When the knock came at the door, it was so quiet at first that he scarcely heard it. It sounded again, and he went to the door, hoping to find Eva.
She was there, her eyes wide, her face pale, and she was not alone. A young Highlander stood with her, in a dirty plaid, hair braided and unkempt, his handsome face remarkably similar to Eva's despite the scruff of whiskers. His eyes were weary and shadowed with care for a man so young. Lachlann stared at them for a moment, then stood back to let them into the warm smithy.
"Simon," he said. "Welcome."
"Lachlann," Simon said, grasping his hand. "It has been a long while. I trust you are well."
"Well enough," Lachlann said, and glanced at Eva, who stood a little apart, as if she were only the escort and not a principal—although Lachlann was sure she was as invested in the MacArthur rebellion as her kinsmen were. "I am glad you decided to see me after all. I have a message for you."
"A letter from the king, but we know what he wants. He means to threaten us with fire and sword."
Lachlann sighed and rubbed at his neck, where the muscles stung with fatigue. "You know what Colin's messenger told Robson, but you need to read the official word."
"What do the details matter? Even if deathly threats are sent out, we cannot run like cowards. We are fighting for our lands, our name—our very existence." Even in the muted red light of the smithy, Lachlann could see that a few years, and a good measure of strife and responsibility, had matured Eva's younger brother into a hard-edged man. This was not the impulsive youth he remembered.
"Simon, I know you questioned my loyalty when you heard my mission. But you have known me a long while. I have changed no more than you have." He felt Eva's steady gaze upon him, but did not look at her. "I understand your cause, but I hope you will see the wisdom of obeying the laws of the land."
"The laws of the land took our father, our properties, and disbanded us for no good reason—except that our father was one of the chiefs who disagreed with the king's plan."
"No matter the past, you must cease your raids now."
"You did not need to search us out to tell us that. The patrols in the hills make that clear." Simon smiled, bitter and tight. "I came here hoping to appeal to old friendship, to persuade you to join us."
"Simon, listen to him," Eva said quietly. "Let him tell you the king's message." Her brother frowned, but nodded.
Lachlann sighed, began. "Not only will the king send fire and sword, but if you do not stop your attempts to regain your lands, Donal will be executed."
"Jesu," Simon said. "Would the king do such a thing, after taking our father?"
"He would, if given cause," Lachlann replied.
"I hoped Colin would—" Eva stepped forward. "Lachlann, is there mention of a pardon in the king's missive?"
"Not to my knowledge, but I have not read the letter myself. It is still sealed. But I know that if MacArthur raids continue past the delivery of this message, Donal's death is guaranteed—that could stay in force regardless of a pardon. Once you are informed, Simon, you become responsible for the outcome, according to the writ. Look at it for yourself."
Crossing the room to fetch his cloak, Lachlann withdrew a folded, ribboned packet from a pocket in the satin lining and returned to hand it to Simon, who tore it open.
Simon scanned the page. "It is true."
"When I heard in Perth about your raids, I offered to carry a message to you, and the king's advisors thought it a good idea. I hoped to negotiate with you, and gain you some time. The king was ready to send troops out then, but he agreed to wait."
"This is a clear threat," Simon said. "Once fire and sword are initiated, King James will not give up until every MacArthur outlaw is caught and hung."
Eva gasped. "But Colin petitioned for a pardon!"
"Apparently without success," Lachlann said brusquely.
"If more troops arrive here, and MacArthurs still run raids, you will all be captured sooner or later."
"We need weapons, not warnings," Simon said. "And we need more men with us. You are a fine soldier, one of the king's best. My cousins said you were in the elite guard in France. You were always one of us before, and you have the skill to arm us. We must know if you are with us now."
"You have my sympathy, but I will not lend you my skill. I lack the materials to arm you, even if I agreed to it. Steel needs charcoal and good wrought iron, and those are expensive."
