The Marriage Alliance

by Mageela Troche

  Didn’t Ceara portray herself as a caring lady? He’d rather not risk being wrong about Ailsa because if he were, unlike Ceara, Ailsa had the Clan Cameron behind her.

  “At least his belly’s full,” Duncan said, shaking his thoughts away.

  “Is it really ever? He eats enough to feed a clan for the winter.” She gave a nervous laugh.

  “He’s a MacLean.”

  As they talked about Niall’s bottomless belly, both knew they avoided the palpable discord existing between them. The tension tightened Duncan’s muscles. His only recourse was to get away from his wife. But he wanted to stay with her. The yearning to hold her to him was so strong he had to fight against himself. Nothing would have brought him more happiness than to hold his wife. It always felt right to him. This was a moment to rejoice together, instead he only thought of the Cameron treachery. Duncan rejected his wants and left her with a nod and a broken heart.

  He ambled downstairs, attempting not to think of his wife, but thoughts of only her consumed him. His temper started to rise. If her father stood before him, he would gladly cut the man down. But Duncan blamed himself for trusting a man he deemed the rat. Sadly, Ailsa was paying for his sins.

  Unless she played a role in the plot.

  Duncan couldn’t believe that, yet the accusation remained, churning over until he wasn’t sure of the truth.

  “From the look on your face I guess I heard falsely," Lachlan called out from the high table. Fragments of bread and cheese were in front of him with a flagon of wine and three goblets.

  “Nay, Niall is well.” Duncan stared at him, daring him to say more but Lachlan raised the goblet for a drink.

  The loud thud of the donjon door closing echoed through the great hall. Caelan came in, sweat dotting his flushed face. He inquired about Niall’s recovery as he accompanied Duncan to the high table.

  Both men sat. Duncan rested his elbows on the table and cradled his chin in his interlinked hands. “Until I discover more about Cameron’s actions, I want Ailsa guarded. Lachlan, that’s your duty for this day.”

  He dipped his head in agreement. Caelan cut in, “Why him? The last time he was in charge she caused havoc.”

  “There were a few problems but nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, the laird commanded me to the duty.” Lachlan gave a lazy shrug that contradicted his harsh tone. “This is all pointless since I’m not the one who lost her.”

  Caelan glared at him. “I didn’t lose her. I trustingly thought she was working on her tapestry. Besides, I’m better skilled for the duty since I have the better sword arm.”

  Lachlan snorted and rolled his eyes. “If we are ever in the need to cut her down that may be your duty.”

  “Maybe I should assign another to the duty,” Duncan cut in. His two commanders were bickering over a duty that should have insulted both men. It seemed as though he had two children before him instead of feared warriors.

  “Nay,” both men roared at him. “What if she discovered the guard and questioned him, he would tell my lady that you ordered him,” Caelan explained, aghast at Duncan’s suggestion.

  “Then she would wonder why after all this time, you assigned her one,” Lachlan finished. “Nay, I will gladly take on this duty.” He hooked his arm over the back of his chair.

  “It should be mine,” Caelan grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest in a childish tantrum. Duncan goggled at Caelan.

  “It’s Lachlan’s.” He leapt to his feet, scraping back his chair with a loud grating screech and left the two commanders glaring at each other. Duncan shook his head at their behavior. Ailsa had garnered their loyalty; however, he hadn’t bestowed his upon her. These men didn’t face the loss Duncan did. But Duncan wished he could give it without doubt or question.

  * * * *

  Ailsa watched Duncan zigzag through the bustling courtyard until he disappeared into the smithy hut. She turned to the scraping footsteps coming from outside the door. Hector shambled in and held up a leather bound book.

  “I’ve come to give Niall his lessons. I figured since he’s still abed and too weak to run he might learn something useful.”

  Ailsa laughed. “He might not run but he shall certainly sleep.”

  He chuckled and tapped the book. “I can try nonetheless.” Hector scratched the side of his head. “Have you seen Moira?”

  “Earlier, she’s probably about her duties.”

  He nodded continuously, lost in his thoughts. “I’ll search her out later.”

