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

by Suzan Tisdale

  With Ian, his men, and their own, more than fifty riders passed through the gates late one spring morning in late April. Mairghread, weary and with a growing belly, had never been more glad to be off a horse.

  Brogan presented the castle guards with the missive from David. They had to wait for over an hour before he, Mairghread, Ian, and five guards were allowed inside. The rest of their group made camp near the outer walls.

  One of David’s men was sent to escort them to temporary quarters within. He was a tall and slender with short-cropped dark hair and intense blue eyes. With him were four of David’s guards, one just as menacing in countenance as the other.

  “I am Donald,” he said by way of introduction. “Follow me.”

  Brogan and Mairghread and their entourage fell in behind him, while his guards brought up the rear. He did not speak again as he led them down the long, winding corridors. They paid no attention to the opulence, to tapestries or furniture. Mairghread’s only concern was getting this over with as soon as possible.

  Stopping in front of a door, he said, “This will be yer chamber,” he said to Brogan. “The rest of ye will be in the next room.”

  “When do we meet with David?” Mairghread asked.

  “On the morrow,” he replied. “He is no’ seeing anyone this day.”

  “And what of Aymer Mactavish?” Brogan asked through gritted teeth. “Where might he be?”

  Opening the door, the man waited for them to enter. Brogan wasn’t going anywhere until he had an answer.

  “I believe he is in chambers closer to David’s,” he replied drolly. “We will be posting two men outside each of your rooms.”

  Neither Ian or Brogan liked that idea. “You’re puttin’ us under guard?” Ian asked.

  “I am only following orders,” Donald replied. “If there is aught ye need, tell one of the men and they will see that ye have it.” He didn’t wait for more questions. With a slight inclination of his head, he hurried down the corridor.

  They glared at the guards for a long moment before Mairghread let loose with a heavy sigh. “I am weary,” she said, pushing open the door.

  Giving up, Brogan, Ian, and their men followed her inside.

  “Yer wife looks exhausted,” Ian pointed out. “And so do ye.”

  Mairghread spotted the bed and went to it immediately and sat on the edge. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  Brogan grunted. “Ye will rest.”

  “And what will ye be doin’?” she asked with a tone of suspicion.

  He cast a glance at Ian before answering. “Restin’ with ye.”

  Satisfied with his answer, she said, “Good. I think we all need a bit of rest. Later, we can meet here to discuss our plan of action for the morrow.”

  “Ye need no’ worry over it,” he told her.

  She glowered at him. “Need I remind ye that I was also summoned before the king?”

  While he admired his wife’s determination, he was still worried over her health and well-being. Dark circles lined her eyes, her skin pale, and her voice sounded weaker than was typical for her.

  “We will be across the hall, should ye need us,” Ian said with a smile. A moment later, he and the rest of their men were quitting the room.

  Alone for the first time in weeks, she breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, she got to her feet and stretched. “I can no’ ever remember bein’ this tired,” she told him with a yawn. “Will ye rest a bit with me?”

  Untying her laces, she stepped out of her dress and laid it across the back of a chair. Standing near the fire, in her white chemise, Brogan swallowed hard. Even heavy with child, she was still magnificent to look upon. Rubbing her hands together, she shivered. “Even with this fire, I still be cold.”

  He had a feeling it had more to do with her worry over what would happen on the morrow than the chill in the air. He went to her then, and wrapped his arms around her. “Mayhap, we should get ye under the blankets.”

  “I hope yer recommendation will include ye under those blankets with me,” she said, leaning her head against his chest.

  “I might be able to be persuaded,” he said with a chuckle. “I could use some rest as well.”

  Content after their loving, Mairghread was nestled in the crook of his arm. The embers in the hearth crackled and hissed as rain and wind crashed against the walls of the castle. She was glad for the safety she found lying next to Brogan.

  Though she was exhausted, she found she could not sleep. Worry over what would happen on the morrow filled her with dread.

