The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1)

by Elaine Manders

  Gavin took the embossed card. “It’s from her, isn’t it?” his father asked.

  “Yes, it’s from Vanora. She wants me to call on her. I suppose it’s best to get the unpleasant task over with as soon as possible.”

  “I agree. Tell her you’re marrying Alana, then run for cover.” Barthram cackled.

  “I’ll call on her early tomorrow morning.” Gavin strode to the desk to pen his reply and quickly returned to give it to the waiting servant. “Now I’m going to bathe, eat, and get some sleep.” He gave his father a final pat.

  Heavy dread followed him from the room.

  Chapter 5

  Gavin’s sturdy mare climbed the steep rise that separated the Carmichael property from that of the Gilmour’s. As always, the contrast startled him. The valley on his side spread out like a lush green blanket where clusters of neat houses stood surrounded by pastures of fat cattle and sheep.

  The land deteriorated the further into the Gilmour property one went—huts scattered here and there, scrawny animals chomped on brown grasses.

  He could remember as a boy scaling this rise and seeing no difference in the condition of his neighbor’s land. That was during the time of Robert Gilmour, a tall, strapping man with an intelligence and business acumen to keep his clan in relative prosperity despite the hardship endured by many following the uprising of 1745.

  Robert Gilmour had been his father’s friend and confident. The two men had vested their interests to expand trade of their goods, mainly wool and flax, to foreign ports. It was during one of Robert’s trading expeditions that he’d been killed in a shipwreck.

  That was before Vanora was born. Robert had never known that his child was not the son he’d craved, nor even a daughter he’d have been proud of.

  Gavin lay the blame on Elspeth, Robert’s wife. She’d spoiled Vanora from the time she was a babe. He also blamed Elspeth for the downfall of the Gilmours.

  She’d done nothing to further her husband’s ambitions, even though Barthram had offered to help her. No, she’d turned to Lyulf, an impoverished member of the minor nobility.

  He’d been her stable master, then her steward…and lover, if rumors were to be believed. Strangely, she’d elevated Lyulf to the highest position in the clan, but didn’t marry the man.

  Perhaps not so strange. Elspeth was not the type to want to relinquish her power to any man.

  For that reason, Gavin knew she opposed the match between him and Vanora. She must know he’d not be the compliant figurehead she wanted for her daughter.

  Not that it mattered to Vanora whether or not she had her mother’s blessing. She’d grown to be totally unmanageable, even by Elspeth. As spoiled as she was, Vanora might be expected to squander money on clothes and jewels, spending her time at social events.

  Perversely, she dressed in peasant attire and went out to the crofts, spreading dissention against Elspeth and Lyulf.

  Yet Vanora had no notion of how the clan might prosper. Gavin suspected she didn’t want them to prosper, lest the crofters think favorably of Elspeth.

  The clan suffered for lack of leadership.

  Most of the crofters barely eked out a living by growing vegetables and a few scrawny sheep. Unfortunately, such conditions had led the desperate farmers to take desperate measures, such as stealing the sheep and cattle of the Carmichael clan people.

  Something had to be done about that. Of course, if he’d married Vanora, he’d have been in a position to do something. But he thanked the heavens that wasn’t required of him.

  He’d not known just how wanton Vanora was until she’d started to pursue him while still a young girl. Even then she was no innocent virgin. She had her charms, but he’d been successful in keeping her at arm’s length.

  He suspected Rory had succumbed to her seduction, but even he’d grown tired of her reckless abandonment and her tenacious possessiveness.

  And her temper.

  Her temper would flare today. Why hadn’t he simply sent her a letter? But that wasn’t the honorable way to treat a woman, not even a woman like Vanora.

  He felt in his pocket and grasped the emerald brooch he’d purchased in DunStar as a wedding gift for Alana. He’d forgotten to put it away, and now considered offering it to Vanora as an appeasement.

  No, the brooch belonged to Alana, and anyway, no amount of jewels would appease Vanora.

