by Mary Wine
Laird McTavish stared for a long moment at Adwin and the retainers who had joined him. Those on the steps quieted, sensing the tension in the air.
“Aye,” William replied. He turned and began to make his way back into the hall. His wooden leg made a pounding noise on the stone floor as he went.
He suddenly stopped and turned to look at Rolfe. “I should introduce ye to Anne Grahan.” There was a movement off to the side as a woman stood up. “Yer bride.”
The girl came forward and lowered herself. She didn’t look up, not even when she straightened.
“It’s time ye were wed, and I have taken care of the contracts while ye were away.” He waved away Anne, who went happily.
“Father.”
William was settling himself in his seat at the high table. “Ye may express yer gratitude.”
“I am already wed,” Rolfe spoke clearly. “To Katherine.”
She expected outrage, but instead William McTavish merely cast her a rather uninterested look before returning his attention to Rolfe. “I agreed to no such match.”
“It is done,” Rolfe insisted. The hall was so quiet that she heard the wind whistling in the open windows.
“I am yer laird.” William’s tone became harder. “And I say I have contracted ye to Anne Grahan.”
“The vows were consummated and witnessed,” Rolfe told his father. “By Duncan Lindsey.”
William leaned forward, his pallor increasing. “I sent ye down to give this English chit to Morton.”
“Katherine was me prize,” Rolfe informed his father. “So mine to keep.”
William shook his head. “Nae if yer laird disagrees.” He shifted his attention to her. “Perhaps the rumors of ye being a witch are true. It seems ye have somehow turned me son against me.”
There was more than one gasp. Katherine felt her insides knotting. Just the mention of the word witch drew her back to the moment when she had watched the stake being raised and readied for her.
But it was Anne’s horrified face that Katherine ended up staring at. The girl was terrified of William now.
“Hate me for being English.” Katherine spoke up.
“Oh, I assure ye I do,” Laird McTavish answered her loudly. “And ye will no’ speak to me unless spoken to.”
It would have been wiser to keep her mouth shut, but the look on Anne’s face wouldn’t let her. Katherine refused to be so fearful of life. If that meant she died as a witch for it, so be it.
“I find it very difficult to believe that a spineless woman gave you a son as fierce as Rolfe.”
William opened his mouth the moment she started to speak, clearly intending to cut her off, but her words distracted him.
“Me wife was a strong woman. Strength begets strength,” he declared, to the approval of his clan members.
“And yet,” Katherine pointed at Anne, who was watching them with red-rimmed eyes as she wept in fear, “you have brought him a woman who cringes over another woman being insulted.”
Attention turned toward Anne, who stiffened and held her breath.
“Get out of me sight, witch!” William insisted.
“She is me wife,” Rolfe stated firmly.
“I want her out of me sight,” William declared. “This is a discussion for men. All of ye, be gone!”
It was Ceit who came forward and grasped Katherine’s wrist. The Head of House offered her a kindly warning look before she tugged on the wrist.
Leaving the room was the last thing Katherine wanted to do, but Rolfe stood there, firmly facing his father, and she knew it was the only way the matter could be resolved.
But do you want it resolved?
Katherine admitted that she was torn. Marcus had been her mentor for a long time, and she trusted him. His advice had always been sage, and it had filled her with hope the day before. That confidence was struggling to stand steady in the face of William McTavish’s hate.
Strangely enough, Anne’s stricken form was what restored Katherine’s balance. Ceit made it clear that she was of the same mind the moment they made it into the kitchens.
“Thank Christ we’ll no’ be having that spineless creature as mistress,” the Head of House said. The activity in the kitchens slowed in response. Ceit propped her hands on her ample hips and stared at her staff. “Aye, ye all heard me right. And I’ll call ye lazy if any of ye try to convince me ye’d prefer that little simpering miss. The only reason would be because ye know ye can spend half yer day napping because she does nae have the spine to reprimand ye.”
There was a round of laughter before work resumed. Ceit smiled at Katherine. “Welcome, mistress.”
They heard William shouting in the hall and Rolfe answering him almost as loudly.
“A welcome that will be spoken of for years to come,” Katherine replied, to the delight of the Head of House.
Ceit offered her a merry smile, while her eyes sparkled with mischief. “It will, at that.”
There was comfort in Ceit’s welcome. Katherine didn’t want to admit just how desperately she needed a friendly face.
Or how much she feared William McTavish would have his way.
Hers would be far from the first marriage annulled in spite of a soiled sheet being flown. William would hardly spare any compassion for her loss of virtue over it. Marcus might raise an objection, but Marcus was not laird of the MacPhersons. Shamus MacPherson was a master at preserving peace at all costs.
She wouldn’t expect Shamus to threaten to go to war over her reputation being shredded. It would be considered her due for riding out and away from the protection of the clan.
No, the best she might hope for was a place with the MacPhersons. It was a fine place, too, one many would be content with.
