by Annis Reid
He stiffened, and she knew she’d hit a nerve. It was a nerve that needed to be hit. They weren’t at the Fraser keep yet. He had time to change his mind.
Though she had no idea what this meant for her.
Leith took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He will come to accept it.”
She waited for more. Nothing more came. “You’re sure of that?” she had to ask.
“If I didna know better, lass, I would believe ye were doing everything ye could to avoid this.”
“No! If anything, I want you to avoid making a mess of things for yourself. I know what it feels like when you think you have no options. You’re between a rock and a hard place and there’s nowhere to turn. You might make decisions that aren’t necessarily the best decisions, and you might be tempted to rationalize actions that you wouldn’t have taken otherwise.”
“Ye are losing me, lass,” he snickered.
“I don’t think I am. I just think you don’t want to listen to me.”
“Ye certainly have a high opinion of me.”
“This has nothing to do with my opinion of you. Stop arguing just for the sake of arguing.”
“I am doing no such thing.”
“But you are. You don’t want to hear what I have to say, but you know it’s true. I know you know it’s true.”
“Ye dinna know me,” he growled. “And dinna make the mistake of believing ye do.”
She winced, already wishing she had never opened her mouth. If he wanted to ruin his life, that was up to him.
If only she could make herself believe it. “I don’t want you to make a mistake that you regret later. That’s all. That’s really all I care about.”
“No one knows what is right for me better than I, lass.”
Stubborn idiot. She wanted to slap him upside the head, for being so deliberately obtuse. “You really don’t think this is going to come back to haunt you. You really don’t think your brother and your father will be furious with you for doing this.”
“And what if they are? Time will heal all. It always does. If they dinna like it…” He sighed, and only the twittering of the birds in the trees lining both sides of the well-worn road provided any sound.
“You don’t think it would come to you having to leave, do you?” she whispered. “Is that what you’re saying? You would give up your name and your lands, and your clan even?”
“I dinna wish to speak of it.”
“Dammit, Leith! You have to think about this before you go through with it. I might not know you, and I may not know anything about your family, but you’re a decent person. I can tell that much. I’m sure your clan means a lot to you. I’m sure your father does, too. I know you don’t want to marry Flora, and I don’t blame you for a single minute. But you have to honestly think about what this is going to do to the people you care about. If you can go into this with a clear conscience, go for it. I’m only saying that now is the time to really make up your mind, before we arrive and there’s nothing else to be done about it. Okay? I’m not trying to fight with you.”
“Ye are doing a fair job of it, nonetheless,” he grumbled.
“You’re the one who’s fighting. Not me. I’m sorry if you don’t like hearing what I have to say, but it’s sensible.”
“I dinna ask for ye to be sensible.”
“No, you want me to ride behind you and keep my mouth shut and pretend I’m from around here even though I don’t sound anything like anybody from around here. You do realize that all this is going to do is give people more reason to question us, right? You do know that.”
“Is there anything else ye wish to say? Are there any other reasons why this will certainly not end well for us?”
It was like talking to a brick wall. “Forget it. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”
“Ye know that is impossible.”
“Too bad.”
He growled, then fell silent, but not for more than a moment. “Truly, how am I to forget what ye said? How would that be possible?”
“I don’t know. How is it possible that I’m here and not where I belong? I guess when you look at it that way, anything is possible.”
He grumbled, cursing under his breath, and she at least had the presence of mind not to ask him what he was saying. She didn’t need to know exactly what it was to know the feeling behind it. As far she was concerned, whatever he was saying went double for her.
“What difference does it make?” she muttered, more to him than to herself—though if he were to ask, she would definitely pretend she was only talking to herself, the way he pretended he was only cursing to himself. “If you want to ruin your life, that’s up to you. I won’t be here to see how this plays out, so I can’t imagine why I care. It’s not my business, anyway.”
“Are ye quite finished?” he muttered, his voice flat.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she sneered.
“Och, nay. Ye were speaking to Eoghan.”
“Maybe I should,” she suggested. “Maybe he would have more sense than you. I wouldn’t feel so much like I’m wasting my time.”
“There are not many people in the world who I would allow to speak to me that way, lass. Ye are taking a great chance, stirring my blood the way ye do. I would advise against it.”
She rolled her eyes, snickering. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
“Ye ought to, lass. Ye ought to.” He brought the horse to a stop, making her crane her neck to see around him.
In the distance sat a castle surrounded by walls not quite so tall as the ones surrounding Castle MacNeill, but tall enough to protect the people inside. Smoke rose from a half-dozen chimneys. Hundreds of yards away, on the other side of a river, sat a village like the one they’d left that morning.
Now, the sky was already losing light, and some of the stone cottages below already had a glow shining from inside. They would arrive at the castle near dark.
And she didn’t want to go. All of a sudden, this was the worst idea anybody had ever had, and she was never so scared in her life. Not even when that pig pawed her and tried to rob her and would’ve tried even worse if Leith hadn’t shown up.
Not even that was as blood-chilling as the sight of what was coming up in front of them.
