The Black Wolf's Captive (The Highland Wolf Series Book 1)

by Tessa Murran

  ‘Yes, so long as I came with land and title and political advantage, of course, you would want to marry me.’

  ‘You could stand before me in rags and I would want you and there is not a single man in the whole of Scotland who would not want you.’

  Ailsa looked at him, his dark eyes were pleading with her to see the truth in his words. Any woman looking into that wild, rugged face would want him in return. Something twisted inside her chest when she looked at him and she realised that some of what he said was true. They could have built something together had things been different. But she knew that no matter how attractive he was she could never really have him. For some reason, his dark heart called to hers but to acknowledge that, to give in to her desires, would make her a traitor to everything she had ever known.

  ‘Build your castle of lies if you like Duncan but the truth of it is if there was ever a time when I may have chosen you it is long gone. Now I have no choice, no choice at all.’

  ‘Aye, I see that and I am sorry for it but the alternative is something far worse than me I can assure you. With your father and brother gone, who will arrange a suitable match for you?’

  ‘I want no match of any kind, suitable or otherwise. And one day Robert will return, I am sure of it, and then I will be free of you.’

  ‘That is unlikely and even if he does I’ve seen enough of him to take the measure of the man. He cannot be relied upon to act in your best interests.’

  ‘And you would?’

  ‘Believe it or not, I am trying to and you did save my life so I owe you a debt. I would repay it by protecting you from your enemies and giving you my name.’

  ‘There is no debt for I dearly wish I had not spoken out that day.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘I do and I want no name but MacLeod.’

  ‘Ailsa, please hear me. I promise you this, I will always treat you kindly, I will keep you and your clan safe from harm and I will try, no matter how you despise me, to bring some happiness into your life for, Ailsa, I would see you happy.’

  ‘You are fooling yourself. I will never forgive what your clan has done to mine and I know that you feel nothing for me. You are doing this to serve your interests and enrich yourself and the Campbells.’

  ‘So, you are determined to let the weight of your resentment drag this marriage down before it has a chance to flourish’. He took hold of her arm and said passionately ‘When you saved my life tell me you didn’t feel something for me then. Look me in the eye and deny it.’

  ‘Maybe I did but that was in a very different time,’ she snapped, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

  Duncan took a deep breath. ‘Enough of this now. What is it to be Ailsa? Do you agree to marry me?’

  She could not find words to reason with him and realised it was probably futile to try. She could not look at his handsome, intent face. Was she to give herself to this man who wanted her only for the power she brought him, a strong vital man who sparked feelings of want and shame in her, whose embrace and kiss threw her heart into turmoil? Could she possibly bind herself forever to a man from whom she must always guard her feelings? Now she would have to go to his bed and let him use her.

  ‘Ailsa, will you marry me,’ Duncan persisted in a voice of hope and hidden desperation. ‘Will you come to me willingly? And over time, who knows, you may learn to tolerate me and I may learn how to be a good husband. We could even be happy if you would just give this union a chance.

  ‘Happy! Why do you keep saying that when it is impossible?

  ‘Are we so very different you and I?’ You are loyal to your people, so am I. Together we can secure a lasting peace and protection against all who challenge us. Come to me willingly and give this marriage a chance.’

  She took a deep breath and made her decision. When she spoke her voice was ice. ‘Never willingly but for the good of my clan and my brother, yes, I will marry you, though it is the last thing in the world I want to do. If it weren’t for Robert’s predicament I would throw myself from these walls now to escape such a fate.’

  ‘Then it’s settled,’ said Duncan grimly. He had hoped to win her round and now that he had failed, wounded pride and the sting of rejection made him harsh. ‘Try not to cling to bitterness and past grudges for they will be cold comfort to you. Despise me if you must, I care not, but we must marry.’

  He stalked off, regretting his words, disappointment lurking in his heart where there could have been joy and anticipation. Her refusal to bend to his will made him speak bluntly though he had no wish to hurt her and pitied her predicament. She would serve a purpose and that was all he dared hope for, after all, what need had he of love and affection? Such things were for fools and dreamers and he was far too much of cynic to see life through their eyes.

  Ailsa stood rooted to the spot as he left her. Her heart was thumping in her chest, anger warring with fear. ‘How will I do this?’ she thought. She had decided on a strategy. She had heard tales of how a conquering clan treated their enemies once they were defeated. The Macleods would become mere vassals to the Campbells, brutally suppressed and pillaged and left to starve on what scraps were left from their table. Already the people were in dire straits. As his wife she could plead with Duncan on their behalf, she owed her people that much and it gave her a reason to keep her head up and go on.

  It would mean dragging her pride in the dirt but pride didn’t put food in empty bellies, it did not keep women and children safe and it would not bring her father back or restore her mother’s wits, nor would it free her brother. She could escape, she was fairly sure she would eventually find a way to slip away from Cailleach to one of her sisters or beyond, but her loyalty and her obligations to the villagers and castle occupants bound her more tightly to staying than any chains or dungeon bars could ever do.

