As he swung her around, her doeskin-clad feet settling on the ground, he found her weight was slight. Soft yet firm, the Lady Lochlaigh did not lend herself to simple idleness, allowing others to wait on her as did the women at court. From all that he’d seen or heard about his ward over these past several days, he knew she was one to work diligently beside her clansmen. No task was too monumental or too paltry for her. Staring down into her upturned face, his gaze traced the line of her jaw; Aleck attributed her tenacious spirit to unadulterated stubbornness. She was Scot through and through.
Thinking of her faceless bridegroom, Aleck pitied the man, whoever he was. No male could ever best her. Should he try, whether by broom or by sword, he’d go down to immediate defeat. He imagined the newly wedded pair meshed in battle, the man’s face inexplicably having become a replica of his own; a smile claimed Aleck’s lips.
“Your mind has conjured waggish thoughts, I see,” she said, her hands falling away from his shoulders where they’d rested. Their hard, corded strength was not lost on her. “Am I the source of your mirth?”
While the horses were allowed to drink, Aleck and Chandra strolled along the loch’s edge. Crystalline water lapped gently against the shoreline. “’Twould be best if I declined to answer,” he said, fighting back his grin.
“Then you do laugh at me,” she accused, but without malice.
“Not you, milady. ’Twas thoughts of your bridegroom that made me smile.”
Her mood grew uneasy; she studied him closely. “By the look on your face, I’d say you’ve cast me as a shrew. Undoubtedly you are laughing because you believe the man will suffer.”
At mention of the word bridegroom, Aleck noticed that the bright sparkle in her wondrous eyes had quickly grown dim. The thought of being forced to wed troubled her greatly. “The term never crossed my mind,” he avowed softly. “Stubborn, yes, but never a shrew. If I laugh, it is because I doubt there is a man on your list who can tame you, not that he should try. In mind and in spirit, you are a strong woman, Chandra Morgan, and you need a man equally as strong, so that he might enrich your life. Were he any less, he’d destroy you, slowly and surely. Do you think I’ll find such a man for you?”
Chandra felt a weight lift from her. The Englishman seemed most sympathetic, his concern for her welfare nearly equal to her own. Devin would be delighted to learn that at least one part of their plan had worked. As for the rest, she knew her guardian would not find a decent bridegroom in the lot. “I cannot say,” she fibbed, feeling a bit guilty. She knew not why the lie bothered her, especially when it was her future that was threatened, but it did. “I suppose we shall have to wait and see.”
“I suppose we shall,” he said, a gentle smile on his lips. His easy stride slowed to a halt. So did Chandra’s. “Know this, milady. I plan to take pity on you. Instead of choosing the first man who meets James’s criteria, I shall be most selective. I cannot ignore my king’s requirements, but I assure you, your bridegroom will be someone whom you can abide, perhaps even learn to love. With luck, he’ll be every bit the man I proposed he should be.” A captivating smile lighted Chandra’s whole face; Aleck’s breath caught in his chest. For some reason, his ward played havoc with his emotions, something no woman had ever done before. Angered that he’d lost his composure again, he sought to destroy her pleasure. “I see you are gladdened that your scheme has worked.”
Chandra sobered. “Scheme?” she asked warily, heeding his wry expression, wondering how much he knew. “I—I do not know what you mean.”
Aleck noted that her eyes refused to hold his. “You evade the truth.”
“Are you accusing me of dealing with you falsely?”
“You have schemed, both you and your cousin. You’ve had your heads together from the moment of my arrival, and more notably since you read James’s letter. I am not so much the fool as to believe your sudden change in attitude is not fueled by selfish need. If such a transformation had not promised to benefit you, I doubt it would have come about. You would still be thinking of ways to cause me embarrassment. My question is: Since I have vowed to be selective when choosing a husband for you, will you again treat me with the same discourtesy and insolence as before?”
