Brogan's Promise: Book Three of The Mackintoshes and McLarens

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Mairi, Evelyn, please bring Archibald some refreshments,” she told them. To Archibald, she pointed to the table. “Sit, and explain what ye mean.”

  He waited until she was sitting before he took a seat across from here. “I did just as ye bid me too, m’lady.”

  “As I bid ye?” she asked.

  “Aye, ye sent me to find yer uncle.”

  Horrified, she looked at him with wide eyes and mouth agape. “I sent ye to find me uncle?”

  He was growing just as confused as she. “Do ye no’ remember?”

  “I fear I do no’,” she said with a shake of her head. “When did I do this?”

  “The day after ye married the Mackintosh man.”

  Her heart seized. She could not remember much of that day, for she had been so terribly drunk. An uneasiness blended with dread began to settle in. “Archibald, ’tis the truth that I do no’ remember. There is very little of those days that I can recall.”

  He sat in silence, nervous, fidgeting with the pouch on his belt.

  “Much has changed since ye left,” she said. Her life had changed so dramatically these past weeks. “I no longer partake of hard drink. Thanks to Brogan, I have been able to give it up and live life with a clearer head and better heart.”

  He blinked once, then again, stunned to hear his lady speaking so openly about what he thought was a private matter.

  “So when I sent ye to find me uncle, what did I tell ye to do exactly?” She was afraid to know what she had said or done.

  He stammered, searching for words that would not insult or offend.

  “Archibald, ye no longer have to fear me wrath or anger. I be no’ the same person now, as I was then. Please, be honest and tell me.”

  The young man cleared his throat nervously. “It be true, m’lady, ye were a bit into yer cups.”

  “I was a drunkard, Archibald. I be no afraid to admit it. I was so drunk then that I can no’ remember now what happened. But continue,” she said as she offered him an encouraging smile.

  “Well, ye were right angry that night. Ye had Mairi come to get me. Ye sent me off to try to catch up with yer uncle. To tell him ye were no’ goin’ to marry the Frenchman.”

  Mairghread nodded as she listened intently.

  “We — me and Drayton — we left that night. I did no’ want to go alone, ye ken.”

  That made perfectly good sense to her.

  “We finally caught up with yer uncle before he got as far as London. I gave him yer missive and message.”

  Good lord! What had she written? Dread, fear, worry all mixed together in the pit of her stomach. “Did ye read the missive?”

  Archibald cast her a furtive glance. “Well, no’ exactly, m’lady. I wrote it fer ye. Yer hands, ye see, were a bit unsteady.”

  “What did I say?” she asked. Taking in a deep breath, she held it until he answered.

  “No’ much, m’lady. Ye just had me write that ye were no’ going to marry the bloo—” he stopped, and started again. “Ye were no’ going to marry the Frenchman and that ye had married another.”

  She let her breath out slowly. “Anythin’ else?”

  “Nay, m’lady,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “That was all.”

  Willing her nerves to settle, she asked him the most important question of all. “And what was me uncle’s reply?”

  “He sure was no’ happy, m’lady. He kicked Drayton in the leg and punched me in the stomach.” Absentmindedly, he rubbed his stomach at the memory.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  He cleared his throat as his face burned a deep red. “Naught that I would repeat in front of ye, m’lady. But he did give me this.” Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a rolled parchment and handed it to her.

  Her fingers trembled; she recognized at once her uncle’s seal. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she found her reaction confusing. This wasn’t the same anger she had been feeling toward him ever since she learned she hadn’t killed James or Connell and had definitely not stabbed herself.

  This, this was an altogether different feeling of absolute fear. But why? She had never feared him before. Aye, there were times she thought him a bit daft, and did not always agree with him. But fear him? Nay, not until this moment, when she held the sealed missive in her hand.

  “Would ye like me to come back, m’lady, and send yer uncle a response?” Archibald asked in a low whisper.

  “Nay,” she said. I want ye to eat and rest.” She got to her feet, thanked him for his diligent work and started for the stairs. “Wait,” she said. “Where be Drayton?”