“You’re sure about this?” she whispered, clasped hands slick now. She figured he had to feel her heart beating like crazy against his back, but there wasn’t much she could do about that.
“Aye,” he grunted before tapping his heels to Eoghan’s sides.
What a stubborn idiot.
What a shame that she still wanted to kiss him, anyway.
13
“Who goes there?”
Leith held his head high, staring through the darkness at the guard who shouted his question. This was it. Everything, no less than the remainder of his life, hung on what he did and said now.
“Leith MacManus,” he announced. “I believe my uncle is expecting me.”
“Aye,” the guard agreed, reaching the horse and peering up at its rider. “Tis well enough ye have arrived. They were expectin’ ye earlier.”
“I had a…” Leith paused, at a loss for words. How could he explain? And why would he trouble himself to explain anything to a guard? “My uncle will wish to hear it for himself,” he settled upon replying.
“Aye, that he will,” the guard agreed, his voice low and filled with foreboding. So that was the way of it. Tardiness was not appreciated.
Naturally, that would be so. Guests had gathered for his wedding and here he was, already late. He ought to have ridden straight through after parting ways with Donald, and if that had been the case, he would have arrived the evening prior.
Only then did the guard take note of the lass sharing the saddle. “And who is this?” he demanded, one hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
“Do ye believe I would endanger my uncle and family by bringing a threat into the castle?” Leith did not trouble himself with waiting for an answer, bring
ing the horse about and proceeding through the open gate.
Melissa’s arms were tight about him, tighter than they’d been all throughout the ride. If only he could offer a bit of wisdom, something to calm her when she so needed to be calmed. Yet there was little to be done now that they were in the middle of what seemed like half the world.
Indeed, the castle was a flurry of activity. No matter in which direction he looked, Leith found people hurrying this way and that. Men rolling barrels of ale into the keep. Women carrying bushels of potatoes, turnips, holding dead fowl by their feet and running inside as if the very future of the world depended upon it. Lads led horses to and from the stables. Guards from both clan MacNeill and Fraser laughed, sharing tales of their bravery and the lasses they’d met along the way.
And here they were, two people in the middle of such excitement. They might easily have faded away into the shadows with no one ever being the wiser except for a single guard.
It was not to be.
“Leith MacManus! There ye be. Yer uncle has been beside himself since ye did not appear yesterday evening.” Moira Fraser, his father’s sister, stood with hands on hips in the tall, wide doorway leading into the keep. “I ought to cuff ye about the ears for forcing me to listen to the man’s fretting.”
Even with his heart in his throat, Leith managed to chuckle at his aunt’s description, to say nothing of her choice of words. She was not angry with Leith for upsetting her husband, but rather for the inconvenience it had caused her.
She was going to hear quite a lot more in the days to come. He had the sense of owing her an apology in advance.
“Forgive me, aunt.” He dismounted, then reached up to assist a trembling Melissa. It was dark enough in the courtyard that only he could see her face—and its lack of color.
“Courage,” he whispered, longing to hold her tight for just a moment. If only he’d not become cross with her earlier. She had a way of angering him, to be certain, but she had not intended to.
Their last words were angry, bitter, when he ought to have done all in his power to comfort her. She was doing a tremendous service by pretending to be his wife, no doubt, and was in a world unfamiliar to her. She did not deserve his sharp tongue.
Even so, that single word seemed to bolster her. She managed to square her shoulders, her chin lifting, and she no longer looked as though she might flee the moment he let her go.
“And who is this?” Moira asked upon finally taking notice of another guest. “I am afraid we have not the space for another guest, Leith MacManus, and ye might have sent word.”
“Ye will need no space for this guest which has not already been prepared for myself,” he assured her, taking Melissa’s hand. Sweat-slick, cold. He squeezed it before leading her to the doorway, the stable boys unpacking the saddle.
“Nay?” Moira asked, eyeing Melissa with suspicion. “And just who is this, then?”
This was it. The first test. He met his aunt’s shrewd eyes, knowing her to be one of the cleverest women he had ever met and certainly not one to accept an ill-told lie.
“Tis sorry I am to tell ye this way, my aunt, but I have wed another. This is my wife, Melissa.”
Moira was perfectly still for a long, silent beat. Leith heard the drumming of his heart over the commotion taking place behind them. Melissa was still as well, save for the slight tremor running through her and into him thanks to their joined hands.
“Your wife,” Moira whispered. Her face fell as dismay washed over it. “Och, Leith. What have ye done?”
“My da did not tell me of the arrangement until recently,” he attempted to explain, but his aunt did not hear much of it over her protests.
“We have guests beneath our roof!” she hissed, taking him by the arm and dragging him into the entry hall of the keep. By extension she dragged Melissa as well, clinging to him as though she planned never to let go. “What do ye expect me to say to them, then? To say nothing of the MacNeills! Your intended bride awaits her groom, and ye arrive to tell her ye have already wed another?”