Chandra had promised herself that she’d remain polite, but his words managed to fuel her anger. “You deserved what you got,” she stated, caring little if her whole plan came to ruin. “You were arrogant and brash.”
“And you were impolite and unfeeling.”
“You provoked it,” she defended herself. “On the way to the castle, did you not sit high upon your horse and look down on me in a superior fashion? Did you not belittle and tease me as though I were some slattern whom you could easily bed at a toss of a coin? You might think to excuse yourself because you did not know my identity at the time, but no woman, whether peasant or queen, should be treated in such a patronizing manner by any man. That, milord, is why you were made to sit in the rain.”
Trapped by her impeaching stare, Aleck appreciated the truth of her words. Having lately spent most of his time at court, he’d grown nearly as satyric as his peers. His manners and morals were lacking, he knew. He’d intended to reverse his ways, unhappy with what he’d become. That’s why he’d gone back to Montbourne and the north of England. Perhaps the time had come for him to enact that change.
His face reflected his guilt. It was his turn to look away. “I beg your forgiveness for my repulsive behavior,” he said, inspecting the toes of his boots. A moment later he recaptured her gaze. “My actions toward you were vile, base. As you have said, no woman deserves to be treated in such a lewd manner, whatever her circumstances.”
“You have not treated the rest of my people much better.”
“No, I have not,” he admitted. “I must confess, by way of the stories I had heard about the Highlanders, I had anticipated the clan Morgan as being a savage lot, ill-bred and with few morals.” He fell silent, knowing on that point he should be the last to judge others. “I even pictured the whole of you running naked through these hills,” he continued. “’Twas ill-conceived of me to draw such conclusions based solely on the tales spread by my countrymen. That in no way excuses my actions, but I want you to know: I had no desire to come here. It was ordered of me, and because of that, my mood had grown exceedingly ugly. As I rode north, my belligerence escalated with each passing mile. Hence my reprehensible conduct all around. The arrogant and brash boor whom you first met is not in reality the true me.”
“Who are you, then?” she asked, again following the water’s edge.
Aleck strolled alongside her. “An Englishman of noble birth who is usually quite amicable, yet wishes he’d not been summoned to duty by his king.”
“You take great pride in your heritage. I suppose, because of it, you think you are a man without flaw?”
Aleck chuckled. “Being English does not make me perfect. You have already witnessed a few of my more disagreeable traits.”
“Are there others?” she asked incredulously, stopping in her tracks.
Her wide-eyed stare drew a quick smile from Aleck as he came to a standstill beside her. “Yes, there is one other. My temper, when aroused, is highly volatile. Its thrust is something no one would wish to bear.”
“Much like a tempest,” she commented.
“Far worse,” he conceded.
“I shall heed your warning,” she said, and then thought of the list. Pray, she implored silently, should he ever learn what she and Devin had devised, that he could see the humor of it. In no way did she wish to feel the force of his fury. Even if he were to unearth their deception and the truth provoked his anger, she felt certain no harm would come to her. Like a cocoon spun tightly around a newly forming butterfly, her clansmen would gather close to her, offering their protection. Knowing she had nothing to fear, Chandra relaxed; briefly she looked out over the water.
“Your concepts about us were not entirely wrong,” she said, hoping to ease the tension between them an
d form a new rapport. “In battle, sometimes the men strip from their plaids and léines.” The word seemed to confuse him. “Their saffron shirts, as you call them,” she explained. “Less encumbered, they can fight more freely. So, you see, you were not entirely wrong. Highlanders do run naked through these hills. ’Tis a fierce sight to behold.”
Envisioning his countrymen encountering such a spectacle, the look on their bewildered faces quickly turning to one of alarm, Aleck could not help laughing aloud. Seeing his ward’s quick frown, he waved her off. “’Tis not your Highland warriors whom I laugh about, but my English brethren. I know now why they have maligned the Scots as they have.”
“Why?”