Frustration claimed her at last as she recalled that Rolfe was displeased with her, too. It was likely he was seeing the error of his ways now, realizing she was simply more trouble than she was worth.
* * *
“’Tis a fine way ye repay me,” William growled. “Wedding an English girl—and no’ just that, but she has nae a single piece of silver to her name.”
“She is me choice, Father.”
William snorted. “Yer choice? Well, I say change yer bloody mind. Ye’ve had her now, so set yer thinking to wedding for the right reasons.”
“It is done.”
“And I say it is nae.” William slapped the tabletop. “No Englishwoman is ever going to be lady of this keep.”
There was a round of agreement from some of the retainers.
William was nodding in agreement with them when there was a sound of flesh meeting flesh. A man went sprawling, and another one had risen to come to his friend’s aid. William looked past his son to where Adwin was making it clear he’d take on more men if they dared speak up.
“What in the devil has gotten into ye, Adwin?”
The captain turned and tugged on his cap. “The lass did more than her share to make sure yer son came back from the dungeon Morton put him in.” The captain turned to look at the other retainers. “So I will no’ be hearing any cursing of her name.”
William opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly struggling to absorb what Adwin had said. He wasn’t alone, either. All of the men who had ridden in with Rolfe stood there, lending themselves to the stand Adwin was taking.
William pointed at Adwin. “Ye will no’ be telling me what to say.”
“Since you are me laird”—Adwin reached up and tugged on his bonnet—“I will no’.” He turned and glanced behind him. “But the rest of ye will know the lass has earned me respect.”
Men who had risen to join the fight suddenly sat down, unsure of what was happening.
“I am dissolving this union,” William stated.
“No, Father,” Rolfe replied respectfully. “I owe ye many dut
ies, but I have given me word, in the presence of God. If ye insist, I will leave with me wife.”
William was silent for a long moment. “Clearly, ye need time to think the matter through. Properly. I will see ye at supper.”
Rolfe tugged on the corner of his bonnet as his father stood and retired to his private study. Adwin came up beside him.
“That went rather as I expected it might,” the captain muttered.
“Aye,” Rolfe agreed, not caring for how easily his father had named Katherine a witch. For himself, he didn’t care at all, but he’d be a fool to dismiss how many did take such things to heart.
“What are ye thinking, lad?” Adwin knew him well—too well—because the captain recognized the look in Rolfe’s eyes.
“I’m thinking MacPherson land might be the only safe place for Katherine if me own father is going to go so far as to name her a witch.”
“Anything else we can weather,” Adwin responded.
“But no’ witchery,” Rolfe admitted.
And that tore him nearly in two, because he knew he’d do what he had to in order to protect her.
* * *
“Ye are going to lose this argument.”
Niul waited for his brother to finish snorting before he came farther into the room. William’s study was draped in tapestries, most of them having come with brides who quickly learned that their finery was now the property of the laird.
Just as they were.
“Rolfe is me son,” William stated. “The only one who lived long enough to become a man.”
“It is a fact that he is a man grown, which means ye can nae tell him who to wed,” Niul continued.
William scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “I am laird. The day has not yet arrived when I will no’ be telling him what to do.”
“Think on how well that worked when ye sent him to see Morton.”
There was a long silence. If they had been in the open hall, William would have argued. It was a matter of saving face. Now, in the privacy of his study, he took a moment to stop his posturing and contemplated what Niul was saying.
“Rolfe will have her,” Niul said. “Forbid him, and ye will lose yer son.”
“Well, then,” William said, “I will just have to make sure the wench is the one who leaves.”
Niul wanted to argue but knew he’d only be encouraging William. The man made the word stubborn seem too weak for just how unbendable he was about having his way. Niul hoped Katherine was every bit the hellion she was fabled to be.
Because supper was going to be a true test of her mettle.
* * *
“Ye’ll sit beside me,” Laird McTavish told Katherine.
She cast Rolfe an uncertain look, but couldn’t really decide on a valid argument against it. Not unless she simply wanted to be perverse. She might not be willing to bend to William’s will, but dropping the subject… Well, that wasn’t too much to do.
So she nodded, earning a pleased look from Rolfe.
Her husband.
She hadn’t really thought about him in those terms before. The idea was a strange one, and it intoxicated her, making her slightly giddy. Ceit was happily making sure the head table was set with enough places. Anne had taken up a position between William and Niul.
To his credit, Niul didn’t seem vexed by being moved down in position. He grinned and raised his glass toward Katherine as she sat down.
The bread was brought to the tables. William took a round as everyone bowed their heads. He spoke a prayer before ripping a portion off and handing it to Rolfe, and then next to Anne.
Katherine felt her appetite dying. His actions were a public declaration of her standing, or lack thereof, in the eyes of the McTavish laird. He dropped the bread onto the plate without offering any to her. Rolfe tore his and gave half to her, earning a narrowing of his father’s eyes.
