Frederick's Queen: The Clan Graham Series

by Suzan Tisdale

  “Do ye read and write, lass?” Arline asked.

  Aggie’s brow drew into a knot of confusion. Mermadak’s harsh voice startled her.

  “Read and write?” Mermadak laughed. “Nay, she doesna do that either.”

  Arline let go of Aggie’s hands and turned to face Mermadak. “Then how does she communicate with ye?”

  Mermadak gave Arline a look that said he questioned her soundness of mind. “Communicate?”

  Arline took a step forward. “Aye, communicate.” Arline pronounced the last word slowly.

  “What fer?” Mermadak asked, growing weary of the questioning.

  Arline rolled her eyes at him. “How do ye ken what she needs? What she thinks or is feelin’?”

  Mermadak threw a hand in the air. “Och! Ye women are all the same. She gets a roof over her head and food in her belly. That’s all she needs. As far as what she’s thinkin’ or feelin’ I don’t rightly care.”

  The room fell silent. Rowan closed his eyes, bracing himself for the slaughter that was about to befall Mermadak McLaren.

  Arline took a step toward the man and crossed her arms over her chest. “Ye dunna care?” she asked. “Ye dunna care what yer daughter feels or thinks?”

  Mermadak looked as though those thoughts had never entered his mind.

  Arline shook her head in disgust. “I had a father like ye,” she said in a low, firm tone. “He didna care about those things either. Would ye like to ken what happened the day I finally stopped carin’ about what he thought or felt?”

  Mermadak laughed nervously. “No’ really, but I have a feelin’ ye’ll share it with me regardless.”

  Arline took another step toward him. “I stabbed the bloody bastard.” She paused for a brief moment and watched the color drain from Mermadak’s face. “Ye might want to reconsider how it is yer treatin’ yer daughter, McLaren. Else ye might just wake up one day with a knife stickin’ out of yer cold heart.”

  She gave him no time to respond to her warning. Arline turned to her husband. “I shall go and see how cook is doing with the refreshments.” She left the room, casting a wink at Frederick on her way out.

  Mermadak and his men stared after her, stunned and as mute as Aggie.

  Aggie was dumbfounded. Had that beautiful woman truly stabbed her own father in the heart? She didn’t think it possible until she glanced at her father who had gone quite pale.

  MERMADAK AND HIS men took seats at the trestle table and began devouring the food set before them. Rowan sat at the head of the table while Frederick remained fixed and observant in the doorway. Aggie remained seated next to the fire place, twirling the end of her shawl betwixt her fingers. She kept her eyes glued to the floor.

  “So, Mermadak,” Rowan began as he took a sip of ale. “What brings ye to Áit na Síochána?”

  Mermadak took his knife to a hunk of meat, cut off a large piece and stuck it in his mouth. Without waiting to chew or swallow, he answered. “To find Aggie a husband.”

  Mermadak’s answer caught Frederick by surprise. He stood upright but made no move forward. He found the auld man’s statement intriguing.

  “A husband?” Rowan asked, unable to mask his shock.

  Mermadak chewed as he gave a nod of his head. “Aye, ’tis what I said.”

  Rowan gave a quick glance in Aggie’s direction. He felt sorry for the young woman. Her shoulders were slumped, her head hung low. He wondered why they could not have found a suitable husband for the woman amongst her own clan.

  “Ye see,” Mermadak said before taking a long pull of ale. “I be gettin’ on in years. Since me dead wife could no’ see fit to give me sons—and I have no desire to ever be bound by the bonds of holy matrimony again—I have no choice but to find her a husband. Bein’ female, she canna inherit.”

  Rowan was thankful his wife was out of the room. While he agreed with Arline that it was an outdated and arcane rule that some clans held that prohibited women from inheriting, Arline would have given her opinion without sugar coating it.

  “Are there no men amongst yer clan who are suitable fer ye daughter?” Rowan asked.

  Mermadak took hunk of cheese and shoved it into his mouth. “I tried to give her to Donnel here,” he said, giving a nod to the man who sat across the table from him. “But Donnel didna want her.”