  Archibald rolled his eyes. “In Edinburgh, the bug—” Once again, he stopped himself before saying something that would embarrass his lady. “He said he wanted to stay in Edinburgh a few extra days. I knew how important it was to get that,” he nodded toward the parchment in her hands, “back to ye.”

  “I thank ye, Archibald. Please let me know when Drayton returns.”

  And with that, she hurried above stairs to the safety of her chamber.

  I be thoroughly disappointed in ye, Mairghread. I have worked long and hard to arrange the marriage betwixt ye and Claude Courtemanche. Now, I learn ye have married another? How could ye have betrayed me in such a manner? I can only assume it be yer addiction to drink that made ye act in such an illogical, rash way. Being a drunkard suits ye.

  I will have to take some time to sort this news out and come up with a solution to the quagmire ye have put me in. ’Twill not be easy, but I be certain we can get yer marriage to the Mackintosh set aside and proceed forward with your union to Courtemanche. I must warn ye, he will no’ be happy to learn of your betrayal, Mairghread. He will be just as disappointed as I. Me only worry is he will no’ be as forgiving as I.

  Aymer Mactavish

  Mairghread read the letter three times. Now that she was sober, she was better able to read what wasn’t written. She could hear the anger in his voice as clearly as if he were standing in front of her.

  In her mind’s eye, she could picture his scowl. Could see his face turning purple with fury as he yelled at her for being a fool.

  Why had she not seen him in this light before? Was it simply her imagination running away with her, or was it a truer picture of him?

  Brogan. She needed him now, more than ever. She raced below stairs, found Mairi and asked her to send someone for him right away. Steeling her nerves, she went above stairs and waited.

  It seemed to her an interminable amount of time passed before Brogan finally came rushing into their chamber. Covered in sweat, wood shavings, and grime, she had never been so happy to see him.

  “What be wrong?” he asked with worried eyes and panic in his voice.

  She rushed to him, not caring how filthy he might be, and wrapped her arms around him. “I did no’ mean to scare ye, but it be important.” She couldn’t let go, not just yet. “I have received word from Aymer.”

  As she held him, she felt him grow tense. “Where is he?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “I do no’ ken. All I have is a missive.”

  They sat at the small table whilst she explained to him what had transpired with Archibald earlier.

  “Honestly, Brogan, I do no’ remember sendin’ fer Archibald. I do no’ remember any of it.”

  Sensing her distress, he reached across the small table and took her hand in his. “Ye will no’ worry over it, lass.”

  ’Twas a thing easier said than done. Taking in a deep breath, she handed the parchment to him and waited. By the time he finished he was purple with fury. He shot to his feet. “Who in the bloody hell does he think he be?” he yelled. Shaking the parchment, he said, “This be a veiled threat is what it be. Set our marriage aside?” he was furious beyond imagination. “’Twill be over me dead body.”

  Never before had she seen him so angry. Not even when she was still a drunkard, taunting and ridiculing him. “I be sorry,” she whispered.

  “Why?
” he barked. “Ye have done nothin’ wrong, Mairghread. Me anger be no’ directed at ye, but at the man who calls himself yer uncle.”

  Suddenly, she felt cold and weary. Trembling, tears pooled in her eyes. “I will no’ allow him to set our marriage aside,” she told him.

  “He has no basis fer it,” Brogan told her. “No basis at all.”

  She could only pray he was right.

  After putting Mairghread’s worries at ease, Brogan sent for the young man named Archibald. Hopefully, the lad had more information than what he had given Mairghread. Although she had initially been quite frightened by Aymer’s missive, she drew strength from Brogan.

  Together, they met with Archibald in Reginald’s office. The lad seemed even more nervous in Brogan’s presence than he had been with just Mairghread. Brogan closed the door behind him and approached the young man.

  “Archibald? Have ye eaten since yer arrival?”

  “Aye, m’laird,” he replied. “Evelyn and Mairi fed me well.”

  Brogan nodded his approval. “I am told by me wife that ye met with Aymer, just outside of London?”