  She had a slim hope that eventually the Campbells and Sinclairs would exhaust each other to the point where they would give up their futile feuding or one side crush the other. She could bide her time and wait it out until this happened and then seek an alliance with the victor. She should not act rashly but calculatingly.

  True, she loathed the idea of marrying her enemy but peace was often bought in such ways and if she stayed on the right side of him then maybe she could exert some influence. He had made his attraction to her clear and though it may be passing and fickle, it was a small advantage that she could exploit. If she did not marry him then he may choose another who did not have her clan’s best interests at heart and then she could be cast aside into a worse marriage.

  And though she hated to admit it, though he was her enemy, there was something about him that intrigued her and that drew her eye to him despite her best efforts to avoid him. He was a fine looking man and any woman would have to be blind not to see that. It helped in some small way that she would not be repulsed by him as a husband; it made the task of deceiving him into thinking her submissive that much easier. She would have to go through with this marriage and Duncan would not be easily misled. She daren’t think on what he would do if he discovered he had been played for a fool.

  Having avoided her for several days, on the eve of her wedding, Duncan came to her chamber. He regarded her intently for a moment, an impenetrable look on his face.

  ‘I brought you this,’ he said curtly. He thrust a dirty sack at her within which something whined and writhed around. She opened it and was confronted by a pair of baleful yellow eyes. Their owner was a scrawny, tabby kitten, ears pinned back with outrage.

  ‘My men found this wildcat wandering on the moors half starved. It growls and scratches. I doubt it will ever be tame but I thought you might be able to make a pet of it. I thought it might bring you some comfort.’

  Ailsa was in no mood to be generous. ‘So you think to buy my good opinion with this.’

  ‘I don’t seek to buy any part of you. It was kindly meant, take it or don’t, I care not which,’ Duncan replied. ‘If you don’t want it give it to one of t
he men and they will put it out of its misery.’ With that, he turned to go.

  ‘I will take it,’ she called after him.

  ‘Good, for it will not survive alone,’ he said bleakly, turning back to her. ‘And, Ailsa, do not fret about tomorrow. It may seem like the end of the world to you, but it is not, I can assure you of that.’ He looked away from her and was quiet for a moment. ‘You have nothing to fear from me, now or ever.’ Then he was gone.

  Ailsa tentatively reached into the bag and picked up the cowering animal gently. Surprisingly, though it hissed, it did not scratch her. Maybe it was too cold or exhausted by the struggle of surviving without its mother. Maybe it recognised in her a kindred spirit who was also frightened and alone. Instead, it held itself rigid against her breast and she could feel its pathetic little bones move against the dirty fur, just a tiny scrap of life which was now her responsibility, along with everything else.

  She wondered at Duncan’s surly act of kindness. It did not sit well with her opinion of him and once again he had confused her. She pushed it from her mind and steeled herself for the ordeal of her marriage.

  Chapter Eight

  Bracing himself to face a reluctant bride, Duncan downed a whisky for courage. He had a take it or leave it attitude to women having long ago learnt to neither trust nor need them. They gave him pleasure and he returned it in good measure. They were a temporary respite from the dark thoughts in his head and from the bleakness of his soul. But he knew if he handled this badly with Ailsa, if he was to hurt or repulse his bride, she would never call him husband, would never place her trust in him and for some reason that would feel like a failure.

  This wasn’t just a matter of male pride, that Ailsa should be an obedient and loving wife, that she should want him to make love to her, that she should admire his prowess in the marriage bed. If all she represented was land and a means of siring heirs why was it so important that she desired him and that he pleased her abed? Duncan told himself that their union was a just a convenience but it felt like there was more at stake here than peace between warring clans.

  So as he climbed the stairs to the wedding chamber Duncan was apprehensive. He had to make love to a woman who may not want to make love to him, not at all the wedding night a man imagines. And as their marriage had to stand before the law, it was essential he consummate it. But there was a very fine line between seduction and coercion that Duncan did not intend to cross.

  Unfortunately, his wedding had been a hasty, improvised affair. His uncle had insisted on it taking place at once and they had been married within days with hardly any guests other than those that were essential to making it binding in terms of the law. Immediately afterwards, having got his own way, Hugh had hastened back to Dunslair. So there had been no grand banquet with all neighbouring clans present and the groom had not been met at the altar by a joyous, welcoming bride.

  Ailsa, he had to admit, had borne her fate with courage. The effort of not turning and fleeing from him as the vows were spoken had been obvious from her ashen face and tightly clenched jaw. The Campbell’s had furnished her with a fine wedding gown. A rich cream, its tight bodice was beautifully embroidered with tiny gold flowers and the wide skirts billowed softly outwards emphasising her slim waist. Around her neck hung a simple shining crucifix, which nestled just above her breasts, highlighting her beauty and vulnerability. In her purity, she reminded Duncan of a saint facing her martyrdom. He supposed grimly that he must have been playing the part of the devil.

  In spite of this, on seeing Ailsa at the altar, his chest had swelled with pride at having such a beauty standing next to him. He had presented her with a plaid of black and red tartan to announce her acceptance into Clan Campbell and his formally taking possession of her. But as he draped its folds gently over her shoulders and fastened it with a silver brooch, she had flinched and refused to meet his eye. No tears came but her discomfort was plain for all to see and his pride was driven out by a sense of shame.

