by Fiona Faris
“He said that ye were kind, honorable, virtuous, well read… but it was more than just words, ye ken. He told me stories o’ yer lives together. Yer faither was a hard man and no’ well liked even among his own clansmen, but when he spoke o’ ye, Marra, there was this light of pride upon his face that was unmistakable. It was plain that he was no’ an affectionate man, but in his own way, I ken that he loved ye more than anythin’ else in his life, e’en if he ne’er said so.”
Tears once again formed in her eyes as she listened to James’ description. Why could he no’ have said such things while he was alive? Unable to hold back, a single tear slipped down her cheek to fall onto her skirt, creating a perfect dark circle.
James arose and knelt by her side, reaching up to brush the wet trail from her cheek with his thumb. “Dinnae fash, lass. I did no’ mean tae bring ye sorrow.”
“Ye did no’,” Marra reassured him. “Ye have brought me great joy.”
James smiled in understanding and sat back down upon his chair. “I am most glad o’ that.”
“I thank ye for yer honesty, James. I only wish that I had been there tae hear it for myself.”
“I have a feelin’ that had ye been there he would no’ have said it as the proof would have been before me in yer beauteous person.”
“Ye flatter me.”
“Nae, I only speak truth.”
Marra smiled in acknowledgement of his words. Leaning back against the croft’s stone wall, she turned her gaze out toward the sea. “Tell me o’ Skye? I have ne’er been before.”
James leaned back in his seat beside her. His voice took on a dreamy wistful tone as if he were speaking more of a lover than a piece of land. “Skye is the most beautiful island in all o’ Scotland. She is rocky, yet green as green can be. She is hard, yet gentle. She is jagged, mysterious, and gloriously wild. As ye approach her, magnificent stone cliffs tower above ye, welcomin’ ye home. Lively streams flow throughout her, turnin’ tae waterfalls that tumble down as riotous white sheets in tae crystal clear blue and green pools beneath the protective watch o’ the mountains. A path o’ stones cuts through the solid rock beneath the water’s surface as if it were the path tae heaven itself. ‘Tis unlike any other place I have e’er seen. They say that the fae folk dwell among the pools, enchanting each and every wayfarer who sojourns there.”
“Enchanting indeed,” Marra murmured. James’ description of his home made her long to see it for herself. “Why would ye e’er agree tae leave?”
“A far greater beauty,” he informed her, gazing into her eyes with such emotion that she blushed. “For the love o’ Helen, Paris brought about the destruction of Troy. How can a man do anythin’ less for such as ye?” Marra was stunned speechless. What did one say to such a declaration? “I ken that what our faither’s did was no’ legally bindin’, but I would verra much like it if ye would allow me the opportunity tae show ye the life we could have together, that we could build together, were ye tae accept my troth.”
“I dinnae ken what tae say,” she stammered in uncertainty.
“Then dinnae say anythin’. I can wait, Marra. Ye are worth a lifetime o’ waitin’ if by its end ye would but say aye.”
“I have ne’er met anyone quite like ye, James.”
“I will take that as a compliment,” he smiled and rose bending down to kiss her hand. “I will leave ye tae yer thoughts, my dearest Marra, and go tae prepare for our journey tae arrange goods for yer people. We will depart upon the morrow if ye are amenable?”
“Aye, that would be best,” she agreed, not fully recovered from his declarations.
Bowing once more, James turned, and walked toward the keep to speak with the laird. As she watched him walk away, Marra felt a myriad of conflicting emotions. Turning her gaze to the sky, she petitioned the heavens. Faither, what have ye done tae me?
