by Tessa Murran
‘Bah, if that is so distasteful choose some other MacLeod girl, I care not which,’ Hugh replied nonchalantly. ‘I hear one of her sisters is widowed and needs a new husband, she’d take you. Though you’d get more pleasure from Ailsa MacLeod, she’s far and away the prettiest little strumpet I’ve seen in a long time and no other man’s hands have been on her either.’
‘I don’t want to marry anyone,’ snarled Duncan.
‘No I don’t suppose you do. Like your freedom, don’t you. But I’m not blind and any man with eyes in his head would want to bed that girl.’ Hugh came close to Duncan, his pinched, skeletal face inches from his. ‘Hear this lad. With winning comes power, it takes skill to wield that power but first, you need to accept you have it and as master here you are entitled to take whatever you want. Asking permission makes you look weak and when an enemy sees that they go in for the kill.’
‘Aye I know I can take what I want but I don’t want this. Abandon your scheming, I will marry when I am good and ready.’
‘You have a duty lad - to me and to your clan. You swore to protect these lands and hold them against all comers and to do that you have to forge an alliance with the MacLeods. This storm will break over us again Duncan. Do you think the Sinclairs are cowed forever after one battle? We’ve wounded them but they are still dangerous.’
‘Even if I did think as you do, I can hardly drag Ailsa MacLeod kicking and screaming to the altar and forcing myself onto the old laird’s daughter is hardly likely to mend fences.’
‘She’s loyal to her brother is she not?’ His uncle had changed tack, an ominous sign.
‘Aye.’
‘That’s useful to us. Tell her this and make no bones about it. Marry you and Robert MacLeod will be released from our dungeons, refuse and he dies’.
‘I cannot threaten her with that. She has lost so much already and we need not be that cruel’.
‘You have a choice Duncan,’ snapped Hugh, losing patience with such delicate scruples. ‘You can take her to your bed, willing or no, and enjoy putting a child in her or I can give someone else the privilege.’ He smiled lasciviously. ‘There’d be no shortage of takers. She’s a tasty little morsel to be sure, young and fertile and ripe for the plucking. If you don’t make this marriage happen I will marry her off somewhere else to my advantage. I’m a widower so I might even snap her up myself.’ Hugh let this last threat hang in the air as Duncan’s scowl deepened.
‘You’ve not the stamina for a young wife.’
The insult to his manhood slid off Hugh as if it were nothing. His nephew’s anger was something he often used to his advantage. ‘Which is it to be? Are you going to accept this gift I am offering or be your usual stubborn self and cut off your nose to spite your face?’
‘I’ll think on it,’ replied Duncan turning away, disgust twisting his gut at the thought of Hugh’s bony, wrinkled hands all over Ailsa. ‘Now press me no further on the matter.’
‘Very well, as you wish,’ replied Hugh with the satisfied look of a fox that has burrowed its way into a henhouse. ‘Come let us feast and celebrate our victory over those bastard Sinclairs.’
Chapter Six
Duncan stomped up the winding staircase to Ailsa’s chamber in a state of intense rage and frustration. Hugh’s suggestion was infuriating in all sorts of ways. Was he to be told what to do and who to marry like some whelp of a boy? Was he to take to bed a woman who did not want him?
He had never had to force a woman and he wasn’t about to start now. Bonny women keen to bed him had never been hard to come by and he was damned if he’d beg a powerless young woman to trot up the aisle with him.
Admittedly Hugh’s plan was not without merit. It was an excellent way to heal wounds between the clans and he would have to marry eventually in order to sire an heir and it was impossible not to desire such a beauty as Ailsa MacLeod.
Duncan allowed himself the brief luxury of imagining what it would be like to be climbing these stairs as her husband and lover, knowing that she belonged to him and no other. He pictured her soft, willing body moving against his and taking him inside her. ‘Curse you Duncan Campbell for the fool that you are,’ he said. He was at her door now and, clenching his fists, took a deep breath. The image in his head was making it hard to control his lust, he was frustrated with his uncle’s scheming and angry with himself for letting Ailsa get under his skin. If he did not master himself he would not be able to stop himself from doing something regrettable. So instead he focussed on the unhappy task of dragging her down to the banquet so that she could despise him some more.
