by Fiona Faris
He had told his father that he refused to wed Marra for political gain and that he wished to wed for love alone as his parents had done, but the arrival of James Alexander MacDonald had been a complication he had not anticipated. He had planned to court her slowly so that the desire they felt for one another would have the opportunity to blossom into love, the kind of love that would stand the test of time, no matter the difficulties that lay ahead of them. Joining two peoples who had hated each other for centuries would not be an easy task and would require great strength, courage, and the sort of love that could not be vanquished under the strain of such a life. Love at first sight was beautiful, but seldom lasted after the passion of youth was gone. In order to build a life together they would need the kind of love that took time to grow, but the presence of another suiter within her own clan forced him to reconsider his plan.
He began to doubt his vow not to lie with her before they were wed. If he were to lose her to another man, he would never forgive himself. He felt guilty for leaving her in the loft as he had, but one breath longer, and he would have taken her, consuming her body and soul. She would have given herself over to him, he had seen it in her eyes. She had begged him not to stop, and yet he had, his mother’s words of warning ringing through his head. The constant threat of attack that now hung over their heads made the dangers of leaving her alone, pregnant, and unwed all the more possible. He could not condemn her to that fate. He would have her in his bed wed or not at all no matter how much he may have wished it otherwise. The idea of her in another man’s arms turned his stomach, and he determined to take immediate action before it was too late.
Standing, he dressed himself, then headed back through the village toward the keep. He needed to speak with his father about the possibility of arranging a betrothal. As Marra’s father was dead, he was not quite sure with whom to speak on the matter within her clan. As they had been deprived the luxury of time, they would simply have to do the best they could with the brief time they had shared. I love her more than I have ever loved another. I know she desires me, but does she love me?
As he passed Idonea’s croft, he saw James kneeling beside Marra, gazing up into her eyes with such fervor that it took all of Duncan’s strength not to pull him up by his shirt and punch him square in the face. The earnestness of their speech gave him pause. As he stood their debating what to do, James reached up and caressed her cheek. Mara closed her eyes, leaning into the caress. Duncan’s heart shattered. He could not hear what they were saying, but what he saw said enough. He could not believe his eyes. Had she not just been lying beneath him pleading for him to make love to her, and yet here she sat enjoying the caresses of another man. Feeling ill, he stumbled forward to challenge the blaggard, but managed to stop himself.
She is no’ mine tae order about as I please. She is no’ mine tae claim above all other men. She is no’ mine at all. Duncan gazed broken upon the scene before him. Unable to bear it a moment longer, he turned and continued on blindly toward the keep, tears stinging his eyes. She may not be mine, but I am hers, for she is the heart that beats within my chest; she is the breath that lends life tae my body. Within her eyes lies my verra soul.
Letting go of any hopes for arranging a betrothal with his father, Duncan arranged for Ewen to guard Marra in his absence, turned toward the stables, mounted his pony, and rode off alone into the forest.
The next morning Marra prepared to leave for the Isle of Skye to arrange aid for her people. Ian, unwilling to leave Diana and his wife in the hands of the enemy unprotected, remained behind. Ian planned to return his family to Jura while she was away, and he encouraged her to have the boat take her to Jura upon her return. Marra had looked for Duncan to bid him farewell but had not been able to find him. When she returned to the castle the night before, Ewen had informed her that Duncan had gone to hunt and was not sure when he would return. Ewen, having been assigned to her protection, had insisted on joining her on the journey to Skye. James had advised against it given the bad blood between the Campbells and MacDonalds, but Ewen would not change his mind. As the boat moved out to sea, Marra watched the shore line hoping to see Duncan, but he never came.
James’ boat was a one man sailing vessel that he could manage on his own, but it could hold a small number of people. He explained that he had designed it himself from a fishing vessel common to the islands and showed her how to steer and tend the sails as needed. As the wind increased in intensity, the boat picked up speed carrying them swiftly across the water. Marra delighted in the feel of the wind and the spray of the sea upon her face. There was a marvelous freedom to sailing on the open water. She found the fears and concerns of the past days melt away as she guided the boat forward, in that brief moment, the master of her own destiny.
James stood behind her and occasionally would offer instruction or request a correction. Marra would gladly oblige, thrilled at learning a new skill. The men of her clan had always done the sailing. In their minds women did not need to learn such things. James was nothing like that and praised her nimble mind and aptitude.
“This is wonderful!”
“Ye are a natural born seaman,” he proclaimed, grinning with pleasure at her joyous exclamations.
“I wish Duncan were here to see this,” she spoke without thinking to Ewen. With the thought of Duncan, all the hurt and pain from recent days came flooding back. Images of her kidnapping, her father’s burnt corpse, the hatred and distrust in her people’s eyes, her lying naked and alone on the floor of the stable loft, all flashed before her, causing her heart to constrict with the intensity of it.
