Like a Laird to a Flame

by Pride, Mia

  The door to his chamber slammed shut with a resounding bang and Mary jumped, knowing things would only be more awkward between them by morning, but hoping she could simply go back to avoiding him the way he had hoped to avoid her.

  Besides, had he not arrived with a prospective young bride by his side? The lass had much to be desired, for certs, yet she could understand his desire to push her attentions off on Reginald, who was much too chivalrous to reject her attentions.

  Desperate for a good cry and a lot of sleep, Mary shuffled her sore feet toward her chamber, stopping briefly when a cramp in her womb took her breath away. They had begun to pain her more often as of late, and she knew her time to birth the child grew near.

  “Have ye considered my offer, Mary?”

  Gasping, Mary spun around and clutched at her chest, cursing under her breath. “Stephan, ye cannae sneak up on me like that.”

  Stepping out of the shadows, Stephan appeared with his long, dark hair and matching eyes, a kind smile on his face. “I apologize. ’Twas not my intention to frighten ye. I simply wished to speak with ye all evening and ye appeared… occupied.”

  She understood what he referred to, but she owed him no explanation. “I am tired, Stephan. What do ye want?”

  “I want an answer, Mary. Look at ye. Ye are ready to have a child. Ye need a man to protect ye and care for ye. I have always wished to be that man, ye ken. I was that man once. I can be again. Have ye considered my offer to wed? I will take care of ye and the child… even if it is… his.”

  The way he said the last word made her scowl. She felt repulsion for him run through her veins. They had been best of friends growing up together at Drum, but just that. Any romantic notions Stephan had for her were not reciprocated. Despite her attempts to kindly rebuff him, Stephan was a tenacious and ambitious man. She was not at all certain if his desire to marry her had anything to do with love for her, or simply his love for power. He was a knight and respected well enough within the clan, but he always had been overly ambitious, and Mary wondered if her child was his connection to the laird. If he raised Alexander’s child, he would be the father of Robert’s niece or nephew. Mary refused to be used as a ladder to the top.

  “Ye ken ye and I have always been great friends, Stephan and–”

  “And who else is better to spend yer life with than a friend? We can be happy, Mary.” Stephan attempted to take her hand but she pulled away and shook her head.

  “Nay, I dinnae think we could.” He repulsed her. It was not the pockmarks that covered his face from his childhood illness that he blamed every misfortune on. It was the gleam in his eye that told her he had a plan and that plan involved her child.

  “Ye would rather be shamed by yer clan than marry me?” He was no longer smiling and Mary saw the true man behind the mask. He wanted something more than simply a marriage.

  “The Irvines would never shame me, Stephan. Of that, I am certain.”

  “Och, ’tis not the Irvines I refer to, and I think ye ken that,” he sneered, moving closer.

  Backing away, fear enveloped her. Never had she been afraid of this man, but never had he been so bold. “Is that a threat?” she asked, trying to sound brave and unshaken. Though inside, she was quivering and fighting the instinct to flee.

  “When I was abed with the pox, ye abandoned me. Ye went off with Alexander. Nothing has been the same ever since. Ye owe me.”

  “I owe ye nothing, Stephan! I am sorry ye had the pox. I didnae abandon ye. Ye were ill and secluded. I wasnae allowed to visit ye and ye ken that! Alexander had nothing to do with yer illness nor our friendship… which was all it ever was. I am sorry if ye thought more of it.”

  Scoffing, Stephan narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Ye thought more of it, too. I ken it. Ye are lying to protect yerself, but I ken who ye are. Ye are a power-seeking whore. Ye got yerself with child from the laird and now he is dead, and ye are all alone.”

  Shaking with rage and disgust, Mary smacked him across the face so hard that his head snapped to the side, and she gasped, pulling away, never having hit anyone in her life. “Ye need to go, Stephan. Ye need to stay away from me and my bairn!”

  Pushing past him, Mary opened the door to her chamber, pointed for him to leave and slammed it shut behind his retreating back, barring it behind her and leaning against the rough wood surface, heaving for breath and feeling moderately nauseated. Another strong pain gripped her belly and she groaned, gripping her belly and feeling it harden with the pains. Once it relented, she shuffled to her bed and sat on the edge, shaken and wishing to simply disappear, telling herself all would be well very soon.

