Laiden's Daughter

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Aishlinn. Listen to me, lass,” he whispered and wondered where to begin. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears and fear.

  “The English be no’ here. Yet.” He grabbed her arms to gain her attention. “We’ve no’ much time,” he repeated. “I need ya to listen. The earl be no’ dead.”

  He wished he had had time to choose his words more carefully, but chances were that Angus was headed up the stairs ready to give Aishlinn the news that she had been trothed for. Again.

  “Not dead?” She repeated. “But I stabbed him. Twice!” She found it impossible to believe the man had not died.

  “Aye, I ken it!” Duncan needed her to stay focused and to listen. “He lived. His soldiers search for ye, lass. They say the earl gave a troth for ye.”

  The floor seemed to have disappeared and her legs turned to jelly. If Duncan hadn’t been holding onto her she would have fallen over. “That’s impossible,” she whispered before it hit her like a bolt of lightening.

  Her brothers had to have accepted the troth. Or else it was an outright lie. Would the earl troth for her in order that he might legally take that which she would not give him? Would he kill her after he had? Certainly neither the church nor the king would recognize their marriage -- if it ever took place. She was not royalty, had no title or dowry. She didn’t have a drop of ‘privileged’ English blood in her veins. She was a peasant. It was a lie, a ruse and nothing more.

  The knock at her door brought her back to the here and now.

  Duncan gently squeezed her arms. “Aishlinn. Angus and Caelen have a plan.” He was not sure if he could get the rest of the words out. “The only way to break a troth is to have ye marry someone else.”

  For the first time in hours, she felt hope. Was Duncan proposing? Even if he was and they did marry, it still wouldn’t solve the problem of the impending English invasion. She searched his eyes, looking for something to tell her more. There was another knock at the door, much louder this time. She thought she heard Angus’ voice on the other side.

  “Aishlinn, if ye marry another then ya canna be forced to marry the earl.”

  She could only nod her head as she waited to hear him say the words. But there was something in his eyes that told her there was more bad news.

  “They want ya to marry Caelen McDunnah.” He nearly choked on the words.

  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open. Thunderstruck and aghast at the notion of marrying anyone but Duncan, she could not get her mouth to form words, until there was another, louder knock at her door. It was definitely Angus on the other side and he did not sound pleased.

  “Nay!” She nearly yelled it. “I’ll not marry Caelen McDunnah!” She pulled from Duncan’s grasp and searched her trunk for her leather boots. “I’ll no marry anyone but-” She stopped herself short.

  She wouldn’t marry anyone but Duncan. But since he didn’t appear to want that responsibility at the moment, she decided that jumping from her window and running away was her only option.

  “Marry me,” Duncan finally managed to say.

  She had been tugging on a boot when he said it. She stopped mid-pull and looked at him.

  Duncan admonished himself for acting like such an idiot when it came to her. He had been letting fear guide him these past months. He’d been afraid of pushing her, hurting her, or rushing into something serious. Today he had been afraid of what the English would do once they found her. Now he was afraid that either Caelen or the earl would take her as wife. He was done with being afraid. He would not let fear guide him any longer.

  “I love ye,” he said. “Marry me.”

  The pounding was louder and Angus voice could clearly be heard from the other side of the door. “Aishlinn!” He was booming. “Open this door at once!”

  She couldn’t move. Duncan had said he loved her. While she wished the circumstances had been different, a wee bit more romantic perhaps, he had still said it.

  “I’ll bust this door down, lassie!” came Angus’ muffled voice from the other side of the door. “Duncan! I ken yer in there!”

  “I love ye,” Duncan repeated. “I want to marry ye.”

  Aishlinn nodded her head. “I love ye as well.” She sat motionless on the edge of the bed, her boot still only half on.

  How could a heart be filled with untold joy and utter dread at the same time? Had the circumstances been different, she would have leapt into his arms and covered his face with endless kisses. But as it were, there was an impending invasion of English soldiers to deal with.

