Return of the Rogue (2 page)

H
onora stepped back away from the chaos. Tavish Sinclare immediately embraced his son Cavan, though not for long since his wife Addie pushed through to reach her eldest son and hug him as only a loving mother could.

The brothers shared less emotional embraces, and Honora noticed that they all smiled except for Cavan. His expression remained stoic, as if he was unmoved or unsure of those around him. But then, it had been a year since his capture, and surely things had changed for him. His appearance certainly had. She remembered him lean, but no longer. He was a mass of hard muscle, his chest broad beneath a tan linen shirt and his arms thick. He wore deer-hide leggings and fur-trimmed boots. His dark brown hair fell past his shoulders and looked in need of a good washing, as did his dirt-stained face, though the grime could not hide the thin red scar that ran from the corner of his right eye down to his chin bone.

Her eyes caught his for a second and she shivered and quickly turned her head. She wasn’t sure what
she had seen in the dark depths, and she didn’t want to know.

“Has Ronan returned?” Cavan asked.

Tavish placed a consoling hand on his son’s shoulder. “We’ve had no success in finding him.”

Cavan shook his head slowly. “We were separated once captured. He was injured—”

His father squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll discuss it later. You are in need of rest and nourishment.”

“Of which we have plenty,” Lachlan teased, stretching his arms out at the laden tables.

Honora had a feeling Tavish spoke of far different nourishment. She could see the ache of concern for his son in the older man’s narrowed eyes.

“What do you celebrate?” Cavan asked.

“My wedding,” Artair boasted.

“Not so,” someone shouted, and Honora’s flesh prickled when her stepfather stepped forward to approach Tavish Sinclare.

The feeling of dread caught Honora strong and hard this time, twisting her stomach until she wanted to scream for her stepfather to stop. Whatever Calum was about to say did not bode well for her at all.

“We have a problem here,” Calum said, his arms crossed firmly over his chest as he spoke directly to Tavish. “Our agreement and the signed and seal-affixed documents state that my daughter was to wed the next laird of the Clan Sinclare, who at the time was believed to be Artair. With Cavan’s return, it means that Honora is wed to Cavan, not Artair.”

“What nonsense is this?” Artair demanded.

Calum remained firm in his claim. “Our agreement is binding and I will see you held to it, Tavish Sinclare.”

The hall remained quiet, except for the whispers that began to sound like buzzing bees. All waited to see how their laird would settle the dispute.

“Let the feast begin while this matter is discussed in private,” Tavish announced, and then walked away, a signal for his family and Calum to follow.

Honora hurried along with them; after all, this was her future they would discuss.

“You wait here.” Calum’s bark had her jumping back, and she bumped against what felt like a solid tree trunk.

Her eyes widened when she glanced over her shoulder to see that she leaned against Cavan. She stumbled over her own feet to get away from him. Or was she trying to get away from the possibility of him becoming her husband? she wondered. He was quick to grab her arm and help secure her footing.

“She comes with us,” Cavan said, giving no further explanation and dragging Honora along with him.

She wasn’t surprised that her stepfather didn’t object. The look in Cavan’s dark eyes challenged anyone to defy him. In fact, it appeared that he’d welcome the defiance, and pity the poor fool who obliged him.

Cavan didn’t release her until they entered his father’s solar. Though there were chairs aplenty, no one took a seat. Artair joined his brother Lachlan, who stood beside their father. Cavan stood close to
the blazing hearth, his cloak discarded over a chair. Addie stood with Honora to the side.

Calum stood in the center of the gathering, stiff in posture and resolve, and with a shout ordered his daughter to his side. “Honora, here, now!”

She obeyed without question, as she had for as long as she could remember. For a moment she feared he might raise his hand to her, but then realized he would not do so in front of the Sinclares. He but demonstrated his authority over her for all to see and know that his daughter was loyal to him and would do as told.

Calum spoke directly to Tavish. “You will recall how adamant I was when the documents were drawn up that it be stated that my daughter would wed the next laird of the Sinclare clan.”

Tavish nodded. “I do recall that, but she has wed Artair.”

“Not so,” Calum said. “Artair was never mentioned in the agreement. The vows were between the next laird and Honora. Artair simply represented the next laird of the Sinclare clan, who with his return is Cavan.”

“I agreed to no such arrangement,” Cavan said.

“That makes no difference,” Calum protested. “Your father agreed and with him being laird of the clan, his decision is final.”

Honora listened, her heart beating madly. This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t be wed to Cavan Sinclare. He didn’t want her when once she had been offered to him, and he still didn’t want her, and she didn’t want him.

“I will not wed the frightened little mouse,” Cavan said defiantly.

Calum smiled smugly. “You are already wed to her. Ask the cleric, he’ll confirm the truth of it.”

Was that how he saw her, as a frightened little mouse? Scurrying about, running and hiding while all the time attempting to survive. Sadly, wasn’t that how she lived her life?

“I want no wife, Artair does,” Cavan said. “She is his wife, not mine.”

“I did agree to take Honora as a wife,” Artair said. “And I will honor that agreement.”

Her husband had finally spoken up, but his words were not what she had expected. It seemed that Artair had no feelings for her. He had simply agreed to an arranged marriage, no more. She was nothing but chattel to these men, a brood mare who would bear sons so the Sinclare line would continue.

“That wasn’t the agreement,” Calum said, pointing an accusing finger at Tavish. “The arrangement was clear, and you know it. Honora wed to the next laird of the Sinclare clan.” He swung his accusing finger at Cavan. “And that would be him, Cavan Sinclare, husband to my daughter Honora.”

