The Laird's Choice

by Amanda Scott

  “But now, lad,” he said to Mag without giving Andrena a chance to respond, “I were thinking ye might want to send word off to Inch Galbraith, too, so that your kinsmen can see ye wed. If so, we should send someone straightaway. Sithee, the priest be at Balloch, so he might arrive as soon as tomorrow evening.”

  “We can discuss that further without detaining her ladyship, sir,” Magnus said in his amiable way.

  Andrena gave him a look that should have given him second thoughts about marrying her. Then, bobbing a curtsy in the general direction of her father, she made her escape. As she left, she heard Andrew say that they could discuss whatever Magnus wanted to discuss and to come along to his private chamber.

  Stifling a sigh, she went in search of her sisters.

  “What is it, lad?” Andrew asked as he led the way across the yard.

  “By your leave, sir, I would wait until we know that none will overhear us.”

  “Aye, sure,” Andrew said. But he kept silent only until he had ushered Mag upstairs to his small chamber and shut the door. Then he said, “Out with it now, lad. What remains to discuss?”

  “I doubt that my lord father or brothers would come if we invited them,” Mag said quietly. “You must know that my father most likely supports Murdoch, Lennox, and Pharlain. He may not approve of this marriage.”

  “Arthur Galbraith is still your father,” Andrew said. “He is also the chief of your clan. You have a duty to seek his blessing, lad, if not his permission to wed.”

  “Neither is necessary,” Mag replied. “See you, sir, my father disowned me before I was captured. To the best of my knowledge, he made no effort to seek my freedom. Nor did my brothers.” The ache in his soul that he had long since ceased to notice stirred again as he said those words. But he had had much practice in concealing such feelings and suppressed the ache with relative ease.

  Andrew, still regarding him sternly from under dark and bushy eyebrows, remained silent for another moment or two before he said, “I’ll admit that I did wonder what went amiss, because I’d heard nowt of Arthur’s trying to free ye. I tell ye, though, lad, having lost sons of mine own, I canna believe that the man didna care. He has aye got a fierce temper, though. Also, he was deep in grief then over the loss of your eldest brother, Will, as ye must ken fine.”

  Mag drew a steadying breath before he said, “He blames me for Will’s death, my lord. Had I not persuaded Will that Pharlain and his lot were wrong to side with the men determined to keep Murdoch in power and do nowt to bring the rightful King home, Will would never have been in that fracas with me and my men.”

  “Ye were ambushed, were ye no?”

  “We were, aye. But, in troth, we went in search of trouble. I was fierce in my desire to bring Jamie home from England, and knowing of the rift in Clan Farlan, we’d hoped to persuade some of Pharlain’s men to abandon him and join us.”

  “Look here,” Andrew said. “Ye were no letting Pharlain keep ye in near slavery just so ye could spy on the gallous snaffler, were ye?”

  Mag smiled wryly at the thought. “No, sir, I was not. I’ll admit that I did keep my eyes and ears open, but that was necessary for my own survival. Pharlain made no secret of his hope that I’d step out of line far enough to give him cause to hang me. I think the only reason he did not invent such a cause was that some of his men had begun treating me with respect. I fear that you and the lady Andrena think that, because of my size, I possess the mythical powers of your mythical giants.”

  “The plain fact is that when ye decided to escape, ye did so straightaway.”

  “Does it seem so?” Mag asked, considering the point. “Mayhap it does. But I learned of Pharlain’s part in the conspiracy over time by piecing together bits of information gleaned from numerous sources. When I could no longer doubt the conspirators’ foul intent, I realized that I had to warn his grace as soon as I could. I admit that I then seized the first opportunity that offered. Even so, nearly a sennight passed without providing any such opportunity.”

  “Then the sooner ye be wedded and on your way, the better,” Andrew said.

  “I have not told Andrena that my father disowned me, sir, but I should. Not only do I dislike keeping it from her—”

  He broke off because Andrew was shaking his head. “Ye’ve nae cause to tell her straightaway,” the older man said. “Forbye, ye may find that, for all your strong belief to the contrary, your father will be gey glad to see ye.”

