by Fiona Faris
“I am no’ daft, and we are no’ bound together nae matter what my faither may have done in my absence. I did no’ consent tae wed ye then, and I dinnae wish tae be wed tae ye now. My consent is required by Scottish law as my faither kenned and as I am sure ye do. What did ye hope tae accomplish by consentin’ tae an illegal marriage act?”
“Yer faither hoped tae provide ye with the protection o’ a husband and yer people with that o’ a worthy laird. He had hoped that in time ye would come tae care for me and see the reason behind his choice, but then again, he had also planned tae be here for our introduction. In spite o’ everythin’ I still agree with our faithers’ intended purpose. Ye and I are a good match, and I believe ye will come tae see that in time. Yer people need a leader, Marra MacDonald, and yer faither chose me tae be that man.” James’ sharp blue eyes gazed upon her with such certainty that she found herself to be momentarily speechless.
“Marra is no’ wed tae ye, nor will she e’er be. Scottish law does no’ recognize yer claims. Return tae Skye where ye belong.” Duncan stepped forward, wrapping his arm possessively around Marra’s waist.
“Would ye deny yer faither his dyin’ wish?” James petitioned Marra, taking her hand in his.
Duncan reached out and knocked his hand from hers. “Dinnae touch her again, or the next time I will take yer hand off at the wrist.”
“Duncan!” Marra exclaimed, horrified at his violent words.
“Forgive me, lass. I did no’ mean tae offend ye, but I will no’ allow him tae take liberties with ye against yer will,” Duncan apologized for upsetting her.
Marra did not know what to think. Her head spun with everything that had happened, and she felt a strong need to run away as fast as her feet would take her. For a brief moment she wished that she were back in the highland croft where she had been held captive, simply to avoid the situation that now faced her. On one hand she could accept James’ offer of marriage and protection, but in doing so, she would surrender any hope of love or a life with Duncan. On the other hand she could refuse him and dishonor her father as he lay fresh in his grave.
In the brief time that she had known Duncan, she had come to care for him deeply. She would be lying if she did not admit to having thought about a life with him by her side and in her bed, but if she were being truthful with herself, she had only just met him. Realistically, she barely knew him, and yet at times it had felt as if she had known him her entire life. Marriage to Duncan, however, was another thing entirely. Her people hated his people, as his people hated hers. There was no possible way that the MacDonalds of Jura would ever accept Duncan as their chieftain. If she were to wed him, she would be forced to surrender her home, her family, and her clan. I cannae abandon my people.
As a MacDonald of Skye, James was the ideal candidate for a husband and leader. Objectively, Marra could well understand why her father had chosen him to wed her, but when it came to matters of the heart, she felt nothing but resentment for him in colluding with her father behind her back. Now that is no’ fair, she chastised herself for her unkind thoughts about his character. ‘Tis likely that he had verra little tae do with the arrangement as it would have been an agreement between his faither and my own.
Marra extricated herself from Duncan’s protective grasp upon her waist and took a step back away from the two men. Duncan looked at her questioningly, stepping toward her, but she shook her head at him in declination of his advance. “Marra?” he asked his brow raised, hurt in his eyes.
“I need time tae think,” she informed him, taking another step back.
“Tae think about what? Ye cannae honestly be considerin’ marriage tae this cuddie,” Duncan protested angrily.
“Ye must like the taste o’ my blade,” James threatened, taking exception to Duncan’s insult. “Are ye a lover o’ pain?”
“’Tis ye that has the death wish,” Duncan retorted, glaring at him in disgust.
“Enough!” Marra shouted. “Haud yer wheesht afore I do it for ye.” Both men turned back to look at her in surprise at her bold speech. “The pair o’ ye are in need o’ a healer. Get yerselves down tae Idonea’s croft afore I decide tae box both o’ yer ears for actin’ as nae but wee bairns fightin’ o’er yer favorite toy horse.” They looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Marra took a threatening step forward, raising her hands in preparation of carrying out her threat. Their eyebrows shot up into their hair in shock as they backed away then turned in unison to do as she instructed. She would have laughed were the situation not so serious.
“Ye are either the bravest lass I have e’er met or the most foolish,” the guard’s voice announced from behind her.
Marra turned to discover that he had recovered from her having bit him. “I am sorry that I bit ye…”
“Ewen, My Lady,” the guard introduced himself, bowing at the waist in the first true show of respect she had received from any of Duncan’s clansmen since her arrival.
“Ewen,” she acknowledged with a smile. “I am Marra, Marra MacDonald.”
“I ken who ye are well enough,” the guard chuckled, coming to stand beside her. He gestured toward Duncan and James’ retreating backs. “It looks as if ye have a difficult choice tae make.”
“Aye, that I do,” she nodded hesitantly. “Do ye have any advice for me on the matter?” she asked not really expecting an answer from the guard, but more inquiring to the heavens above than anything else.
“Take yer time, lass,” Ewen recommended. “The time tae ken the worth o’ each man and then make yer decision making sure to follow both yer head and yer heart in equal measure.”
Marra was surprised by the guard’s wisdom. “Ye are wasted as a warrior, Ewen. I thank ye for yer wise council. I fear it is easier said than done.”