  “Aye, m’laird, we did. Me and Drayton.” He went on to tell him what he had told Mairghread earlier. Recounting how Aymer had taken his anger out on the two young men.

  Brogan pondered several possibilities for a moment. “Did he say if he was returning to Mactavish keep immediately?”

  “Nay, m’laird, he did no’. But I think he still planned on goin’ to France.”

  He thought that bit of news as odd as he did curious. “Did he tell ye that?”

  “Nay, m’laird. We heard him yellin’ at Dennys MacCurdy. Dennys be married to Beatrice Mactavish, ye ken. Anyways, when me and Dayton was leavin’, we heard him shoutin’ that they were still goin’ on to France, no matter what—” he stopped and looked at Mairghread. “No matter what our lady had decided to do.”

  Both Brogan and Mairghread suspected that wasn’t exactly how Aymer worded it. But there was no sense in pressing for exact details.

  For now, they could breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Thank ye, Archibald,” Brogan said. “If ye think of anythin’ else, anythin’ at all, please let us know.”

  He waited until after the door closed behind Archibald before speaking again. “What do ye think? Think ye yer uncle will go on to France?”

  Mairghread raised her hands, palms up. “Who kens what he will do?”

  “Ye ken him better than anyone.”

  “I thought I did, until lately. Now, I am uncertain. I would no’ put anything past him, Brogan. I mean, look what he did to me? To the wall? To our weapons,” she said with a perplexed shake of her head. “I mean, he used James and Connell’s deaths to turn me into a raging drunkard.”

  Brogan had yet to voice to her what he felt truly happened that night. He was convinced Aymer had killed them. The deaths of the two guards was simply meant to make it look like an attack from outside forces.

  “I think it be a good possibility he went on to France. From the sounds of the letter, he was verra angry. I also would no’ put it past him to bring Courtemanche with him.”

  ’Twas the very thing Brogan was dreading most. “I fear it as well,” he told her. The next question was what to do about it.

  “Brogan,” Mairghread said, tapping her finger against her cheek. “Think ye Courtemanche will bring fighting men with him?”

  “Aye, I do think that be possible,” Brogan told her. He was not about to try to coat that horrid idea with sweet words. She was chief, even if she hadn’t officially taken the title. “Courtemanche is a dangerous man, Mairghread. If he thinks, even for a moment, that Aymer will get our marriage set aside, then aye, he will bring fighting men with him.”

  From her fierce and determined expression, she was not about to allow either to happen. “We need more fightin’ men,” she said. “We also need a wall.”

  Both of those things were painfully true.

  “Unfortunately, I do no’ ken how many of our men are capable of fightin’.”

  Brogan doubted there were even a handful.

  “We need to be able to protect our people. James saw the need fer that long ago. He had even begun to work with the men.” She took a deep breath. “Who can we reach out to fer help?” she asked as she switched from drumming her cheek to drumming her fingers against the top of Reginald’s desk. “The Bowies? Yer brother?”

  “Aye, those are possibilities,” he said.

  Deep in thought, with her lips pursed together, she looked and sounded every bit a clan chief.

  “I say we put all our focus on the wall. We bring in every able-bodied man, woman, and child to do it. We will bring all the horses in, fit as many as we can within the walls. Mayhap we should also rethink our deal with Alec Bowie and get more grain. I want us to be prepared for an all-out siege. Increase the patrols and if there be any sign of Aymer and Courtemanche, we will bring everyone inside the walls.”

  Brogan could not resist the urge to smile. Proud, proud to his very bones, of his wife.

  “What?” she asked from her seat behind Reginald’s desk.

  “What ye just said, was spoken like a true chief and leader.”

  Usually, when he mentioned her officially taking the roll, she would roll her eyes, pretend to be busy, and change the subject. She did neither of those things.

  “I want word sent throughout our lands,” she said. “I want everyone here before the evening meal.”

  Curious, he raised a brow. “Ye plan on tellin’ them about Aymer?” he asked.

  “Aye, I do.”