"We can get whatever you need. We have our means," Simon said. "Campbells and Stewarts have cattle, and so we have our means. We make good coin selling their livestock in the Border markets." Simon smiled tightly, without humor but with pride. Lachlann saw Eva scowl, and noted the difference of opinion between the siblings on that matter—and, he surmised, other matters as well. The tension between Eva and Simon seemed clear.
"That sort of cleverness will win you a noose," Lachlann said. "I have conveyed the warning. There is little I can do if you will not heed it."
"There is something you can do. We need swords, dirks, and axe heads," Simon said stubbornly.
"I will not supply a rebellion." Could not, Lachlann thought. His abilities were compromised, but Simon and Eva—he could see the hope in her eyes as she listened—both had faith in his bladesmithing skills.
"We need weapons for survival as well as rebellion," Simon said fiercely. "Our possessions were forfeited when we were put out of our homes after my father's death. We have scarcely anything now but what we steal from the Campbells and Stewarts who hold our lands."
"And so you should be careful, for Colin said he would seek to gain our clan a pardon," Eva said. "Surely there is some reference to that in the king's letter." She reached out a hand.
"Colin's name is there, I saw it," Simon said. "You read far better than I. Here." He handed her the page. "She thinks to save us all," he muttered to Lachlann, as Eva perused the parchment. "I have cautioned her not to risk herself for us."
"And if Campbell does not meet his promise?" Lachlann asked quickly. "If he can—or will—do nothing?"
"Then I would be glad to be quit of the betrothal," Eva answered fiercely, glancing up from reading, her gaze meeting Lachlann's steadily for a moment, her eyes keen with determination. He nodded and felt hope glimmer again.
"Then your marriage hangs upon a thread," he said.
"I wish it would snap," Simon commented. "But Eva intends to save Donal and the rest of us—as if we cannot save ourselves, and she must lay herself upon the heading block for us." Hurt and obstinacy flashed in his blue-green eyes.
Aware of the loyalty and love among the three MacArthur siblings, Lachlann felt the discord between these two now. Their distress was heightened by the uncertain fate of their elder brother, yet both were proud and stubborn.
Eva read on, her brow furrowed, lips moving slightly, her concentration total. "Here," she murmured. "'Regarding the matter and request of Colin Campbell...'" Her voice faded.
"Simon, I do not begrudge your anger," Lachlann said.
"It is righteous anger," Simon said adamantly.
"It is. But I warn you to act with caution."
"Campbells sit on our lands, feeding on cattle that were once ours, riding horses that once belonged to us. Their coffers grow fat while we suffer. We take only what we need."
Lachlann shook his head. "Raiding or fighting now, after you have received the king's orders, is plain treason. Add fuel to this fire, and the blaze will only grow hotter."
"Then use that blaze to forge our weapons."
In that moment, Lachlann saw the flash of inner fire in the young man, a mark of the strength of a true leader. Sighing, he rubbed his fingers over his face. Suddenly he felt old—soured, weary, far wiser than he should be. "Simon, I have seen war. I have seen its devastation, its darkness and lack of soul. You do not want to continue this. Believe me."
"We will ask you again to help us," Simon countered. "And again, until we hear the answer we want. Is that not so, Eva?"
She did not answer. Gripping the page in both hands, her knuckles turning white, she turned a pale face to them. "Ach Dhia!" she said. "What has he done! The fool!"
"Who? What is it?" Lachlann asked sharply.
"Colin—oh, God—it says here that he has... married me by proxy, while he was in France!" She raised huge, shocked eyes to look at Lachlann, then at her brother.
. "What?" Simon asked. "Where does it say that?"
"Let me see," Lachlann said, taking the page from her to scan it quickly himself.
"Colin could not do such a thing," Simon said. "He would need your consent, Eva. You must have read it wrong. It is in English, after all," he added.
"She did not misinterpret," Lachlann said grimly. "It is here. Colin Campbell now has the rights to the property held by his wife, through a marriage sanctioned by proxy while Colin was attending to his duties in France—and here, the clerk writes that Campbell's request for a pardon for the MacArthurs is under consideration. Until the matter is decided, the MacArthur rebels are to obey the king's orders."
