Marriage 03: The Marriage Contract

by Cathy Maxwell

  Anne glared at him a moment, frustrated by his refusal to see what was happening. “How are you going to stop Lieutenant Fordyce from carrying out his orders to fetch me for supper, Aidan? His men are armed. Of course, it’s a trap. They expect you to fight them over this—this dinner invitation. It sounds so silly.” She crossed her arms, a chill going through her. “Are you ready to fight? Hugh, Fang, and his sons will take up arms. They will battle to keep me here. Of course, any of them could be killed and their families destroyed. The English government will sanction Major Lambert’s actions. Worse, it will brand all of you as traitors. On the other hand, if I go with him, you have time to escape.”

  Aidan pounded his fist against the door so hard the wood bounced. “I won’t run, Anne.” He gestured with the shears he still held in his other hand. “Lambert knows I won’t go anywhere as long as he has you. You will be his hostage to ensure I’m available after he’s tortured a confession out of Robbie.”

  “Tortured?” Anne felt her heart stop. “He wouldn’t do such a thing. He couldn’t…” Her voice trailed off. Pictures of her father’s haggard, bruised face rose in her mind, pictures she’d attempted to erase from memory. Of course, the major would beat Robbie. The Crown expected him to use whatever means necessary to ferret out traitors.

  “Lambert wants a knighthood. Ever since our days at University, he’s lusted for greater things. Marching the great-grandson of Donner Black to London in chains for treason will earn him the right to a title.”

  “He won’t hurt me,” she insisted stubbornly. “I’ll be safe, and once you are away, I’ll contact your sister—”

  “No, Anne. I won’t let you be dragged into it.”

  “I already am,” she replied curtly. “Besides, I will play on Major Lambert’s honor. He’s a gentleman. He can’t be completely ruthless to a woman.”

  “Any man is ruthless when he wants something.”

  A footstep sounded in the hall and Aidan leaned back to see who approached. It was Cora. “I beg your pardon, but here is the sack my lady ordered me to fetch.”

  Anne reached for the hunting sack. Her hand shook. It embarrassed her. She wanted to be brave—but she was frightened.

  “Leave us,” Aidan said to the maid. He waited until she’d gone down the hall. He stared at Anne a moment and then came to a conclusion. “All right, we must think.” He began pacing the length of the room.

  “Think of what?”

  “A plan.” He paused. “We must be more clever than he is.”

  “Aidan—”

  “I’m going with you.”

  “No! Then he has you where he can get to you if Robbie Gunn confesses.” Was he mad?

  “Cut my hair.” He held out the shears to her.

  His abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. “What? Why are you worrying about that now?”

  He sat on the edge of the bed. “You said it was overlong. Do it up. Something currently in fashion. Make me a gentleman again.” He considered things for a moment. “Style it like that of the poet all the women swoon over in London.”

  “Byron?”

  “Yes, him.” He sat waiting.

  She took a hesitant step. “Is this part of a plan?”

  Aidan frowned. “Of course…although I haven’t thought the plan through. It will come to me. Cut my hair.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted baldly.

  “Then now’s the time to find out.”

  “Aidan, this is absurd.”

  He sighed in exasperation. “For once, Anne, can you do as I ask without argument?”

  His words jabbed her conscience. If he wanted his hair cut before she left, what did it matter? She crossed to the bed and started snipping. She’d cut her cousins’ hair a time or two, and her own, on occasion. She did have some talent for it. However, cutting Aidan’s hair was different. It was so thick, and as she clipped, the shorter ends curled around her fingers.

  Cora came up to tell them Lieutenant Fordyce sent word he was growing impatient. Aidan cheerfully wished the officer to the devil, a message Cora could not deliver. Anne rephrased his message to one begging the lieutenant’s patience while she finished dressing.

  “Yes, tell him, my lady is at her toilette,” Aidan agreed, and then chuckled, rubbing pieces of his own hair between his fingers.