  Even if she married Duncan, it would solve nothing. The earl was still alive and apparently had lost what little mind he had left for he had given a troth for her hand. The hand that had stabbed him twice.

  “I want to have yer bairns,” Duncan blurted. When he realized the words had gotten jumbled inside his head he turned red with embarrassment. For the first time this day, he saw a smile come to his future wife’s face. “I meant-”

  Aishlinn giggled. “I know what you meant!” It felt good to laugh, if even for a moment.

  “Ye’ll marry me then?” He cocked a hopeful eyebrow at her.

  “Aye,” she said, still smiling from her perch on the bed. “And ye can have as many of my bairns as ye want,” she said in a mock Scottish brogue.

  Just as he was headed towards her, the door to her room came crashing in. Angus stood breathless in the doorway, his face contorted in anger. “What the bloody hell are ya doin’?” he demanded.

  Aishlinn leapt to her feet and tumbled into Duncan, for she had forgotten she had only one boot half way on. Duncan had caught her, wrapped his arms around her and looked at Angus.

  “Uncle!” he began.

  “Shut the bloody hell up!” Angus roared at him. “I want no’ to hear yer voice at the moment, lad!”

  He turned to look at his daughter. He counted to ten before he spoke again. “I trust young Duncan here has told ye what has happened?” He asked her.

  She held on to Duncan, as much to keep her balance as she did for protection. She’d only just learned that Angus was her father. With no history between the two of them, she knew not what he might do if angry enough. “Aye,” she said with a nod of her head.

  “I trust the eejit also told ye of the earl’s troth?”

  Another curt nod of her head was all she could manage.

  “I also trust he told ye of Caelen’s offer to marry ye?”

  She found her voice. “Aye, he did. And I’ll not marry the McDunnah.” She hoped her voice sounded firm and unyielding, and not like the quivering mess she felt like inside.

  Angus shook his head and looked at Duncan. “Lad. There was a reason I chose ye out of all others to be me successor.”

  Duncan swallowed hard, preparing himself mentally for whatever Angus would say next.

  “I chose ye, because of yer ability to keep yer head level. I chose ye because of yer skills on the battlefield.” Angus drew his hands behind his back and clasped them together. “But this day, ye make me question that decision.”

  Duncan could not fault the man for doubting him. He had proven over the past few hours that he was far from level headed when it came to Aishlinn.

  “It seems me daughter has an effect on ye that makes ye act like a fool.” Angus raised an eyebrow at Duncan. When he saw no argument coming from Duncan he continued.

  “I canna say that I blame ye fer it. Good women sometimes have that affect on a man.” He cast a smile at his daughter. “Yer mum had that very affect on me, lass.”

  He turned back to Duncan. “Do ye plan on gettin’ yer wits about ya anytime soon, lad?”

  Duncan stood a bit taller and looked Angus in the eye. “Aye. I do.” He had decided just minutes ago that he was through with letting his worries and fears over Aishlinn’s safety drive him any further. Realizing he would be no use to her if he could not keep a level head, he had made the firm decision to take charge of the situation and their fate. He would no longer leave anything to
fear.

  “Good.” Angus accepted his answer. “Now, about the matter of the McDunnah’s offer.”

  Aishlinn began to protest until Angus shot her a warning look. “Lassie, I’ll thank ye kindly to remain quiet,” he told her as he crossed his arms over his chest and stepped over the splintered door that lay on the floor. “While it was kind of the McDunnah to make such an offer, I refused it.”

  Aishlinn nearly collapsed with relief. Duncan eyed him curiously, not certain where Angus might be leading them.

  “While the McDunnah is a good ally and is loyal to King David, as well as a fierce warrior, I canna have me daughter marry him.”

  Duncan could not resist the urge to ask him why he had turned the McDunnah’s offer down.

  “Because I love me daughter,” Angus said as he smiled warmly at Aishlinn.

  It wasn’t just his smile that warmed her heart it was his words as well. Twice in one day, two men had expressed their love for her. Whilst one was romantic in nature and the other fatherly, she doubted she could ask for much more.