  “We have no’ discussed what we would do if David sets aside our marriage,” she murmured.

  “He will no’,” Brogan told her with a yawn.

  “But what if he does?”

  He scratched his stubbled jaw. “David will no’ set our marriage aside,” he said. “Ye be worried for naught.”

  Lifting herself up on one elbow, she studied him closely. Although she was grateful for his strength she was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t too self-assured. “How can ye be so certain?”

  “Because, I ken David. He will no’ side with Aymer.”

  Frustrated, she let out a heavy sigh. “Because ye ken him?” Her tone was filled with disbelief. “Just because ye ken a man does no’ mean he will do what is right or just.”

  He let out his own frustrated breath and sat up. “David will favor his allies and friends, Mairghread, as I have told ye in the past. Aymer did no’ show him any alliance whilst he was with the English. The Mackintoshes did. That alone works in our favor.”

  “But—”

  He would not allow her protests to continue. “And I might also remind ye, that we have the truth on our side. David will see Aymer’s accusations for what they be: naught more than lies told by a greedy and self-servin’ man.”

  As much as she wanted to put all of her faith in him, she had too many doubts and concerns. Slipping from the bed, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and went to stand by the fire. “I want to believe ye,” she said. “With all me heart I do. But we must think of our babe. If Aymer wins, I will no’ go back to France with Courtemanche. I need to ken ye would fight to keep that from happening.”

  He was insulted that she thought he wouldn’t. Angrily, he shot out of the bed, not bothering to cover his body with anything. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Think ye I would no’ fight fer ye? Fer our babe?” he asked incredulously. “All I have done since we married was fight fer ye. I fought fer yer sobriety. I fought to build the wall, to have new weapons forged. I fought foul weather and mountains to bring ye here because that is what ye wanted!”

  Tears welled in her eyes for she knew she had wounded him. “I ken ye have done all of that!” she cried. “But this is different. This is the king we speak of. If he sets our marriage aside, what then? Will ye fight him? ’Twould be treason.”

  “I would fight Satan and demons and dragons to keep ye safe. And aye, I would fight David as well. I do no’ ken why ye doubt me.”

  There was no sound reason for doubting him, she knew it, in her heart. The tears fell without restraint. “I do no’ doubt ye, but I be terrified of what will happen on the morrow. ‘Twould be stupid no’ to be afraid. I do no’ ken David as ye say ye do.”

  “But ye ken me,” he countered angrily.

  “I worry over our babe, Brogan. I can no’ stand the thought of losin’ another bairn.” The tears fell then, unrestrained and unchecked. That had been her biggest worry of late, that Aymer would make an attempt on her babe’s life. And now, she worried she would be forced to set aside her marriage to Brogan and go to France with Courtemanche.

  “I will no’ allow anythin’ to happen to ye or to our babe, Mairghread,” he said, his tone softening with each tear of hers that fell. He took her hands in his and placed them over his heart. “As long as I still breathe, as long as me heart still beats, I will protect both of ye.”

  Mayhap ’twas the babe making her addlebrained, or the
fact that they were here in Stirling and their entire future resting in the hands of a man she’d never met. No matter the cause, she still worried. “I ken that,” she said.

  “But still ye worry?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “I can no’ help it!” she cried.

  He smiled then, and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly. “No matter what happens on the morrow, Mairghread, naught betwixt us will ever change. If we have to steal away to far away lands to be together, we will.”

  She giggled half-heartedly. “Right now, far away lands does no’ sound so bad.”

  Patting her back gently, he pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “I will do whatever I must to see that we are together for all the rest of our days.”

  Wiping her tears on her shoulder, she said, “I do no’ ken why ye be so kind to me all of the time.” There were times she felt quite unworthy of his kindness.

  He pushed her away enough so that he could look into her eyes. “Ye do no’?”

  “Nay, I do no’,” she answered. From the start, he’d been nothing but kind, even when she didn’t deserve it.

