“Are ye sure ‘tis him?” she asked. “He looks a few years older than Father.”
Maggie nodded. “It appears that he has spotted us.”
The group broke apart, and the older man, flanked by two guards, headed toward them. Anabell prayed that the chief was one of the younger warriors. But even as she wished this, she knew that she only deluded herself.
Even though she agreed to the pact, she never dared to ask about the laird’s appearance. She had tried to keep herself busy and not dwell on the approaching wedding day. But now she wished that she had made inquiries about the chief. At least then, she would have prepared herself to meet her husband.
“Ye must be Anabell,” the laird said when he was within earshot.
“Aye,” she said, keeping her tone polite and proper.
“Didnae I tell ye that she would be a bonnie lass, Giles?” he asked the guard next to him.
“Aye, ye have said sae many times,” the guard agreed.
“Come here, lass.” James grabbed her hand. “Let me look at ye.”
He jerked Anabell forward, but fortunately, she caught herself before she stumbled.
“Ye are too kind,” she said, a smile frozen on her lips. She fought the urge to snatch her hand away, and instead, carefully extracted her hand from his grip.
A slight gust of wind blew from behind him. At that moment, the smell of stale alcohol reached her, and she almost gagged.
This was the man she was to be her husband. The realization hit her like a sack of stones. Her eyes automatically sought Maggie, and she saw mild shock registering on her friend’s face.
“’Tis guid that we have finally met,” Anabell said, turning back to the chief. “We look forward tae finally having peace between our clans.”
“Aye, aye,” the Cunningtoun said. “’Tis long overdue.”
A commotion at the far side of the courtyard drew the attention of the chief and his companions.
“We should go and see what’s happening with the others,” Giles said.
“Let’s go see what’s happening,” the chief repeated.
The warriors made a hasty retreat, and as soon as they were far enough, Anabell let out a sigh of relief.
***
Blane quickened his pace. His men would be engaged in their daily combat training, and he needed to join them in the northern part of the courtyard. In actuality, they could have trained anywhere, but Lady Beitris gave them permission to practice on her property. It helped that she allowed them access to equipment that enhanced their physical drills.
In the distance, he heard occasional battle cries and grunts, and he grinned, knowing that his friends enjoyed the grueling drills. But his mates enjoyed Dunburn just as much. As soon as the training was finished, he knew they would eagerly return to their activities in town.
Blane was actually happy for them. He was aware of their histories, and more than one person had a sad tale to tell. When he gave them the option to attend Anabell’s wedding, they whooped for joy. The bonnie lassies were plentiful in this town, and all members of the Company were pleased with their extended stay. It seemed that only Blane had lingering doubts about the plan.
But for the sake of his friends, he ignored his misgivings. The night before, the townspeople took to celebrating the nuptials in advance. Naturally, his mates joined the partygoers at the local tavern. The idea sounded appealing enough, and Blane went along and drank copious amounts of whisky. In truth, all he wanted was to make himself numb. It bothered him immensely that Anabell was going to be married. He had stayed away from her these past two weeks, but he no longer denied that soon she would be lost to him.
And so he drank himself into oblivion. A couple of his friends must have carried him to the castle since he had no recollection of how he got back to his quarters. Of course, now he could admit that it was a mistake to drink so much. His head pounded, and it was the first time in a long time that he wanted to stay in bed and do nothing.
As Blane made it down the stairs that led into the courtyard, he heard a man talking. Through the fuzziness in his brain, he tried to determine where he had come across that familiar voice. But as he tried to figure out that puzzle, someone shouted his name.
He squinted, and recognition dawned on him when he saw Giles hurrying toward him.
“What are ye doing here?” he asked, astonished.
“I could ask the same thing of ye,” his friend’s voice boomed.
“Ye might want tae keep your voice down,” Blane said, wincing.
Giles slapped him on the back. “I see ye took my advice and started tae live a wee bit.”
“Sae, why are ye here?”
“I’m here for the wedding.”
Blane nodded. This wedding promised to be a large one, and soon the entire castle would be full of guests. “How long will ye be staying — ?”
Blane broke off when he caught sight of James, his uncle. He rubbed his eyes, hoping that he was perhaps dreaming, but the figure came closer. When he realized this wasn’t a dream, something snapped in him. He marched forward, and before James knew what was happening, Blane drew his fist back and let it fly.
The blow was unexpected, and the older man staggered and fell to the ground.
His uncle’s men jumped in to help their chief. However, Giles stepped in between Blane and his clansmen, motioning for the guards to stay put. Meanwhile, shouts rang throughout the courtyard.
It was only a second later that Blane realized that the shouts originated from himself. But rage filled his core, and he pulled out his claymore, ready to draw blood. He had suppressed his fury for many years, but now that his target was in view, he unleashed his temper. He cursed at James, and when his uncle cowered on the ground, Blane spat on him.
“Calm down, lad,” Giles said, his face filled with tension. “We dinnae want trouble that will mar the wedding celebrations.”
“That man deserves tae die!”