  Her eyes darted around the room, wondering if Hector might read her thoughts.

  “I’ll leave you to your lessons but promise me you shall not tire him.”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “I shall not, my solemn vow as a MacLean.”

  Ailsa left Hector alone and went to see if she could be of some aid to Màiri and her ministrations for Galvin. When she stepped into the smoke-dim roasting kitchen, Ailsa felt as though she was the grouse on the spit.

  She volunteered her aid. “Thank you, my lady but right now, his mother is minding him. She arrived this morn.”

  “Well, if you have need of assistance, please call for me.”

  Màiri grinned at her, showing the softer side of the towering woman. “I will.”

  Ailsa strode out, grateful for the cooling air grazing her skin. She greeted her kinsfolk on her way through the courtyard, stopping and chatting with the alewives drawing water from the castle well.

  After departing their company, she set off back toward the postern gate. Coming out of the confines of the castle, she rambled on the way to the clachan.

  Coming upon Malcolm’s cottar, she spotted the long ermine tresses that belonged only to Moira. Ailsa gave a shout hello. Moira picked up her skirts and dashed to her.

  “My lady, I’ve done something foolish.” She grasped Ailsa’s hand, squeezing tightly that her hand lost feeling.

  Ailsa patted Moira’s gripping one.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t very foolish. Tell me all.”

  Moira peered around, spotting some of the women elders. She led Ailsa away from the clachan and continued until they broke through a small clearing in the woods.

  Sitting down on the cushiony underbrush, Ailsa waited while Moira gathered her thoughts.

  “I kissed Hector,” she blurted out. Her confession had her cringing.

  Ailsa patted her back consolingly but her comfort never ended Moira’s tears of shame and heartbreak.

  “Did he kiss you back?”

  “Nay.” She shook her head so fiercely her ermine hair swung around her like a pale halo. “He just stood there, which was worse.”

  “He might have been in shock. Tell me everything that happened.”

  Moira hiccupped through the retelling. “That’s awful, isn’t it?” She wailed while Ailsa tried to smother her surprise by squinting.

  “I believe you surprised him.” Ailsa nodded.

  Moira regarded her as though she was crazed. “My lady, with all due respect, I think you’re wrong.”

  She might be but she refused to share that with Moira.

  “Maybe I can claim insanity, or maybe he will never bring it up. Or maybe I should run away.”

  “Nay, everything will work out. Moira, do not look at me as such, I have faith it shall.”

  “If you say so,” Moira replied with an utter lack of faith.

  The heavy tread of footsteps sounded to the ladies, who both looked behind them and saw Lachlan stepping into the clearing.

  “Am I needed?” Ailsa asked as Lachlan came to them.

  “Nay, I spotted you ladies heading this way and was worried.”

  “We are on MacLean land only a fool would dare trespass,” Ailsa declared, not understanding the truth of her words nor grasping the agreement of Lachlan’s nod.

  “But animals respect no boundaries.” He gave her a reprimanding look that had her lowering her head in rebuff. Lachlan scanned the woods, searching for an animal seeking a meal.


  Ailsa looked from the corner of her eye at Moira and decided to seek Lachlan’s advice.

  “How does one make a man fall in love with her?”

  Surprise showed on his face, widening his eyes that from the cushiony seat of underbrush the golden gleams of his eyes were distinguishable.

  “You can’t make a man love you. It is or never shall be.”

  His pronouncement disheartened the ladies. They dipped their heads as though he shattered their hopes. Lachlan looked over his shoulder to the tract he traveled and considered running away, but he held his ground and prayed he wouldn’t have crying women on his hands.

  “What can increase that chance?” Ailsa, determined to get sound advice, tried another course.

  Lachlan shook his head and shrugged in confusion. “If I had to answer, I would say it’s like commanders.”

  “Commanders?” Both Ailsa and Moira repeated.

  “Aye, men need good commanders. We seek loyalty, steadfastness, and the knowledge that they would always be at your side ready to face every fight.”

  “What about trust?” Ailsa asked.

