"Mayhap so, but I've always known you to be a wise man. Be careful you do not allow anger to rob you of that."
Sounded like something his da would've said. Neacal lifted a brow, eyeing his great uncle. As for the current situation… he did not want to make enemies of the MacRury clan.
"This is only a meeting, naught more," Bhatar said in the placating tone that riled Neacal even more. "If you don't like her, we'll send them on their way."
"Does the chief know this?"
"Of course. In order to ken who you wish to marry, you must meet a few acceptable young ladies."
Warning flashed through him. "A few? What the devil does that mean?"
Bhatar simply gave him a wee toothless grin.
"You've sent for more ladies? How many?" Neacal could not help that his voice blasted out that last question.
"Only two more, lad. Surely you can meet three bonny young ladies and be civil to them for a few days. If you dislike them, we will send them away."
"I don't need this right now." Neacal paced, irritation crawling along his nerve endings. "I have enough to deal with in rebuilding the garrison with loyal and skilled fighting men."
"I ken it, but you're a canny chief. You're capable of doing many things. Simply look how you went from a bedridden invalid to such a strong and fearsome warrior. I have much confidence in you, lad. Besides that, wedding the right lass could bring many warriors into the garrison from another clan. You could make that a part of the marriage agreement."
He damn well hated that his uncle made a good point. He refused to choose his wife based on how many soldiers her father could spare. To his way of thinking, marriage should be so much more than a business arrangement.
Neacal ground his teeth and they rejoined everyone in the great hall for the meal. It was a tedious affair. He wanted naught more than to leave them all where they sat, go out and climb a mountain in the fresh air. The room was stifling and too warm with so many people crammed into it.
Anna no longer sat at the table where he'd seen her before. Where had she gone? He scanned the room for her bonny face and blond hair.
Simply looking into her eyes could calm him and chase away his anger. But listening to her sing affected him in ways he didn't want to think of. Her voice ripped at his emotions.
When the lute music began and she moved in front of the musicians, he knew 'twas his cue to leave.
"Please excuse me. I have some business to attend to," Neacal said to Chief MacRury. "Make yourselves at home and enjoy the entertainment." He bowed. At the edge of the great hall, he asked the housekeeper to take care of the MacRurys. She assured him chambers were being prepared.
Neacal left the room and climbed the spiral stone staircase. How he wished Anna was with him now. He would give anything to hold her, to talk to her in the quiet and the breeze off the loch. But her lovely voice rang out behind him as if she were a divine being from the heavens.
But she was not an angel. She was a flesh-and-blood woman who stole his senses and stirred his blood as no woman ever had.
Once on the battlements, he drew in a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air and calmness stole over him.
"Chief?" someone said in a low tone. He turned and found Matthew slipping from behind a chimney.
"Aye?"
"I'd hoped you would come up here. Our plan is working," he whispered. "Three more men, aside from Roy and Parlan, have expressed their disloyalty toward you." Matthew named them.
"Damnation," Neacal muttered, though none of the traitors were guards, they were still his clansmen, a couple of them distant cousins. What was he going to do with them? Once they ferreted them all out, he would have to lock them in the dungeon. "I thank you for telling me."
"I want to keep up the pretense for a few days and see how many more rotten apples are in the barrel."
Neacal nodded. "I appreciate it. I know this cannot be easy for you. Some of these men are your friends."
"But no longer, if they're traitors to you."
What would he do if half the clan was against him?
***
Anna could not believe it when a second clan arrived the next day—the MacGills. How many more would come? Rumors had spread that the elders were searching for a bride for their new chief. Anna wondered what Neacal thought of this. Judging by the annoyed expression on his face, he was extremely irked. He had not spoken with her in a few days and she wondered why. It had something to do with the kiss, but she was not certain whether he was angry with her or with himself.
The ladies who were arriving certainly were beautiful, and young. Girls of around seventeen summers. Anna had also been seventeen when she'd married, so 'twas naught unusual.