He barged into the room to find Ailsa standing at the window. She turned in surprise and gave him a filthy look.
‘I am come to escort you to the banquet,’ Duncan said impatiently. She was fully dressed in a lovely gown of cornflower blue which complemented the rich brown of her hair, hanging loose around her shoulders. She looked innocent and flawless which made him feel like a rough, brutish oaf.
‘My lord I am afraid you are mistaken. I am not attending,’ she replied loftily.
‘Ah yes, you are indisposed. Well, you appear in excellent health to me so come along.’
‘No I will not!’ snapped Ailsa.
‘It’s my wish that you attend so don’t keep me waiting lass.’
‘I am not a lass, I am Laird Campbell’s daughter, sister to the rightful chief of this clan and not your servant to order about. And I would rather die than show my face at your disgusting banquet and be forced to spend one minute supping with you or that greasy uncle of yours.’
Duncan’s temper rose and his voice hardened. ‘You are coming with me Ailsa.’
‘I am not.’
‘It’s an order, not a request.’ Grabbing her by the wrist he pulled her towards the door. ‘Did I not tell you what would happen should you refuse?’
‘You wouldn’t dare’.
‘Of course I would. You are coming to the banquet where you will behave yourself and show me some respect even if I have to drag you there by your hair woman. I am master here and I will have my orders obeyed.’
‘You are not master of me.’ She glowered at him defiantly.
Her refusal to give ground stirred him to greater anger. He dragged her into the hallway but she tried to pull away from him and at that point, Duncan’s temper snapped. ‘Have you no notion of the position you find yourself in lass? You have no power here Ailsa. You are my prisoner to do with as I see fit and you will obey me’.
‘So…prisoner is it?’ she sneered.
‘No that was badly said I…’
‘Your show of courtesy and us getting along was just that - a show. I am as much your prisoner as my brother, aren’t I? Why don’t you just put me in chains and get it over with?’
‘If you don’t stop acting like a child I might.’
‘Do your worst then. A dungeon would be better than spending a moment longer in your vile company.’
‘Come,’ he snarled, reaching for her arm again.
‘I’ll see you in hell first,’ she replied, twisting to break his grip and kicking his shin so hard it made him leap back.
‘Enough,’ he growled, ‘that piece of foolishness will cost you dear.’ He came at her grabbing her arms and pushing her back against the cold stone wall. Uncertainty clouded his judgement. Was he being cruel? If so she had done nothing to deserve it and, angry though he was, he had no intention of hurting her or even of punishing her. So why did he have her in his arms, why take hold of her? And now that he had, his anger dissolved into a much more dangerous impulse.
Ailsa was taken back to that night when his kiss had made its mark on her. She was determined not to be a fool this time and was about to turn her face away when Duncan leaned in and placed his forehead against hers. For several seconds he did not move and Ailsa dared not either, though every nerve in her body was screaming.
‘Why do you do this to me?’ he said in an agonised whisper.
‘I do nothing to
you.’
‘Oh but you do Ailsa, you just don’t know it.’
‘Let go of me… please Duncan.’
‘I can’t. I won’t,’ he said looking her straight in the eye. ‘I’m trying to protect you, why can’t you see that. What must I do to get you to see that?’
Time seemed to hang between them. His brown eyes were warm with some strong emotion and the smell of him, so close, virile, and earthy, was like a field of summer barley. There was no doubt he was a powerful, beautiful man and it would be a relief to trust him. Why not let herself sink into Duncan’s strong arms and let the world and its troubles disappear? He moved closer and as she stared up and saw the need in his face some wicked voice inside her told her to give in. She wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted to feel joy in kissing him. She wanted to feel beautiful and treasured and safe.
Ailsa’s anger softened as she looked into his fine eyes and the remembered pleasure of his body pressed to hers set her face aflame. How could she possibly want this man to kiss her again when he was the author of all her misfortune? How could she possibly want his hands on her, his mouth teasing a response from her? But she did.
