by Willa Blair
She would be hard pressed to find a man willing to risk taking her to wife, but it didn’t matter. She wanted only Euan.
Yet he’d refused to kiss her as he left. His final words still cleaved her chest like the blade of a claymore. ’Twould hurt too much. He cared. Just not enough to see through her hesitation, claim her, and make her his.
If only he knew he’d taken her heart with him to the other side of the Moray firth.
Muireall didn’t wonder at the summons from her father the next day. He often called for her when he wanted to talk through an idea or find out what was going on in the clan that others would not tell him. But when she entered his solar, one look at his expression told her this would not be a typical discussion between them.
The Munro stood behind his work table, fists planted on the surface, mouth set in a grim line.
Muireall suddenly felt seven years old again and wondered what she’d done wrong this time.
“Take a seat if ye will, daughter.”
Without a word, she sat and folded her hands in her lap.
“I ken this news may no’ be welcome, but an opportunity has presented itself and I believe it is a good one.”
Muireall’s heart dropped into her belly. Surely he couldn’t mean what she greatly feared he was leading up to. She kept silent and reacted only with a frown.
Her father straightened at that and crossed his arms. “I’ve received a query from Dubh Gordon,” he said and paused as if waiting for her to say or do something.
Normally she might have stormed out of his solar at the mention of the Gordons. But the last month and more had not been normal. She didn’t want to hear the rest, but knew she must.
“Go on.”
“’Tis as ye might suspect, a betrothal proposal. He’s asking for yer hand, lass.”
“A Gordon. Ye ken how I feel about them after a Gordon cousin withdrew his offer for my hand three years ago when he found a lass more to his liking.”
“I do.”
“Do ye think this Gordon kens what happened…with the Rosses…?”
“Nay, and he’ll have to be told, else his first look at yer back will mean trouble for ye and Munro. And Ross, most likely. As hard as we’ve worked to settle things with Ross, I dinna wish to start a war with Gordon.”
“Aye, after his clansman embarrassed me as he did, we’d have no reason to promise damaged goods to another Gordon in retribution.” She didn’t bother to hide her sarcasm with a polite tone.
Her father sighed. “Ye are no’ damaged goods, Muireall.”
“Nay? Euan did no’ offer for me when ye gave him the chance.”
“I felt certain he would do so before he left for Brodie. But he didna, so that still leaves the matter of finding ye a good husband. And making a good alliance for Munro.”
Muireall got to her feet. “Aye, there’s the thing ye’re after.”
“Dinna scold me, daughter. Ye ken I must. ’Tis my responsibility as laird.”
“And mine as the laird’s daughter.” She took a few steps toward the door, then reconsidered. Without Euan, what choice did she have? “So tell me about this Dubh Gordon.”
“He’s chief of a sept to the east.”
“Practically a lowlander, is that what ye’re telling me? What, is he toothless but rich? Or still a lad in wean’s breeks?”
“Neither. He’s older than Euan, younger than I.”
“That’s a pretty wide range, Da. Erik Ross is sounding better and better.”
“I can arrange that if that is what ye wish.”
“Nay, ye canna. Erik will wed Fiona Rose, or the peace the Brodie brokered with Rose and MacBean will fall apart. And if Munro gets into it, we’ll just complicate an already precarious balance.”
Her father lifted his hands in the age-old gesture of surrender. “What would ye have me do, daughter?”
“Tell him nay. Tell him to tell all Gordons with designs on a Munro lass to look elsewhere. I’ll no’ have him.”
“Ye must marry someone.”
“Must I? The one I want doesna want me enough to ask my father for my hand.” Despairing beyond words, she left the solar and stalked out to the bailey, determined to work off the emotion clogging her throat. She had only herself to blame for why Euan hadn’t offered for her. It was her fault, after all. She had done such a thorough job of convincing him she needed to be at Munro that he couldn’t conceive of taking her away from the home she’d longed for. Not to mention she’d kept from him who she really was. Perhaps if he’d had time to accept her station, things would have gone differently.