“This is ridiculous,” Lachlan said. “The cleric just claimed Artair and Honora wed.”

“No. I say again, he sanctioned the vows of the next laird of the Sinclare clan husband to Honora,” Calum said haughtily, settling his arms across his chest in satisfaction. “Ask the cleric yourself. He will confirm my claim.”

“Addie, will you please bring the cleric here?” Tavish asked his wife, who turned with a nod and left the solar.

“I only ask the agreement be honored as written,” Calum said confidently.

“Why?” Cavan asked, walking over to him, to stand in similar fashion, arms across his chest. “Want to rid yourself of the little mouse?”

Honora glared at him, wishing she had the courage to defend herself.

“So, the mouse rears her head,” Cavan said.

Calum snatched Honora’s wrist and twisted it. “I’ll brook no disobedience from you, daughter.”

Honora leaned into her stepfather to ease the pressure of the pain.

“Let her go.” Cavan ordered.

The angry growl was more animal than human, and her stepfather eased his hold, though he did not release her.

Honora saw that Cavan had stepped closer, as had Artair and Lachlan. They stood beside their brother, ready to follow his lead.

“Do you claim my daughter as wife?” Calum challenged. “If you do, then you have a right to dictate to her. If not? My daughter obeys me.”

Cavan made a move to step forward, his dark eyes burning into Calum, and to Honora’s surprise, she felt her stepfather tremble.

The door opened before Cavan took another step, and Addie hurried in, followed by a frantic cleric.

The short, skinny man, his face full of wrinkles,
shook his head. “What madness is this? I claimed this pair man and wife.”

Tavish stepped forward and detailed the problem for the cleric. The man listened intently, nodding now and again.

Calum added his opinion. “You do recall our talk before the ceremony? I expressly made it known how the vows were to be spoken and confirmed.”

“That you did,” the cleric said. “And you provided the signed marriage papers as proof of the arrangement.”

Honora didn’t like the sound of what she was hearing. She couldn’t be Cavan’s wife. She didn’t want to be his wife. She wished she had never set eyes on any of the Sinclare men.

“Then my claim is valid,” Calum said. “Honora is wife to Cavan.”

“She is wife to Artair,” Cavan protested.

The cleric shook his head. “Calum Tannach is right. The documents state Honora was to wed the next laird of Clan Sinclare, therefore, Artair proved to be proxy for his brother Cavan, since Cavan has returned, and appropriately enough on his wedding day.

“This is nonsense,” Cavan argued.

The cleric appeared mortified, his thin face turning bright red. “How dare you question my authority. The documents are binding. You are husband to Honora.”

Cavan pointed to Artair. “She is my brother’s wife.”

The cleric shook his head. “Calum Tannach is correct. As the marriage papers state, Artair was but proxy for you, and I will not debate the matter. It is settled, and there is a union to celebrate and vows to be consummated. Do your duty as the next laird of Clan Sinclare and as a husband.”

The cleric stomped out of the room, his abrupt departure announcing that the matter was at an end.

Honora felt her senses spinning out of control. She couldn’t be wife to Cavan. She didn’t want to be wife to Cavan. Presently, she didn’t want to be wife to anyone; she simply wished to be free.

Cavan turned to Artair. “Do you love her?” he asked.

“I barely know her.”

His words hurt her heart, though they were the truth. There was no love between them. She had hoped perhaps there could be in time, but Artair was nothing more than an acquaintance, and Cavan even less than that to her.

“None of that matters,” Calum demanded. “You heard the cleric. It is settled. Cavan and Honora are wed.”

Tavish stepped forward, his sons moving aside in respect not only to their father, but also to their laird.

“Leave us, Calum,” Tavish ordered firmly.

Calum bristled. “I have a right to protect my daughter’s rights.”

“No longer,” Tavish said calmly. “Honora is now a Sinclare, wife to Cavan. You no longer have say over her. Now leave and join the celebration.”

Calum nodded with a smug smile and walked out the door.

Once it shut behind him, Tavish turned to Cavan. “I am sorry you are forced into a union you do not want, but it is done, and as my heir I ask that you honor the marriage arrangement and do your duty.”

“Not the homecoming I expected,” Cavan said.

“Unfortunate, but you are home with family, and that means more to me than you could possibly know, and a wife for you is necessary to the future of this clan. Honora may not be the wife of your choice, but I have come to know her, and she is a good person and I believe she will be a good wife to you.”

Tavish reached out and took Honora’s hand, then held his hand out to Cavan.

Honora hoped and prayed silently for Cavan not to take her hand, to deny her as his wife, but she knew better. Like all Sinclares, Cavan would do his duty and serve and protect his clan under any circumstances.

Indeed, Cavan did not hesitate. He stretched his hand out to his father, and Tavish placed Honora’s hand in his son’s. “To the future of the Sinclare clan,” the laird said.

The brothers shouted out a cheer, and then Lachlan suggested they join the celebration, to celebrate not only the wedding, but also Cavan’s safe return.

Honora attempted to slip her hand out of her husband’s grasp but he held tight. He wasn’t about to let go of her, and she wondered why.

“Go and I will join you soon enough,” Cavan said. “I wish to wash up and wear the clan colors proudly.”

Addie stepped forward. “I will see that a bath is prepared for you.”

“Thank you, Mother, but it will be my wife who tends me.”