  Yet, nothing was well and nothing would ever be well again. Not without Alexander.

  Chapter Three

  “Have ye both lost yer minds?” Storming into Robert’s solar, he stared at both him and his frustrating sister, waiting for one of them to respond or even blink. But they both simply stared back at him calmly, no expression on their vexing faces.

  Sleep had eluded him all night. He was torn in so many directions by different emotions. He disliked Mary for some reason he had never been able to figure out. Something about the woman chafed him. But, he had made her cry and, worse, his mere existence tortured her. She had rejected him and that thought haunted him. Why, he could not fathom. He had not wished for the kiss but once it happened, he had hoped for some reaction besides her running away to cry. It was all his cursed sister’s fault for meddling and, for the life of him, he could not understand why she felt the need to do so. He’d come with another woman. Marjorie was never going to be his wife, but that was his decision to make and insulting Archibald Douglas was not a good idea.

  “Have ye nothing to say?”

  Stepping forward, Elizabeth rolled her eyes and he knew she was going to act as if nothing had happened. “It was naught but mistletoe, Will. It was placed all over the castle. Anyone could have sat beneath it. I would have pointed it out to anyone. It verra easily could have been ye and Marjorie, so be grateful for small mercies.”

  “Ye kenned well what ye were doing, Lizzie. Dinnae ye deny it. Ye kenned Marjorie would wish to sit with Reg and ye intentionally sat me beside Mary, which was fine until ye forced her on me.”

  “Do ye hear yerself?” Robert asked with a bit of a defensive edge. “Mary is a beautiful woman who is well respected within our clan. She was sought by many a man before choosing Alexander. She is forced on nobody, Will. Ye were damned fortunate to share her company. Get over yerself.”

  William scowled when his sister nodded and crossed her arms defiantly in support of her husband.

  “The truth remains that I arrived with another woman and it is my decision in the end to choose a wife. Mary is heavy with another man’s child and–” It all hit him at once, like a bear caught in a trap, being swept off its feet and knocked over the head. “That is the verra point, isnae it? Ye wish to match me with Mary so she has a husband to raise her child. Deny it!” A sense of betrayal washed over him as it all came together in his mind. “Ye invited me here to fool me into a match… with Alexander’s mistress!”

  A bang on the door behind him caused William to turn on his heels, startled by the intrusion.

  “Well, at least someone has the manners to await entry to my solar,” Robert said, glaring at William accusingly, but he simply crossed his arms and raised his brow. He would have manners when his sister and her husband showed some of their own. “Enter!” Robert shouted. When the door opened, William held his breath as Mary tentatively stepped forward, freezing when she saw him.

  “Ah, Mary. Please come in,” Robert said warmly and she did as he asked, for what William suspected was the first time in her life.

  “Ye asked me to come?”

  “Aye, we did. We hadnae expected William to be here when ye arrived, but it is just as well, for this involves him.”

  What could they discuss with her that involved him, if not a marriage match? William eyed his sister, but she ke
pt a serious face and placed a hand on Robert’s arm, not making eye contact with either of them.

  “Please have a seat, both of ye.” Gesturing to the large wooden seats in front of his desk, Robert took Elizabeth’s hand and guided her around the other side, seating her on his lap when he sat. William grimaced at their constant displays of affection, but he did as he was asked and took a seat of his own, Mary slowly doing the same, placing a hand on her unborn child.

  “Mary…” Elizabeth leaned over the desk and took her friend’s hand, her eyes beseeching Mary to listen to whatever it was she was about to say. “Ye ken how much ye mean to me, to us. Aye?” Nodding, Mary sniffed and crinkled her brow in distress, taking a deep breath. Apparently, William wasn’t the only one in attendance confused by the sudden seriousness in his sister’s voice.

  Looking at him, Elizabeth took his hand next and smiled. “I neednae tell ye how much ye mean to me, elder brother. Ye ken already how much I love ye.”