“The English fight by strict rules, facing their opponents head-on—in gentlemanly fashion, as it were. As to why anyone would term it such, I have not an inkling. War is a vicious slaughter—uncivil, abhorrent, and repugnant. There is nothing gentle about it.”
“I agree,” Chandra said. “But what does that have to do with maligning the Highland Scots?”
“Cannot you imagine the reaction of these alleged English gentlemen, who are avowed to conform to a high standard of correctness no matter the circumstance, as they confronted your naked kinsmen in the heat of battle?”
“I suppose many ran from the field.”
“Precisely. Hence in their embarrassment over their failure to remain at their posts, they have termed your people savage, barbaric. I admit that I have said the same. My words, however, came not from personal experience, but hearsay. It was wrong of me to repeat them without first searching out the truth.”
“Yes, it was. I suppose in some instances we are much the same. I had never met a Sas—an Englishman before,” she corrected, “but I, too, have maligned your kinsmen, simply by virtue of what I’ve been told.”
Aleck’s eyebrow rose in query. “Would you care to share any of your epithets?”
“I think not,” she said, observing her feet as she walked on. “I am a lady of the peerage and chieftain to my clan. It would not be proper to repeat such inelegant words aloud.”
Her guardian’s deep laughter filled the air. “But I suppose you still intend to use them under your breath, correct?”
“Perhaps,” she said, peering up at him. “But only when provoked.” Aleck’s laughter subsided, and they walked in silence for a moment. “You should be made aware that the Scots are usually a generous lot, friendly and caring,” she said. “But considering the history between our two nations, we are naturally suspicious.” She stopped and looked up at him, Aleck drawing up beside her. “I wish to keep peace between us. As chieftain, my clan will follow my directives. But you should know there are those who do not agree with me.”
“Your uncle,” he stated, and saw her nod. “His hatred of the English is apparent. I doubt you will ever change his mind.”
“He is of the old thought that the Highland clans should be allowed to practice self-rule. He bristles at the least mention of James or the Crown. That is why he has reacted the way he has to your being here—that, and because you are English.”
“What was your father’s position on this?” he asked with true interest. Already aware of some of the clan Morgan’s history by way of James’s letter, Aleck wished to hear his ward’s own account. With luck, it might give him some insight as to what he faced, both from her and from the militant Cedric. “Did he think the same as your uncle?”
“A long time ago, when he was younger, he felt much the same. But his thoughts slowly changed over the years. He became weary of the warring, the destruction, but most of all of the loss of human life. As you know, if the Highlanders were not fighting the English, they were fighting against their king, and when they tired of that they fought each other. My father had grown impatient with the continuous slaughter. He desired peace. When the clan chiefs were taken at Mull, he was among those imprisoned. After nearly a year, he was also among the first released, having sworn fealty to our king. Had James been aware of my father’s feelings—that he wanted nothing more than to put an end to the unrest—my father might have been released on his capture. On his return, all seemed to be remedied, the majority of the clan elders supporting his stand. Then, barely six months later, he d-died.”
Aleck heard the catch in her voice, saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. That she still grieved for her sire was most apparent. Oddly, his heart ached for her. His hand captured her arm, and as his long fingers pressed gently, he said: “I am saddened that you have suffered such a loss. My parents, first one, then the other, have also passed from this life. I shall always miss them, but the great sorrow I first felt is not as weighty as it once was. Time will eventually ease the heaviness in your heart, fond memories taking its place. Know it is so.”
“Then you no longer have any family?” she asked.
The look in Aleck’s eyes grew distant; then he appeared to return to the present. “None to speak of,” he replied. “I was an only child. I am alone.” The wind skimmed across the loch; Chandra’s hair whipped across her face. Reaching out to smooth the strands away from her eyes, Aleck smiled tenderly at her. “Do not fret, little one. Joy will one day fill your heart again. I promise.”