Archery practice was underway in the yard. Perfect. She picked up and tested several bows, then lined up with the rest of the lads and picked her target. shocking the lads and the arms master, who started her way. But she quickly demonstrated her prowess, hitting the center of her target again and again in quick succession. He stopped in his tracks, mouth as agape as those of the rest of his trainees. Calmer, Muireall nodded to him, set her bow aside and walked sedately back into the keep. Once the door closed behind her, she clenched her fists and fought back a shout of triumph. Thank ye, Annie! She understood why Annie had wanted to show off a bit before they went inside that evening. It felt so good.
She missed Euan, but she could make a life without him. Georgie needed him more.
Chapter 21
Euan sat with Calum and Eduard by the hearth in the great hall after most of the rest of the clan had left for their beds. He’d been drinking steadily since the evening meal ended, but it wasn’t helping. Nothing did. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He missed Muireall with everything in him. A handful of days had reduced him to moping about the keep, snarling at anyone who came near, then drinking himself to sleep at night.
Fortunately, Annie had taken charge of Georgie. Seeing him only reminded Euan of Muireall, and that hurt more than he could bear.
“I’m tired of carrying yer miserable arse up those steps,” Eduard complained with a sideways glance at Calum. “If he didna have a busted wing, I’d let him do it.”
“But ye see I canna,” Calum groused. “And Eduard shouldna. Ye have to stop this.” He kicked at Euan’s outstretched leg with one booted foot. “Ye’ve gone barmy since leaving the lass with her kin. ’Tis no’ so far. Go see her. Hell, offer for her. If she’s in a state anything like the one ye’re in, she’ll be so glad to see ye, she’ll accept before she comes to her senses.”
The idea had its appeal. Euan lifted his glass and sniffed. Whisky fumes filled his nose and made him cough. He set the glass aside, suddenly disgusted with it. He turned his head to his shoulder and inhaled. Ale and stale sweat. Disgusted with himself, he finally heard what Calum and Eduard had been telling him since he left Muireall behind. He’d grieved long enough. Time to make a decision. He could see only two paths—get on with his life without her or go after Muireall and make her his.
He stood, surprising both his companions. “Sod off,” he told them. “I’m going to bed. I’ll go after her in the morning.”
The next morning, Euan awoke with a clear head, Calum’s words still ringing in his ears. His friend was right. Going to Muireall, asking for her hand was the only solution to the dreich mood he’d been in since he left her at Munro. He threw off the covers and dressed quickly.
He found Iain and Annie breaking their fast in the laird’s solar, documents on the table between them. Annie noticed him first.
“Euan, good morrow to ye.”
“What is it?” Iain asked, not unkindly. “I’m ready for a distraction from these tallies of the catch and the harvest.” He glanced at Annie. “We’ve enough to get us through the rest of the winter, and to have a small Candlemas feast. Talk to Cook and see what she can do.”
Annie stood. “I will.” She gathered up the parchments and patted Euan on the arm on her way out.
“So,” Iain said, leaning back in his chair, “this is the earliest I’ve seen ye since ye returned from Munro. Has the whisky
finally lost its appeal?”
“It has,” Euan agreed. “But no’ the lass. I need to go back. To fetch her. Marry her. With yer permission.”
Iain studied him, then nodded. “Ye have it. Muireall is a braw lass. Ye could do much worse.”
“I hope I willna have to. I told her to send for me if she changed her mind about staying at Munro. She hasna done so, but perhaps she needs some encouragement.” Euan smiled for what seemed like the first time in days. The first he recalled, anyway. “I’ll take Calum and a few others with me. With luck, we’ll be back with her before ye ken we’ve gone.”
“See to it, or we’ll come looking for ye.”
“There’s another thing…”
“Aye?” Iain cocked an eyebrow.