For a brief moment they hung between being lovers and enemies and then as if reading her mind, Duncan’s lips slowly descended to hers and her heart leapt to her throat when they connected. His hands swept gently up her spine and took hold of her hair pulling her close so that she was enveloped by him. For a moment Ailsa struggled not to respond to the sensuality of his mouth, gently, ever so gently, urging a response from hers and his kiss was glorious, delicious, decadent, exciting. She was on the brink of kissing him back, grabbing on to him and clutching his hard body against hers, but suddenly he pulled back.
‘I am not this man,’ he said shaking his head. ‘I am not and I refuse to be. Forgive me, I should not have done that, forced myself on you like that.’ Ailsa could only stand rooted to the spot. ‘I was angry and I lost control of myself,’ he said, releasing her from his grip.
‘And next time you lose control of yourself am I to suffer the same treatment?’ she said, appalled that she had let him kiss her and humiliated that he had stopped it.
‘It will not happen again, you have my word on it. And I am sorry I spoke harshly. Believe me Ailsa, I would not treat you as my prisoner.’
‘You just did,’ she replied coldly, wiping a hand across her mouth. ‘And your word means nothing. You are unforgivable and I hate you, Duncan Campbell.’
‘I don’t think either of us believes that Ailsa. You saved my life once. You didn’t do that for nothing and at your sister’s wedding, when we kissed and you clung to me, you wanted me I am sure of it.’
‘Well you may be arrogant enough to believe I wanted you then, but you can be sure I don’t want you now and you may never do that to me again.’
He took a step back and away from her as if recoiling from a blow. ‘Compose yourself and I will send a servant to bring you to the great hall’. Then he fixed her with his dark brooding glare which cut into her like a knife. ‘Don’t make me come back for you,’ he said. ‘If you insist on testing the limits of my patience you will find it is not inexhaustible.’
The banquet was a blur of emotions after that. With shaking hands Ailsa managed to make herself presentable, splashing water on her face which was still burning with anger and shame and arranging her hair into a hasty bun. With her family’s honour to uphold, such as was left of it, she must compose herself. A servant arrived and she was escorted to the great hall. Squaring her shoulders she entered its bustle and heat with her head held high.
It was quite an entrance. Everyone was already seated and she saw with dismay that there was an empty chair next to Laird Hugh at the high table, so she would have to sit in full view of all her tormentors. Duncan was sitting next to him staring morosely into his glass. As she was escorted to her place a hush descended as the guests strained their necks to get a good look at her. They stared with open curiosity and without respect for many of them were not her people, they were of Clan Campbell, Hugh and Duncan’s associates and confidantes who had come to Cailleach to see the spoils of victory. The women looked for flaws but in her radiant skin, soft curves and burnished hair they met with disappointment. The men regarded her with either lust or pity depending on their disposition.
Duncan could hardly look at Ailsa at all, a mixture of shame, anger and desire warring in his head. He noticed the leering glances of some of his clansmen and hated himself. He was no better than them, a rough, lecherous creature she wanted to hide from. She had been so joyous and free when first he had laid eyes on her. Her beauty had delighted and mesmerised him and now she was reduced to a frightened, helpless thing – a bird in a cage and he had just behaved like an animal. He reached for his whisky glass to deaden his remorse and self-loathing.
As Ailsa took in the sumptuous banquet laid before her she felt sickened. The villagers were going hungry but Hugh had spared no expense on his guests. The tables groaned with elaborately prepared food, capons, pheasant, roasted piglets and a generous array of fish - pike, bream and salmon, plucked from Cailleach’s loch and surrounding rivers. The smell of mutton flavoured with fennel and rosemary from a nearby pot tempted Ailsa’s palate but she could not bring herself to eat a bite. Around her, the other guests gorged themselves to bursting like pigs at a trough and washed it all down with freshly brewed ale and fine wines, imported at great expense from France. Ailsa was disgusted with their gluttony.
She was trapped between Hugh and one of his cronies, a sullen, foul-breathed old Campbell devotee who made little effort to be courteous to a conquered MacLeod. Hugh, on the other hand, insisted on forcing conversation on her.