“Marra, what is it?” James asked, his hand on her shoulder. “Ye have gone quite pale and are gripin’ the tiller so hard yer knuckles are as white as snow.”
Marra shook her head, attempting to gather her scattered emotions. “It is nothing.”
“I disagree,” James pressed her, taking the tiller from her hand and sat down next to her, sitting shoulder to shoulder.
“For a brief moment I forgot about everythin’ that has happened. For a brief moment I was happy, weightless, incandescent.”
“And then it passed, and it all came crashing back down upon ye as a wave in a storm,” James finished for her as if he were inside of her mind, able to read her every thought.
“Aye.”
“Ye have been through a great deal, Marra. Ye are entitled tae a moment of untainted joy.”
They sat quietly for a moment before he spoke again. “Ye are in love with Duncan Campbell are ye no’?”
Marra looked up at him in surprise. Her face must have been something to see because Ewen nearly choked trying to stifle his amusement. “What makes ye ask such a question?”
“’Twas the way ye spoke his name with such longing,” James noted, sighing in disappointment. “Has he asked for yer hand?”
“Nae, he has no’.”
“Are ye lovers?”
Ewen’s amusement faded replaced by a scowl of disapproval. “What kind o’ a question is that tae ask a lady?” he growled.
“An honest one,” James answered, his gaze never leaving Marra’s face.
“Nae, we are no’ lovers.”
“But ye wish tae be.”
“That is enough o’ that!” Ewen edged forward as if preparing to toss James overboard.
“It is fine, Ewen. I dinnae mind answerin’ James’ questions. He has a right tae ken the lass he wishes tae wed,” Marra soothed her protector.
“Aye, I did wish tae be, but Duncan has made it quite clear that he does no’ feel the same.”
James mumbled something under his breath that sounded like an insult to Duncan’s intelligence. To Marra’s surprise Ewen nodded his head in agreement of the sentiment. “Any man that refuses ye, lass, is daft.”
“Aye,” Ewen remarked emphatically.
Marra could not have been more surprised had a fish jumped into the boat and smacked her in the face. Blushing she lowered her head to hide her face. “Do y
e think ye could e’er come tae think o’ me in such a way?” James asked softly. Marra looked up at him and found a vulnerable uncertainty in his eyes that touched her heart.
She thought on his question for a moment before answering. “I owe Duncan my life. That is a bond that is no’ easily broken or replaced. Before I met Duncan, I did no’ ken that I could feel such things for another person. I dinnae ken if it is possible tae feel such a thing twice in one lifetime.”
James nodded his head in understanding. “I sincerely hope that it is.” Taking her hand in his, he lifted it to his lips, kissed it, and then released it back to her lap.
Marra met Ewen’s gaze from across the boat and found compassionate understanding reflected there. He held her gaze for a moment as if to say that he too hoped such a thing was possible and that he too shared her pain. When they reached the Isle of Skye, Ewen assisted her from the boat while James saw to its mooring. “Dinnae give up on Duncan just yet, lass. I ken that he cares for ye as much as ye care for him. All will be well in time if ye let it,” Ewen spoke softly before releasing her hand.
Marra nodded in acknowledgment of his words and then followed James up the shore to his father’s stronghold. Squaring her shoulders, she prepared to meet the indomitable laird of Skye.
Chapter Eighteen
By the time Duncan returned from his overnight hunting trip, he had calmed enough to give Marra the benefit of the doubt about her behavior toward James. Instead of jumping to conclusions, he had decided to simply ask her how she felt about him and the prospect of marriage in the future. Entering the castle, he did not find her in the great hall, so he ascended the stairs to her bedchamber. He found it empty. Descending the stairs, he stepped back outside and scanned the courtyard for any sign of her, but found none. He checked the stable loft, but found it to be empty as well. Leaving the courtyard, he walked through the village to Idonea’s croft, expecting to find Diana and her family, but did not. “Where is Marra?” he demanded of the healer. “Where are her people?”
“Marra has departed for the Isle of Skye seeking aid for her people amongst her own clan as she should. Diana and her family are returnin’ tae Jura,” Idonea informed him.
“What?! She cannae have left!” Duncan raked his hands through his hair in frustration and anger. “How could she do this?”
“She did exactly what a leader in her position should have done. ‘Tis no’ natural for a proud people such as the MacDonalds tae seek refuge among their enemies. ‘Tis no’ natural at all. In all o’ Scotland I have ne’er heard o’ such a thing. She is right tae seek help from her own kind.”
“Ye dinnae ken anythin’ o’ such matters. Ye are a healer, no’ a seer.” Duncan clenched his teeth so hard he nearly broke a tooth. “Just because the man is her clansman does no’ mean she is safe. What if he is the man who took her? What if it is his people who attacked and killed her faither? The man agreed tae an illegal marriage. I would no’ put killin’ the laird tae claim his lands past such a man.” Duncan paced the floor in agitation. “How could she leave without tellin’ me?”