  “I love ye, as well, Lizzie. What is this all about?” His stomach clenched and churned. He knew instinctively that something was amiss, and though he had his suspicions, he hoped he was incorrect.

  “Mary needs a husband, and ye need a wife.”

  The words hit him like a swift punch to the gut. Robert was a man who did not mince words, which William usually appreciated. But to discover his invitation to enjoy the Yuletide with his sister was naught more than a ploy to make him marry Alexander’s breeding mistress was a blow even he had not truly expected.

  Pushing away from her chair beside him, Mary shook her head, red waves of hair floating about her face, hazel eyes brimming with tears. “I dinnae want a husband!” she cried, gripping her swollen belly protectively. “I cannae!”

  Elizabeth jumped off Robert’s lap immediately. Robert came around his desk, wrapping his arms around the weeping woman as William watched on, feeling his head spinning with too many emotions, mostly anger at his sister and pity for Mary, though she would not wish for it. However, though he tried to refuse it, a sense of rejection battled within him. He understood that Mary only wanted Alexander and he did not wish to marry a woman in love with another man, yet was he truly so bad a match? He was a laird in his own right and Marischal of bloody Scotland. He could have any woman he wanted and he’d had many. There was no denying Mary was a beautiful woman, yet if she thought he wished to be saddled with another man’s child and a weeping, heartbroken woman, she was mistaken.

  “Look at me, Mary,” Robert whispered and wiped away her tears before cupping her face in his palms. “I ken ye dinnae wish to wed another man. Mary… Alex is gone. He isnae coming back.”

  “Nay! Stop it, Robert! I dinnae want to hear this!” Mary tried to push away, but Robert gripped her arms and lightly shook her. Hearing a sob from behind him, William turned to see tears streaming down Elizabeth’s face and he frowned, hating to see these women suffering Alexander’s loss still after all these months, though he understood it well.

  “He is gone, Mary! He wouldnae want ye to live like this! He wouldnae want his child to be fatherless or ye to suffer in loneliness forever! I ken this because he told me, Mary!”

  “He didnae even ken he was to be a father!” She wailed and fell to her knees, holding her face. “I never got to tell him, Rob! I never got to feel his hand on our unborn child or see the look of pride in his eyes! No man will love me or this child as he would have! I willnae settle for less!”

  It was too much. Too much pain and heartbreak to witness without feeling the compulsion to comfort her. Getting down on his knees beside her, William wrapped his arms around her and placed his chin on her head. He had no words to give and remembering his own father’s grief after his mother died, he knew words would not matter. He had barely known Alex and it was not his right to attempt to soothe her with words. Instead, he hoped his embrace would be a balm to her soul.

  “I ken that,” Robert whispered. “I ken. But he told me to take care of ye. Before the battle, he sat me down and made me vow to ensure ye were always cared for. I cannae keep my promise if ye dinnae allow me. Ye ken verra well that an unwed mother with a bastard child willnae live well. Ye ken I will always protect ye and the child. But what happens when ye are gone, Mary? When I am gone? What will become of yer child?”

  Looking up with red-rimmed, swollen eyes, the look on Mary’s face broke William’s heart as he continued to stroke her hair, not knowing what else to do. “I… I dinnae ken…” she hiccupped. “I am already a terrible mother, for I havenae even considered my own child in any of this!” Another wail of anguish filled the room as if all her pent-up grief was being wrenched from her body simultaneously, and it was all William could do to choke back his own tears.

  “Ye arenae a terrible mother, Mary,” Elizabeth whispered. “Ye have been grieving. Ye are allowed to love Alexander and miss him. But, Rob is right. Ye neednae love another man. But ye do need to marry one.”

  “I ken… I ken I do,” Mary relented, a long sigh escaping her lips as a tear threatened to fall from the tip of her small, pointed nose.

  Lifting a finger, William wiped the tear away and clenched his other hand into a fist, feeling like an arse for having immediately rejected the idea of marrying her. Aye, he needed a wife, but he was a laird and alliances were necessary. Elizabeth married an Irvine to end the feud between their clans, but his people gained nothing by him marrying another Irvine. Dunnottar needed a lady to run it, but more than that, it needed protection.