  “With respect, sir, he made it plain that he does not want to see me again. I know that you mean for Andrena and me to live here, but—”

  “I do, aye, so ye’ve nae need to burden the lass with Arthur’s opinions or his rants. ’Tis best to keep your own counsel in this, lad. She canna read your mind.”

  Mag agreed, whereupon Andrew told him that it was time for the midday meal and the household would be gathering in the great hall.

  They went downstairs to find all three sisters on the dais with Lady Aubrey.

  Andrew strode to his place at the table there and, facing the lower hall, raised both arms for silence. When everyone was quiet, he said, “This braw laddie, Magnus Mòr Galbraith, has asked our Andrena to marry him, and she has agreed. I have sent for the priest, who will marry them as soon as he arrives from Balloch.”

  Cheers broke out, accompanied by the general foot stomping that indicated strong approval, and glancing at Andrena, Mag thought she looked pale. But he had no time to think about it, because the lady Lachina approached him.

  Smiling, she held out a length of red-and-green wool to him. “I thought you might like this plaid to keep,” she said. “These are our own colors, and since my father has said that you mean to take the MacFarlan name…”

  “He takes much for granted still, I’m thinking,” Mag said gently.

  “You will soon come to see that he assumes that others will always do as he bids them,” she replied. Then, with a glance toward her mother, she looked back at Mag and added with a wry look, “Most of the time.”

  Andrena, standing by her mother and trying to conceal her own unease at her father’s grand declaration, watched Magnus while he talked with Lina, his animated gestures revealing his pleasure in the new plaid. She heard him promise that he would return the gray-and-white one directly after they dined and Lina’s reply that he could do so whenever he found it convenient.

  Lina added, “Your own old plaid should be ready for you tomorrow, sir. You will then possess one for formal occasions and one for every day.”

  Andrena knew that Lina was also making him a new linen sark of his own, so that Malcolm’s Peter could have his own old mended one back.

  Telling herself that it was useless to be wondering if she was doing the right thing by marrying Magnus, since her father’s announcement had effectively put everything in train for the marriage, she wondered instead if the priest would come as quickly as Andrew Dubh expected.

  Beside her, Lady Aubrey’s thoughts had clearly taken a similar path, because she said quietly, “I expect the priest will arrive before nightfall tomorrow, my dearling. But I think it will be wiser to wait and marry on Wednesday afternoon.”

  Chapter 6

  During the meal, Mag thought Andrena seemed unusually quiet. His hearing had become more acute during his imprisonment, and he had developed the ability to listen to one person while keeping an ear out for other remarks that might be of interest or importance. So, while he listened respectfully to all that Andrew said to him, he remained alert to voices from the ladies’ end of the table.

  He knew Andrena’s voice now. Despite questions from Muriella about what he and Andrena had done that morning, he heard only a word or two from Andrena. Quieter, less audible comments from the lady Lachina evinced naught more until Lady Aubrey said she thought the wedding should take place on Wednesday.

  Quietly, Andrena said, “It must be as my lord father and you wish, Mam.”

  Andrew Dubh was describing the bounties of Tùr Meiloach, the number
of sheep and cattle grazing on shielings spread high and low across its acres, the number of men-at-arms, drovers, tenants, and others. He also listed the dangers that lack of attention to their boundaries might bring now that Pharlain’s men had successfully trespassed and crossed so much territory unharmed.

  Although Mag listened and responded to what his host said, he decided that Andrena’s submissive attitude, while praiseworthy, seemed uncharacteristic even to one who had known her for only a short time. Recalling Lachina’s earlier remark about their mother—and the boy Pluff’s comments that morning about Lady Aubrey—Mag wondered if everyone at Tùr Meiloach stood in awe of her ladyship.

  “Ye’ll want to bathe afore the priest comes,” Andrew said.

  Smiling reminiscently, Mag said, “I did so before retiring last night, sir. Your steward, Malcolm Wylie, suggested I might, and I must tell you that it was a great pleasure to sink into a tub of hot water again. Pharlain’s notion of bathing is to throw a chap into the loch wrapped in chains to see if he can swim in them.”