“She tried tae find ye, but ye were nae where tae be found. Ewen went with her.”
The healer’s matter of fact nature was a quality that he admired under normal circumstances, but at that moment in time he was finding it to be most infuriating. “When did they leave?”
“They departed at first light. The arrangements were made the night before with yer faither.”
“My faither agreed tae this?”
“Aye, he agreed it was best for all concerned given recent events.”
“Are ye referin’ tae her unwanted guest?”
“Aye. Yer faither made it quite clear that he did no’ want a war with the laird o’ Skye nae matter how much ye might love the lass.”
“And how do ye come tae ken my faither’s mind on the matter?”
“I was there in the room tendin’ tae yer faither when he spoke with the MacDonald lad.”
Duncan drove his fist into the croft wall and immediately regretted it. A sickly crunching sound filled the croft as blood gushed from the broken skin, his hand swelling instantly. “Are ye daft?!” Idonea scurried forward and made him sit on a stool, so she could tend to his wound. “Dinnae pick fights with stone walls, lad. The stone will win every time.”
“Aye, it would appear so,” Duncan admitted, ashamed of his rash behavior. He was fairly certain that his hand was broken. Disgusted with himself, he leaned his head back against the wall and allowed the healer to tend him. “Have I lost her forever, Idonea?”
Idonea clucked her tongue with motherly concern. “Nae, lad, ye have no’ lost her. That lass loves ye more than the air she breathes. Ye only needed tae see her face when she could no’ find ye this mornin’ tae ken that.”
“Then there is still hope for me,” he replied with relief, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.
“Aye, that there is, but ye need tae be more clever about it, lad, if ye wish tae make it so betwixt ye and yer people. Ye ken all tae well that they will no’ countenance ye bindin’ yerself tae the enemy. Ye will have struggles enough as it is convincin’ the clan’s warriors tae follow ye when the auld laird dies. Be sure that this is a battle that ye wish tae fight kennin’ that ye may no’ win. Is she worth losin’ yer people o’er? Is she willin’ tae lose her people o’er ye? As bonnie as yer love may be, there is a price tae be paid, lad… a steep price.”
“Surely it will no’ come to such. We would no’ be the first enemies tae intermarry tae quell violence and form an alliance. ‘Tis a fairly common practice.”
“Aye, when both parties are ready tae end the violence. I dinnae see that bein’ the case here. Do ye?”
“There are some who are, but no’ nearly enough,” Duncan conceded her point. “There is much work tae be done tae prepare for such a union, I grant ye, but I will no’ let it stop me.”
“Proceed with care, lad, or ye might find yerself on the wrong side o’ things when ‘tis o’er. Yer faither does no’ have much time left tae him on this earth. Use this time tae strengthen yer position with the clan no’ weaken it. Ye ken well enough that it is yer faither’s greatest wish that ye be laird when he is gone. Ye are loved and respected among our people as a man and hunter, but as a warrior ye have no’ proven yerself. If ye cannae win the clan o’er tae ye afore yer faither’s passin’ then ‘twill be another who leads the clan in yer stead. Yer cousin Lachlan is growin’ in favor with the fightin’ men o’ the clan. He is a wee bit hot blooded for my likin’. There are others who seek the lairdship as well. I would much rather see cooler heads prevail. An even tempered laird is a much better choice tae keep our people safe.”
Duncan sat quietly thinking over what the old healer had said. “I have ne’er been inclined tae be the laird, but for my faither’s wishes. Our clan’s safety is o’ utmost importance tae me. ‘Tis best no’ tae draw tae much attention tae ourselves by rash behavior. Lachlan has ne’er expressed an interest tae be laird, but if he were tae assume the lairdship, he would be inclined tae declare war against the verra Campbells that we shelter under as would many ‘o the other warriors o’ the clan. It has ne’er settled well with them that we were forced tae hide among our enemies.”
“The clan’s verra survival depends on ye becomin’ laird, Duncan. Ye have more than just yer love for Marra tae consider here, lad.”
“I cannae let her go, Idonea.”
“Ye may no’ have a choice.”
“I will find a way,” he insisted adamantly.
“I pray that ye do, but if no’, ye will be forced tae choose between the survival o’ yer people and the Lady o’ Jura, Marra MacDonald.”
Marra followed James into his father’s stone fortress. Knock Castle sat on a rocky green protrusion of land surrounded on nearly all sides by the sea with a strip of land connecting it to the rest of the island. The grey stone edifice sat as a stern sentinel, simultaneously guarding the waterway and the land. The castle, C
aisteal Camus, had originally been built by the Clan MacLeod but had been taken by the Clan MacDonald centuries earlier. It had passed back and forth between the clans for some time until it came to rest permanently within MacDonald control. A fine fog hung over the water, giving the castle and hills beyond an otherworldly appearance. Marra could not help but shiver as she passed through the main door into the keep.
“Are ye cold, lass?” James asked, a concerned look on his face.