“Tis all a terrible misunderstanding—”
“Misunderstanding! Tis a war waiting to be waged, lad.” She threw her hands into the air, shaking her head. Light from a dozen torches lining the walls picked up the flaming red still left in her grey-streaked hair. “Your uncle will be in a terrible fury over this. He will wish to speak to ye at once.”
“I know.”
“Nay, ye dinna know. Ye know nothing!”
His sorrow was profound, for he truly had no wish to make his aunt’s life difficult. He had not wished to bring difficulty to anyone involved—not even to Flora, wicked thing that she was. Yes, this would cause her no end of embarrassment, but it was not his doing.
There was no crime in a man deciding to live life as he saw fit.
He reminded himself of this as his aunt stormed away without so much as offering them refreshment. “I suppose she shall be on her way to find my uncle,” he murmured with a glance down at Melissa.
“This is awful,” she whispered, her grey eyes darting back and forth. “Awful.”
“The keep?”
“The situation,” she hissed. “You know what I mean.”
“It will all be over soon enough.”
“How can you say that?” she demanded, still whispering. He had no choice but to bend slightly that he might hear her over the low roar coming from the great hall. There was a tremendous amount of celebration taking place there.
And it occurred to him for the first time since undertaking his journey that not only Niall MacNeill but his men had journeyed to the keep. Men who would like as not wish to mount Leith’s head on a spike for causing embarrassment to their laird and his daughter.
It was too late to take back what he’d announced—not that he wished to. This was still the correct course of action.
He believed it. He had to believe it.
Especially when a familiar blond-haired lass descended the wide stairs, her hand gliding over the top of the wooden banister. She moved like a breath of air, all grace and ease. Little surprise so many were misled by her.
“Leith.” Her smile was beatific, a ray of sunlight. “At last. We have been waiting for ye.”
When her gaze drifted from him to the lass beside him—most pointedly, to their clasped hands—her smile disappeared as the sun behind a storm cloud. “What is this, then? Who is this?”
Melissa’s hand became a claw, clutching him with surprising strength for one as slight as she.
“Flora, I must explain…” He wished his tongue would not stiffen so.
“I am his wife. My name is Melissa.” She looked up at him, and to his surprise she managed to appear loving. Adoring, even. “Melissa MacManus.”
He could not possibly have been more surprised, he was certain. There was nothing to do but gape at her in stunned silence, feeling as though he had entered the scene a moment too late and now had to catch up to the others.
Melissa turned to Flora, who appeared just as confused and stunned as Leith. “Forgive us. Tis all been a misunderstanding from the start. Leith knew not of his betrothment to ye until recently, and by then I am afraid t’was too late. We had already met, ye see, and had spoken to each other of marriage. Leith gave me his promise before hearing of your betrothment.”
To Leith’s greater surprise, she released his hand and crossed the hall, stopping at the foot of the stairs. “Forgive us, I beg ye. I dinna wish for us to be enemies. This was all a dreadful misunderstanding. No disrespect or dishonor was meant, I assure ye. Can ye find it in your heart to forgive us?”
He thought he had not respected anyone, man or woman, as much as he respected Melissa at that moment. She did not even do badly when it came to speaking as though she were familiar with the highlands. Not perfect, by any means, but closer than she’d come while they were riding together.
Her confidence was what affected him most deeply. And the sincerity with which she spoke. As if she mean
t every word. All he could do was stand back and watch, waiting with bated breath to hear Flora’s reaction.
It was not in his nature to stand back and watch anything, for any reason. He preferred to affect change upon his life rather than allowing others to do the work for him.
Yet he finally understood what Melissa had from the start. This was a matter for the women to work out between them, for he could not. No matter how angry or resentful this announcement would leave Flora, the bulk of her anger and all the rest would be taken out on this unknown wife for taking her place.
He watched as Flora finished descending the stairs, his every muscle tensed in preparation for what might come. Would she dare strike Melissa, especially while in his presence? What would he do if she did?
He would see to it she lost her hands. She would never strike another.
Yet she did not strike. She did not hurl insults at Melissa, either. Instead, she extended her hands and took Melissa’s in them and smiled. “A misunderstanding, indeed,” she sighed. “And ‘tis deeply sorry I am to hear of it. Though women such as ye and myself have little to say in such matters, is it not so?”
Melissa nodded. “Tis so.” They shared quiet, feminine laughter, and Leith reminded himself to breathe.
“Which is why it saddens me to know Mervyn Fraser and my father will have a great deal to say about this, and I doubt my father will allow your marriage to stand.” Flora looked from Melissa to Leith, her voice sweet and light. “Unfortunately, misunderstandings mean little when placed before oaths.”
“I made an oath to this woman,” Leith reminded her, advancing one slow step at a time. Was she truly to be believed? “Does that oath mean nothing?”
“Not in the presence of an earlier oath. Then again, what do I know of such matters? I am merely a woman.” Flora shrugged, a ghost of a smile playing over her ruby lips. “I leave these things to men, who ken much better than I ever could.”
It was her smile that unnerved him the most. The coldness of it. The lack of feeling behind her words, the lack of light behind her eyes.