  Brogan had moved his things into Mairghread’s chamber long ago. Now, they simply referred to it as theirs. Since then, they had been using his auld bedchamber as an office, which they both shared. After putting their plans into writing, they went back to their chamber so they both could change into clean clothes.

  After washing up, Mairghread changed into a very pretty gown of indigo silk. Over that, she wore the Mactavish plaid, of black, brown, and green. Styling it just as her father had worn his for all those years.

  Brogan went to his trunk and pulled out a brooch, one his father had given him when he reached the age of seven and ten. ’Twas a Mackintosh plaid brooch, made of pewter, with the familiar to him cat-o’mountain in the center of a circle. Etched into that circle was the Mackintosh clan motto: Touch not a cat without a glove.

  “Mairghread, I wish to give ye somethin’,” he said as she was fussing with her plaid. “It be something me da gave to me when I was a young lad.”

  Stepping forward, he took her hand and placed the brooch into her palm. “It be verra special to me, as ye are.”

  Her eyes grew wide when she saw the beautiful piece. “Och! Brogan, I can no’ accept this. I be certain it means too much to ye.”

  He smiled, warmly and fondly. “No’ nearly as much as ye do, Mairghread.”

  A heartbeat later, she had her arms wrapped around him, and he her. The kiss, one meant to be heartfelt yet chaste, soon turned quite passionate. She could not help herself, for every time she felt him so close, felt his lips against hers, she was a lost, wonton woman with only one thing on her mind; Brogan and she, naked and in the throes of passion.

  ’Twas Brogan who broke the kiss, “Lass, ye have people waitin’ fer ye out of doors,” he reminded her.

  “Let them wait,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She noted he did not argue again.

  Thankfully, Clan Mactavish was small enough, and its people not so widespread, that it made gathering them at the keep much easier.

  Hundreds of her people — men, women, and children of all ages — were assembled in the courtyard. Brogan led her out of the keep and onto the top of the stairs. From there, she could see not only her people, but the wall, and land beyond.

  ’Twas a lovely autumn eve, with a crisp, cool breeze and clear skies overhead. In the distance, she could hear the sound of waves lapping against the shoreline. ’Tw
as a sound as familiar to her as her own voice.

  Whispers of curious people flittered along the courtyard. They had no idea why they had been summoned here. More likely than not, they thought it had something to do with the thousands of ‘horse thieves’ heading their way.

  Brogan had finally admitted to her what Henry had done. In truth, she did not care what had motivated her people. She was simply glad to have them all working together. It might not be genuine horse thieves they were bracing themselves for, but Aymer Mactavish was a thief nonetheless. Because of his greed, he had taken more than three years of her life away.

  At the front of the mass of people were Gertie, Tilda, and Reginald. Mairghread smiled warmly at each of them before raising her hands to quiet the crowd.

  “Ceud Mìle Fàilte,” she began. A hundred thousand welcomes. “I ken ye all be verra busy and workin’ verra hard of late. To each of ye, I give me thanks.” It warmed her heart to see these people assembled here. They’d come willingly and quickly. Aye, many were probably here out of curiosity, but it mattered not. They were here. That was what was important. Hopefully, they would continue to support her after what she was about to tell them.

  Never before had she talked to her people like this. Assembled below, looking up at her. ’Twas the oddest of sensations. Taking in a deep breath and willing her nerves to settle, she began.

  “As many of ye ken, more than three years ago, we lost four verra special people on a dark night in spring. Killed by someone whose identity to this day remains unknown.”

  A hush fell over the crowd then, as they looked to each other with curious expressions.

  “As ye also already ken, no’ long after, I fell into drinkin’. Day and night, night and day, I drank, because of my deep and profound loss. Not only did we lose two good and kind men that night, I lost me husband and bairn.”

  She had to take another deep steadying breath. Glancing once to her left, she felt immediately at ease knowing Brogan was there. Always at her side, always supportive.

  “I became a mean-spirited, ugly, black-hearted drunkard. I want to apologize to each and every one of ye fer behavin’ as I did.”