  When she was done, Anne had to admire her handiwork. The shorter style brought a masculine strength to his face. “You look very handsome.”

  He grinned. “Change your dress, Anne. Wear your finest. We are going to take a trip. I must shave.” He bounded out of the room with an energy she didn’t feel.

  Anne put on the muslin dress trimmed in green ribbons she’d worn the day before. She pinned up her hair and put on her bonnet, tying the ivory ribbons under her chin. She did not have gloves. Such small items had been lost in the coach accident and she had not had time to replace them.

  The last thing she did was reach into the hunting sack and pull out her wedding ring. She ran the pad of her thumb over the engraved stag before slipping it on her finger. The band’s weight felt good.

  She left the room. Aidan was still in his room, dressing. She could hear him humming. There were times she thought her husband sane…and times

  she was certain he was mad as his reputation had suggested. She feared this was going to be one of those “mad” times.

  Lieutenant Fordyce waited in the great hall. Gathering her courage, Anne breezed into the room with a casualness she didn’t feel. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting overlong?” she asked with her best “hostess” smile.

  “No, my lady,” he responded dutifully.

  The thought dawned on Anne that she and the lieutenant could leave immediately before Aidan came down, but a footfall on the step warned her she was too late.

  She turned to her husband—and her jaw dropped. Stunned, she backed into the room.

  Aidan followed her, but not as she’d ever seen him before. Gone were the leather breeches, the opennecked shirt, and scuffed boots he habitually wore in his role as laird of Clan Dunblack.

  Instead, he wore a riding coat of Spanish blue superfine. The color brought out the sharp cobalt color in his eyes and made his shirt seem almost blinding white in contrast. Beneath it was a vest of gold brocade. His boots appeared almost lacquered, they were so black and shiny. Buff-colored breeches hugged his horse-man’s thighs, and he carried a top hat made of the finest beaver skin.

  He was the very image of a gentleman of breeding. A Corinthian. An Out and Outer with the dev

  astating good looks of a rake…for no amount of tailoring could have faked with padding the powerful strength in his shoulders.

  He moved into the room with his usual athletic grace and even Lieutenant Fordyce was given pause. It was one thing to round up a Scottish rebel; it was another to bring in a titled lord who could have walked the streets of London—and have friends in power.

  Anne found her voice. “You do know how to tie a neck cloth, my lord,” she said admiringly.

  Laughter danced in his eyes. “I always keep starched ones at the ready.” He swung his attention to the officer. “I had Norval send word I wanted my coach readied. I prefer my own conveyance because it will be a more comfortable ride for my wife.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the lieutenant responded, cowed by the wondrous change in Aidan’s appearance.

  Aidan offered his arm. “Shall we, my lady?”

  She smiled, completely charmed. She’d travel to hell with this man. “Yes, my lord.”

  The good people of Kelwin still waited outside for them. They craned their necks to get a better view of their laird. Anne was reassured to know she wasn’t the only one taken aback by his transformation.

  Aidan nodded to Hugh, but did not speak. Fang’s oldest son drove the coach up. Aidan opened the door and offered Anne his hand.

  “Wait one moment, if you please,” Lieutenant Fordyce said. He cast a frown at Thomas Mowat

  and t
hen said, “I think it best if one of my men drives.”

  “However you wish,” Aidan said easily.

  Thomas jumped down from the box and a burly soldier climbed up. The lieutenant ordered one to ride postillion and stationed another on the roof.

  “Cautious, isn’t he?” Aidan said to Anne in a low voice. He helped her into the coach and climbed in after her.

  Lieutenant Fordyce mounted his own horse and gave the signal to leave, obviously uneasy surrounded by the disapproving clansmen.

  The coach was very narrow inside and not well sprung. Aidan’s large frame took up most of the space. After the second bone-rattling bounce as they rode through the gate, Aidan said, “I haven’t used it in ages. But Lybster is not far. We should be there in an hour or two.” He smiled and waved at Davey and his friends, who ran along the road after them.