  “Because I love ye.”

  The words he’d been longing to say were finally released. He held his breath whilst he gauged her response. Dumbfounded, she looked up and into his eyes, silent, for what seemed like an eternity.

  “How?” she finally muttered. “How can ye love me after all I have put ye through?”

  ’Twas not the reply he had hoped for. Deflated, he let go of her arms. “If ye be referrin’ to what ye went through whilst still addicted to drink, or when ye were goin’ through the take aways, that be all in the past. I do no’ love the woman I married, I love the woman she has become.”

  She began to weep again, for new reasons. “Brogan, I—”

  He held up his hand to stop her. “I ken ye do no’ love me, Mairghread. I ken ye still love James. Still, I needed to give ye the words. No’ to make ye feel better, but because holdin’ them in these many months has been akin to carryin’ a boulder on me back. ’Tis enough knowin’ ye care about me. I will no’ ask ye fer more.”

  She waited silently, with her shoulders back and her chin up. “Are ye quite finished?”

  Furrowing his brow, he nodded.

  “I did no’ think it would ever be possible to love another man after James. I still love him, ’tis true and I will no’ deny it.”

  Hanging his head, he turned his back to her. He didn’t think he was strong enough to look her in the eye while she said what he was quite certain she was going to say; she didn’t love him and doubted she ever could.

  “There were many things I never thought possible until ye came into me life. I did no’ think it possible to live again. To enjoy feelin’ the sunshine on me face, or to laugh without guilt. Or to look forward to seeing the sunrise in the morn. All those things were lost to me, Brogan.”

  He heard the quiver in her voice. So he had helped her to live again. What did it matter if she could not love again? He knew he should not be upset or hurt, yet he was.

  “I swear if ye do no’ turn around to look at me, I will stab ye with yer own sword!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

  Taking in a deep breath, he turned to face her. Tears streamed from her tired, red-rimmed eyes. He felt guilty for making her cry. “Mairghread, do no’ fash yerself. I am a-”

  “I love ye, Brogan Mackintosh!” she blurted out. “I have fer a long while but was afraid to tell ye fer fear ye could no’ love me back.” Rushing forward, she threw herself into his arms.

  His heart swelled with adoration and joy. They had both been afraid of the very same thing; unrequited love.

  “Wheest, love,” he told her as he rubbed his hands up and down her back, hoping to smooth away her distress.

  “I do no’ ken why I keep cryin’,” she admitted woefully.

  Chuckling softly, he hugged her tighter. “’Tis all right, love. Ye can cry as much as ye want to.”

  She loved him and that was all that mattered.

  Brogan had awakened long before dawn with Mairghread nestled in the crook of his arm. He was enjoying the sound of her steady breaths, the way she smelled of lavender soap and all the loving they had done the night before.

  With the knowledge that she did in fact love him, he had awakened with a new-found resolve. No matter what happened this day, he was even more determined to keep her safe and out of the clutches of her greedy uncle.

  Although his father, John, had been a long time friend and ally of David, who knew what Aymer was up to. David was not above reproach, if the recent murmurings of his friendship with England were any indication. Rumor had it, it was growing more and more difficult to pay the ransom payments to England. A man in his position might be swayed if the bag of gold was big enough.

  And Claude Courtemanche, being the son of a wealthy French nobleman, had enough gold to pursue just about anyone.

  Silently, Brogan prayed David would be just and fair. Justice and doing what was right had to mean something, even to their king.

  His quiet musings were disturbed when he saw a shadow enter the bedchamber. Carefully, so as not to disturb his wife or let the intruder know he was aware of his presence, he reached for the dirk he kept under his pillow. The shadow moved quickly, yet silently.

  When he stepped in front of the fire, Brogan let out the breath he’d been holding. ’Twas his brother Ian.

  Whispering, Ian said, “I have good news fer ye brother.”

  Brogan slid from the bed, covered his wife, and stepped away so they might talk without waking her.