  “Lizzie… may we speak in private?” he asked his sister and got back up on his feet. Mary looked up at him with what he assumed was a show of gratitude for his support before she crumpled into tears once more. Nodding, his sister left Robert’s side and opened the door, so they could speak in the hall.

  “I ken ye are angry with me, Will, but ye can see this is the best match for ye both. She carries an Irvine heir, my dead husband’s child. She needs protection, Will. She ran Drum for years. Ye need a wife who can run Dunnottar and she is that wife. She already holds an heir in her womb. Ye must consider her a better match than Marjorie Douglas.”

  Clearing his throat, William blew out a strong breath and shook his head, running a frazzled hand through his hair. “Aye… and nay. Lizzie, ye ken I need to marry for an alliance. Love was something I had hoped to find but didnae. Ye are correct that I need a wife. Ye are also correct that Marjorie isnae a good match for me, though the alliance is. Mary, as terrible as I feel for her, is only slightly less exhausting. The lass is outspoken and openly disdains me. Furthermore, Dunnottar gains a lady, but no new alliances with this match. She is a bonnie woman, but she is in love with another man, dislikes me immensely, and surely I can find a woman who doesnae hate me, who doesnae drive me mad, to create an alliance with.”

  “Ye ken there are two parents involved in the creation of a child, aye?” Elizabeth tapped her foot on the cold, stone tiles and put her hands on her hips. Why did she always say the most puzzling things?

  “Of course, I bloody ken that. What the devil does that have to do with anything?”

  “Her mother was an Irvine and she was raised here, but her father was the next brother in line to the Hamilton seat. She grew up on Hamilton lands as a wee lass. When her father died in battle, her mother moved back to Irvine lands. Her brother, James, is both the current laird and Baron of Cadzow. She has strong and powerful ties, Will. Mary was not able to wed with Alex because his father forbade the match. She is the youngest daughter of ten children, so as noble-born as she is, she isnae a laird’s daughter, has no lands to inherit, and no dowry, but she sits at the head table for more reasons than simply carrying his child. She isnae a servant, even if she insists she is. Simply put, the woman works hard to earn her keep, lives modestly, and doesnae use her kin for gain.”

  William stood still, stunned by this knowledge. He would never have known, and Mary certainly never would have mentioned her connections, which somehow made him admire her even more. She stood on her ow
n two feet, never leaning on her powerful family for support. “I had no idea.”

  “Of course, ye didnae. She will make a mighty alliance for Dunnottar and be a wonderful lady. Her kin doesnae ken she is with child and she fears she will be disowned if they discover it. If she is wed to ye and ye claim the child, ye both keep her connections. If they discover the truth before she weds, I cannae say what her family shall do, or if a war between us would start.”

  Though the knowledge of Mary’s Hamilton ties made her a more appropriate match, there was still the matter of her hatred for him. Could he live with a wife who constantly spoke her mind, especially when her mind was filled with venom or snide remarks toward him? He supposed anything was better than Marjorie, and yet there had to be an in-between… if only he had the luxury of time to discover it.

  This was not at all how he expected his morning to start and, already, he had a pounding in his head that threatened to make him go blind. Gripping his temples and closing his eyes, William decided he needed time to think and fresh air.

  “Lizzie, this is too much. Ye ask me to wed a woman and claim her child. And if it is a son? He shall become the next Laird of Dunnottar. And what of my future sons? ’Tis the first day of the Yule and, already, I wish to return home.” His sister frowned and he sighed. “But, I shall stay. I do believe some time in the lists will ease my mind a wee bit and help me think on the matter.”

  Nodding, Elizabeth put a hand on his shoulder. “That child is my nephew. He may not have Keith blood, but he is our kin and has noble ties. I ken I ask much of ye, I do. But if it is a lass, then ye still must produce an heir. If the bairn is a lad, then the pressure to gain one shall already be fulfilled. Many men go to their grave unable to have an heir and would gladly be in yer place. Family is more than blood and we both ken that. Was Matilda ever treated any different by Mother or Father because she had no Keith blood in her veins?