The Chieftain

by Margaret Mallory

  “Tait is a good fighter and loyal,” he said. “But I fear he’s no leader.”

  “That’s for certain,” Ilysa said, which earned her a smile.

  “Ian’s brother Niall will make an outstanding captain in a few years, but I need one now,” Connor said. “The others are fine warriors, or will be with some training, but none is as good as a captain ought to be.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured as she unwound the linen strips from around his chest.

  “I’ve been watching the men every day, and I haven’t seen one who has what it takes.”

  “What qualities are ye looking for?” she asked.

  “He should be the strongest warrior, the most loyal man, and a leader the others respect enough to follow without question,” Connor said.

  “Ye can’t expect to find someone who can replace my brother or your cousins,” she said in a soft voice. “The four of ye trained and fought together all your lives.”

  “Aye.” Connor’s chest rose and fell under her fingers as he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’d settle for one man who stands above the others.”

  Ilysa had raised the subject purposefully. Still, she hesitated, unsure of how Connor would take a suggestion from her on a subject so far from her knowledge.

  “I may have to choose Sorely, for lack of someone better,” Connor said, his gaze fixed on the sea out the window. “He’s a strong warrior, and I know he’s loyal.”

  “I’ve heard of someone who may be worthy of your consideration.”

  “Who?” Connor said, turning to fix steely-blue eyes on her.

  Sometimes the shift in his manner from disarming friendliness to chieftain was startling. Ilysa forced her breathing to remain steady as she told him what she knew about the man Cook had described.

  “I hope this Lachlan is all that you’ve heard,” Connor said. “I’ll send for him. Someone in the castle will know where to find him.”

  Ilysa smiled to herself, having accomplished one of the two tasks she had set for herself before coming into the room. Now for the second one.

  “The wound on your chest is healing well, but I haven’t seen the one on your leg since I removed the arrow,” she said, praying her cheeks were not turning pink. “Ye should let me look at it.”

  Despite her embarrassment, she was faintly disappointed when he pulled his tunic on. She helped him, as usual, so that he would not ruin the bandaging she had just done. When he started unfastening his trews, she spun around. She could almost hear him chuckle.

  “Wish me well,” he said while her back was to him.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I’m negotiating a marriage contract tonight.”

  Ilysa slowly turned around. “A marriage contract? For who?”

  “For me,” Connor said with a sudden, blinding smile.

  “Who are ye marrying?” Her mind was moving slowly, as if she had thick mud in her head. “Is it…Deirdre?”

  “Aye,” he said. “She’s a fair lass, isn’t she?”

  “She is that.” Ilysa’s heart pounded in her ears. She had to tell him about Deirdre and her lover, but how?

  “Is something wrong, Ilysa? Ye look pale.”

  He startled her by grasping her around her waist and lifting her onto the stool he had been sitting on earlier. Oh my. That had not helped calm her at all. He leaned down until his face was inches from hers and scrutinized her with narrowed eyes, which set her heart beating harder still.

  “I know it’s not my place to say this”—she paused to lick her lips—“but I like to think we’re friends.”

  “Of course we are.” He straightened and looked impossibly tall standing above her. “I’ve known ye since ye were a babe in your mother’s arms.”

  “Ye mustn’t marry Deirdre,” she said. “She isn’t the right wife for ye.”

  “Her clan can help us defeat the MacLeods,” he said, the concern in his eyes evaporating, “and that makes her right for me.”

  Ach, Ilysa did not want to tell him what she had seen in the storeroom. And that was not all. When she saw the man Deirdre had been with again, she realized he was one of James’s warriors. All week, Ilysa had watched him leave the hall, time and again, shortly after Deirdre.

  “If ye intend to bandage my leg, you’d best be about it,” Connor said.

  “I fear Deirdre will make ye unhappy,” Ilysa said, dropping her gaze to her hands, which were folded in her lap, “and embarrass ye.”

  When he did not speak for a long moment, she glanced up at him. His eyes were so cold that she swallowed. What had she done?