And so it begins…
She’d be a fool to think that all Rolfe had to do was tell his father they were wed and William McTavish would welcome her with open arms. No, there were going to be more objections from the man.
Supper began as maids carried in platters of food. Conversation started up, but it was hushed as everyone waited to see what might happen at the head table, while trying not to look as though they were anticipating the entertainment of another fight between the laird and his son.
“I have something to say,” William declared as he hit the tabletop with his fist. Those sitting in the hall quieted, giving their laird their attention.
“Me son was right about Katherine Carew.”
There was a ripple of surprise from those watching. Rolfe appeared taken unaware as he glanced back and forth between her and his father.
William looked at Rolfe with a smile on his lips. “She is yer prize and ye have the right, as any Highlander does, to keep what ye steal. I was wrong to try to claim her from ye.”
A hush had fallen over the hall, one Katherine felt down to her toes. There was a look in William’s eyes that promise Rolfe a reckoning.
“And I was wrong to call ye a witch.” Laird McTavish looked straight at her. “I hope ye’ll forgive me. Ye’re English, true, but that is no’ the same as being a cocksucker of Satan.”
There was more than one gasp in response. Katherine had never been more grateful for her time in the training yard because it allowed her to not react to the blunt words. She’d heard such before and only offered William a mild expression.
“Now.” William looked over at Anne, as he patted the girl’s hand. “A prize is meant to be enjoyed, and I must admit, I would certainly enjoy fucking the fabled MacPherson hellion.”
There was a round of coarse snickers from some of the men even as Ceit started to gesture some of her younger maids toward the doors.
“So keep her, me son, and enjoy her,” William stated firmly. “Anne will be yer wife, and her dowry will fatten our coffers, while her father will pledge his friendship toward us. The hellion will be yer slut, to do all the things a wife has no business knowing men crave.”
William slapped his hand down on the table. “Done. Mistress is a fine position for a hellion. No doubt the MacPhersons never made her a match because they couldn’t find a man willing to risk bedding her. Ye should be grateful.”
William ended his speech by looking straight at her. “And I am a bit jealous of me son. Perhaps when he tires of ye, I will let ye suckle me cock.”
Katherine pushed her chair back. William flashed her a pleased look, but she denied him any outpouring of words. She looked at Rolfe and lowered herself, making it clear whom she deemed worthy of respect before she left the hall.
Conversation started immediately, voices debating their laird’s correctness.
She didn’t care a bit for their opinions.
Only for the fact that Rolfe had said nothing.
That hurt her deeper than anything ever had.
* * *
Rolfe came into their chamber earlier than she expected.
Much earlier. Only an hour later, he was there.
Katherine eyed him uncertainly. Her husband offered her a grin before he pulled a hand around in front of him. He set a pitcher on the table between them.
“Is that meant as some sort of apology for sitting there silently?”
She really hadn’t wanted to ask the question. Her pride seemed to think she should leave it all up to him to explain, and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
“It is,” he answered. “I know I should have said something.”
“Indeed.” Her English accent was back again.
Rolfe held up a finger. “But I needed to see what he was getting at. Me father enjoys planning things. It’s always best to let him bluster a bit before charging into the trap he’s laid for ye. Besides, I was looking at Anne and wanted to see what
she was going to make of it all.”
Katherine ended up thinking about what he’d said for a long moment. Rolfe cracked a grin, which annoyed her, and she sent him a glare.
“She likely thought you found it all to your liking.” She shook her head at how it must seem.
Rolfe merely shrugged.
“Well, in this case, me father miscalculated how strong ye are, lass.”
“Is that a fact?”
Rolfe nodded. “As for Anne, she was begging Adwin for an escort home before me father finished his supper. Claimed she would not marry into a family with such an unchristian nature.”
Relief touched her like a welcome breeze on a July afternoon. “I suppose talking about sucking Satan’s cock might be considered unchristian.”
“Coupled with me sitting there saying nothing against the idea of keeping ye both.”
“That was unkind of you.” Katherine twisted her knuckle against his breastbone in reprimand. He flinched, but didn’t back up.
“Why do ye think I brought the pitcher with me?”
“It would serve you right if I did hit you with that.” She meant every word, and yet her tone betrayed how touched she was by the offer. “And Helen hit Marcus in the great hall, so this is hardly an even exchange.” She gestured around the chamber.
“Aye,” he countered. “However, I am no’ trying to force ye to wed one of me men.”
“Only expecting me to stay where I am not wanted.”
“Ye are wanted here, Kat.” His tone went hard. “By me. Ye are hardly the first bride to encounter a cantankerous father-in-law.”
He’d moved toward her. She felt her belly flutter in response and let out a little sigh. “How can it be so very…perfect when you are near, and yet so horrible when you are not?”
“Ye are no’ the only bride who faces such.”
He came close enough that she felt his presence looming over her, sheltering her. His scent teased her senses as he stroked the side of her cheek. Pleasure rippled across her skin, raising a smile on her lips.