  Duncan hesitated outside the chamber door wondering how she might be feeling. Was she terrified at the thought of him? Was she dreading his touch on her skin? Did she want to flee as far and as fast as she could, away from him?

  Hugh’s parting words were bitter in his head. ‘Don’t come out of that bedchamber without consummating your marriage. You need an heir, and soon, so do whatever you have to do to get one.’ Duncan had never had any time for the romantic notions of women but he did not share Hugh’s view of them as something to be used and cast aside.

  His gut was telling him that Ailsa could one day feel more for him than she betrayed in her sharp words. Maybe over time, they could get used to each other and even find some happiness. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and determined that this was one battle he would not lose. Then he opened the heavy door to confront his reluctant bride.

  Ailsa had been deposited in the bridal chamber by several servants. They had let down her hair and hastily removed her heavy wedding gown. It was a relief to feel its weight lift off her and its vice-like stays removed so that she could catch a breath. She had felt the overwhelming desire to rip it off and tear it to shreds in front of Duncan. However, the shift that remained made her painfully aware of her vulnerability and of what would happen this night. Exquisitely embroidered and adorned with lace, its diaphanous material clung in places to her soft curves. It was a flimsy protection against him and she would have preferred a suit of armour.

  She shivered in spite of the fire and the women wordlessly draped a plaid of black tartan, Campbell colours, over her stiff shoulders to warm her. So the laird had already staked his claim on her it would seem. Ailsa could scarcely believe she was married and was standing with these ladies making her look pretty for the pleasure of her husband.

  Husband – the word had a sense of finality to it. The priest’s words from the marriage ceremony seeped into her head. He had said she should be ‘in subjection and under the governance of her husband, so long as they both continue alive.’ Although she railed at the thought of being owned Ailsa had the intelligence to realise that resistance was pointless. She could not fly from the rooftops or burst through the bleak stone walls to freedom. She was trapped and must suffer her fate, so she rallied her courage and decided that she would lie still, with eyes shut tight, and allow Duncan to do what he would. She would not succumb to her desires and allow him to arouse in her that yearning and reckless excitement which had so shamed her before.

  The servants readied themselves to leave and Ailsa, choking back sudden panic, grabbed one by the arm. ‘Wait! What should I do? No one has told me what to do.’

  ‘Why you should try and please your husband, my lady,’ smiled the servant kindly, ‘and you are so pretty and pure you are sure to delight him.’ She was an old woman, many years in the service of the MacLeods and wise enough to recognise the distress on Ailsa’s face. ‘Sad lass, that you do not have your mother to advise you. The act is nothing to fear, a small pain the first time but that is all. And your husband is a fine, handsome chief, young and lusty. He’ll know full well what to do. You are very lucky to have such a man in your marriage bed for there’s many a jealous lassie longing to take your place tonight,’ she cackled cheerfully and with these words, she scurried off.

  ‘They’re welcome to it’ thought Ailsa defiantly. Though she had to admit there was truth in her words. Duncan had certainly been a sight to behold as they had stood together at the altar. The Campbell plaid swathed around his shoulders had perfectly complimented his thick dark hair. He stood confidently before the priest, almost a head taller than the other men around him, broad-shouldered, powerful and almost overpoweringly male. And when he had turned and looked at her there was a fire in his eyes.

  ‘Hold on to me,’ he had commanded in his dark, rich voice, holding out his arm and she had done so as if in a trance.

  As she paced nervously back and forth she glanced over at the formidable canopied bed. The servants had decorated it with garla
nds of flowers. They had tried their best to make it look pretty but to Ailsa, it appeared worse than a torture chamber in the darkest pit of hell.

  Moving closer to the fire she decided she must guard her feelings well and try to think of something else when he lay on her, when he touched her. She prayed he wouldn’t kiss her; it was dangerous when that happened. She had lost control of a part of herself when his lips were on hers. With this thought racing around her head her husband burst through the door.

  Duncan’s tall muscular frame filled the doorway and an icy draught followed him in. He closed the door with a firm thud shutting out the rest of the world.

  Ailsa noticed that despite the chill he quickly shed his plaid and heavy blue woollen jacket and dragged loose his shirt from his kilt. Where it fell open at the neck Ailsa could see pale skin and dark hair and heartily prayed he would not remove anything else. This was going too fast and the reality of her situation suddenly hit hard. Duncan seemed impervious to her tension and, crossing the room in a few broad strides, he loomed over her.

  ‘So wife, we find ourselves on our wedding night,’ he said quietly. The room was silent save for the crackle of logs on the fire. ‘Be assured you have nothing to fear from me tonight or any other night. I have never forced myself on any woman and I am not about to start now. I am not that kind of man,’ he said, anger at his uncle’s ruthlessness still burning in his chest.

  Ailsa, who had been holding her breath at his words, let it out in relief. ‘Your uncle said that for the sake of peace we must consummate this marriage or it is not legally binding and anyone may overthrow it at will. He said there would be grave consequences for me, my clan and especially my brother were I to fail in my duty as your wife.’