  “I did note that ye’d tidied your hair and shaved off your beard,” Andrew said. “If ye’ve nowt else to occupy ye the noo, I’ve summat to show ye.”

  “I am yours to command, sir.”

  “Aye, well, we’ll see about that, won’t we?” Andrew replied with a grin. “Sithee, it does occur to me that if ye mean to seek out his grace, the King, ye’ll need to arm yourself.”

  Before his imprisonment, Mag had rarely gone anywhere unarmed, so he was glad Andrew had raised the subject. He had not thought the time right yet to inquire about weapons.

  “What sort d’ye like to carry?” Andrew asked.

  “I miss my sword most of all,” Mag said. “But I was accustomed to carrying a dirk and often a spear or a bow and quiver, as well.”

  “I can provide whatever ye need, but I’ve nae horse large enough to carry ye, only garrons,” Andrew said. “Colquhoun will accommodate ye, though, if ye want to ride to Glasgow. His own sons are tall men. Sakes, Ian is nigh as broad across the shoulders as ye be yourself.”

  “I’d reach Glasgow faster by boat,” Mag said, refusing to let his thoughts linger on the image that leaped to mind of the scrawny, prank-loving lad he recalled as Ian Colquhoun growing into a tall man as broad-shouldered as himself.

  “Talk to Colquhoun when ye reach Craggan Tower,” Andrew said. “When he hears that ye’ve married our Andrena, he’ll likely aid ye however he can.”

  “I’m not sure I should tell him why I’m going to Glasgow,” Mag said. “Does he support the King or Murdoch?”

  “I trust the man. But ye’ll want to decide about that for yourself.”

  That was true, but Mag knew Colquhoun would be easy to read. He worried more about Andrena’s reaction when she learned he would leave right after they wed.

  Lost in her own thoughts, Andrena paid little heed to her sisters’ low-voiced conversation. She was glad she would not have to marry the next day. But marrying in two days was not much better.

  It had struck her when her father made the announcement that thinking about marrying a man who would aid Andrew in reclaiming his lands and title was one thing. Actually doing it was something else altogether.

  In the past, whenever her sisters had asked her what she thought of the notion, she had replied that she knew her duty. The man involved was some unknown person hovering in a distant future and had never seemed to matter. She had trusted Andrew not to pick a fool.

  Magnus Mòr had already shown that he was no fool. He was not only larger than life but a living, breathing man about whom she knew next to nothing and could deduce little more. Nevertheless, and despite his amiable manner, she had a strong feeling that he would prove harder to manage than Andrew was.

  She had enjoyed their morning together, but a lifetime? What would happen if she decided after she married him that she loathed the man? What if she told the priest before the ceremony that she was not ready to marry anyone? She had learned while visiting her mother’s kinsmen that a Scotswoman could refuse any marriage if she was willing to face the consequences of her decision.

  By law, no one could force her to marry.

  But the consequences could be dreadful. What if Parlan seized Tùr Meiloach, killed Andrew, and turned her mother and sisters out? What if Parlan took them all prisoner, as he had taken Magnus Mòr?

  If she married Magnus, the Galbraiths might help them defeat Parlan and reclaim Arrochar and Loch Sloigh, their clan gathering place in the mountains north of Arrochar. Then Andrew would control the pass and the tarbet again, and Parlan would be just another clansman—if Andrew didn’t hang him for his treachery.

  Lady Aubrey declared that it was time the ladies retired to discuss what Andrena would need for her admittedly hasty wedding. Starting at the disruption of her reverie, Andrena looked from her mother to Lina and Murie.

  Both of her sisters were grinning at her.

  “I’ll wager I can guess what you were thinking,” Murie said with a chuckle. Lowering her voice and indicating Magnus, she added, “He is as big as a mountain but cheerful withal. We like him, Dree.”

  Glancing at him, Andrena saw his lips twitch and knew that he had heard Murie’s comment. By the frown on her mother’s face, she deduced that Lady Aubrey was not as amused by that comment as Magnus was.

  Lady Aubrey said quietly, “Make your curtsy to your lord father, Muriella. Then hie yourself ahead of us to the solar.”