  Gilmour Hall showed wear as did the land. Several windows in the attics were missing. He handed the reins of his roan mare to a freckle-faced stable boy. Frowning, he climbed the steps and handed his card to the grim-faced footman who answered his knock.

  One wouldn’t suspect that Vanora and her mother were hard pressed by the interior of the castle. Rich carpets ran the length of the foyer and gilded tables set around under magnificent paintings.

  What wealth Robert Gilmour had left obviously went to provide lush furnishings for the comfort of the castle’s owners.

  Gavin turned toward the sound at the top of the stairs that led to the second floor. Elspeth Gilmour posed there. For a moment, she stood in surprised silence, then descended the steps in a fluid, regal motion.

  Elspeth was still a beautiful woman. Gavin had to give her that. She was small, dainty and elegant, with her hair swept up into a high mass of blond curls.

  The rustle of silk proclaimed the richness of her blue full-skirted gown, its low-cut bodice molded to full breasts and tapered to her tiny waist.

  Her outward fragility reminded one of a Dresden figurine, but Gavin knew, underneath the fragile appearance, lay a woman as hard as the castle’s stone walls.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, he sketched a bow, and she gave him a peremptory nod. “Gavin Carmichael, so you’ve returned this soon?”

  None of his comings and goings went unheralded to the Gilmours. Naturally, Elspeth would have known of his trip to see her niece, Alana McWayre.

  “Tis so, Lady Gilmour. I had to return to see about my father.”

  “Yes, I have heard he’s declining fast. I advise you to change physicians. He likely should be bled more often.”

  “He’s far too weak to endure bleedings.”

  Elspeth cocked a delicate brow. “So how did my father take your news of Rory’s behavior, and did it devastate poor little Alana? Your brother’s treatment of my niece was shameful, I must say.”

  “It was shameful.” Gavin had no desire to whet Elspeth’s appetite for gossip. He’d considered telling her the truth and letting her break the news to Vanora, but decided against it.

  However head-strong and selfish she was, Vanora deserved a personal explanation. “I’m calling on Vanora. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Elspeth frowned. “I think we understand each other on that score, do we not? I won’t countenance a marriage between you and my daughter.” She shrugged one shoulder. “But why should I mind if you see her? We both know Vanora will do as she pleases, and it evidently pleases her to have you at her beck and call.”

  When he remained silent, she pulled on her gloves and added, “I suppose I should stay and chaperon, but I shan’t. I trust that you’ll not take advantage of my daughter.” She gave him a cynical smile, and he wondered if her words were a threat or an insult.

  “You may.” He bowed stiffly.

  A man appeared at the door and commanded Elspeth’s attention.

  Lyulf. Something about the man raised Gavin’s ire. Perhaps it was the sardonic crook of his mouth or the glitter in his dark eyes, but it was Lyulf’s reputation as a rascal and opportunist Gavin found most repugnant.

  Without acknowledging Gavin, Lyulf addressed Elspeth. “The carriage is ready.”

  She took his arm without a backward look.

  Irritated by the exchange, Gavin turned to find the butler standing at attention. “Lady Vanora waits in her sitting room.” He walked away, evidently expecting Gavin to follow.

  ***

  Gavin climbed the stairs in the butler’s wake. Vanora must know that meeting h
im in her boudoir would place both of them in a compromising position. He only hoped she’d have the sense to have her maid chaperon.

  Vanora flung open the door before the butler had a chance to knock, and pulled Gavin inside. “Why did you take so long? I’ve been waiting in this stuffy room for hours.”

  She closed the door behind them, and Gavin noticed the drapes had been drawn, shutting out the morning sun and leaving the room in semi-darkness. A lone candle cast a sensual glow on Vanora’s alabaster skin.

  He turned to reopen the door. No maid was present. “I’ve just returned from the McWayre.”

  “I know, but you got back last night.” She pouted.

  So she had her spies waiting for his return. “I had to look in on my father.”

  “Oh, very well. I forgive you then. Anyway, we have all day…and evening. Here, let me pour you a brandy.”

  “No, thank you, it’s much too early for brandy.” He stood by the door, refusing to follow her into the room and wanting to get the distasteful meeting over in all haste. “Aren’t you curious as to why I went to McWayre Castle?”