  Rowan remained silent for a moment, giving a cursory look at Donnel. He was close to fifty if he was a day, with greasy hair and filthy skin. Rowan imagined it would have been a relief for Aggie that Donnel had no desire to marry her.

  “There be no’ dowry,” Mermadak continued. “But whoever marries her can inherit and become chief of Clan McLaren someday. ’Tis all I have to offer.”

  Rowan found it more than odd that Mermadak hadn’t found any suitable husband among his clansmen. Certainly, there had to be someone among his own people that the lass could marry.

  As if Mermadak could read Rowan’s mind, he answered that burning question. “The Black Death nearly destroyed us, ye ken. We’ve no’ been able to rebuild like others. Most of our people are verra old or verra young. Or, like Donnel here.”

  Rowan nodded his head as if he understood. Though it seemed reasonable that there were no men of marrying age for Aggie McLaren, Rowan could not help but feel there was more to Mermadak being here than just finding a suitable husband for his daughter. What that something was, he could not quite put his finger to.

  “I ken she ain’t much to look at,” Mermadak said as he tore off a piece of meat from a leg of mutton. “She ain’t too smart either. But she’ll do whatever ye tell her to, fer she’s been trained good, by me own hand.” He began to laugh then, and added, “And ye do no’ have to worry she’ll be a naggin’ wife! There’ll be no complainin’ from her, that’s fer certain!” He slammed his hand down on the table, amused with his own statement.

  FREDERICK’S BLOOD WENT from simmering to boiling in the span of one heartbeat. He felt sorry for the pretty lass who sat quiet and trembling in the shadows. He watched as she lifted her head ever so slightly to look at her father. Her face burned with shame, and something else.

  His disgust for Mermadak McLaren increased with every word the man spoke and every breath he took. How any man could treat his own flesh and blood, a daughter no less, in such a coarse and hateful manner was beyond Frederick’s comprehension.

  She was a fine looking young woman, what he could see of her that was. Aye, she was quiet, and she did not possess the beauty, grace and elegance that Arline did. Still, she was a comely lass. Frederick imagined there was more to this slip of a woman than what met the eye.

  Aggie McLaren had much to offer any man, Frederick thought. He’d seen her out of doors, with little Fergus. The bright smile she had displayed when she thought none could see, told Frederick much more than words ever could. One could easily see she possessed a good heart through her smile alone.

  That she should suffer such indignities as the ones her father threw her way, was appalling. The voice he thought he had quieted earlier returned. Ye need a wife.

  Aye, he did. Aggie might not possess everything on his list of things that would make a perfect wife, but there was one thing she had that she could give him: the chance to be chief of his own clan.

  Frederick left the doorway and stood behind Rowan. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry the lass.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d said them. He was looking at her while he spoke and her reaction was not what he had expected.

  He had expected her to smile, had wanted to see her smile at him the way she’d done with little Fergus. She lifted her head and stared at him, as if she were not certain she had heard him correctly. Hoping for a glimpse of that smile, he repeated his words. “I’ll marry her.”

  Silence stretched on for a seemingly long length of time. Frederick could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him but he could not take his away from Aggie.

  Even after he had repeated himself, she still looked confused. A long moment pas
sed between them before her look of confusion turned to fear. There was no happiness in her eyes, only fear. She had that skittish deer look about her again, just like when he had first stepped into the stables earlier. That look made his stomach tighten.

  “Who the bloody hell be ye?” Mermadak asked as he tossed the remnants of the leg of mutton onto the table.

  Frederick stood taller before turning his focus to Mermadak. “I be Frederick Mackintosh.”

  Something flickered behind Mermadak’s eyes but Frederick couldn’t name it. Curiosity mayhap? “Do ye have any coin to yer name?” Mermadak asked. His brow knotted as he studied Frederick closely.

  “Some.” Aye, he had coin, not much by some standards, a small fortune to others.

  “And what makes ye think ye’d make a good chief for Clan McLaren?” Mermadak asked.