  “She’s just been returned to me this day. And I hate arranged marriages.” He waved his hand and looked as though he’d just tasted something quite sour. “Women are not possessions, nor are they chattel and I hate how they’re often used as such.” He shook his head in disgust.

  “I’ll not be usin’ me daughters in such a manner. They’ll marry who they love.” He paused before quickly adding a condition. “As long as he be a good man, and one that I can trust would bring her no harm or heartache. While I’ll always take me daughters’ feelings into consideration, I’ll not let either of them marry some eejit who can’t keep his wits or offer her much by way of a good life.” His lips curved into a wry smile as he turned once again to Duncan. “Can ye keep yer wits about yerself now, lad?”

  Duncan nodded his head rapidly.

  “And by way of a life, what can ye offer me daughter?” Angus asked, looking quite serious.

  A rather loud laugh escaped Aishlinn before Duncan could answer. He looked at her, quite puzzled. “He wants to have me bairns!” She could not control her laughter.

  For a moment, their roles had been reversed, as Duncan burned crimson from head to toe. “Lass!” He said firmly as he scowled at her. “I’ll thank ye kindly to keep our private conversations private!”

  Aishlinn pulled her lips in and bit down to keep from laughing further. She nodded her head and tried to look innocent and demure. It was rather difficult at the moment, especially when she saw the look of consternation on her future husband’s face.

  Angus shook his head, not wanting to know what his daughter was talking about. “Now!” He said as he clapped his hands and began rubbing his rough palms together. “We’ve the matter of a weddin’ to discuss. I’ve sent fer the priest. He’ll be here in an hour’s time.”

  For a moment Aishlinn allowed herself to be swept away in a sea of blissful happiness. She’d be marrying Duncan, apparently far sooner than she was prepared for.

  While she had sometimes daydreamed of her wedding day, as girls are oft want to do, this was not what she had planned. Part of her dream was coming true, for a handsome young man who loved her dearly was sweeping her off her feet. However, she had always envisioned a beautiful gown and a church filled with flowers and friends. Not that she had had any friends growing up. That was part of her dream as well. And there would have been a grand feast afterwards and much dancing would have taken place.

  But as things were happening so quickly, there would be no large church wedding, no beautiful silver gown, no flowers and no grand feast. She supposed in the grand scheme of things, the wedding itself did not matter as much as the marriage. She’d be marrying Duncan, a man she loved more than life itself.

  ‘Twas then that it hit her, with as much force as if she’d been hit in the back of the head with a mace. What of their life after the wedding? The English soldiers were looking for her at this very moment. While a marriage to Duncan would keep her from having to marry the earl, it would do nothing to keep the English from attacking the castle or her family. The marriage could not stop the English from finding her and taking her back to Penrith for her crime.

  She paid no attention to the conversation that was taking place between her father and Duncan. The nightmares were coming true. Her mind was replaying them over and over as she stood quietly, still being held in Duncan’s arms. They had not been just vivid dreams; they were omens. The future had been foretold in them and it was undeniable.

  The English would find her. And when they did, they’d kill anyone who stood in their path or had offered refuge to her. It was as simple as that and there was only one thing she could think of to keep that from happening.

  Twenty-Five

  She had decided to wear the purple gown, the one she had worn when Duncan had kissed her the very first time. While most lasses might have preferred to wear a more cheery or brighter color, the purple was Duncan’s favorite. Over her gown she proudly wore the dark blue and green plaid of the Clan MacDougall.

  It was a very quiet ceremony held in the gathering room just as the sun had begun to set. The room had been filled near to capacity with their fellow clansman as well as the McDunnah men. While nearly everyone in attendance was glad to see the two young people marry, apprehension over the impending arrival of the English hung in the room like a thick, worrisome fog.

  After the priest pronounced them married, Duncan kissed her sweetly, almost chastely as the people surrounding them cheered on. Aishlinn blushed and though her heart ached with knowing what she would do come morning, she wanted to enjoy what little time they had together.