He looked up. His fingers shook as he handed the page to Simon. "It is true." He looked at Eva. "Colin has married you in the eyes of the Church."
She stared at him and did not speak. Though only an arm's length separated them, he felt as if the world had shifted, and she had slid far away, hopelessly out of his reach. He could hardly speak himself, and returned her shocked gaze in silence.
"It cannot be legal," Simon said, reading the letter again, tracing a finger over the cramped words in black ink. "Eva did not give her consent to a proxy marriage. It is not binding."
"It may be, if Colin had the king's consent," Lachlann said. "Or perhaps he sent a letter requesting her consent, but she never got the letter. That is very possible with such turmoil in France. Some of my messages never reached their destinations. If Colin sent word and did not receive a reply, Eva's silence could be interpreted as consent."
"We will find a way to dissolve the marriage," Simon said.
"You knew," Eva said, still watching Lachlann. "The king knew about it. Surely it was mentioned to you!"
"Eva, I swear I never heard about this," he said quietly.
"But you carried the message," she said. "You must have known. Did it suit your purposes to keep it to yourself?" He saw the heartbreak in her eyes and felt the hurtful stab of her distrust. His own anger and hurt welled up in him.
"This is what you wanted all along," he said curtly. "You insisted on marrying him. Now it is done."
She glared at him, but he saw the sheen of tears with her anger. Regretting his outburst, he murmured her name and stretched out his hand. Eva whirled and fled, slamming the smithy door behind her.
"No matter what it takes," Lachlann said in a low rumble, "we will find some way to dissolve that marriage."
"Think fast, smith," Simon said. "My new brother-in-law will be back soon. And I very much doubt he will tolerate a few rebels for kinsmen—or a handsome smith on his wife's property. There will be no pardons or mercy for any of us." He walked to the door, yanked it open, and slammed out after his sister.
Chapter 19
"You must go back, Eva, dear," Margaret said gently. "It is not like you to hide from your troubles." She shifted the babe upon her shoulder, patting his little back in gentle circles. "Maeve," she added sternly, when her daughter began to clamber up onto an empty stool, rocking it precariously.
Eva picked up the little girl and sat with her, combing her fingers through the tousled blond curls. "I will go back soon," she said. "I just needed to get away and think." Nor could she stay in close proximity to Lachlann, knowing that she had been wed by Colin's betrayal. The irresistible attraction between them must end if she was wife to another. She closed her eyes in anguish.
Until she had left Balnagovan, she had not completely realized how desperately she needed to be with the blacksmith, and how essential it was to end her forced arrangement with Colin. Yet somehow her kinsmen's welfare must be protected.
"Margaret, I thank you for your hospitality," she continued. "Talking with you and Angus and walking the hills to think and be by myself have truly helped me these last few days. But I still do not know what to do." She sighed, looking down, aware of the heavy burden that sat upon her shoulders.
"You should have refused Colin from the beginning," Margaret said. "All of us would have understood if you had. I know he promised what you wanted most to hear—that your kinsmen would be safe. But he has not obtained a pardon yet, and if he does not hold up his part of the bargain—why should you honor yours?"
"He married me, and that is much harder to break than a betrothal, even in proxy, without my consent," Eva said. "There is no pardon yet that we know about, but his petition may yet be approved. The king's letter mentioned that it is still under review, so I still have some hope." She sighed.
"You do not sound hopeful," Margaret observed. "I have never seen you so unhappy." She studied her with concern.
"If the king pardons your clansmen, and releases your brother, then have the marriage annulled," Angus suggested. He looked up from his seat by the hearth, where he finished, in the firelight, a small wooden pull-cart for his daughter. He spun the sturdy wheels and began to adjust the axle. "That will not be so difficult, as long as you stay away from the man when he comes back here." He grinned. "Let that brawny blacksmith protect you and keep Colin away until the marriage is ended. Annulling will take a few months. Lachlann can fend him off."
"Angus, that is a poor solution," Margaret said.
"I wish it were so simple," Eva added.