  “What is it?”

  “Ye have a visitor.”

  After three weeks of travelling through mountains, over hills, and through glens and valleys — in mostly rotten weather — the day Mairghread had been looking forward to, had finally arrived: They were meeting with King David II.

  After a good night’s rest, and a hot meal, she now stood in a room so big and grand, she thought she could have fit her entire keep within it. For the occasion, she chose a dark green gown of wool, with matching slippers. Over that, she wore the Mactavish plaid and Mackintosh brooch. After braiding her hair, she donned a gossamer veil with a plain silver circlet. All in all, she felt she was at least presentable to the king. Brogan remarked he thought she looked like a goddess.

  ’Twas a bleak and dreary morning, but she’d not allow the weather to dampen her spirits. Though her insides were shaking, she drew strength from her husband. He stood on her left, while Ian stood on her right.

  Straight ahead was the throne on which their king would sit. ’Twas not made of gold as she had imagined as a child, but was made of hard wood, with an ornately carved back. Standing near it was the object of her consternation and the upheaval of her world; Aymer Mactavish.

  Dressed in dark blue trews and an opulent silk tunic — from money he no doubt stole from her coffers. The burgundy overcoat looked to have been made from silk with gold stitching. It might have looked better on a king or nobleman, than Aymer. She found his air of righteousness appalling and immediately looked away. Though she could feel him staring at her, even after she turned away.

  They waited for what seemed and eternity, before someone announced David’s arrival. He entered from a small door near the hearth. Mairghread held her breath as she clung to Brogan’s hand. “Wheest,” he whispered. “He be just a man.”

  Mairghread prayed David hadn’t heard him, for he might beg to argue.

  The king took his seat as he looked out at the crowd. He was not at all what Mairghread had expected him to be. Light brown hair framed his long, bearded face. She thought his nose rather hawkish, being extraordinarily long, with a little hook at the end of it. He looked bored, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but here. She sent a silent prayer upward, asking for strength for herself and a kind ear on David’s part.

  When he spoke, his deep voice all but echoed off the walls. “Read th
e charges,” he said with a wave of his hand.

  An older man, of mayhap fifty, with salt and pepper hair and bowed legs, stepped forward. In his hands he held the parchment listing Aymer’s false accusations. He cleared his throat before he began to speak. “The charges against Brogan Mackintosh are as follows: Interference with family matters, marrying one Mairghread Mactavish illegally and without permission from her uncle and guardian, Aymer Mactavish. Thievery of coin and resources belonging to Clan Mactavish. Abuse of Mairghread Mactavish. Abuse of the members of the aforementioned clan, by forcing its people to work from dawn to dusk, in all manner of inclement weather, without proper sustenance or recompense. Disregard of rules set in place by Aymer — the rightful heir and chief of clan Mactavish — during his absence.”

  The man paused long enough to take a deep breath and glance out at the crowd.

  “The charges against Mairghread Mactavish are as follows: Disobedience, excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages which thereby left her unable to make sound decisions. She is also accused of the murder of her first husband, James, and their three week-old son, Connell, on the third day of April, in the year of our lord thirteen hundred fifty-four where she willfully, whilst in a drunken rage, hacked to death her infant son before turning her knife to her husband and slicing his throat.”

  A collective gasp could be heard all around her, which soon turned to loud murmurs. Knowing she was innocent of these charges helped strengthen her resolve albeit only slightly. Had Brogan not been holding on to her, she might have fallen to her knees.

  “Quiet,” David ordered in a quiet voice. The room hushed almost instantly. He still looked bored, as his elbow was rested on one arm of his chair, his index finger pressed against his cheek.

  Clearing his throat once again, the man continued to read. “Her abuse of alcohol has rendered her incapacitated on countless occasions, rendering her unable to make sound choices. That she did willfully and with disobedience, marry Brogan Mackintosh without her uncle’s approval or knowledge.”