  “Like my mother embarrassed my father? Is that what you’re saying?” Connor said. “You assume that being beautiful makes her untrustworthy?”

  Ilysa had not given his mother a thought.

  “You’re quick to judge the poor lass,” he said. “That is unkind of ye.”

  “I did not mean—”

  “I have much to do,” he said. “Ye may go.”

  “But your leg?” she asked.

  “I said, ye may go.”

  It was a clear dismissal, but she must tell him. Deirdre could already be carrying another man’s child. A chieftain, even more than most men, had to know that his heir was of his own blood.

  “Connor, I must tell—”

  “My close bond with your brother has made ye forget that I am your chieftain,” he said, his voice like the deadly calm before a storm. “A marriage alliance is a complex matter. I asked for your good wishes, not your advice.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” he thundered and pointed to the door.

  * * *

  “Connor is still alive,” Hugh said. “Ye failed to kill him.”

  Lachlan had suspected as much. He shrugged and glanced around the abandoned house Hugh was using as his base. It stank of dogs, unwashed men, and moldy rushes.

  “And they say you’re the best,” Hugh said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

  Lachlan met Hugh’s glare without showing any reaction. He had not done it for Hugh, and he did not give a damn what Hugh thought of him. A common enemy made them allies, but that did not mean he liked the man.

  “Ye said ye got two arrows in him, yet I’m told he’s walking around as if nothing happened,” Hugh said.

  “You’re perilously close to calling me a liar,” Lachlan said, moving a step closer. “Unless you’re certain that you’re better with a blade than I am, I suggest ye don’t.”

  Hugh’s men, a motley bunch of clanless scum, began reaching for their weapons but stopped when Hugh threw his head back and laughed. What in the hell was amusing? Hugh’s unpredictability was one of the traits that made Lachlan mistrust him.

  “You’re a tough son of a bitch.” Hugh tucked his thumbs in his belt and rocked back on his heels. “That’s what I like about ye.”

  Hugh’s woman, Rhona, a curvy lass with dark hair, sauntered over and put her arm around Hugh’s neck. That lass was trouble, and no better than Hugh deserved. Whenever she thought Hugh was not looking, she gave Lachlan the eye. Rhona underestimated Hugh, a mistake Lachlan did not make. Hugh had a sly cleverness, and he did not miss much.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have another chance at Connor,” Hugh said. “Go to Trotternish Castle and offer him your sword.”

  Lachlan nodded because he had already decided to do exactly that.

  What troubled him was that the chieftain would require Lachlan to give his oath of loyalty, and it went against who he was to give a false oath. But sacrifices must be made. Killing the chieftain was a debt of honor, and this time he would complete the task.

  “We’ll get rid of him together,” Hugh said, his eyes gleaming cold like a snake’s.

  “I’ll tell ye again so that you’re sure to understand me.” Lachlan grabbed Hugh by the front of his tunic and pulled him up until they were nose-to-nose. “My dispute is with Connor, and Connor alone. I will do nothing that harms the clan.”

  Lachlan felt the prick of Hugh
’s dirk against his stomach.

  “Keep your goddamned hands off me if ye want to leave here alive,” Hugh said.

  Lachlan had made his point and released him.

  “Give me warning when Connor is outside the safety of the castle walls,” Hugh said, “and my men will see to it that he never returns.”

  “It had better be your men, such as they are,” Lachlan said, throwing a scathing glance at them before returning his gaze to Hugh. “If I find you’re dealing with the MacLeods, you and I will be enemies. I am not a good enemy to have.”

  “Connor’s your enemy, not me,” Hugh said. “Deliver him, and we’ll both have justice.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Ilysa went up to her chamber to be alone to think. She groaned when she opened the door to find Deirdre there, being dressed by her maid.

  “Have this laundered.” Deirdre stepped out of her gown and tossed it to Ilysa, without actually looking at her, as if she were a common servant. “It has a tear that needs mending.”

  Ilysa could guess how it had torn. Her stomach hurt.