Chapter Seventeen
Duncan barreled out of the stables as if his very life depended upon it, barely managing to belt his kilt back on before he emerged into the courtyard. He had come so close to taking Marra right there in the loft, and in so doing, he would have betrayed his vow. It had been his mother who had impressed upon him the importance of such matters for an unwed lady of noble birth. Her sister, Margaret, had fallen in love with the son of a laird and had given herself over to him in a moment of passion. She became with child, but the laird forbid the couple from wedding one another as her virtue was then in question, in spite of the fact that it had been his son who had lain with her. Their father had then cast her out in shame. Pregnant, alone, ostracized, Margaret took her own life. Duncan’s mother had never recovered from the loss of her sister or the betrayal of all those involved and had made him vow that no matter how much he might desire or love a lass he would not lay with her until they were wed or at the very least handfast.
As they had met but days before, and in that span, she had lost her father and her home, Duncan had wished to give Marra the time to mourn before broaching the subject of courtship or betrothal. The fact that they had slept in one another’s arms after only having spoken once had created an intimacy between them that they would not have otherwise had. Since that time there had been no discussion of where they stood in one another’s affections, but the underlying current of desire and longing had been present in every moment that they spent together. Even when Marra had attempted to put some distance between them after their argument about her returning home unprotected, Duncan had seen his own passion reflected back at him in her eyes. Everything about their relationship had been abnormal from her abduction and rescue to her being orphaned and seeking sanctuary among her enemies, not to forget her supposed illegal marriage by proxy to a total stranger.
Duncan shook his head in exasperation of the situation they found themselves in. In the eyes of God and the law they were nothing to each other, enemies at best; but in their hearts, in Duncan’s heart, they were everything. Where do we stand? Unable to quench his desire for her, he made his way down to the water’s edge, stripped naked, and plunged into the freezing cold waters. He swam around for as long as he could bear it and then climbed back out to lie in the grass, allowing the sun to dry and warm his body. The cold water had momentarily cooled his ardor, and he was able to think more clearly about what needed to be done in the days that lay ahead.
He had told his father that he refused to wed Marra for political gain and that he wished to wed for love alone as his parents had done, but the arrival of James Alexander MacDonald had been a complication he had not anticipated. He had planned to court her slowly so that the desire they felt for one another would have the opportunity to blossom into love, the kind of love that would stand the test of time, no matter the difficulties that lay ahead of them. Joining two peoples who had hated each other for centuries would not be an easy task and would require great strength, courage, and the sort of love that could not be vanquished under the strain of such a life. Love at first sight was beautiful, but seldom lasted after the passion of youth was gone. In order to build a life together they would need the kind of love that took time to grow, but the presence of another suiter within her own clan forced him to reconsider his plan.
He began to doubt his vow not to lie with her before they were wed. If he were to lose her to another man, he would never forgive himself. He felt guilty for leaving her in the loft as he had, but one breath longer, and he would have taken her, consuming her body and soul. She would have given herself over to him, he had seen it in her eyes. She had begged him not to stop, and yet he had, his mother’s words of warning ringing through his head. The constant threat of attack that now hung over their heads made the dangers of leaving her alone, pregnant, and unwed all the more possible. He could not condemn her to that fate. He would have her in his bed wed or not at all no matter how much he may have wished it otherwise. The idea of her in another man’s arms turned his stomach, and he determined to take immediate action before it was too late.
Standing, he dressed himself, th
en headed back through the village toward the keep. He needed to speak with his father about the possibility of arranging a betrothal. As Marra’s father was dead, he was not quite sure with whom to speak on the matter within her clan. As they had been deprived the luxury of time, they would simply have to do the best they could with the brief time they had shared. I love her more than I have ever loved another. I know she desires me, but does she love me?
As he passed, Idonea’s croft he saw James kneeling beside Marra, gazing up into her eyes with such fervor that it took all of Duncan’s strength not to pull him up by his shirt and punch him square in the face. The earnestness of their speech gave him pause. As he stood their debating what to do, James reached up and caressed her cheek. Mara closed her eyes, leaning into the caress. Duncan’s heart shattered. He could not hear what they were saying, but what he saw said enough. He could not believe his eyes. Had she not just been lying beneath him pleading for him to make love to her, and yet here she sat enjoying the caresses of another man. Feeling ill, he stumbled forward to challenge the blaggard, but managed to stop himself.
