Taming the Highlander: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Novel

by Fiona Faris

  Iain himself went forward and grasped the bridle of Angus's horse, to hold the beast still while his neighbor dismounted.

  "Give your mounts to the grooms, here, and come away into the hall," he said. "We have much to discuss, I think, and it will be pleasant to discuss it over a wee dram."

  Angus swung his leg over his horse's rump and stepped down from the stirrup. His son followed suit.

  "Thank you, Iain Mor," he smiled, handing the reins to the clansman who stood by to receive them. He rubbed his palms together. "Everything is more pleasant over a wee dram. Lead on!"

  Iain beckoned to one of his lieutenants.

  "Find my son Uilleam," he commanded. "Tell him he is to attend our neighbor, Angus Mor, who has come to visit us."

  Then he turned on his heel and led Angus and his retinue into the keep and up a spiral stairway into the great hall on the second story.

  Siusan followed them, the back of her brother, James, preceding her. He was still deliberately and pointedly avoiding her. Her heart was in her mouth. The next few minutes would decide her fate, whether she would be returned to Inveraray, whether her marriage to Cailean Campbell would go ahead, and whether she would be given instead to Uilleam MacGregor. She did not know which outcome she dreaded most: to be possessed by the cruel and calculating Campbell or by the coarse and insensitive MacGregor.

  She resisted the sudden temptation to just turn and run away.

  The great hall of Meggernie Castle was a rather spartan affair. Rough wooden benches and tables lined the body of the hall, while at the far end from the door a board that was only slightly less rudimentary than the rest had been raised on a low wooden platform and surrounded by hard, plain chairs. The stone walls were completely unadorned by tapestry or hanging but instead were decked with row upon row of stag antlers and boar tusks and broad fans of swords and pikes. The floor was strewn with fresh rushes, in which a motley of hunting dogs - wolfhounds, deerhounds, and lurchers, mainly - had flattened their beds and lay languorously at ease among the comings and goings of the castle's human inhabitants.

  Iain led Angus and James to the top table, while Angus's small retinue gathered around a table near the door to await refreshment.

  "Do you wish me to remain?" Siusan asked, unsure as to whether she had any part to play in the men's discussion.

  Angus appraised her thoughtfully.

  "Since the matter concerns you, you may stay," he replied, "providing you keep that temper of yours in check. Just sit still and keep your mouth shut."

  Iain nodded approvingly of Angus’s judgment, and Siusan drew out a chair at the corner of the table and sat down. James continued to avoid her eye, as she did his.

  A steward brought in a fat-bellied bottle and a tray bearing several wooden cogies and a gleaming silver quaich. These he placed ceremoniously before Iain, before withdrawing with a small bow.

  Iain poured a generous measure of uisge-beatha into the quaich, which he then lifted by the handles and presented to Angus.

  "Slàinte!" Angus offered the toast, before taking a long sip of the amber liquid.

  He smacked his lips and handed the quaich back to Iain.

  "Slàinte!" Iain returned the toast and sipped it in return.

  The toast concluded, Iain splashed whiskey into each of the three cogies and handed one to each of the men, including himself. He did not, of course, proffer one to Siusan. Uisge-beatha was not to be wasted on women.

  Just then, there was a small commotion at the door, and Uilleam entered, having unhitched his sword and divested himself of his dirk in the small vestibule, as was the custom in the house. The MacGregors, like many clans, did not permit weapons to be brought into the great hall when they had visitors. He strode up the center of the room towards the dais, exuding self-assurance and virility. He carried himself with an air of utter confidence in his own abilities and worth; he was who and what he was, and he did not care who knew it. He walked with a slight swagger beneath his belted plaid, and its kilt swayed rhythmically to his tread.

  All eyes in the hall followed him in admiration. Even Siusan drew a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him, his red hair ablaze in the golden sunlight that had just at that moment chosen to send its strong beams in almost solid slanting shafts through the high windows, his powerful build, his easy movement so reminiscent of the grace of a dangerous predator, like the lions and tigers she had found as a child in the illuminated bestiaries in her father's small library of books. There was something that she could not help but admire about the man, as well as something that frightened her. Possibly, they were both the same thing.

  He stepped up onto the dais and took a seat at the table. His father poured him a generous dram of uisge-beatha.

  "To business, then," Iain said, looking around at the faces of the men who sat around the table. "We are here to discuss what we should do, now that my son, here, has asserted his right over the lassie, Siusan."

  Siusan blushed at the allusion, with a mixture of anger and self-conscious embarrassment. But that was, indeed, the fact of the matter. She might not like it, but that was what was at issue: to whom 'ownership' of her was to be transferred from her father, to Cailean Campbell or to Uilleam MacGregor.