  “Aye, Mam,” Murie said contritely. Excusing herself with equal politeness to her father, she led the way upstairs.

  A fire crackled on the solar hearth, and someone had shuttered the windows and lit two candles. Andrena opened the south-facing window to see that, outside, the sun still shone. The air remained as crisp as a wintry day.

  “May I leave the shutters open for a time, Mam?” she asked.

  “Aye, sure,” Lady Aubrey said. “Lina, what do you think Dree should wear for her wedding?”

  “I know just the thing,” Lina replied.

  Turning back to the window, Andrena stopped listening. She would wear what they decided she should, so her thoughts flew elsewhere. Having been to two of her cousins’ weddings, she recalled promises they’d made to be obedient to their husbands. Therefore, according to Holy Kirk, God would want her to obey Magnus.

  What if she thought he was wrong about something?

  The thought steadied her. When had she ever failed to express her opinions? Moreover, the man had shown no inclination to dismiss anything she’d said to him.

  Just one thing, a small voice in her head reminded her. He had certainly dismissed her assurance that Andrew would urge him to marry her.

  Stifling a sigh, she assured herself that Magnus, knowing that he’d been wrong about Andrew, was smart enough to have learned from the incident.

  She continued to argue with herself, knowing she would do none of the things that her inner voice suggested. She would obey her father because she had known she would from the day she’d first understood what he would ask of her.

  “Your sisters will see to your clothing, Dree,” Lady Aubrey said. “So come now with me to my chamber, for I want to talk with you. I shall also want to talk with you, Muriella,” she added sternly, “before you leave to visit Annie.”

  Casting a sympathetic look at Murie but more curious about what their mother would say to her, Andrena followed Lady Aubrey across the landing to the bedchamber she shared with Andrew. The hearth there boasted no fire, because the room habitually retained smoke.

  The window was open, so the room was chillier than the solar. But Andrew objected to sleeping in a smoky room. He explained, whenever anyone dared to raise the subject in his presence, that he was quite capable of keeping his lady wife warm in bed. If such comments embarrassed her ladyship, Andrena had seen no sign of it.

  Now, however, Lady Aubrey lit several candles in their dishes and then shuttered the window. “What think you of this marriage, love?” she asked when she
had latched the shutters and draped a warm, pink woolen shawl over her shoulders.

  “In troth, Mam, I know not what to think of it or of Magnus Mòr Galbraith. He conceals his thoughts and feelings too well.”

  “Mayhap he hides naught, my love. Mayhap he is as he seems to be—a large, placid, kindly gentleman. One might easily find a worse husband.”

  Holding her mother’s gaze, Andrena said, “He eluded those men of Cousin Parlan’s easily yestermorn. Even so, any hunted man must feel great anxiety, even fear of capture. Mam, he took shelter in a tree, and whilst I was telling those men that Father would take strong exception to their trespassing on our land, we stood right underneath him. Yet I felt no sense of his presence. Mam, you know—”

  “I do know that you can usually sense such things, Dree,” Lady Aubrey interjected. “But you know me as well. I believe this match will be a good one. Good not only for your father and Clan Farlan but also good for you.”

  “Will we be happy together, Mam?”

  “Now, how would I know that?” her mother said, smiling. “That is for you to determine, not me. I can tell you that no marriage is happy all of the time. But if you will try to understand Magnus and do your best to help him understand you, I believe that your marriage will endure and prosper.”

  “Will Father win back his lands and title?”

  “I can never foresee things at will, Dree. I am too close to your father to do so, in any event. You know that, because I have told you so before. That may be why you cannot sense things about Magnus. Mayhap the Fates have chosen him for you. If so, they may allow him to hide his feelings until he wants to reveal them.”

  “I hoped that if you could tell me anything about him, you would know if he can help Father defeat Parlan.”

  Lady Aubrey shook her head. “I believe he will try, because he seems to be a man of his word. But like any such gift or curse, mine is ever unpredictable.”

  “But my abilities have not been,” Andrena protested. “Not until now, with him. What if being with him destroys my gifts altogether?”