The commotion brought the rest of Blane’s friends running over to them. Giles looked at his mates in alarm as they rushed forward with weapons drawn. The men were trained to defend anyone in their group. Of all people, Giles knew how the Black Targe Company operated.
“Everyone,” Giles shouted. “Cease your attacks. There has been a misunderstanding. Finlay and Rabbie, grab hold of Blane.”
The two guards from the Cunningtoun Clan glanced at Giles and then at Blane. But the disgust Blane felt for his uncle choked at him, and he reached for the other man’s collar, intending to pummel him. Seeing that the situation was starting to get out of control, the guards jumped forward and immediately seized Blane by the arms.
The uproar brought Anabell running from the castle. Her face was filled with fear and concern as she joined the growing crowd. At the same time, two other men from the Cunningtoun clan rushed to assist their chief.
James brushed his men aside. “I dinnae want that madman here,” he fumed. “Throw him out on his ear, and dinnae let him back in the castle.”
Blane’s friends tried to pull him from the group, but he resisted them. He wanted to end it here and now.
“I should have hunted ye down years ago!” he yelled after at his uncle.
But his words were lost on his enemy. His friends forcibly dragged Blane toward the gates while James continued in the opposite direction.
***
After the disturbance Blane created in the castle, it was clear he was no longer welcome there. One of his men had retrieved his horse from the stable, and he was forced to seek new accommodations in town.
A couple of hours later, Giles came to find him at the inn. At his knock, Blane opened the door, and his mate pushed his way inside.
“What happened there in the courtyard?” he asked.
“Ye ken why I punched him,” Blane said, running his fingers through his hair as he remembered the incident. “I tell ye, he deserved much more than that.”
“I think your anger is misplaced. Your uncle wasnae the on
e who killed your family. ‘Twas the English.”
“As far as I’m concerned, his inaction that day was the same as if he killed my family,” he said stubbornly. He started to pace around the room. “He disnae care about saving anyone except for his own hide. Did ye see him at Dunburn Castle? The drunken bastard isnae fit tae lead anyone.”
“Nay, he isnae fit, but there is nay one else. If your father were alive, he would be ashamed tae see what has become of our clan.”
Blane stopped his pacing and turned to lean his back against the wall, listening as his friend described the state of the clan. James Cunningtoun was his father’s younger brother, and he developed a drinking habit. But over the years, his drinking got so bad that the clan members were obligated to handle their own disputes. Of course, this had led to dissent and violence among their people. The security and sense of community were lacking, and their way of living had deteriorated. Then on top of that was the never-ending war with the MacNeadain clan.
Giles drew a long breath as he finished his recount. “Sae James is here tae end the madness between the two clans. ’Tis why he’s marrying the MacNeadain’s daughter. Both sides have much tae gain from this union.”
“I ken.” Blane gave a curt nod.
Clenching his fist, he hit it against the wall. Of all the men that would marry the lass, he never considered that it would be his own uncle. Even the thought of it now brought a surge of anger to course through his veins.
But Giles continued the conversation as if he was unaware of Blane’s turmoil. “The marriage tae Anabell MacNeadain is a guid strategic step,” he said. “However, I dinnae believe ‘tis enough tae end our woes. We need a real leader. We need ye.”
At the mention of her name, the image of the comely lass flashed in his mind. Anabell couldn’t marry the bastard. He wouldn’t allow it. Did she even know about the terrible mistake she was going to make? Somehow he doubted this. And so it was his duty to save her.
He started for the door.
“I came tae visit ye, and ye are leaving?” Giles asked.
“We’ll talk later,” he said. “I have tae go back tae the castle.”
Chapter 18
“I have orders tae keep ye out,” the porter guard announced when Blane arrived at the gatehouse of Dunburn Castle.
“Och, have ye nae heard? There was a misunderstanding between James Cunningtoun and me. ‘Twas an old dispute and we’ve since resolved it,” Blane said, lying.
He had expected that he would have trouble returning to the castle. But that expectation did little to deter him from getting to Anabell.
The old guard looked at him doubtfully, so Blane tried a different tactic. “Have ye nae had a dispute with anyone in your family?” he demanded.
“I have,” the guard replied.
“Well, have ye ever bloodied your fists during an argument?”
“At times,” the man said slowly.
“After a few blows, ye are probably ready tae move on,” he said, shrugging. “That’s the way ‘tis with James and me. Once ye see James, ye will see what I mean.”
He could see that the gatekeeper was starting to waver, so he urged his horse forward. “I willnae be long.”
But then the man snapped to attention and blocked his path with his lochaber ax. “I’m sorry, my orders are tae keep ye out,” he said.
Blane debated briefly whether he should fight the old man, but he dismissed the idea. Although he would win the fight, he would also have to deal with the rest of the consequences.
“I understand,” he said.
The porter guard nodded and turned to dismiss him. But the other man made a mistake. When Blane saw the opening, he urged his horse past the iron gate. The old warrior dove to the side just in time to prevent himself from getting trampled.
Even as Blane charged through the entrance, he knew it was a foolish move since the guard would only sound the alarm. But that didn’t concern him at the moment. He tore across the courtyard and left his horse at the stable. He intended to search the castle for the lass, although he acknowledged that she could be anywhere.