  She glided to the grog table. After pouring out two drinks, despite his declination, she returned to him in slow steps. “I know why you went…to tell Grandfather the wedding of Alana and Rory is nullified.”

  He took the proffered drink with no intention of drinking it. “Aye, the wedding of Alana to Rory is nullified, but you must know I couldn’t nullify the marriage contract.”

  Vanora sipped her drink in the manner of one accustomed to the brew. For the first time he noticed her dress, or rather, her undress. She wore a filmy blue negligee with a décolletage that plunged to an indecent depth.

  “I don’t want to talk about Alana and Rory. I want to talk about us and our future.”

  Gavin looked around to find somewhere to set his drink and found a convenient highboy within reach “My future is taken care of, Vanora. I’m to wed your cousin, Alana.” He was surprised at how easily the words slipped out, but Vanora seemed not to have heard.

  She took another sip and hooked her free arm around his. “Come on in, Gavin. We’re in a draft.”

  He stood his ground and removed her arm. “Have you not heard what I said? I’m to take Rory’s place and marry Alana.”

  She looked up at him, a small frown creasing her brow. “I heard you, but I know you’re jesting.”

  He gazed at her upturned face, and his stomach knotted. What was he to do with this stubborn, immature woman? She had to accept the truth. “I’m not jesting, Vanora.”

  A smile curved her lips as she reached her hand to clasp his neck. Standing on tip-toe, she whispered, “But I know you’re jesting, Gavin Carmichael. I know everything about you.”

  He could smell the brandy on her breath and wondered if she were already drunk.

  “You couldn’t possibly marry Alana or any other woman because you love me.” Her smile widened, and her ice-blue eyes glittered in the dim candlelight. “You might as well admit it.”

  He removed her hand while the knot in his stomach tightened. Vanora wouldn’t recognize love if it slapped her in the face. Something he considered doing.

  Eager to end the conversation and be gone, he drew in a deep breath. “Vanora, you presume too much. Even if I did love you, it would be for naught. I have to uphold the word of my clan, and that means marrying Alana.”

  Her smile faded and a look akin to fear settled in her eyes. “You can’t be serious. We have an agreement.”

  “There’s no agreement between us, and in fact, your mother wouldn’t approve.”

  “I care not what my mother approves.” She stepped back, spitting the words at him. “I’m the Gilmour head. She can’t interfere.”

  “We’d never suit, Vanora. You wouldn’t want a husband who would interfere either.”

  With eyes blazing, she dashed the drink in his face and flung the glass to the floor. “If you’re serious, tell me you prefer to marry the daughter of an English whore to me.”

  He wiped his face with his sleeve. “I ask you to refrain from name calling. Alana is Hester McWayre’s daughter. I looked up her baptismal record.”

  “It’s a lie.” Her voice rose to a shriek.

  He grabbed her by the wrist. “Stop it. You know how vindictive and superstitious our people are. You must stop this malicious rumor, or they might actually believe you.”

  “They will, I’ll make sure of it. Marry her if you’re fool enough, but the Carmichael clan will never accept her or you, and neither will I. I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth. I’ll marry Rory. He’ll become chieftain.”

  He wasn’t surprised by her tantrums. “Instead of making trouble, you could be friends with Alana. She is your blood relative.”

  “Friends,” she shrieked. “Dear Alana will never have friends, of that you may be quite certain.”

  Gavin turned from her and moved into the hall. She ran after him. “No, no, Gavin. You cannot do this. You love me. I know you do.” She wrapped her arms around him, hugging herself to his back.

  He pried her arms off and turned to hold her firmly by the shoulders. “Vanora, have some dignity.”

  She dug her hands in his coat. “No.” Her shrill scream echoed down the long hall. “No, I don’t want to.”

  “Please lower your voice. The servants will hear.”

  “I hope they hear. The whole clan will hear.”

  He attempted to dislodge her fingers from his clothing, but they clung like the tentacles of an octopus.

