one of the men Brody rescued, and he is recovering from his wounds inside the broch. I have been nursing him, and we have fallen in love.”

For a few seconds Cailin couldn’t speak. Then she managed to whisper, “I…I’m so very happy for you.”

“I knew God gave me His blessing when I caught your bridal bouquet. I had only to wait and see who He brought into my life.” Her face glowed. “Ian is one of the finest men I have ever met.”

Cailin gathered her wits. “But he has a price on his head.”

Aunty sighed. “Yes. God does not make life easy for His children.”

“What will you do?”

“I would love for you to attend our wedding.”

How could she throw cold water on her aunt’s beautiful dream? She couldn’t. “But, how will you manage?”

“Brody is passing as a Lowland Scot. With the right clothes, so can Ian. And your Mums promised to handle your Papa. She said I should move out of my rooms into an apartment on the third floor where Ian and I shall have privacy.”

Her smile was the happiest Cailin had ever seen.

“And Ian will stay out of sight.”

When had Mums become so tolerant? Of course, her mother wanted her youngest sister to be happy. But marriage to another Highlander? Cailin’s stomach fluttered. Dear Aunty Moira certainly would have no other opportunity to wed. Perhaps she was right to grasp what happiness she could find.

War changed life so drastically. For everyone. Long erected barriers fell. Society’s taboos changed. Perhaps these were the only good results of war.

She leaned over and hugged Aunty Moira. “I love you, and I will so enjoy your wedding. When will you marry?”

“Today. I have but to change my frock. We are meeting Pastor Fergus in our own little chapel.”

“Oh my. Oh my. Oh my. Why so quickly?”

“Ian and I do not know if soldiers will continue to search for him. Or if he will be detected as a Highlander. And neither of us is growing any younger.” Aunty Moira’s broad smile belied her age. She looked no older than a young girl being presented to the Queen. And her lovely gray eyes danced.

Cailin dropped the lid of the chest, creating a cloud of dust. Both sneezed. “Let us hurry. I cannot wait to meet my new uncle.”

Their high-heeled boots clattered on the wooden steps, and then on marble as they sped, each to her room.

“Jenny!”Cailin called.

The rusty-haired Irish maid seemed already to know how the wind blew, and she had Cailin’s pink silk dinner gown spread on the massive bed.

The wedding was lovely. Sunlight glowed through the stained glass windows of the small chapel, bringing peace and joy with its soft rays.

Because Ian was a hunted man, he and Aunty Moira simply clasped hands in the outdated Scottish way and pledged their vows in front of a beaming Pastor Fergus.

And she, Mums, and Megan witnessed their troth.

****

Cailin’s mind drifted like a wisp of smoke, uncertain she had really awakened. She turned on her side in the luxurious bed, and cupped her cheek in her hand. Her dream had recalled Aunty Moira’s and Ian’s sweet expressions as they had gazed into each other’s eyes during their wedding.

She sat bolt upright in the huge, empty bed staring into the darkness. “Aunty Moira and Ian are so very happy that their happiness wraps around each person near them. Their love is palpable.” A sigh worked up from the depths of her chest. “Why cannot I find that happiness?” She caressed the empty sheet where Avondale should be lying. “Love is not just what one feels, it is how one acts,” she whispered. “We’ve been married over three months, and I still know so very little of you, my husband.”

Fumbling noises emerged from their small drawing room. The normally open door was shut, and candlelight gleamed above the threshold. Bumping sounded as though someone dragged a huge chest across the floor.

Oh, Father, not again. Please, not again.

Something crashed to the floor.

She slid out of bed and cringed as her bare feet landed on cold granite. She pulled on her dressing gown, and the cool fabric against her bare skin drove away the last vestiges of sleep.