Still, the idea that Neacal could potentially wed one of these lasses caused jealousy to rip a hole through her. Although she had no claim on him, his kiss had delved into her soul. She wished for it again… could not sleep at night… thought of him every moment. How foolish was she? Neacal was beyond her reach and, at present, far above her social station. Although she had been a lady in the past, her false identity made her little more than a servant who sang for her supper. He would never want to marry her, and even if he did, there was the problem with Blackburn.
Through the doorway, she peered into the great hall toward the high table where Neacal sat with his esteemed guests. Although at times he appeared miserable, she could tell he was putting forth much effort to be friendly and welcoming to the other clans. He belonged there with them at the high table, but she no longer sat at any high table as she used to.
"Are you well?"
Anna jerked around to find Tavia standing next to her. "Aye."
She looked to where Anna had been staring. "The chief holds you in high regard," Tavia said.
Anna searched her face, wanting to know what she meant exactly. "As I do him."
"He asks after your health each day."
Anna frowned, both surprised and confused. "He asks you? About me?"
"Aye. I've assured him you are well healed, but still he asks."
"Why wouldn't he simply ask me how I am?"
Tavia shrugged. "Men are ever a mystery. 'Haps you should talk to him."
Indeed, Anna would love to talk to him, but he'd been more aloof the past few days. She assumed he regretted kissing her and perhaps felt awkward about it. "And how is he dealing with all these guests and… young ladies?"
"He detests it." Tavia gazed out toward him. "He looks miserable, does he not?"
"Aye." His expression clearly said he was both annoyed and bored. Did none of those sitting by him notice?
"Even though I'm not truly old enough to be his mother, he has become like a son to me since he was so badly injured. I fed him; I bathed him like a child." Tavia blinked back tears. "And now I only wish to see him happy. I have not heard his laugh since before his capture."
Anna nodded, her throat tight. "I want him to be happy, too."
"When he looks at you, or talks about you, sometimes it seems he is about to smile. I think you're more important to him than you realize."
Anna's heart felt as if it leapt into her throat and her face heated. "Surely you jest."
Tavia shook her head. "He worries over you constantly."
Anna stared at the floor for she knew not how to respond to that.
"Saints," Tavia whispered. "Now which clan is this?"
Anna followed her gaze to see more strangers entering the great hall from outside. Two beautiful young ladies this time, along with their older female relatives and various clansmen. Her gaze darted to Neacal, sitting at the high table. Even from this distance, she saw the muscle jump in his jaw. The annoyance in his sharp blue gaze intensified. He shoved his chair back, arose and stepped from the dais. He strode between the lower tables filled with people and offered his hand to a tall, brawny dark-haired man… a chief she recognized.
Anna's breath froze within her chest. 'Twas the chief of the Hamilton clan. She had met him two years pr
ior. He was an acquaintance of the beast who had forced her to marry him. Saints! She could not let him see her. He would surely get word to Blackburn as to her whereabouts.
Chapter Six
"Pray pardon," Anna said to Tavia, then rushed to the small chamber she shared with her fellow singer. Harriet was staring into the silver mirror and adjusting her headpiece.
"I'll not be able to sing tonight. I feel ill." Anna hated lying but she couldn't tell Harriet or anyone the truth without revealing her predicament. The middle-aged woman didn't know her true identity.
Harriet turned, her eyes wide. "Indeed, lass? What is wrong?"
"I'm coming down with something. I feel nauseous." Pressing a hand against her stomach, she sat upon her small cot. She did indeed feel queasy since seeing the Hamilton chief, so it wasn't a complete lie. He was the only person she'd seen in the last couple of years who knew who she was and where she was from. He could ruin her life.
"I will go fetch the healer," Harriet said.
"I spoke to her already. You must do all the singing tonight."
Harriet paused by the door. "Very well. But the clan will be disappointed. I'm nay as popular as you are."
"Nonsense. They love you."