  “Your mistress and I must speak in private,” she told the maid.

  Deirdre’s fine eyebrows went up an inch, but Ilysa waited to explain until the door closed behind the maid.

  “Are ye aware that your brother is negotiating a marriage contract between you and my chieftain?”

  “I am.” Deirdre shrugged. Then, watching herself in the mirror, she tugged a strand of hair loose from her braid to make a fetching curl at the side of her face.

  “Is this what ye want?” Ilysa asked.

  “Your clan is not as powerful as my father’s, so Connor is a bit beneath me,” Deirdre said, wrinkling her nose. “But he is undeniably handsome.”

  “He is more than that,” Ilysa said. “He is an honorable man, and he’ll be a devoted husband. Can ye promise him the same?”

  “My, you are surprising, but ’tis not your place to question me.” Deirdre waved her hand as if she were batting away a fly. “Do see about having that gown mended.”

  “Is there something ye ought to tell Connor before entering into this marriage?” Ilysa persisted.

  Deirdre turned and leveled a hard look at Ilysa. Suddenly Ilysa understood. Deirdre was with child.

  “Ye must tell your brother that ye cannot wed Connor,” Ilysa said.

  “It was my brother who suggested the marriage.” Deirdre placed her hand on one shapely hip and smiled. “Connor wants the alliance. And he wants me.”

  “But ye love someone else,” Ilysa said.

  “Love?” Deirdre gave an amused laugh. “I’d hardly call it that.”

  Clearly, Deirdre was not going to put a stop to this. As for Connor, he could not see beyond the alliance and Deirdre’s overflowing attributes. Yet when Deirdre had a child in six months—and later took a lover, as Ilysa suspected she would—it would tear Connor’s pride to shreds.

  Teàrlag had told Ilysa she must trust her instincts and protect Connor. She made up her mind what to do.

  “As ye say, ’tis not my place.” Ilysa heaved what she hoped sounded like a resigned sigh and began gathering her medicines. She picked up a few at random and put them into her basket. “I have other duties. A woman in a nearby cottage is having a babe and sent for me.”

  “Isn’t it dangerous to leave the castle?” Deirdre asked, narrowing her lovely blue eyes at Ilysa. “And why would you be the one to go?”

  “As anyone will tell ye, I’m a healer,” Ilysa said and lifted her cloak from the peg by the door. “There’s no telling when I’ll be back. A first babe can take hours and hours.”

  Outside the door, Ilysa leaned against the cold stone wall. Before she did this, she must set aside her feelings for Connor and be sure she was doing this because it was best for him and for the clan. Even without Teàrlag’s warning that Connor would not be happy if he wed before Beltane, Ilysa knew in her heart that Connor would suffer if Deirdre were his wife. As for the clan, any weakening of Connor’s authority would make his tasks even more difficult.

  This marriage must be thwarted.

  It was nearly time for supper. Instead of leaving the castle as she had told Deirdre, she headed for the kitchens.

  “I can’t be seen in the hall,” Ilysa said in a low voice to Cook as she joined him at the worktable, “but I must know the moment Deirdre leaves the table.”

  Cook raised an eyebrow, but she shook her head to let him know she could not tell him why.

  “I’ll tell one of the serving maids to keep an eye on her,” he said, pitching his voice below the noise of the kitchen. “I’ll invent a reason.”

  Ilysa was relieved that he understood she did not want anyone else to know the request came from her.

  “You’re a good friend,” she whispered and squeezed his arm. Then realization dawned, and she turned to face him. “What do ye know?”

  “I have a suspicion about the lass’s interest in a certain warrior,” Cook whispered, “and I’m no the only one.”

  That meant half the castle was abuzz about Deirdre’s clandestine meetings with her lover. If Ilysa had any doubts before about the need to take action, they were gone.

  “I’ll wait in the wine cellar,” Ilysa said.

  Supper seemed to take an eternity, but at last Cook stuck his head through the door. “The lady’s excused herself to retire early again.”

