by Reece Butler
Somerled stared blankly. His rage at Meg had befuddled his brain. He shook his head.
“Laird, King James wishes to go to London. He canna do that if his Highland lairds are feuding. One way to end a feud is through marriage, aye?”
“But Meg married a Campbell, she wasna born one.”
“Nay? What if the herald only gave ye half of her name?”
“Half?” A sense of dread settled on his shoulders.
“Meg has the coloring of a Stewart like her mam, so doesna look like a Campbell.” Ewan leaned forward and dropped his voice. “So if King James wished to end the feuding atween Clan MacDougal and Campbell…”
“He would marry me to a Campbell lass.”
Somerled choked. He pounded himself on the chest to clear it. Why had he not thought on it before? Because he’d wanted Meg to be perfect. To be his and Niall’s alone. Things had been good until he learned of her marriage to Campbell of Duntrune. But that had not been Meg’s choice, and it had brought many things back to the clan. As for the king… His rage returned. He’d slept with a born Campbell, had cared for her, even… No, he didn’t love her. He couldn’t.
“Meg was born a Campbell, and kept it from us!” he roared.
“Meg married ye—”
“Nay the king married us. We didna say aye.”
“How many days ago did ye ask Meg to hold yer hand and jump the broom held by Niall? When she did, she became a MacDougal.”
Somerled shook his head, wishing he could shake some sense into Meg as well as Ewan. “King James is wrong to think marrying a minor Campbell lass to me will end a feud of centuries.”
“Laird, what the king thought is that his loyal vassal Laird Somerled MacDougal would release his revenge over things done by our ancestors.”
“Ancestors? Torquil was near killed by Campbells!”
Once more Ewan sighed as if Somerled had failed at answering a simple question.
“Were they Campbells, laird? Or did Niall, Tearlach, Rory, and Cormac panic at what was done to their brother and, believing all Campbells wished to slaughter any MacDougal in their path, decide they must be such?”
He ground his teeth. “Speak clear, Ewan. I dinna have patience to think on it.”
“If clansmen crossed our land and didna return to their laird they would have been looked for, aye? But none came looking for the two who molder in yon grave.”
“Ye deny they were Campbells?”
“Nay, yet I say if they were they may have been banished for their deeds, so none cared if they disappeared.”
He didn’t want to think on it, or how a woman’s honeyed words could sway a man. It had swayed him, but no more.
“That doesna change my wife running to embrace another man, or allowing him to kiss her. Do ye deny she hid her birth clan from her laird husband?”
“Nay laird, I canna deny that.”
“Hiding a Campbell in our midst would get a man flayed or banished. Nay!” He held up his hand. “Dinna speak. Watch.” He handed Ewan the spyglass. “If ye hold back from tellin’ me of all on our land again I will have ye punished.”
“Ye would flay me?”
“Nay. But ye dinna need to look over the land to See.”
“Ye would lock yer own brother in the dungeon?”
“I would lock my own brother away for bringing danger to our clan.”
“God bless fools and lovers, for ye are both,” muttered Ewan.
Somerled turned away, pretending he hadn’t heard. Ewan was wrong. He was neither. He refused to be.
He thumped down the steps to the bailey. Passing under the cool stone passage made him shiver. He disliked going far past the walls. His nightmares had started to fade, but now they would return with a vengeance. For he’d been sleeping with the enemy.
He would not look at Meg. Would not look into her pleading eyes, or lower. She’d used her body to distract him when playing chess and would try to do so now. So he would not look at her, nor touch her.
No matter how much it hurt.
Chapter Six
“Margaret, dinna tell me those giant black-haired dragons are your husbands?”
“Dragons?” she repeated distractedly. Her feet and shins stung from running over sharp rocks and through nettles. She needed to find some dock to ease the nettles’ sting. Did they have some dried in the stillroom area of the kitchen?
“Aye, dragons,” replied Hamish. “The one with his arms crossed and head lowered would be whipping his scaled tail at us, gnashing his teeth to bite, and blasting us with flame. He looks just like the stories ye used to tell me.”
She looked up, shading her eyes. Hamish’s distance vision was far better than her own, but she could make out Somerled.