“Aye, that it is,” he nodded in agreement, “but it is worth the effort and the pain for at the end lies a joy that can only be made with time and care.”
“How did ye come tae hold such knowledge?” she asked meeting his eyes with respect.
“I earned it,” he replied, his eyes turning sad and wistful as if remembering a time gone by.
“What was her name?” Marra inquired, recognizing the look of a man who had loved deeply and lost much.
“Ann, her name was Ann,” Ewen admitted, tears springing to his eyes. “She died in childbirth.”
“I can see that ye loved her verra much,” Marra noted, feeling sympathy for him.
“Aye, that I did, but it took time. Our marriage was arranged by our parents. We did no’ meet until the day o’ our weddin’. She was fearful o’ me, and I was in love with another lass at the time. I hated poor Ann at first. I blamed her and my parents for trappin’ me in a marriage I did no’ want, but with time and patience we came tae share a love far deeper than that which I e’er would have had with another. I chose tae honor my faither’s wishes and came tae ken a love that was beautiful and rare, but only ye can decide which man is right for ye. Take the time tae ken the men who seek yer hand, lass. Ye will be thankful that ye did.”
“I thank ye, Ewen, for sharin’ yer wisdom with me.”
“’Tis my pleasure, My Lady, but if I might offer one last piece o’ advice?”
“O’ course,” she consented.
“Dinnae run out between fightin’ men e’er again, for any reason. Next time ye may no’ be so fortunate as tae keep yer bonnie head attached tae yer neck,” he smiled, eyes sparkling mischievously, bowed, then returned to his place atop the castle stairs, guarding the entrance.
Marra watched him walk away, thinking about what he had said. He is right. I should take my time tae make such an important choice for the good o’ the clan and myself. She knew it would be difficult to do so given the dire circumstances in which her people found themselves, but when it came to binding one’s self for life to another individual, it was best to employ caution. I will return tae Jura tae rebuild and tae think. In her mind she knew that James would be the better choice for her people, but i
n her heart she could not let go of Duncan, as it whispered his name with every beat.
An image of Duncan’s naked body flashed through her mind, causing a shiver of desire to wash over her like a sea wave. She touched her fingertips to her lips in remembrance of the kiss they had shared. She closed her eyes, feeling his heated breath on her sensitive flesh as they had lain in bed alone together in the mountain croft, skin against skin, heart against heart. In that moment of passion she had not known where he had begun and she had ended. They had been chaste, her virginity left intact, and yet they had been as one intertwined together upon the bed. In that moment he was mine and I was his. Flesh o’ my flesh. Breath o’ my breath. Soul o’ my soul. My savior and my downfall. My enemy and my love. My weakness, my ruin, my hope.
Chapter Fifteen
Duncan sat eyeing the man who sat across from him as Idonea stitched up the wound in his thigh. His anger at the man’s intrusion into his life was so intense that he barely felt the healer’s ministrations. He had seen the doubt in Marra’s eyes when faced with the question of whether to wed the man her father had selected for her or not. In his mind there was no question. The answer should have been an immediate, absolute no, and it had been at first, but the more she had spoken with the intruder the more doubt had filled her eyes. I should have run him through the moment I laid eyes on him.
James Alexander MacDonald had proven himself to be a strong fighter, and Duncan had to admit a begrudging respect for him as a swordsman, but that is where his generosity ended. The moment the man’s wounds were tended to, Duncan wanted him off of MacGregor-Campbell lands and out of Marra’s life. He cannae breed doubt and discontent if he is no’ hear tae pursued her with her faither’s last wishes. I will no’ surrender her tae any man, nae matter what Angus MacDonald may have wanted.
Duncan wished that he could take Marra’s pain and uncertainty away. He would have gladly done anything if it meant that she was happy and safe. He worried that her kidnapper was still out there somewhere watching and waiting. A thought flashed through Duncan’s mind, and he eyed James with even more suspicion than he had before. What if he is the one who took her? A strong desire to kill the man where he sat coursed through him, and he grasped the edges of the chair he was sitting upon in an effort to control the urge. He will nae have her as long as there is still breath in my body tae fight.
When Idonea was done with Duncan’s thigh, she handed him an herbal concoction for the pain and then moved on to sew up the gash in James’ arm. Duncan drank down the tea in one gulp, discarded the bowl, then stood and walked out of the croft, not able to stand looking at the man for another moment longer. He walked back up to the courtyard where he had left Marra, but did not find her there. He climbed the stairs and entered the keep, hoping to find her in the great hall, but found his father and aunt sitting by the fireplace instead. The sight of his father’s pale failing form brought sadness to his heart and gave him pause. Temporarily leaving his search for Marra, he moved to stand next to his father’s chair.
“How are ye, Faither? I apologize if our duel caused ye any undue distress.”
“Nonsense! Ye must fight for the woman ye love. If ye had no’ fought the brute, I would have done so,” his father remarked emphatically, causing him to burst into a round of coughs that left him gasping and wheezing for air. Blood spattered from his lips onto the floor at his feet.
“Shall I send for the healer, Faither?” Duncan asked in concern.