  Ilysa picked up her skirts and raced out. She stopped on the dim-lit stairs where she could see into the hall without being seen, her heart pounding. She did not have to wait long before Connor and James left the hall for the adjoining building.

  Hurry, hurry, she chanted in her head as she fixed her eyes on Deirdre’s lover. When he finally left the hall and disappeared into the stairwell that led to the upper floors of the keep, Ilysa realized that her plan might actually work.

  She did not know how long to wait. Would Deirdre and her lover talk first? Ilysa recalled how the pair behaved in the storeroom and decided that, if they did talk, it probably would not be for long.

  Once they actually started, how long did it take to fornicate? From all the remarks Ilysa had heard from other women, the time varied considerably. She did not want to act too soon, before it all began. On the other hand, if she waited too long, it could all be over and the man gone.

  Ach, this would drive her mad. Ilysa took a deep breath and decided it was time.

  * * *

  “My sister has a sweet, biddable nature that would please any man,” James said as the two of them sat at the small table in Connor’s private chamber.

  “Aye, she has,” Connor said because it was expected, though Deirdre did not strike him as either sweet or biddable.

  “I can tell that her beauty has charmed ye as well,” James said, smiling.

  Deirdre was undeniably attractive.

  Over the last week, Connor had thought on it long and hard and concluded that he could do no better for his clan than make this alliance. Alexander of Dunivaig had the warriors and galleys Connor needed to fight the MacLeods, and he was offering an extremely generous tochar, or dowry, which Connor’s beleaguered clan could sorely use.

  And yet, Ilysa’s caution about Deirdre not being the right wife nagged at him. He was still annoyed with her for suggesting Deirdre would embarrass him.

  “There are two things that are essential to me when I take a wife,” Connor said.

  “Beauty and what else?” James said with a laugh.

  “My first requirement is that her clan commit to fight the MacLeods with mine,” Connor said. “Your father cannot fight for Trotternish while battling the Crown’s forces elsewhere, and I cannot risk an alliance that could draw me into the rebellion.”

  “As I said before, I believe my father is very close to accepting the Crown’s terms,” James said. “Very close, indeed.”

  Close was not good enough, but Connor needed this alliance, and he needed it as quickly as possible.

  “My other requirement,” Connor
said, “is that I have my wife’s absolute loyalty.”

  James bristled, but it had to be said.

  “I’ve heard about your mother, of course, so I won’t take that remark as an insult,” James said in a stiff voice. “You’ve nothing to fear in that quarter. My sister comes to her wedding as an untouched virgin, and she will be a virtuous wife.”

  “In exchange for her loyalty, I will give her mine,” Connor said. “We will have the usual trial marriage for a year to assure that she can bear children. But so long as she is my wife, I will take no other woman to my bed.”

  “I won’t hold ye to that,” James said with a wink.

  Connor would hold himself to it, however. Thanks be to heaven that Deirdre was beautiful, for she was dull as dirt. He quickly chided himself for disparaging the woman who would be his wife. She deserved his respect, and he was determined to be content with her.

  Bedding her would certainly be no chore. Ach, he had been celibate for far, far too long. He thought of her long legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands…

  “I’m glad we have matters settled,” James said. “If ye don’t have your own clerk, I brought one with me who can prepare the marriage contract.”

  Before Connor could reply, the door burst open.

  CHAPTER 7

  God preserve me. Connor clenched his fists as Niall, who was one of the guards at his door this evening, escorted Ilysa into the center of the room.

  “Niall, I told ye I was not to be interrupted for anything short of an attack,” Connor said between his teeth.

  Although Niall had just turned eighteen, no man could have gotten past him. He was, however, pliable as warm wax when it came to females. He trusted every last one of them, and he thought Ilysa, in particular, flew with the angels. If Ilysa said one word about Deirdre being the wrong wife, Connor was going to strangle her.

  “Ilysa has something urgent to tell ye,” Niall said with a painfully earnest expression.

  “Ilysa, do not—” Connor started to order her.