  As soon as he broke free, she raised her hands, forming them into fists, and beat upon his chest with all the fury she could muster. He couldn’t help but marvel at the strength of her slight form.

  “Get out, get out. I never want to see you again.” She tore his sporran and it ripped. Gripping it, she screamed again, “Get out.”

  He hated to leave his sporran, but it was empty, and sporrans could be replaced. It was small loss considering. With quick strides, left her standing there, flaming hair disheveled—the sporran clutched to her heaving bosom as if it were a trophy.

  Chapter 6

  Alana looked out on the rain drenched courtyard from her bedroom window while rain snakes slithered down the pane. She shivered, though not from cold. Rain on her wedding day was surely a harbinger. What was it she’d heard said? Rain on one’s wedding day foreshadowed a marriage filled with weeping—the amount of tears measured by the amount of rain.

  A child of God shouldna let such superstitions creep in, but they clung to her like persistent thistles.

  The morning had dawned to a light drizzle, but now had grown to a torrent. The weather had likely slowed Gavin. As of yet he’d hadna arrived. Chimes from the wall clock sounded three o’clock, one hour from the time scheduled for the ceremony.

  It was possible Gavin wouldna come at all. Mayhap he’d thought better of his rash proposal.

  Nay, not Gavin Carmichael. Rory, aye. Never Gavin. From what she’d heard, he was proud and tenacious, an overwhelming combination.

  She smoothed her moist palms over the ivory silk and satin skirt. The beautiful wedding gown did nothing to give her confidence. The dress, heavily decorated with Brussels lace and seed pearls, had been worn by her mother on her own fateful wedding day.

  Alana had removed some of the lace to trim other gowns, but no one would notice.

  About to turn from the window, she caught sight of a carriage and a small band of outriders. The carriage contained only one man—Gavin. He’d brought no guests. Of course, she knew his father couldn’t come, but she’d thought that perhaps some other relative might attend—even Aunt Elspeth or Vanora.

  Had Vanora been enraged by Gavin’s proposal to Alana, or had she finished with him and didn’t care? Either action was equally believable. Vanora was as fickle as a stalk in the whirlwind.

  “He’s arrived, Mina,” she called out to her maid.

  “I told you he would.” Mina came hustling toward her. �
��Likely as not he got held up by the storm. Now come sit down, dearie, and let me finish your hair.”

  Alana obeyed automatically. Mina had been taking care of her for longer than she could remember and was the closest thing to a mother she’d had since Hester’s untimely death when Alana was only a few months old.

  Naturally she had no memories of her mother and so had depended upon Mina, Grandfather, and others to fill in the details to assuage her curiosity. The picture she’d formed from their recollections was of a loving, unselfish, though sad, woman who was treated cruelly by her husband.

  Hester had occupied much of her thoughts since Gavin’s visit. With the prospect of an arranged marriage looming before her, she felt a kinship with her mother and a longing she’d never experienced before.

  Was it too much to ask that she might avoid the pain her mother had experienced after marrying the man her family had selected?

  She sat at her toilette table and stared at her reflection. Mina framed her face with her hands. “There, are you not a beautiful bride?”

  “I look pale, doona you think?”

  Mina’s reflection frowned at her. “A little, mayhap. I’m glad I remembered to buy you a rouge pot. Oh, and I dinna forget the pearls.” Mina went on brushing Alana’s hair up into coils that shone like new copper. Deftly, she wound the pearls through the burnished curls.

  Alana had to admit she’d never looked so elegant, but would Gavin think her beautiful? Probably not. He could compare her to many truly beautiful women.

  Like Vanora.

  “Tell me about my mother’s wedding day, Mina. Was she happy?”

  “Well now, I kenna say. I didn’t come to McWayre Castle until two months after your birth.

  This was a surprise. Alana had always assumed Mina had been her mother’s personal maid for years before her marriage. “Then you only knew my mother for a few months. Yet you knew her so well.”

  “That I did. My lady talked to me for hours on end. I think I was the only one she trusted here, poor dear.”

  “Didn’t she ever speak of her wedding?”