  Anne leaned back against the hard leather seat. “So, what is your plan?”

  “I haven’t thought of it yet.”

  She made a choking sound. “Is that why you dressed up?”

  “A man should look good for his hanging.” He immediately apologized when he saw she didn’t find his quip funny. “Ah, Anne, don’t frown. It was my poor attempt at a joke. Something will come to me. What is important is that we are together.” He

  reached for her left hand. “You put your wedding ring back on.”

  “I felt it completed the costume,” she murmured, not wanting to commit herself to more.

  “It does. Come here.” He pulled her to lean her head on his chest. His hand rubbed her arm, warming her. “Have courage. I’ll think of something.”

  “You are running out of time.”

  He laughed. “My best ideas come when I am forced to improvise.”

  Anne closed her eyes. She could hear the steady beating of his heart.

  His hand stopped moving. “Are you sorry for coming to Kelwin? For agreeing to this marriage?”

  She raised her head. His expression was somber. And she told him the truth. “No, I’m not sorry. I wouldn’t mind if our lives were a bit more dull…but I won’t regret the marriage, Aidan. I never will.”

  “Promise? No matter what happens?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled then and she placed her hand against his smooth, hard jaw. “I love you.”

  Hugging her close, he didn’t answer but held her as he studied the passing scenery out of the window on her side. They followed the coast road. On her side was the wild North Sea and its rocky coast. Anne felt a pang of disappointment. She wished he’d echoed her words. She knew he cared for her, but she wanted love, the kind of a commitment that promised a forever.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked, keeping her voice deliberately light.

  He shook his head. “I was wishing there was another way to solving the differences between England and Scotland.”

  “You want to stop the Clearances.”

  “It would go a long way to creating harmony in my country.”

  Anne mulled over his words. “You should take the matter up with Parliament.”

  He made an angry sound. “What good would it do?”

  She sat up. “They could stop the practice. They could make a law against it.”

  “Anne,” he said with exaggerated patience. “The men making the laws are the same ones who stand to gain from the practice.”

  His words didn’t sound right to her. “What you say may be true for the House of Lords, but not for the House of Commons. And Aidan, people are more aware of social injustice than they have been in the past.”

  “Society in London is completely selfish,” he replied crushingly. “They feel they control the world and have no care for anyone else. They aren’t interested in problems outside their small social sphere.”

  “There are those who are as you say. But Aidan, there are others, persons of intelligence, who question the old order of things. Those are the people you should talk to.”

  “No one would listen to me.”

  “Why not?”

  The corners of his mouth turned down. “You don’t understand the ways of the world.”

  A flash of anger sparked Anne’s pride. “And you haven’t been to London in years.”

  “Has it changed that much?” he asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

  “Yes. Aidan, the ending of the war has opened up a wealth of new ideas and new thinking. At the same time, people in London don’t realize what is going on here in the North and how it hurts the innocent. You have an obligation to use your title and your family’s power to make them care. You have a seat in the House of Lords, don’t you?”

  “I do, but Anne, I haven’t been to London in years and I have no desire to go back.”

  “Not even to prevent a rebellion? Someone has to speak for the Scottish. They can’t do it for themselves. They need you. You are the laird.”

  “It’s too late, Anne.”

  She leaned against the far corner, frustrated by his stubbornness. “It’s not too late. Until the gunpowder is used, it can be stopped.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. If Lambert kills Robbie Gunn or marches both Robbie and me to London, the Highlands will burn with rebellion.”

  He was right…but so was she! “Aidan, I don’t want there to be a war. I don’t want Hugh to die before he and Fenella can be happy. I don’t want Bon

  nie Mowat to cry for her sons. I’ve already told you, I can’t watch you die.”

  Reaching for her, he pulled her close. “Anne, have faith. Trust me.”

  She nodded, unable to speak.