“Nae, she will come when she is done seein’ tae our guests,” the laird shook his head in refusal. “I saw as I watched yer fight from the door o’ the keep that ye were wounded. How is it?”
“Nae, but a wee scratch,” Duncan lied. In truth he had had quite a gash and was fortunate that he had not bled out upon the ground.
“Ye made me proud today, son. Ye will make a great laird when I am gone.”
“Och, there is nae need for that kind o’ talk. Ye have a good many years yet, Faither.”
“Ye ken as well as I that I dinnae have much time left, son. I can deny the truth o’ it nae more. We both ken what coughin’ up blood means for an auld codger like me.”
“Faither, I…” Duncan stopped unsure what to say. He wished to argue that it was not so, but he knew that it was.
His father reached out and took his son’s hand, squeezing it affectionately. “Dinnae fash, all will be well in time. I will nae be leavin’ ye this day, and when I do, ye will be ready tae face what comes next. I ken that ye will do well and make me proud. There is nae doubt in my mind.”
Duncan laid his free hand on his faither’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Aye, Faither. I will make ye proud.”
“That is all any man can ask.”
A tiny sniffling sound drew Duncan’s attention from his father toward his aunt, Fiona. She had ceased her sewing, and tears streamed down her face unchecked. He knew exactly how she felt and wished that he too could weep as freely as she did now. Noting Duncan’s gaze, she drew her arisaid up to her face and attempted to wipe away the tears. “Dinnae hide yer sorrow, Auntie. ‘Tis well that ye weep. ‘Tis cleansin’ for the soul.”
Fiona sniffed again and attempted a watery smile. “Ye are a good man, nephew.” Turning to Fergus she praised, “Ye have done well, brother. Our people will be left in good care.”
Fergus smiled at his sister’s words. “Aye, that they will.”
Getting her tears under control, Fiona searched the hall behind him. “Where is yer lass?”
“I dinnae ken. After the fight, she ordered James MacDonald and I down tae the healer’s croft, but when I returned, she was gone. I was in search o’ her when I saw ye.”
“I am sure she is around here somewhere, son,” his father reassured him.
“Aye, but I cannae help tae be concerned with her havin’ so recently been taken and all,” Duncan admitted. He could no sooner stop worrying about her than he could have stopped the sun from setting.
“That is perfectly understandable.” Fiona acknowledged his feelings on the matter. “I would feel the same.”
“As would I,” his father agreed. “I did no’ see her come through the hall, but that does no’ mean that she did no’ do so when I was no’ lookin’.”
Duncan nodded, squeezed his father’s shoulder once more, and then released it. “I think I should continue my search tae ensure that she is safe and well.”
Duncan moved on and ascended the stairs to look for Marra in her bedchamber, but he found it to be empty. Growing more concerned, he went down to the kitchens to enquire among the women there, but none of them had seen her either. Exiting the keep he stood at the top of the stairs and searched the courtyard below. “Is it the MacDonald lass that ye seek or the man who has come tae claim her hand?” Ewen asked from behind him, where he stood guard beside the door.
“Marra,” Duncan answered turning to face him. “Have ye seen her?”
“No’ since after the fight. We exchanged a few words and then I saw her wander down toward the stables,” Ewen answered, pointing in the direction he had seen her go.
Duncan nodded his thanks, then descended the stairs. He crossed the courtyard and entered the stables. The smell of horse, hay, and oats assailed his nostrils as he walked down the line of stalls. He searched each stall, but found nothing. A noise from above caught his attention, so he climbed the ladder up to the loft. There among the piles of hay and straw lay Marra curled up in a ball on her side fast asleep, her arms wrapped around the sleeping form of a tiny baby kitten. Duncan stood still and watched the slumbering pair in silent wonder at the beauty of the moment. Light filtered through the wooden slats of the loft walls, falling in narrow beams upon her face, sparkling in the tears upon her cheeks. It appeared she had cried herself to sleep. Och, lass. Seeing her in pain made him feel as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest.
Marra shivered, pulling Duncan out of his thoughts. Moving forward, he lay down beside her and wrapped her in his plaid. She
moaned slightly and snuggled up against him, but did not wake. Holding her in his arms, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep as the herbs Idonea had given him took effect. His last thoughts were that he would gladly hold her in his arms for the rest of his days.
Marra awoke to find herself wrapped in a plaid with a man’s muscled arms holding her body firmly against a hard surface. The kitten had disappeared. Turning, she found Duncan sleeping soundly behind her. She smiled and rolled over to lay her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso. The gentle steady thud of his heart played its beautiful song beneath her ear. She loved the feel of his muscled form against hers. She kissed the exposed skin at the base of his throat, tracing the edge of his shirt with her fingertips.
She had spent days attempting to put some distance between them so that it would not be so hard for her to leave him and return to her own people when Diana and Ian went back to the island, but waking to find herself in his arms had been more than she could resist. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his warmth. She sighed deeply, breathing in his scent, an intoxicating mixture of man, the sea, and purple heather, intermingled with the sweet smell of the hay that surrounded them. Here in this place, with this man, she felt safe. Here in this place, with this man, she felt loved.