Harriet laughed. "So you say, but I ken the truth of it. I hope you feel better soon." She opened the door and left.
In order to appear truly sick, Anna disrobed and got into bed wearing her shift. She covered her head. Oh, what a dishonest fraud she was. But she saw no way around it. Chief Hamilton had stayed a week at the MacCromar clan's castle and had seen her at close range several times. He would recognize her without question. He and Blackburn had some sort of alliance.
Saints! How she wished she and the musicians had left days ago, just after the idea had occurred to her the first time. She would have to leave, even if her fellow minstrels didn't. But where would she go? They had arrived by galley from further south. She would have to find out if there were villages or towns nearby where she might find employment as a singer. How she hated the uncertainty her life had become. She no longer had a home.
A soft knock sounded on the door. She uncovered her head. Who could that be?
"Anna?" 'Twas Tavia's voice.
"Aye? Enter."
Tavia stuck her head in. "Mistress Weaver said you are ill."
Blast Harriet! Though Anna was glad she cared. "Indeed. It struck me as we were talking but I didn't wish to bother you with it. Probably just something I ate."
Tavia came into the room, closed the door and advanced toward her, studying her with intelligent green eyes. "How do you feel precisely?"
"Nauseous and dizzy. Earlier I felt chilled and feverish but that has improved a bit." Please, God, forgive me for lying to my friend.
Tavia placed her warm palm against Anna's forehead. "You do appear paler than normal, but not overwarm."
Anna nodded.
"I will make you a tea and return in a few minutes."
"I thank you. You are too kind."
"Nonsense." Tavia left the room.
Anna's mind raced as she tried to think of a solution to her problem. If only Chief Hamilton and his clan would leave soon, all would be back to normal. But they might stay as long as a fortnight. Often clans did when visiting other clans. She couldn't stay in her room that long.
***
Neacal could not believe three chiefs had arrived with their marriageable daughters, and now the elders had arranged for him to meet with all three fathers at once in the library. He would rather be whipped.
"What the devil have you done?" he asked Hugh and Bhatar when he cornered them in the corridor. "Are you trying to start a war?"
"Nay. Time is short," Hugh said. "Winter will be here soon. No time to dally. You have four young ladies to choose from."
"Four?" What the hell was he talking about? Had another clan arrived when he wasn't looking?
"Aye, Chief Hamilton brought both of his daughters who are old enough to marry."
"I don't care if there are a hundred ladies. I'm not marrying before spring. You've wasted these chiefs' time. They've come here at a great expense, all for naught."
Hugh frowned. "You used to like women."
Outrage blasted through him. "I still like women," Neacal growled, wanting to shout but forcing himself to stay quiet because the other chiefs were close by. "But that doesn't mean I want to marry now. Do you not ken these young ladies are terrified of me? They all think me mad."
"'Tis because you act mad," Hugh observed in an I-told-you-so tone.
"But you are not. Are you?" Bhatar smiled.
Ignoring that, Neacal asked, "How many more clans are coming?"
"That is all." Bhatar threw his hands into the air.
Neacal was glad to hear that, at least. "Good. When they rest up from their trip, I can send them on their way again."
"So soon?" Hugh grumbled. "But you have nay even danced with any of the lassies."
"Nor do I plan to," he snapped. "I have no interest in dancing. I need soldiers, not a bride."
"Lad, when are you going to learn? A bride can bring you soldiers." Hugh raised his bushy white brows.
"Aye, a few perhaps. But not a whole garrison."
"You will never know if you don't ask. A couple of the chiefs have hinted at possibly providing soldiers. The Hamilton chief said he might provide three dozen for two years. That would give you time to rebuild the garrison."
Damnation, he hated it when Hugh made a good point. Three dozen soldiers would strengthen their defenses a great deal.
Anna popped into his mind. Even if she hadn't shown up, he wouldn't want to marry some lass he'd only just met. But now that he'd kissed Anna, and couldn't get her out of his head, day or night, he truly didn't want to marry some stranger.