  “That comes after being tested. That attribute some bestow and others never risk the grief if violated,” he replied. His eyes directed on Ailsa. From the slight tightening of her lips, she grasped his meaning. The Lairdess quickly recovered.

  “Have you ever been in love?” Ailsa asked and Moira seemed very interested in his answer.

  The Lairdess questioning him was understandable but Moira’s interest baffled him. He wondered if she had an interest in him then dismissed it. “Aye.”

  “What did you feel?” Moira demanded, her dried tears marking a path down her cheeks.

  “All powerful and weak at the same time.” He started breathing heavily.

  “How so?”

  “It’s a heady feeling that intoxicates you if returned but weakens you, if spurned. It can make one accomplish feats never believed yet ravage your body and soul if not. It certainly ate away at my mother.”

  Moira lowered her head while Ailsa asked, “How so?”

  “I am bastard born, my lady. My mother loved my father with every sinewy of her body and a fraction of her soul but he was married. She wasted away until death came for her.”

  “Isn’t your father Laird Gordon?”

  “That he is. I was sent here to train with the MacLeans because his wife couldn’t stand seeing me healthy and whole while her lawful children rested in the cold earth. I’m his only child to survive. I inherited his health so upon his death, the council must decide who will rule over them.”

  Ailsa, not wanting to see the pain darken his face, changed topics. “Do you still love?”

  “That I do but I must do it from afar.”

  “So, she is your commander of love.”

  Lachlan chuckled at Ailsa’s statement. “Aye.”

  Lachlan escorted the ladies out of the woods. With every step, he tried to convince the Lairdess to stay in the donjon or nearby, at least for his state of mind.

  “Galvin’s mother is still sitting with him.” He shook his head ruefully. “She must be very worn out.” Lachlan knew he was playing to Ailsa’s caring nature but her protection was his utmost thought.

  “I must sit with him so she may rest,” Ailsa piped in. “Although I imagine she has no wish to leave his side. If it were my son, I would be no other place but there.”

  “I shall join you, my lady. Together, I’m sure we could be of some use to Galvin’s mother.”

  “Do you think he shall survive?” Ailsa inquired.

  Lachlan didn’t know how to respond to such a question. He was unwilling to say aye and equally against saying nay. He had no idea.

  “I don’t know, my lady,” he replied with an honesty truly felt.

  Moira shook her head. “Galvin has the most booming laughter. It always makes me laugh when I hear it.”

  Ailsa thought of highlanders, the brave men who roam the mountains, bogs and glens, who believed to fall in battle was more honorable than dying in their beds. But as a woman, she knew the pain of bidding a loved farewell, only for him to return a lifeless shell.

  One of the castle servants came bounding toward them, a smile on her face. “Moira, Hector is searching for you.”

  Moira’s fair complexion lost all color so that she was paler than wan moonlight.

  Ailsa’s sympathy for her friend cut in. “Does he require her instantly?”

  “Nay, my lady. He seemed very at ease when I cleaned the chambers.” The castle lass smiled at Lachlan, who winked at her.

  In a stammer, Moira thanked the lass busy flirting. Lachlan’s charming grin grew with her every seductive glance tossed over her shoulder as she sashayed away.

  “Moira, I’m in need of your help so perhaps you can see Hector later.”

  Moira’s eyes widened, latching onto Ailsa’s plan and was very pleased by it. “Of course, my lady. We must help care for every kinsmen,” she pronounced, her head held high, ready to take on her duty.

  For a moment, Lachlan wondered if Father Murray had arrived.

  After these many years of wooing the ladies, their behavior shouldn’t surprise him. Sometimes the softer sex confused him. This was one of those moments.

  Leaving the ladies by the donjon, Lachlan waited for them to disappear inside then shadowed his lairdess and peeked into the chamber. Ailsa spoke to Galvin’s aged mother and watched as they dropped to their knees and prayed for Galvin’s recovery.

  With muted footfalls, Lachlan slipped away.