  Guilt tugged at her for not sharing with Duncan her plan to save them, but she knew that had she told him, he would have locked her in her room for the rest of her life.

  There was no time for congratulatory celebration for the newlyweds. Duncan took her hand and leaned in to whisper to her. “Tis not the wedding I’m sure ye imagined, nor the one ye be deservin’, lass. I promise we’ll have a better celebration after we be done with the English.”

  Aishlinn thought his smile could light up the darkest of rooms and nearly burst into tears. She knew that after tonight, her eyes and heart would never again be blessed with seeing it.

  They went to Duncan’s room, for hers had lost its door and could no longer afford them any privacy. Someone had put fresh linens on the bed and a single white rose lay atop the pillows. A low fire burned in the fireplace and candles had been lit and placed about the room.

  When her eyes fell back to the bed, a great sense of nervousness enveloped her. They’d be consummating their marriage soon and she hadn’t a clue what to do.

  Duncan saw the look of apprehension in her eyes and it brought a smile to his face. “Are ya frightened, lass?” He asked.

  “Aye,” she whispered. Terrified was a more apt description. “I know not what to do,” she murmured softly.

  Duncan let out a chuckle. “No worries, lass. I’ll help ya through it.”

  He bent to kiss her and the moment his lips touched hers, everything else in the world seemed to slip away. She wrapped her hands around his neck, twisting her fingers through his thick hair as she stood on her toes to reach him. Until just a sinnight or two ago, had someone told her not only would she be married someday, but married to a man who made her heart pound, her palms sweat, and her stomach twist and flip at his mere touch, she would have laughed herself silly over it.

  Desperate to feel his skin against hers, Duncan undid the broach holding her plaid together and tossed it on the table beside his bed. Carefully he removed her plaid and laid it upon the chair near the table. He was trying to not appear as desperate for her as he felt.

  Within a moment, he wrapped his arms around her and began to fumble with the buttons on her gown. He did not want to stop kissing her, but he felt he might explode from want if he didn’t remove the gown quickly enough. A moan escaped him as he tried to concentrate on the but
tons. But her tongue, her kisses, her rapid breathing made it nearly impossible for him to think of anything but the kisses.

  “How many buttons are on this gown?” he asked as he put his lips to the nape of her neck.

  “I know not. Bree and Ellen have to help me into it,” she said breathlessly. Her skin was covered in chill bumps and her knees were beginning to knock together.

  “How fond are ya of this dress?” He asked her, his need for her was rising quickly.

  Aishlinn was lost in her own thoughts, wanting to feel his lips on hers again. “Tis the dress I received my first kiss from you in,” she whispered, wishing he would hurry with it.

  “My first kiss ever, really.” She felt a smile come to her face when she thought of that night and how impossible it had all seemed then.

  Duncan growled, trying to hold himself in. Had he not been an honorable man, he would have simply lifted her skirts and taken her there on the floor.

  “I’m afraid lass, that if I don’t get these many buttons undone soon, I’ll die from want of ya.”

  Aishlinn giggled slightly, as she remembered Mary and Laren explaining to her the control a woman had over a man. She realized then what they had been speaking of. She turned around quickly and lifted her hair so that he could undo the buttons. Her hands trembled while her stomach felt as though someone were tickling it from the inside.

  Duncan would have preferred to just rip the damn thing from her, but fought that urge. He’d been around enough women to know the importance they sometimes put to things. Knowing the dress held special memories for her, he couldn’t allow himself do it.

  He groaned as he his fingers seemed to not go nearly as fast as he would have liked. He would have a talk with Bree later about the number of buttons that would be acceptable on any future gowns she might make for his wife.

  His wife. The realization of it sent pleasant shivers down his spine. She was his. Forever his. As he undid the last button, the candlelight flickered across her back, giving him a glimpse of the scars left by an evil bastard of a man. He held his breath and remained still. Silently he vowed that come the morrow he would personally kill the man responsible, even if he had to ride across English lands to do it.