She is no’ mine tae order about as I please. She is no’ mine tae claim above all other men. She is no’ mine at all. Duncan gazed broken upon the scene before him. Unable to bear it a moment longer, he turned and continued on blindly toward the keep, tears stinging his eyes. She may not be mine, but I am hers, for she is the heart that beats within my chest; she is the breath that lends life tae my body. Within her eyes lies my verra soul.
Letting go of any hopes for arranging a betrothal with his father, Duncan arranged for Ewen to guard Marra in his absence, turned toward the stables, mounted his pony, and rode off alone into the forest.
* * *
The next morning Marra prepared to leave for the Isle of Skye to arrange aid for her people. Ian, unwilling to leave Diana and his wife in the hands of the enemy unprotected, remained behind. Ian planned to return his family to Jura while she was away, and he encouraged her to have the boat take her to Jura upon her return. Marra had looked for Duncan to bid him farewell but had not been able to find him. When she returned to the castle the night before, Ewen had informed her that Duncan had gone to hunt and was not sure when he would return. Ewen, having been assigned to her protection, had insisted on joining her on the journey to Skye. James had advised against it given the bad blood between the Campbells and MacDonalds, but Ewen would not change his mind. As the boat moved out to sea, Marra watched the shore line hoping to see Duncan, but he never came.
James’ boat was a one man sailing vessel that he could manage on his own, but it could hold a small number of people. He explained that he had designed it himself from a fishing vessel common to the islands and showed her how to steer and tend the sails as needed. As the wind increased in intensity, the boat picked up speed carrying them swiftly across the water. Marra delighted in the feel of the wind and the spray of the sea upon her face. There was a marvelous freedom to sailing on the open water. She found the fears and concerns of the past days melt away as she guided the boat forward, in that brief moment, the master of her own destiny.
James stood behind her and occasionally would offer instruction or request a correction. Marra would gladly oblige, thrilled at learning a new skill. The men of her clan had always done the sailing. In their minds women did not need to learn such things. James was nothing like that and praised her nimble mind and aptitude.
“This is wonderful!”
“Ye are a natural born seaman,” he proclaimed, grinning with pleasure at her joyous exclamations.
“I wish Duncan were here to see this,” she spoke without thinking to Ewen. With the thought of Duncan, all the hurt and pain from recent days came flooding back. Images of her kidnapping, her father’s burnt corpse, the hatred and distrust in her people’s eyes, her lying naked and alone on the floor of the stable loft, all flashed before her, causing her heart to constrict with the intensity of it.
“Marra, what is it?” James asked, his hand on her shoulder. “Ye have gone quite pale and are gripin’ the tiller so hard yer knuckles are as white as snow.”
Marra shook her head, attempting to gather her scattered emotions. “It is nothing.”
“I disagree,” James pressed her, taking the tiller from her hand and sat down next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder.
“For a brief moment I forgot about everythin’ that has happened. For a brief moment I was happy, weightless, incandescent.”
“And then it passed, and it all came crashing back down upon ye as a wave in a storm,” James finished for her as if he were inside of her mind, able to read her every thought.
“Aye.”
“Ye have been through a great deal, Marra. Ye are entitled tae a moment of untainted joy.”
They sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again. “Ye are in love with Duncan Campbell are ye no’?”
Marra looked up at him in surprise. Her face must have been something to see because Ewen nearly choked trying to stifle his amusement. “What makes ye ask such a question?”
“’Twas the way ye spoke his name with such longing,” James noted, sighing in disappointment. “Has he asked for yer hand?”
“Nae, he has no’.”
“Are ye lovers?”
Ewen’s amusement faded replaced by a scowl of disapproval. “What kind o’ a question is that tae ask a lady?” he growled.