  They rode in silence. Then Aidan said, “I could plead the crofters’ case against the Clearances in Parliament, but they won’t listen.”

  Hope rose inside her in spite of his stubbornness. “You will make them listen. And if they don’t hear you, you’ll go back and tell them again the next year.”

  He laughed. “And the year after that?”

  “Yes.” She ran her hand down the line of pewter buttons on his vest. “You must tell them until they listen.”

  “It could take years, Anne.”

  “How long has it been going on?” she said. “Years?”

  He didn’t answer, but the mulish set of his mouth told her she’d made her point. “You may not be able to save everyone, Aidan, but you know that already. You’ve managed to keep your people safe. Now you must use your connections to speak for those who don’t have a voice.”

  “Enough, Anne. Enough.” He turned to the window again. She watched him, her hands in her lap. He was thinking.

  Then, he said, “I vowed never to return to London. I never felt as if I belonged there.”

  “So you created your own world here.” “Yes.” He shot her a defiant glance. “Is that wrong?” “No…except that now your people need you to re

  turn for them.”

  He didn’t answer, but broodingly stared out the window, although she doubted he noticed the passing scenery. He was lost in his own thoughts and she would have to have faith he would make the right choice—provided they escaped Major Lambert.

  The coach started to slow and change direction. Aidan straightened. “We’re in Lybster.”

  Anne remembered the quaint fishing village. They veered off the main road. At a crossroads, the military party had to wait for a funeral procession marching to the church. The view on her side of the coach was of the church graveyard and the freshly dug grave ready for its occupant.

  “A grim omen,” Aidan muttered. She nodded. He waved a boy over. “Who died?”

  “Packy Gilbride,” the youngster answered.

  Aidan leaned back in the seat. “Did you know him?” Anne asked.

  “Aye. He was a character. Had hair the color of Deacon’s and a temper to match.”

  Lieutenant Fordyce rode up. “It won’t be much longer, my lord,” he reported officiously, as if theirs was a pleasure trip. “Major Lambert’s headquarters is over the next hill, about a mile south.” He was the
model of respectful courtesy.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Aidan said dryly. They exchanged a few other words and then the officer left them. He laced his fingers with Anne’s. “No matter what happens, you must take care of yourself first, even if it means denouncing me and telling Major Lambert what you know.”

  “I would never do that.”

  He faced her. “You must. If I am to have peace, it will only come from the knowledge that you are safe.”

  His face was so close to hers that she could see texture of the shades of blue in his eyes. “Promise,” he whispered.

  She nodded, but silently vowed it was a promise she would not keep.

  The coach started moving, and before she was ready, they arrived at the country manor that served as Major Lambert’s headquarters in Lybster.

  “Courage, Anne,” he whispered, as they drove up the tree-lined drive.

  Major Lambert greeted them himself. He was dressed casually in a white shirt, long vest, and riding boots. His neck cloth was slightly askew, as if he’d been pulling on it. He’d left off his wig, and his closecropped hair gave him a relaxed, almost festive, air. His cheeks were ruddy with good humor, and drops of mud seemed to have splattered along the front of his vest and on his sleeves. He carried a riding crop in his right hand.

  “Welcome,” he cheerily greeted them, as Aidan helped Anne down from the coach. “I had hoped you

  would join us too, my lord.”

  “You knew I would,” Aidan said.

  “I had anticipated the prospect.” He clapped his hands together, a happy man. “My asking you here on such short notice wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, was it? Of course, it doesn’t matter if it was.”

  “We appreciate your concern,” Aidan returned. He kept his hand on Anne’s arm and she was grateful for the support.

  Major Lambert laughed, enjoying his sport.

  “My lady is tired,” Aidan said. “Do you have rooms for us?”

  “Of course, of course,” Major Lambert answered. He brushed one of the flecks of mud on his shirt with a hint of irritation. “But first, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” He didn’t wait for their response, but took Anne’s free arm and walked her in the direction of the stables. Two armed soldiers fell into step behind them.