As she settled the errant tresses behind her shoulder once more, his hand fell away. Their gazes held for an indefinite length of time, and Chandra could not help but feel an irrefutable comradeship with this man. His caring manner at first surprised her; then, realizing his concern was genuine, she felt comforted. By blood, they were meant to oppose one another, but by virtue of their mutual loss, they were now closely linked. Few could understand such a bond, not unless they were similar souls, as most certainly were Chandra and Aleck. “From experience, I know what you say is true. Yet it seems far worse this time than it did the first.”
“Then your mother is also deceased?” he asked, certain of it, for he would surely have met the woman if she lived.
“Aye,” Chandra whispered. “She died when I was four. I do not remember her very well, except that she was soft-voiced and that her hair was the same as mine. Her laughter is what I remember most, always light and gay. My father said I was the exact image of her. ’Twas so long ago, I do not recall her face. She died in childbirth—my brother was stillborn.”
“Naturally, you became quite close to your father,” he stated.
“Aye. Quite close.”
“His death—had he been in poor health?” he asked, thinking that if she talked about her father, it might allay some of her grief.
“No. He was very stout and hale. That is why I cannot accept that he is gone. He’d never been ill a day in his life. Not until his last.” She stared out over the loch, remembering the day as though it were yesterday. “He’d finished his midday meal and the two of us climbed the steps leading to his chamber. Near the top, he grew light-headed and clutched the wall for fear he’d fall. Several clansmen helped me get him to his bed, where he complained of a dry mouth and burning stomach. His thirst was intense. It would not be quenched. Then he became violently ill and cursed the meat he’d eaten. ’Twas not long after that his talk began to ramble. He suffered delusions, insisting that my mother was in the room, telling her he’d soon be joining her. In his last lucid moment, he called for the elders and named me as his successor. An hour later, he fell into a deep sleep. By midnight, he was gone.”
A frown wrinkled Aleck’s brow. “Did anyone else become ill?”
Chandra’s attention swung toward Aleck. “Several, but not nearly as ill as my father. They all survived.”
“Was your uncle among them?”
“Yes, but the poisoning did not affect him as badly as the rest. Why do you ask?”
Poisoning was right, Aleck thought, but it did not come from a tainted piece of meat that had been hung overly long. Belladonna, he decided, knowing the symptoms. In England, deadly nightshade, as it was termed, grew in forests, meadows, and wastelands, having once been cultivated in gardens. Children had died from eating as fe
w as three berries; men and women had been poisoned by ingesting rabbits or birds that had fed on the same. It was possible that the game had been contaminated by such, but why had Chandra’s father died when everyone else had recovered? “I was merely curious,” he said, keeping his suspicions to himself. “Were you expecting to be named his successor? Does the title not usually go to a male?”
“Our laws of selection are based on tanistry. There were no male heirs.” She saw he was confused. “If you are thinking of Devin or Cedric, I should explain. We are not all closely related and simply use the name Morgan to avoid confusion. Devin is my third cousin once removed, and my uncle is my father’s brother only by half. They did not share the same great-grandfather, grandfather, or the same father. Shortly after my grandfather died, my grandmother remarried. Cedric is a product of that marriage—there was nearly twenty years’ difference between Cedric and my father—and he holds no claim to the title because he’s not in the line of direct male descendants. Each of my ancestors, from my great-great-grandfather down to my father, had one heir. All were sons, except for me. Through Tanistry, any male who is of the strength, age, and character, and who shares the same great-grandfather who was at one time chief, could bid for the title. In this case, no one can claim such a right, except me.”
Aleck chuckled. “But you are obviously not male.”
Under his masculine appraisal, Chandra felt the heat rush to her cheeks. Nervously she looked away. “No, I am not. Had my brother lived, he would have had the only true claim, but by age he would have been too young. Besides, none of that matters. By right, the chief can designate his own successor, which is what my father did. The clan elders accepted me as chief, as did James.” Her gaze regained his. “But our king, it appears, is having second thoughts. He now wishes to saddle me with a husband. Does he think I am too weak to keep the pledge my father made?”
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