  Rowan interjected. “Frederick, are ye certain?” His voice was a blend of surprise and concern.

  “Aye,” Frederick answered. He was certain, but he’d feel better if the lass would smile instead of tremble with fear.

  “Again, I ask ye why ye’d think ye’d make a good chief?”

  “Frederick has been my second in command fer more than six years, Mermadak. He’s a skilled warrior, good with strategy, and he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” Rowan directed the last part directly at Frederick.

  Frederick shrugged his shoulders at Rowan’s veiled question concerning his soundness of mind.

  Mermadak cast a questionable look toward Donnel. Donnel shrugged his shoulders, pushed his trencher away and leaned back in his chair. “Better him than me.”

  Frederick had a strong desire to pound his fist into Donnel’s face. Repeatedly. Knowing it would not increase his standing with Mermadak McLaren, he kept his anger in check. Later, after he and Aggie were married, he’d see to it that Donnel never disrespected Aggie again.

  “And ye understand that there be no dowry? Just the right to inherit and claim title of chief?” Mermadak asked as he ran a palm over his belly.

  “Aye, I do.” It was the chance to be chief of his own clan that had helped him make the decision. Aye, Aggie would be a nice bonus. Frederick hoped that with time, she’d stop staring at him as if he were a peculiar creature that owned seven heads and shot fire out its arse.

  “Well, then, let us draw up the marriage contract,” Mermadak said as he swiped platters and bowls out of his way. “Rowan, do ye have any parchment?”

  AGGIE REFUSED THE trencher of food that Arline offered her. It would be some time before she regained her appetite. Her stomach was one large knot of worry and dread. She had known from the beginning that nothing good would come from this trip. Now, her fate was sealed. She’d never get away from the McLaren keep, would never be able to live a life free of fear or pain.

  It was easy to read the expression on this Frederick fellow’s face when he had looked at her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was angry, but why he would be angry with her was a mystery. The even bigger mystery, one she doubted she’d ever be able to unravel, was why on earth had he agreed to marry her.

  He was a handsome man and bigger than any McLaren she’d ever known. It made no sense for him to offer for her hand when she had nothing to give him in return. The proposal was not supposed to have happened. She had prepared herself for a resounding nay from every man here, had prepared herself mentally for her father’s wrath when he realized none would want her.

  She had not for even a tiny moment given a thought to anyone saying aye.

  As the men sat at the table discussing the future, her future, Aggie tried to sort out what possible reason Frederick Mackintosh would have for voluntarily marrying her. She only half listened to the men as they bargained with one other over the whys and wherefores of the marriage contract. Near as she could tell, she was getting nothing from it, save for one stern looking husband.

  Then she heard them discussing his future position as chief of her clan. That caught her attention. Three times now, Frederick had mentioned that, the chiefdom. Even Aggie could reason it out. The chiefdom. That was his only reason for agreeing to this ridiculous marriage, nothing more.

  Nay, Aggie wasn’t naïve enough to believe she’d ever be blessed with a love match. She’d long ago given up such foolish daydreams. Love matches were for those that God loved and had time for. They were not for the likes of her; a poor, ignorant and scarred woman.

  She thought of little Ailrig and how Frederick would respond to the boy. Her heart ached with thinking that he would no longer allow her to care for him. What would become of him then? Ailrig was an outcast, like Aggie, and other than her friend Rose, there wasn’t a soul on this earth who cared for either one of them. He was just nine years old, alone and parentless. All they had on this earth was each other.

  Aggie fought hard against the tears that threatened. She swallowed once, then again, choking back the increasing dread. Nay, she’d not cry, not here, not now. Crying served no purpose, the outcome would bring nothing more than a smack against her head from her father’s heavy hand, or, worse yet, several lashes with his strap.

  Nay, she’d save the tears for when she was alone in her tiny room back home. Aggie had become quite good at keeping her feelings hidden, deep down in the pit of her stomach, sealed off where no one could see or sense them. Save for Ailrig. He always seemed to know what she was thinking or feeling.