“An honest one,” James answered, his gaze never leaving Marra’s face.
“Nae, we are no’ lovers.”
“But ye wish tae be.”
“That is enough o’ that!” Ewen edged forward as if preparing to toss James overboard.
“It is fine, Ewen. I dinnae mind answerin’ James’ questions. He has a right tae ken the lass he wishes tae wed,” Marra soothed her protector.
“Aye, I did wish tae be, but Duncan has made it quite clear that he does no’ feel the same.”
James mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an insult to Duncan’s intelligence. To Marra’s surprise Ewen nodded his head in agreement of the sentiment. “Any man that refuses ye, lass, is daft.”
“Aye,” Ewen remarked emphatically.
Marra could not have been more surprised had a fish jumped into the boat and smacked her in the face. Blushing she lowered her head to hide her face. “Do ye think ye could e’er come tae think o’ me in such a way?” James asked softly. Marra looked up at him and found a vulnerable uncertainty in his eyes that touched her heart.
She thought on his question for a moment before answering. “I owe Duncan my life. That is a bond that is no’ easily broken or replaced. Before I met Duncan, I did no’ ken that I could feel such things for another person. I dinnae ken if it is possible tae feel such a thing twice in one lifetime.”
James nodded his head in understanding. “I sincerely hope that it is.” Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips, kissed it, and then released it back to her lap.
Marra met Ewen’s gaze from across the boat and found compassionate understanding reflected there. He held her gaze for a moment as if to say that he too hoped such a thing was possible and that he too shared her pain. When they reached the Isle of Skye, Ewen assisted her from the boat while James saw to its mooring. “Dinnae give up on Duncan just yet, lass. I ken that he cares for ye as much as ye care for him. All will be well in time if ye let it,” Ewen spoke softly before releasing her hand.
Marra nodded in acknowledgment of his words and then followed James up the shore to his father’s stronghold. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared to meet the indomitable laird of Skye.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Duncan returned from his overnight hunting trip, he had calmed enough to give Marra the benefit of the doubt about her behavior toward James. Instead of jumping to conclusions, he had decided to simply ask her how she felt about him and the prospect of marriage in the future. Entering the castle, he did not find her in the great hall, so he ascended the stairs to her be
dchamber. He found it empty. Descending the stairs, he stepped back outside and scanned the courtyard for any sign of her, but found none. He checked the stable loft, but found it to be empty as well. Leaving the courtyard, he walked through the village to Idonea’s croft, expecting to find Diana and her family, but did not. “Where is Marra?” he demanded of the healer. “Where are her people?”
“Marra has departed for the Isle of Skye seeking aid for her people amongst her own clan as she should. Diana and her family are returnin’ tae Jura,” Idonea informed him.
“What?! She cannae have left!” Duncan raked his hands through his hair in frustration and anger. “How could she do this?”
“She did exactly what a leader in her position should have done. ‘Tis no’ natural for a proud people such as the MacDonalds tae seek refuge among their enemies. ‘Tis no’ natural at all. In all o’ Scotland I have ne’er heard o’ such a thing. She is right tae seek help from her own kind.”
“Ye dinnae ken anythin’ o’ such matters. Ye are a healer, no’ a seer.” Duncan clenched his teeth so hard he nearly broke a tooth. “Just because the man is her clansman does no’ mean she is safe. What if he is the man who took her? What if it is his people who attacked and killed her faither? The man agreed tae an illegal marriage. I would no’ put killin’ the laird tae claim his lands past such a man.” Duncan paced the floor in agitation. “How could she leave without tellin’ me?”
“She tried tae find ye, but ye were nae where tae be found. Ewen went with her.”
The healer’s matter of fact nature was a quality that he admired under normal circumstances, but at that moment in time he was finding it to be most infuriating. “When did they leave?”
“They departed at first light. The arrangements were made the night before with yer faither.”