  Ailsa crossed herself and helped Galvin’s mother reach her feet. Sitting beside Galvin’s head, Ailsa propped up his head while his mother dribbled some fortified wine into her son’s mouth. Moira left to prepare a tray for Galvin’s mother. When she informed the lairdess she wished to wipe down her son, Ailsa left her alone.

  Before starting down the back stairs, Ailsa looked out the small window. Through the bustling courtyard, she spotted Duncan. He was in deep discussion with the smithy who inclined his head while Duncan belted out his orders.

  From across the space, Ailsa sensed his tension. She knew he worried over Galvin. No laird liked for one of his brave men to die, especially if he believed an indication was overlooked and resulted in the death of his warrior.

  Ailsa hoped a ride, whether a gallop or a sedate walk, might help him. Maybe even stop and have a simple meal in the moor, only the two of them. She skipped into the kitchen and had Màiri pack a meal of cheese, bread, and wine.

  With the goods in her hand, she rushed out of the kitchen. Through the crowd, Ailsa never spotted Duncan’s strong shoulders so she ordered Phelan to saddle their mounts. She dashed out of the stables and looked upward. Although the sky had become misty and rains were sure to fall, she thought the dampening weather wouldn’t hamper their outing.

  The crowd began to part and her kinsfolk moved aside for one man—her husband. She shook her tresses in order but had no chance to pinch color into her cheeks before Duncan stood in front of her.

  Ailsa smiled while Duncan scowled. His look shook her a wee bit yet she didn’t allow that to stop her. “I’m going to steal you away. I thought of everything. I have food.” She held up the simple fare. “The horses are ready and now you’re here.” Her smile faltered as his face darkened with anger.

  “I don’t have time for your silly outing.” Her mouth formed an O, stung by his harsh remark. “I have more important duties than seeing to you. Do not order my mount to be saddled ever again. You go too far. Go back inside and embroider or anything else a good wife is supposed to do.”

  She took a step back away from his wrath. Her body stiffened with shame. Fear was the only emotion attacking her. She bowed her head, already falling into the pattern of her past life. “I only wish to help you.”

  “Help me…help me as you did your father. Galvin might die because of your father and you helped him.” Duncan gritted his teeth. “Stay away from me. Stay far from me.” Ailsa flinc
hed. “Be gone.” Duncan turned his back to her. “Damn Camerons,” he muttered as he pushed past his two commanders. Neither rebuffed her but both looked upon her with pity and embarrassment.

  She blinked, not knowing what to do. Deep inside her, she screamed to hide. Taking a step, the silence pressed against her. All her will centered on putting one foot in front of the other. Much like the day of her arrival, their attention was riveted on her. Some avoided looking at her and a few sent her a wan smile, their eyes shining with pity and others looked horrified.

  Wanting to flee, her heavy legs weighed her down. Duncan’s last comment broke her heart. He hadn’t just rejected her love, he rejected her. She was no longer a MacLean as he said the first night, but a Cameron.

  As the door slammed behind her, her mind brimmed with retorts but it was too late. He was no different from her father. Nay, he was wickeder than her father ever was. Duncan lied to her. He lied by acting as if he was a caring man, luring her to believe he possessed a warm heart then behaved like her tyrant of a father. Duncan’s actions were unforgivable. He lied to her.

  The worst aspect of Duncan’s scorn was that even treated most foul by him, she still loved him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  That night the whole clan spoke of the laird’s harsh words. They spoke of Cameron’s betrayal and the revenge soon to be theirs. The clansmen waited for the call to arms and the women prayed for their men’s return.

  The clan knew one bit of information the laird failed to realize. The Lairdess would never help her father. He was angry and no one blamed him for his rightful reaction but he condemned the one person who would never become involved in such a scheme.

  Sitting in the darkened chamber before the hearth, Ailsa was unaware of these thoughts and support. She was hiding. She hadn’t even ventured into the great hall for the meal. Too much shame and not wanting to pretend she was able to stomach any food when she felt sick. Her life hadn’t changed with her marriage. It was as lonely and horrific as when she was under her father’s rule, except now her kinsmen wouldn’t provide protection and a great deal of caring for her.