  Frederick’s voice cut through her quiet musings. He no longer sounded angry or terse, but focused on the task at hand. It had been Aggie’s experience that a man’s mood could change in the blink of an eye. She would not take his calm countenance to mean anything other than he was not currently furious.

  “Before I sign the contract, I’d like to ask the lass a question,” Frederick said as he pushed himself away from the table.

  “I told ye, she doesna speak!” Mermadak reminded him angrily.

  Aggie lifted her head just enough that she could watch the exchange between her father and Frederick.

  “I ken she canna speak, McLaren,” Frederick said without taking his eyes from Aggie. “But she understands when ye speak to her. She can nod her head aye or nay.”

  Aggie swallowed hard again and lifted her head a bit further. She was taken aback by what he next asked.

  “I’ll agree to this, but I want to ken what the lass thinks,” he said softly, taking one step toward her. “Do you agree to this match?”

  She would have been less surprised had he picked up the chair and tossed it across the room. She could not remember the last time anyone asked for her opinion or her thoughts on any matter. It took her completely by surprise.

  She chanced a glance at her father who stared at her with a murderous warning. For the briefest of moments, she thought of answering Nay, I do no’ agree! Then she would beg Rowan Graham for safe refuge. The only thing that stopped her from doing just that was Ailrig. She could not leave the boy alone to face her father’s wrath. Mermadak would take his anger out on the boy.

  So she did the only thing she could do. She raised her head slightly, looked at Frederick and nodded her affirmation. Aye, I agree, but only to save me life and Ailrig’s.

  What happened next stunned her more than his question. Frederick smiled at her. A broad, toothy smile that made his eyes twinkle. He looked happy with her answer. The smile was similar to the one he’d given her in the stables not more than an hour ago. Again, she could detect no malevolence, no disdain or disgust hidden under his curved lips or behind those hazel colored eyes.

  Her heart chose to skip a beat or two and she could not understand why. Then again, she couldn’t make much sense out of anything that was happening this day. It was all so surreal, like an odd, peculiar dream playing out before her eyes.

  Aggie’s heart warned her again that no good would come from any of this. This bizarre dream could not possibly have anything but a horrible ending.

  Three

  ’TWAS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE for Mermadak to hide the wave of gidd
iness that came with hearing Frederick’s name. Mackintosh!

  He sat at the table listening to Frederick and Rowan ramble on while he thought of the fortunate hand fate had just dealt him. A Mackintosh!

  Ruthless and brutal bastards, those Mackintoshes. Their reputation was well known throughout the whole of Scotland for being hard men. They were almost as bad as the Bowies.

  For five long years, he’d been trying to break the bitch’s spirit. He had done everything he could think of aside from killing her outright. Still, she had managed to maintain a spark of life—he could see it whenever he could manage the stomach to look into her brown eyes.

  Numerous times he had tried giving her to the Bowie clan. He didn’t really care which Bowie took her as long as the man owned a mean streak. Kinnon Bowie had turned down each and every one of his offers. For reasons he could never understand, the Bowie wanted nothing to do with Aggie. Mayhap the fool was simply smarter than Mermadak gave him credit for.

  He decided that since he couldn’t give the eejit to a Bowie, he would settle for the next best thing. After all, one bloody bastard was as good as the next. So Mermadak finally arranged a betrothal with another neighboring clan. But that betrothal had fallen apart the moment the groom heard Aggie speak. Stupid bitch. He had warned her to keep her mouth shut.

  Mermadak glanced at the mouse he called his daughter. Even though she sat in the shadows next to the hearth, he could still see that her hands trembled. As she oft did when she was nervous or afraid, she rubbed one thumb across the knuckle of the other. He took it for a good sign that she was indeed quite afraid. Good. Let her be afraid.

  He wanted to break her like her whore of a mother had done him with all her lies and false promises. As often was the case when he thought of Lila, his blood heated with anger. Lila had betrayed him, a fact he hadn’t discovered until it was far too late to do anything about it. The deceitful bitch had died before he could punish her for all the pain and anguish she had eventually caused him.