Angus glanced up, cocking a sandy brow. "What other hold does Green Colin have over you? This pardon never seemed enough to me—you are too bold a girl to agree to such a thing. I think the man has threatened you somehow. Is it true?"
Eva glanced away, then nodded. "He threatened that Donal would be executed and Simon hunted down unless I married him," she admitted. "I knew he would see it done. I had no choice."
"Aha," Angus said, while Margaret gasped. "I thought there was more to it. Well, go to the king yourself and report Colin's wicked threat. Make your own appeal, and expose the cur to all."
Margaret shook her head. "Not with her kinsmen forfeited and outlawed, and the king responsible for her own father's death. Eva is safer to stay here and fight her own battles!"
"A pity she did not pledge with someone else, years ago," Angus said, musing as he sanded the side of the little cart.
"Then the betrothal and the marriage would be invalid."
Eva looked up. "What did you say?"
He shrugged. "I was thinking about that Beltane night that Margaret and I met, and made our pledges to each other. You were with Lachlann that night, I remember. A pity you two are just friends. My family wanted me to betroth with another girl, and I was glad for a reason not to do so. And glad Margaret came into my life when she did," he said, smiling at his wife. "If that had happened for you, Eva, you would surely have a reason to set Colin on his ear when he returns."
Eva blinked at him, her thoughts sparking. "If we had—Oh!" she said, sitting straighter. "I must go home!"
"It is dark and windy," Margaret said. "Wait until morn. Whatever it is, it will keep." She tipped her head and peered at Eva. "I suspect it has kept for a long while, has it not?" she murmured. "You never said a word, not even to me."
Eva felt a hot blush creep into her cheeks. "I... I thought it was... only a wonderful memory to hold in my heart."
"But the last few weeks have shown you that it is much more," Margaret observed. Eva nodded, aware that her cheeks must look filled with flame. "I thought it might be so, when I saw you with him that night at the smith's house."
"What?" Angus asked, looking up, curious but distracted.
"Oh," Margaret said, smiling a little. "Our Eva is even more like her dear blacksmith than I thought—she keeps a secret well." She leaned forward to touch Eva's shoulder.
"Go back to Balna
govan in the morning. You can set this right somehow."
"Perhaps I can," Eva said. She drew a deep breath, and felt the reawakening of true hope. She laughed a little, and sobbed out with it, nodding. "And so I will!"
* * *
The midmorning sun was a bright coin in the sky as Eva crossed the wide meadow toward the smithy property. She heard the dull ring of the smith's hammer. Thinking of her conversation with Margaret and Angus, she smiled a little, filled with a faint sense of hope.
But she knew that her troubles were far from over. Even if her early, impulsive pledge with Lachlann was enough to invalidate her forced marriage with Colin, she still worried about her kinsmen's safety. The extent of Colin's greed and vindictiveness might be very great indeed.
If need be, she decided, she could face him herself to save Innisfama, as Alpin wanted her to do. But to help her kinsmen, she might well have to appeal to the king himself, although she had no desire to face the monarch who had dealt so cruelly with her innocent father and the other Highland chiefs.
As she neared the smithy, she realized that the steady clang of metal on metal came from outside the building. Lachlann stood with his back wedged against the rump of a huge white destrier, his legs apart as he bent over to pull the great hoof between his knees. A small anvil and a portable forge—hot coals glowing in an iron bucket—sat near him on the ground. Ninian held the horse's reins, murmuring to the animal, stroking the long, wide nose gently.
Watching them, her heart infused with love, pride, and a sense of sadness. Ninian looked small and earnest beside the great horse, while Lachlann looked powerful and capable. The camaraderie between the boy and the man was evident even from a distance, as they worked together to soothe the horse, nodding to one another.
Though she wanted to be free of Colin in order to be with Lachlann, she regretted any hurt to Ninian. She did not want to desert the boy to his father's care—which seemed to be little care at all. Others had responded to Ninian's genial but shy nature, and he now had firm friends in Robson, Alpin, Lachlann, and Eva. She did not doubt that all of them, together and independently, would watch over the boy, with or without her marriage to his father.
Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03] Page 18