“Meg told ye stories of dragons?” asked Torquil.
“Aye, when we hid. She’d whisper them in my ear, so I didna hear the screams and all. Sometimes she were the one beaten, and then I was to hide and tell them to myself.”
“I hoped you wouldna remember those times,” she said.
Hamish reached out to her, pulling his hand back at Torquil’s warning growl. “Aye, sister. I can still hear the thuds of his fist hitting ye, and yer cries when I held ye after.” He swept the three MacDougals with his eyes. “Our father hit her as he enjoyed it, nay because Margaret did sommat wrong. Can ye see why we dinna wish to share his foul name?”
“’Tis up to the laird.”
Hamish growled something under his breath and rode on, Artair and Zander flanking him.
“I wish to hear of yer dragons on those dark winter nights to come,” said Torquil.
“When Somerled discovers my brother’s name he mayna wish me to be here come winter.”
“Ye are his wife, lass, and he needs ye, and not just to give him heirs.” Torquil narrowed his eyes at Somerled. “He’s a wee bit fashed at ye, but ’twill pass when he thinks on what ye are to him,” he replied.
“What I am is a means for the king to stop the feud between the Campbells and the MacDougals at little cost,” she said bitterly. “Somerled may wish me gone, but he canna divorce me. So he will put me away from him but for work and to take his rights as my husband. No matter what I wish.”
Torquil sighed. The face that he thought would scare women was kind, though frustrated.
“There’ll be none of that talk, Lady Meg. The laird trusted and cared for ye, and now thinks ye have turned on him. Aye, ye had nay choice but to obey the king. Yer father beat ye. Ours didna hit us as he ignored us unless he was promising grand things. All were lies. He married two women who didna wish to be mothers to his brats. Ye are the first woman to smile at Somerled since Mary died.”
“I ken all that,” she replied. “Niall told me how it was.”
“Ye dinna ken how he’s changed since ye rode in. He got fashed as ye dinna tell him yer old husband was a Campbell, but that passed. He e’en smiled to all that day the two of ye jumped the broom with Niall. All was well, and then sommat happened. Ye didna smile as much, and he looked at ye as if ye were a bug he was thinkin’ to squash.” He grimaced. “He said ye had a secret. He were right.”
She had other secrets, one being that she’d lost her heart to both men. She knew Niall cared for her and she’d thought Somerled might also, until now.
“Aye, I kept my birth clan a secret, as ordered by the king. What else could I do?”
Torquil looked at her with sorrow. “Naught, lass. But Somerled trusted ye, though ye are no brother. Ye smiled at him and gave him hope that ye cared. Ye played him false and so proved he doesna deserve to have a woman smile truly at him, or care for his heart.”
“But I do care for his heart, Torquil, and for the rest of him, as I do Niall.”
Meg looked at her hands. Dirt lay under her short nails. They were far from the hands of the elegant lady Edgar demanded in a wife. The dirt and calluses showed who she was, plain Meg who wished to be accepted as a MacDougal.
“Fool that I am, I love them both,
” she admitted. “Niall sees it but Somerled refuses, except when we are in our chamber, when he holds me. But ’tis gone in the day.” She paused, thinking of what else Torquil had said. “Why wouldn’t Somerled deserve a woman to love him?”
Torquil nudged his horse to follow the three in front of them.
“Both his mam and Maeve told him he were a bad ’un, like our father. Somerled willna go back on an oath as our father ne’er kept a promise. We have all vowed to do so, unto death. So he will keep ye.”
She bit her trembling lip.
“He may have cared for me, Torquil, and even trusted me once, but ’tis gone now. Aye, he’ll keep me, but ’twill be worse than with Edgar, for I loathed that man and wished little to do with him. Will he order Niall to stay away?”
“Mayhaps, for a wee bit of time. Show him that ye care for him and he will come around.”
Meg grimaced. “I hated to hide the truth from him. And now I ken he thinks I did it to harm him, ’tis even worse.”
“Give him time, lass. The orders of a king must be followed. Somerled kens that, or will once he sees past his jealousy at seeing ye hug yer brother.”