Euan knew he was surprised he hadn’t gotten out as quickly as Iain said ‘aye.’ “Now Georgie is here, ye havena changed yer mind about fostering him, have ye? The Munro will want a report.” He pursed his lips. “I ken I havena looked after him as I should…but Muireall might be much more willing to agree if Georgie remains here. She was so determined to get back to him at Munro, I was surprised to walk away with him so easily. Still, he’ll grow and get stronger away from the lads who were tormenting him. If he’s anything like I was, he’ll surprise the hell out of them in a few years. I look forward to seeing that.”
“I’d forgotten what a runt ye were as a lad. It took ye a while to grow into yerself.”
“It did. I was small for my age until I had thirteen summers, then I grew so fast my bones hurt all the time. That or it was the training auld Dougal put us through.” Euan paused, sadness filling him. The man’s son, Dougal Og was still missing from the Tangie. Euan could only think he’d drowned. “At any rate, ye ken how I was teased until I started getting too big and too strong for the other lads to take on. I get the impression the treatment Georgie has gotten has been worse. Muireall will be relieved to have him away from there until he grows. The Munro agrees, of course, or he would be there now.”
“It seems an equitable solution to several problems—and desires. I agree.”
Euan nodded, flashed a grin and got out as fast as he could. He didn’t want to give Iain time to reconsider.
With Iain’s blessing in hand, Euan made use of the tub and donned clean clothes. Then he, Calum and a few others took a boat across the Moray firth and into the Cromarty to Munro. He had to get Muireall back if he had to crawl from the seashore to her door to do it. The hike to the Munro village seemed to take forever, but when they arrived, Euan had no doubt the trip was worth it.
Muireall saw him as they entered the keep. She ran to him. His heart clenched in his chest as she fell into his arms. “Marry me, lass,” he murmured, lacking the wit to even greet her. He had to get those words out first. “I canna live without ye. These last days have been torture worse than anything Donas Ross could have devised. I missed ye more than I ever thought possible to miss anyone,” he added.
“And I missed ye, Euan Brodie. I’ve been so lonely without ye. Without ye, it took me only hours to realize there’s nothing here for me anymore, nothing more important than ye.”
“I ken I refused to kiss ye before I left Brodie. Would ye…”
“Aye, I would,” she interrupted him.
Euan obliged and quickly lost himself in the feel of her lips, the scent of her skin and breath, the warmth of her body under his hands.
Calum came up and clapped Euan on the back, breaking them apart. “I see it didna take you long to find the lass,” he teased. “’Tis good to see ye again, Muireall. This poor sod has been wretched without ye.”
“Wheesht,” Euan warned.
“I’ve been miserable without him, too,” Muireall said, moving her gaze from Calum to Euan and running her fingertips down the side of his face. “I’m glad ye have come,” she added, then turned back to Calum.
But Calum wasn’t looking at Muireall. Euan followed the direction of his gaze but saw nothing remarkable.
Calum turned to Muireall. “Ella has not returned?”
Muireall grimaced and Euan’s belly clenched. “I’m sorry.”
Calum’s fists clenched and he stalked away, back toward their boat.
“Mostly, I’m sorry for him,” Muireall told Euan.
“No’ yer fault, lass. Better he hear it right away than get his hopes up.”
“I think she was very much at sea—she didna miss Thomas, but I dinna believe she felt like she fit in at home anymore, either. Perhaps now that Erik is in charge at Ross, Thomas will turn out to be what—or who—she needs.”
Euan cocked an eyebrow. “Like I am what—and who—ye need?”
“Aye, Euan, that ye are.” She laid a hand over his heart. “I never shouldha doubted it.”
“I’ve more good news, but I must talk to yer da first.”
“Aye? Well, let me take ye to him, then.”
A day later, Muireall didn’t know she could be so happy. Though she was marrying during Candlemas, the memory of Silas’s taunt the morning Muireall had been forced to strip and bathe in front of the entire clan had no power to upset her. A fire burned brightly in the great hall’s hearth. Boughs of fir draped the mantle above it, interspersed with mistletoe from the surrounding forest, the only decoration available this deep in winter.