  "It seems to me, Angus, that you have three options," Iain continued. "You can send her back to the Campbells and seek to repair the damage that has been done by Uilleam's lifting her. You can give her instead to Uilleam. Or you can take her back to Glen Orchy and keep her as a spinster there for the rest of her days."

  "And I'd remind you," Uilleam added, "that it is not just a question of who will father your grandbairns, but also of whether the Gunns will roll over for the Campbells or else throw in their lot with the MacGregors and other of their neighbors who have a common enemy in the Campbells."

  Iain nodded slowly, watching Angus's eye keenly, trying to discern the effect his and his son's words were having.

  Angus shifted in his chair, choosing his words carefully.

  "You have put the matter nicely, Iain," he began slowly, his brow knotted in thought. "But I would remind you that the decision is mine, and mine alone. I don't see what 'we' have to discuss."

  Uilleam scoffed.

  "You say that the decision is yours, Angus Mor, and perhaps you are right. But it would seem that others have usurped that authority. Your son, here, for example - James Gunn - who was complicit in the Campbell's lifting of your daughter from Glen Orchy. It would seem that your son assumed the decision as his own."

  Angus's complexion darkened, and his eyes flashed dangerously. Siusan's blood ran cold, and a shiver of fear ran through her like a rapier.

  "Is this so?" Angus rumbled, shifting his gaze onto James's face, his tallow beard trembling and his heavy black eyebrows bristling.

  "You led me to that glade on purpose," Siusan hissed, "so that Cailean could take me. It had all been prearranged."

  "Wheesht, lassie," Angus barked. "If you can't hold your tongue, you will leave the room."

  James kept his eyes downcast while he carefully composed his response.

  "I was only helping him protect what is rightly his," he said quietly, then raised his eyes to meet his father's stare. "You made your pledge, father. Siusan is his betrothed. You cannot go back on that now. The Campbells would never forgive you for that."

  "Aye, therein lies the rub!" Uilleam cried. "The Gunns are running scared of the Campbells."

  "Enough!" Iain bellowed. "You will show our guests the respect to which they are entitled while they are under our roof, or you too will take no more part in this parley."

  "Well..." Uilleam grumbled. "I am just telling it as it is. You cannot deny that your James, here, went behind your back, Angus Mor, and traded your daughter to curry favor with..."

  James leaped to his feet, sending his chair clattering to the floor.

  "You will take that back, you filthy chiel," he cried.

  Uilleam just laughed and brushed some imaginary crumbs from the tabl
e, as if James's outburst was a matter of indifference to him.

  "Enough, I say!" Iain roared again, bringing his fist down on the wooden boards, causing the quaich, cogies, and bottle to jump.

  Siusan jumped as well, though the men remained unperturbed.

  "That is all in the past," Iain continued more quietly, after a pause. "What is important now is the future and where we will go from here.

  Angus dragged his look of disdain away from his son and nodded slowly.

  "You speak wisely, Iain Mor," he said. "The situation has changed. We must reappraise the lie of the land and act accordingly.

  James shrugged.

  "Well, you know my view, father," he said. "An alliance with the Campbells is in the Gunn's best interests."

  Angus turned a look of stern reproof upon him once again.

  "It may be that it is," he growled. "But you are not the chief of the clan Gunn yet, and it is not your place to decide with whom our alliances are made. You have acted high-handedly, James, lad; I am disappointed in you."

  He returned to Iain.

  "I am impressed by what you say, and the argument your son, here, made when he came to Clyth, seeking my Siusan's hand. The expansionism of the Campbells poses the greater threat to both our clans, and so we have a common interest in resisting it. I had hoped to protect the Gunns by creating an affinity between the Gunns and the Campbells through marriage, but now, in light of recent events, I have cause to fear their treachery. Let it just be said – and just this, mind – that I am increasingly minded to form an alliance with you against the Campbell threat."

  James slammed his hands down on the table and leaped once more to his feet.

  "I'll be damned if I join with the MacGregors," he cried. He indicated their surroundings with a wave of his hands. "I mean, look at them. Look at their mean little keep. They're little more than common sheep-stealers, the lot of them."

  Uilleam leaped to his feet and began stalking around the table to where James stood.

  "Uilleam!" Iain barked. "Sit yourself down!"

  But Uilleam kept coming around the table, murder flashing in his eyes.

  "Have you no ambition, Father?" James made a final appeal. "The Campbells are going up in the world, and we could rise with them. We should be wearing silks rather than sheep-pelts, like these barbarians."

  Uilleam was upon him. He seized James by the throat and pushed him back over the table.

  James's head made a sickening thud as it struck the solid wood board. He grasped Uilleam's wrists, but he could not prise off the latter’s viselike grip. He began to gasp and kick.

  "Campbell's arse-wipe!" Uilleam growled. "I'll wring your neck for you."