She frowned at him, perplexed. “Why would Somerled be jealous of Hamish?”
“Lass, he doesna ken who ye ran to, just that he saw ye smiling wider than ye have for him. He’ll think Hamish is yer lover, or that ye wish him to be.”
Cold dread stopped her breath. She fought to inhale. “After all we have shared, Somerled would think I would take a lover over him and Niall?”
“When a man uncertain of his wife’s heart sees her throw herself at a stranger he doesna stop to think. ’Tis a bit like a berserker, methinks.” Torquil raised an eyebrow, the motion pulling at his scars. “He will get over it in time.”
“How much time? Days? Weeks? Years?” she asked bitterly. “You all say that once Laird Somerled MacDougal makes up his mind he willna change it. He’s decided I am a liar and a cheat, and his enemy.” She shook her head. “If he willna listen to me and understand, he will close his heart again. He canna have me as his wife and reject who I am at the same time.”
“Give him time,” repeated Torquil.
“The Gathering is in but a few sennights. I willna stand at his side if he rejects me. Now that the secret of my birth is out I willna lie. If he disregards me when we are alone I willna pretend otherwise when we are on show.”
“Then do sommat to change his mind, Meg. Help him see that he cares for ye still, and that is why he is near berserk over seein’ ye touch another man.” Torquil nudged the horse forward again.
Hamish turned back with a sad smile. “If Laird Somerled willna listen to ye, sister, he doesna deserve ye. I am sorry that I bring ye trouble.”
“Nay, Hamish, dinna be sorry.” She gave him a wan smile. “The king wishes the feud to be over and for that to happen Somerled, and the Campbells, need to ken the truth. ’Tis best my laird husband kens it now, afore the Gathering, or we make a babe.” She looked forward. Somerled’s fierce stare made her shiver.
“Ye are stuck atween a cliff and a chasm, lass,” said Torquil. “If the laird sees Hamish is yer brother he’ll condemn ye for being a Campbell. If he’s too fashed to see how much ye look alike he’ll condemn ye for havin’ a Campbell lover.”
“I wish he wouldna judge me without asking the why of it.”
“And if wishes were fishes none would be hungry.”
They rode on, her dread increasing with each moment.
Zander cleared his throat. “Did ye say the laird smiled when Meg and Somerled handfasted?
Torquil nodded. “Near cracked his face, ’twas so wide.”
“Why, did you bet on when Somerled would smile?” asked Meg.
“We bet on many things, with the winner getting more food or fewer chores,” he explained. “Aye, Zander, ye won.”
Artair groaned. “He’ll be taking our sweets for years.”
Meg had to twist to see Artair. “Sweets?”
“We were lads when we made the bet, thinking with our bellies.” He exchanged looks with Zander. They both turned to her eagerly. “We bring honey from Lady Isabel. Mayhaps ye ken how to make tarts?”
“Aye, she does,” said Hamish. The three grinned at one another.
“Ah, to be a lad, thinkin’ only of yer stomach.” Torquil’s hint of a smile faded when he looked toward what waited for them. “Instead of yer cock,” he murmured.
Somerled swept Meg a look of utter contempt as they rode up. He gave a quick welcome nod to Artair and Zander and then directed his eyes on Hamish. Artair had to help her off Torquil’s lap. The horse blocked her hiss of pain as agony shot from the soles of her feet. She got control of herself, freezing her face before Torquil dismounted and moved the animal.
After that quick flick of furious eyes Somerled ignored her. Niall’s look of disappointment was almost worse. They both towered over her, their size and strength far greater than that of Hamish, or even Artair and Zander. She knew in her heart they would not strike her, but Somerled’s cold expressions hit deeper than any blow. She gripped her fingers in front of her belly to keep them from shaking.
“Laird husb—”
“Hush, woman! Dinna try to sway me by apologizin’,” snarled Somerled. “I saw ye run to him. Ye chose yer lover over yer husband, right in front of me.” He curled his lip in disgust. “I shall burn that broom we jumped.”
He truly thought Hamish was her lover? Though his jealousy proved that he cared for her, that he wouldn’t listen meant he saw her as a possession, and a traitor. So be it. She would play along with his game and let him believe what he chose.