‘Is my nephew treating you well my lady?’ he asked, patting her hand in a fatherly manner.
Ailsa quickly withdrew it. ‘I am treated as well as can be expected under the circumstances Laird Hugh with traditional Campbell hospitality, as is my brother I believe.’ She didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, though she was aware that she was dealing with a formidable and dangerous man.
‘Hah, a spirited reply’ he exclaimed ‘You have your father’s reckless tongue and I don’t suppose you are enjoying the sight of us in your ancestral home to be sure. Nor does your hapless brother enjoy the dungeons of Dunslair.’
Ailsa drew in a sharp breath.
‘Fear not, he is well treated and he will in all probability escape with his life. He is such a weakling it hardly seems worth the trouble of stretching his neck,’ he said with casual cruelty.
‘When will you release him?’
‘Soon, if your clan comes to heel and accepts Duncan as laird and when you MacLeods have pledged fealty to the Campbells. You know your father never gave me the respect I deserved but by God, I’ll have it now. He was always ready with the snub or the sly insult to Clan Campbell, undermining me behind my back.’
‘My father was never sly; he was an honourable man.’
‘Aye, very honourable and much good it did him. Where is your clan now, your brother, your land and your castle? Firmly in my fist, that’s where, exactly where I always meant them to be.’
Ailsa dug her fingernails into the palms of her hands. How many more insults was she supposed to bear? ‘It’s strange Laird that you harbour such a grudge against a man who rarely spoke of you. I can barely recall his ever mentioning you to me though we often discussed such matters.’
Her barb did not hit its mark. ‘I knew your father very well,’ replied Hugh smugly. ‘That surprises you doesn’t it? Knew your mother well too.’
‘How?’ asked Ailsa in alarm.
‘She was intended for me. A fine looking woman in her day she was and she came with a rich bounty of land and wealth and a good family name. Aye, I looked forward to having her as my bride.’
Ailsa squirmed at the disgusting way Hugh hissed out these last words. ‘Are you saying there was an understanding between you?’
‘Nothing formal but sh
e knew I wanted her, I left her in no doubt about that and I made overtures to her family. Would have been successful too had not handsome Gordon MacLeod entered the fray. I don’t think he was particularly partial to her, your father, but he had enough of the looks and the swagger about him and Hester was clod-headed enough to believe she was in love with him. He was always an arrogant bastard. He knew she was mine but he took her anyway.’
‘Lucky for her I’d say,’ retorted Ailsa horrified that this awful man might have been her father.
Hugh leant over and whispered into her ear, his hot whisky breath on her neck. ‘Guard that sharp tongue of yours girl. My nephew is too indulgent of women’s weakness, but I am of a different ilk. One day you will learn to obey and show me the respect I deserve.’
‘Then I hope you have a plentiful supply of patience Laird Hugh for you might have a long wait for that day to come.’
He laughed, loud and braying like a donkey. ‘You are your father’s daughter to be sure. You have his pride and insolence in good measure. But mark me, shake off that MacLeod arrogance as it will serve you ill now. Obey my nephew in all things. He has let you have your head so far but cross him and he will punish you. Sooner or later you will be brought to heel my bonny little bitch whether you like it or not.’
With that, he turned from her to Duncan and asked loudly, ‘How do you find the lady Ailsa? Was there ever a bonnier face seen in all the Highlands? A great beauty is she not?
‘Of course, she is!’ snapped Duncan, looking at Ailsa for the first time since she had taken her seat and giving his uncle a hard look.
‘And what do you think of my nephew Ailsa? A fine looking fellow, is he not? He’ll breed fine sons one day to be sure.’ Ailsa could only look helplessly down at her plate, indignation writhing inside her.
‘No reply. Do you not hold an opinion of my nephew Ailsa? What, cat got your tongue?’ Hugh continued, seemingly oblivious to Ailsa’s embarrassment or Duncan’s anger tainting the atmosphere. Suddenly there was a loud scraping noise as Duncan threw back his chair and with a clenched jaw strode angrily from the hall.