A moment later, he hurriedly made his way to the main building. The courtyard was busy with the castle inhabitants working their various chores. He passed a servant throwing a bucket of slop into a hog pen. A group of hungry pigs ran to the trough, snorting and grunting loudly as they began to eat.
Blane was about to round the corner when he saw the unmistakable shape of his uncle. It hurt that this coward lived while his father did not. And almost immediately, the rage in him rose to the surface.
James walked erratically toward the barracks. And as he approached the building, he disturbed a cluster of birds pecking at insects on the ground. The sun had barely risen, and James was already incapacitated, Blane thought in disgust.
But seeing his uncle’s unsteady gait caused him to remember Giles’s recount. Apparently, this was James’s normal behavior, and the people were used to it. But what kind of leadership did he offer to the clan? Was he even competent? Somehow Blane doubted this, and he knew that his father would want more for their people. He suspected as well that if he returned to the territory, he wouldn’t recognize anything.
As the thoughts swirled in his brain, Blane clenched his teeth, and he wanted desperately to lash out and make James regret his existence.
“Calm down,” Blane muttered to himself. He took a deep breath and slowly loosened his jaws. However much he wanted it, he knew that he couldn’t bring his family back to life. At the moment, he needed to concentrate on his task of warning Anabell. The innocent lass didn’t deserve to be saddled with this sad excuse of a man.
The sound of humming caught Blane’s attention as someone approached from behind. He quickly turned and saw a young chambermaid carrying water to the castle. At the sight of her, an idea sparked in his head. Instead of tearing through the entire castle searching for Anabell, he would get the servant to help him.
He beckoned the maid over. The lass stopped her humming, and her brows rose in alarm. She looked behind her as if she hoped that it was someone else he addressed. And when there was no one, worry creased her forehead.
“W — what do ye want from me?” Her nervous movements caused the water to splash over the sides of the buckets she carried. She hastily set the load on the ground.
“Dinnae worry, lass, ye arenae in trouble,” he said, trying to assure her. “I just want ye tae help me find Anabell.”
A relieved look appeared on the servant’s face when she realized that she had nothing to fear. “When I was at the well, I saw her heading toward the garden,” she said, pointing to the other side of the yard.
Blane looked toward the walled-off area in the courtyard. A stone wall was built with an arched entrance. Looking past the doorway, he glimpsed a few trees, a variety of colorful flowers in bloom and other greenery. He should have remembered that aside from the solar, the garden was where the castle women spent their leisure time.
But as it turned out, things were working in his favor. He didn’t need to search the fortress for Anabell. The other benefit was that if he stayed outside, he was unlikely to encounter his uncle. No doubt, if he came across James, he would find himself in another scuffle.
Blane reached the garden in a few long strides. He paused at the archway and scanned the small garden. Almost immediately, he spotted the lass wandering down a well-trodden path. As she passed a variety of ferns and blooms, she reached to caress the vegetation.
Through a small break in the trees, a streak of sunlight fell over her, causing her dark tresses to show warm highlights. Then as she approached a rose bush, she bent to sniff the fragrant flower. Appearing satisfied with the gorgeous bloom, she took out a knife, cutting the stem, and placing the clipping inside her basket.
Anabell glided gracefully to another section of the garden and repeated her actions. Her lithe body resembled some exquisite creature not of this realm. And his body’s response was physical and immedia
te. It remembered all too well their intimate moment by the waterfall.
Blane came to stand directly behind her. And as much as he was tempted, he resisted the urge to lift her thick hair and brush his lips against her sensitive neck.
“I was searching for ye, Anabell,” he said.
She stiffened at the sound of his voice. When she spun around, her expression relaxed. “Och, ‘tis ye,” she said. “I thought ye had left the castle.”
“’Twas nae my choice,” he said.
“I dinnae think striking the Cunningtoun helped matters,” she said, her tone dry.
Anabell started to turn back to clipping another flower for her collection.
“Listen,” he said, gripping her arm and turning her to face him again. “Your marriage tae James is a terrible mistake. Ye mustnae wed him.”
A pained expression flashed across her pretty face, but it was gone before he could blink.
“I’ve made my decision.” She extracted herself from his grip and took a step back.
“Ye told me about your decision, but ye can still reverse it. ‘Tis nae too late.”
“Why are ye telling me this?” she cried. “I’m tae be married tomorrow. Ye once implied that I should be mindful of my duties. Well, I’m the daughter of Chief MacNeadain, and I have a duty tae my people. And that duty involves marrying the laird.”
“Ye will regret it,” he said harshly.
“Nay, I willnae,” she said, frowning at his tone. “Ye are the one who told me that I shouldnae dwell on my emotions, that I should rely on reason instead. Your advice is sound. I refuse tae allow my emotions tae get in the way of doing what’s best for my people. The clan war has gone on for too long, and it has ripped families apart, including mine. Now that I’ve learned that there’s a remedy for this suffering, I’ll do my part.”
Highland Engagement Page 14