“Yer name?”
“Hamish Campbell.”
“Campbell?” roared Somerled. His rage grew a thousand times, aimed straight at Meg. “Ye canna have just a lover, he must be a Campbell?”
“Laird—” began Torquil.
“Nay! I willna hear lies from my own brother.”
“So be it. ’Tis on yer head.” Torquil crossed his arms, jaw clamped shut.
“Margaret—” began Hamish.
“Dinna speak that name!” Somerled gestured to Niall. “Bind him, silence him, and toss him in the dungeon!”
“Nay!” she screamed.
Artair grabbed her arms, holding her back as Niall did as ordered.
“I dinna ken ye,” murmured Artair in her ear, “but I do ken Hamish. He told us of his wee sister who raised and protected him from brutes. My laird brother is out of his head and isna thinkin’. Let him believe Hamish is yer lover for now. It may teach him sommat when he kens he was jealous for naught.”
“Will he ever ken it?”
“Sir Tearlach was the same, hearing only that Hamish was a Campbell and cursing him for it, but he came around. Somerled willna believe what ye say, Lady Meg. He must see the truth for hisself. ’Twill show him as a fool. Then he will be the one apologizin’ to ye.”
Niall had bound Hamish’s hands in front of him. He must have promised not to speak as he was not gagged.
“We’ll see what ye think of yer handsome young lover after he’s spent a few weeks in the pit,” snarled Somerled. His lip curled, the edges pulling down. “Pity ’tisn’t winter. ’Twould cool his lust. Mayhaps tossin’ ye in the sea will do the same for ye.”
Hamish opened his mouth. Niall elbowed him in the ribs. He grunted, but said nothing. She would tell Hamish later how she had trusted Somerled when he helped her overcome her terror of drowning. She was still fearful and wouldn’t go near the sea alone, but she no longer panicked at the thought of it.
“I love him,” declared Meg. “And I shall ’til the day I die!”
Somerled turned white. Niall glared at her. She loved them more than Hamish. She could live without her brother, but didn’t wish to exist without her husbands. But until they could hear her words and not think she lied to protect herself or Hamish, she wouldn’t speak of it.
“I willna kill you,” said Somerled to Hamish, h
is words cold and clipped. “Yet.”
Hamish’s left eye twitched. It was their signal to say they must accept the situation for now. She pulled on her right earlobe, meaning she understood. The movements came easily though it had been many years since they’d last been together.
“Do ye wish to ken why we brought Hamish with us, laird?” asked Artair calmly.
“That interfering Herald Cam told ye to bring him, aye?”
Artair nodded. “As did Sir Tearlach and Rory, laird.”
“Did they ken they were sending my wife’s lover to her?”
“Herald Cam said ye had a wife, but naught more,” said Zander. “And Hamish isna—” Torquil’s sharp elbow stopped his words.
“Are my brothers coming to the Gathering?” demanded Somerled of Artair.
“Aye. They must go slow with Lady Isabel. We came ahead.”
“Ye will tell me what ye learned. What’s on the packhorses?”
“Gifts from Lady Isabel to the Lady of Duncladach, to help with the Gathering.”
“There’s honey and laying hens. Lady Isabel made the baskets from her hazel trees,” added Zander.
“Any gifts are to Duncladach itself,” said Somerled coldly as he sneered at Meg.
She knew he was speaking in anger, but it still hurt. “There are extra pallets that can be laid for you in the lower hall,” she said to Artair and Zander. They looked at her with pity and shame at Somerled’s treatment of her. “Duncladach now has many things that will please you.” She carefully did not say where they all came from.
“Nay, lads, ye will join the rest of us men in the upper hall, where the pallets will be laid,” said Somerled.
The rest of the men? Was he counting himself and Niall? She slumped. If he kept himself far from her he would feed his rage and hurt each day apart, cursing her for everything. Having them sleep in the chamber which was to be their private place, shared only with each other, rubbed salt into her wounds.
“The herald said he brought cartloads of goods from Duntrune Castle, given to the new Lady MacDougal from her first husband.” Artair looked to Niall for a response.