"You ken I'm right, lad," Hugh said. "'Tis why we've arranged this meeting. Find out which chief is able to offer you the most paid soldiers for the longest time. You may be able to negotiate even more than the amount Hamilton mentioned."
Although he'd sent for Colin, he likely could not provide such a large number of soldiers for any length of time. And when would Colin arrive anyway? What was he doing, scouring the countryside for mercenaries in need of work?
"Chief?" Hugh said. "Now is not the time to be wool-gathering. The clan's future is at stake."
Neacal blew out an annoyed breath. He hated the idea of marriage as a business arrangement. His own parents had loved one another and the match had been a good one. What if he and his future bride could not stand each other? A miserable life for both of them. Was the sacrifice worth it if the clan grew stronger?
"You don't have to decide now. Simply discuss it with them. What do you have to lose?" his great uncle asked.
"Very well. I'll meet with them. That is all."
When he entered the library, he tried to blank his expression. He didn't want the other chiefs to know how much he hated the position he was in.
"I want to thank all of you for being here. I'll be blunt and to the point. The elders are the ones who sent for you. I didn't. I need soldiers, more so than a bride. I won't be making a decision today. But I need to know if any of you would be able to provide manpower to strengthen my garrison."
"Aye, of course," Chief Hamilton said. "Two dozen soldiers if you marry either of my daughters. Both are beauties."
Neacal frowned. Hadn't Hugh just told him three dozen soldiers? So, he wanted to negotiate, did he? Neacal raised a brow. "That's it?" He glanced at the other chiefs.
"Three dozen," Chief MacGill said, smoothing his bushy red beard. "I'll pay their wages for two years."
That sounded better.
"That is, if you marry my daughter, and of course treat her well," he amended.
Neacal couldn't even remember which lady was his daughter. Oh aye, now he remembered; 'twas the ginger-haired lass. Not that any of the new arrivals could draw his attention the way Anna did. Her image sprang into his mind… and that kiss. Saints, he needed
another so badly he ached.
Damnation! He had to push beyond his obsession with her.
"Three and a half dozen!" Chief MacRury shouted. "And their wages paid for three years."
Neacal sat back, frowning. How the devil could he refuse this offer? He was going to have to marry a lass he didn't even know in order to strengthen the clan's defenses. Outrage twisted through him. He'd known being chief would require sacrifices, and he'd been prepared to make them… before he'd met Anna. She couldn't be his mistress. He wouldn't ask her to. She deserved so much more. Besides, once he married, he intended to be faithful to his wife, so… he would have no mistress anyway.
"Four dozen, paid for three years," Hamilton growled. "And that's my final offer!" He pounded a fist against the table.
Neacal clenched his fists, yearning to hit something, too. How could the man be so generous? Hundreds of thoughts and scenarios crowded into his head, swirling and turning to chaos. Aye, he wanted to do what was best for the clan. 'Twas what he'd pledged to do and what his father would expect of him. But he couldn't imagine a life where he would never hear Anna sing again. Never see her lovely face. If he married one of the lasses, he would have to send her away.
He shoved his chair back from the table. "I thank you for your generous offers. I'll think on it." He strode into the corridor. Aye, bringing four dozen soldiers to his clan would be remarkable, but he couldn't so readily agree to marry the man's daughter.
The thought of never kissing Anna's intoxicating lips again… of never touching her….
He punched the solid oak of his bedchamber door, went inside and then slammed it. He growled a string of curses. How could he have gotten himself into such a horrible position? In order to protect the clan, he was obligated to be miserable for the rest of his life. He knew without Anna, he would indeed feel wretched.
***
After Tavia brought the herbal tea blend to her room, Anna drank it and grew sleepy. Her chest ached with guilt for being deceptive to those she cared about most. Her amazing friends. She covered her head, wishing to hide from the world.
Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) Page 9