  Suddenly, Iain Mor was on his feet too. He delivered his son a mighty cuff across the jaw with the back of his hand, which sent Uilleam sprawling across the floor."

  Unable to contain herself any longer, Siusan stood up.

  "Stop it!" she screamed. "Just stop it, all of you. I'm sick and tired of being treated like a chattel, to be bought and sold for the greatest advantage." She stamped her foot. "I demand to be treated with a little respect and consideration, not fought over like the last bun at a market stall.

  Uilleam eased his grip on James's throat as he looked up at Siusan in wonderment. It was as if scales had fallen from his eyes and he was seeing her for the very first time. And for the very first time, he realized that he did not want to marry her just to stop her from being married to Cailean Campbell; he wanted to marry her for her own sake, for herself alone. He had been smitten by her, it dawned on him, by her smeddum and her mettle, her spirit, and her beauty. And he did not just want to bed her, as he had dreamed; he wanted to make her his mate.

  He slowly released James, who rolled from the table and stood up, leaning on the back of a chair for support and rubbing his throat.

  Angus too looked at her, only his look was shamefaced. He remembered the little girl he had been so fond of and indulged as a child, and his paternal feelings for her reawakened.

  "You have the right of it, my lass," he said. "We have been discussing you like a heifer at mart. I will not force you into a marriage you do not want. If needs be, I will take the third road that Iain Mor indicated and take you home to Glen Orchy. We may or may not join forces with the MacGregors, marriage or not."

  He rose and went over to her. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his massive chest.

  Siusan snuggled into her father as she used to do as a child, when she would scramble up onto his knee in the great hall or solar. He felt that she was trembling.

  "Oh wheesht, lassie!" he murmured into her hair. "You are quivering like a wee bird trapped in a net."

  Uilleam stood transfixed. He longed to go over and comfort her too. He had never experienced such tender feelings towards a woman before.

  "Do you want to marry Cailean Campbell?" Angus asked.

  "No," Siusan replied emphatically.

  He nodded and gave a little grunt of acknowledgment.

  "Do you want to marry Uilleam MacGregor instead?"

  She hesitated. Uilleam held his breath.

  "No," she said, but she sounded less assured.

  "Then," Angus announced, raising his head and addressing the whole company, "it is settled. We shall leave for Glen Orchy immediately, with no further delay."

  He stepped away from Siusan, took her gently by the hand, and began leading her down the length of the hall towards the door.

  "Thank ye fer yer hospitality, Iain Mor," he proclaimed in a loud voice that resounded in the rafters. "We will speak more o’ the situation with the Campbells soon. Until then, I will take yer leave. Chi mi a-rithist thu. I will see ye again."

  "Beannachd leat! Goodbye, Angus Mor," Iain's voice joined his neighbor’s among the rafters.

  Out in the courtyard, Angus and his retinue had to wait a few minutes until their mounts were fetched. As the horses appeared from the stables, James sidled up to his father.

  "She always was your favorite," he sneered. "Could do no wrong, in your eyes. Even when she slaughtered my hawk – remember? – it was I who ended up being scolded. And now this..."

  Angus made no reply. He just continued to watch, with perfect equanimity, Siusan and his men mount their beasts, as if he had not heard a word he said.

  With a snort of disgust, James swung himself up into his saddle and rode out through the gates of Meggernie Castle ahead of the rest and heeled his horse into a gallop.

  As she arranged her gown over her legs and her horse’s hindquarters, Siusan suddenly noticed that Uilleam was by her side.

  "I will accompany you on the road," he told her.

  Siusan barely gave him a glance.

  "There is really no need," she replied coolly. "I have my father and his men to protect me against the thieves and bandits that infest Glen Strae."

  Uilleam smiled at the allusion to her brother's insults.

  "But still," he said, "I would see you safely home. Take it as a mark of my respect and esteem of you."

  She looked at him sharply, then gave a haughty shrug.

  "Is it not a bit late to be playing the suitor, after the rough treatment I have received at your hands?"

  "I trust not," he replied, so quietly that he could not tell whether she had heard him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Inveraray Castle

  The same day

  Cailean entered the armory hall at Inveraray Castle.

  The hall was a well-appointed, high-ceilinged room with large leaded windows looking out onto Loch Fyne. The walls were paneled with dark oak and contained an impressive collection of armories. The central ceiling displayed the impressive family crest, around which orbited the crests of the various cadet branches of the clan. Displays of arms in elaborate patterns adorned the walls, pole-arms alternating with Lochaber axes and broadswords.

  He found his father in the middle of the hall, testing the weight and balance of a large two-handed longsword
. The swish of the blade as it cut through the air, and the squeak of the leather soles of his father’s boots on the parquet floor, were the only sounds to be heard. Apart from those, a tense and somber silence weighed heavily in the room.