She and Euan stood in front of the hearth, she in her best dress, Euan in finery borrowed from a Munro near his size. Hand in hand, they faced each other, her clan forming a large semi-circle surrounding them. Hearing Euan pledge before them to love and honor her all the days…and nights…of their lives thrilled her as much as when he’d said the same at the ancient stone on Brodie land. She pledged the same to him. They kissed and it was done.
They were married in the old way. A wedding in the kirk would have to wait until they returned to Brodie, when its priest was in residence. Calum had returned without explaining where he’d been overnight, and stood with him, though an air of gloom hung around him.
“If only Georgie and Ella were here to celebrate with us,” Muireall murmured.
Euan did not give her time to dwell on her friend’s future. He pulled her to him and kissed her soundly again. More cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. Muireall laughed at the good-natured teasing, then pulled Euan forward to their seats of honor at the high table. Euan would take the laird’s seat and she the chair reserved for the laird’s wife, empty these long years since Georgie’s birth. She’d warned Euan the feast could not start until they were in place, so he cooperated and came with her, only tugging her back into his arms for another kiss three times as they crossed the hall, then again before they took their seats.
At that, everyone else found a place and the servers carried out platters and trenchers and plates of food. Muireall sampled fish and venison and several varieties of fowl, cheeses, apples, bread spread with honey, wine and mead until she could take no more.
Finally, she leaned over to Euan and whispered in his ear, “Meet me on the beach.”
His eyebrows arced in surprise. “’Tis a long walk on a cold night…”
She just smiled and left him to escape whenever he could. The wedding feast had been underway for hours and while Euan felt obligated to speak to every person and drink each toast to their happiness, Muireall had eaten and drunk more than enough. She’d been surrounded by a wall of conversation, music, and noise longer than she could stand. She needed the breath of air she’d find next to the firth as much as she needed Euan there with her.
She knew the gathered crowd would assume she’d gone to Euan’s chamber to prepare for his arrival. Instead, she went to hers, put on her cloak and gathered up her spare plaid, a sheet and a woolen blanket from her bed. For a moment, she eyed the furs piled at its foot, knowing they’d provide warmth the blankets could not. But they’d be too heavy to carry, and they’d be too hard to clean if they got caked with sand or seawater.
She took a back stairway out of the keep to avoid the wedding feast. When she stepped outs
ide, the chill took her breath for a moment, but she carried on, waving to the lone sentry as she passed out of the gate. He’d think her mad, and Euan even madder when he followed, but she didn’t care. They would have years to make love in their chamber. Not so long ago, Euan had saved her from the waves. Tonight, she wanted him to claim her by them, as well.
Her burden had started to feel heavy by the time she reached the shore. She spread the plaid in a sandy spot, then lay the sheet over it. She wanted to carry proof of her innocence back to her clan. The sheet would do for that. Wrapped in her cloak, she draped the blanket over her as well and sat, watching the stars fall in the clear, cold winter sky.
Sooner than she expected, Euan arrived.
“Did ye run the whole way, then?” she asked with a smile and shared the blanket, letting him pull her back against his chest then wrap it around both of them.
He nodded, breathing hard for a moment, then heaved a great sigh. “I dinna think I’d be able to escape yer clan, but claiming the need to get rid of some ale did the trick. No one stopped me when I left the hall.”
Muireall laughed and enjoyed the answering rumble of Euan’s chuckle at her back.
“Ye have been watching the stars, I see.”
“And the waves, as well. Did ye ken they glow in the darkness?” She turned her head to gaze up at him. “Aye, of course ye did.”
“They seem to catch the faintest glimmer, be it starlight or a sliver of moon. One thing I’ve learned from Iain over the years…did ye ken he draws?” he began, “is that there is much in the world of great beauty.” He kissed her temple. “Though none greater than my wife.”
She tucked her head under his chin and pressed against him, considering. She’d always thought Ella the most beautiful, and still others more than she herself. But if Euan thought her a great beauty, who was she to gainsay him? “Thank ye, husband. Ye please me greatly as well.”
