“Nay. My mother died in labor and my father, Alex’s father’s brother, was killed in battle when I was but a wee bairn.”
“I’m so sorry,” she replied. “Was it a battle with another clan?”
“Aye, the Campbells. But my father was nae killed by a Campbell.”
Marion frowned. “What happened to him?”
“Alex’s father cut him open with his sword,” he said, his tone cold and unforgiving.
Marion gasped. “He murdered him?”
Archibald did not answer for a minute, and Marion could see his jaw clenching and releasing. Finally, he said, “Nay. It was accidental.”
She blew out a relieved breath. “That must have been awful for him to be accountable for his own brother’s death.”
Archibald shrugged and kicked a branch out of the way. “I dunnae ken. He never talked about it. And when I was old enough to ask what had happened to my father, Alistair refused to speak of it. And he’d ordered everyone else to nae speak of it, either.” He motioned her to continue walking.
“Then how did you learn of it?” she asked, glancing to her right and over the same ledge Bridgette had fallen off the day before. Her stomach clenched with the thought of what could have been.
Archibald held his hand out to her to help her up a rocky embankment. For a moment, she hesitated, and he laughed. “I vow nae to tell yer husband ye took my hand if ye dunnae want.”
She scowled at Archibald as she set her hand firmly in his. “Iain is not the jealous sort.”
The Scot howled with laughter, and he continued to chuckle until they were off the embankment and headed up the steep incline. He released her hand and then spoke. “Iain MacLeod may have nae been one to be jealous afore, but I can assure ye, he is now. One but has to see his face when he’s lookin’ at ye to know that.”
“What is it you think you see, Archibald?” Marion didn’t particularly care to discuss Iain with this man, though she wasn’t quite sure why. Perchance it was his claim to know so much about Iain.
Archibald didn’t look back at her as he walked. “Possession burns in his eyes and wavers in his voice. I never saw or heard that from him afore. I dunnae think he even knows about it himself yet.”
If Iain was jealous, it meant he cared a bit. Yet, why would he be jealous over her but had not been over Catriona? Marion bit her lip. Did that mean Iain didn’t trust her to be true?
“I’m sure,” she said slowly, not wanting to appear as if she were searching for answers about her husband, though that’s exactly what she was doing, “Iain showed jealousy over his first wife.”
“Nae that I ever seen,” Archibald said. “But then, he and Catriona knew each other all their lives. Ye ken?”
No, she didn’t ken. What did that have to do with jealousy?
She clamped her mouth shut, not wishing to talk anymore. Her mind swirled as they walked in silence, thoughts of how she’d never compare to Catriona rising up to torment her. Heavens, she could not be jealous of a dead woman! It was pathetic, and she knew better than to compare herself to Catriona. They were different, as Iain had said, but nevertheless, by the time they reached the seer’s cave, Marion’s stomach was a big bundle of tight knots.
The old woman came out from the cave before they could even call for her. The woman’s gaze narrowed on Archibald, and her nostrils flared. Marion turned toward him and was surprised by the guarded look on his face, as if he had secrets he thought the seer might discern.
The seer motioned Marion to come closer, and when she was within arm’s length, the woman grabbed her hand and pulled her even nearer. “Did ye have any more questions for me today, my lady?”
Marion was about to say no when a question popped into her head. She leaned even closer to the woman so Archibald would not overhear. “You said yesterday that Iain would fly the Fairy Flag, did you not?”
“Aye,” the seer responded in a low tone, releasing Marion’s hand.
“Can you tell me what the Fairy Flag is and why it’s flown?” She had been too embarrassed to ask yesterday when Bridgette was present; Marion hadn’t wanted to appear as if she knew nothing of her Scottish heritage, even though she didn’t.
The seer motioned for Marion to move even farther away from Archibald, and when they stood inside the cave, she spoke. “The Fairy Flag is the most prized possession of the MacLeod clan. Their honor and the very existence of their clan depend on the preservation of the flag.”
“Where did it come from?” Marion asked.
The seer smiled knowingly. “It was a gift to a MacLeod chief from his fairy wife. She was allowed to marry the man on the condition that she had to return to the land of the fairies after twenty years with him. When twenty years came and she had to go, the fairy gave the flag to her husband. She told him that if a grave time of need came and he were to wave it, help would come—but only on three occasions. She warned him that on the third waving, either the clan would have total victory over their enemies or would be destroyed.”
Marion’s stomach pitched to the ground at the implications. “How many times has the flag been waved?”
“Twice,” the seer answered in a low whispery voice.
A chill raced down Marion’s spine. Twice! “The flag must never be waved again!” she said, eyes wide with panic. She could not let him risk his clan for her.
“If the danger is great, then the laird may decide the risk is worth taking.”
Marion’s heart stuttered. “If you see Iain waving the flag in the future, does that mean there will be danger to the clan?”
“The need will be of the one afore the many.”
Bridgette was right. It was utterly annoying the way the woman spoke in riddles. “Will the clan be in danger or not?” Marion demanded, her breath coming out in a puff of white fog.
The seer slowly cocked her silver eyebrows. “Aye,” she cackled. “And ye will be the cause of the danger that comes to MacLeod land.”
Icy fear twisted inside of her, and her heart was beating so fast she pressed a hand to her chest. “Me?” She immediately thought of Froste and her father.
The seer nodded. “Do ye want to ken anything else?”
Even with the cool temperature of the air, sweat moistened her palms. She trembled as images of Iain in the midst of a great battle with her father and Froste’s men flooded her mind. The seer had said she only knew the future up to the point she’d touched you, and that the future could change if you changed your actions. Marion swallowed. She was too afraid to ask anything more about herself, but she had promised Bridgette she would convey her question.
“Bridgette would like to know if her brother will be safe if she journeys to the MacLeod lands with me.”
“Aye. For a time.”
Marion started to breathe out a sigh of relief, but the seer squeezed her arm and Marion’s hair on the back of her neck suddenly prickled. The woman’s deep eyes pierced her. “She’ll take the danger with her, and the danger will become yers.”
Suddenly, the seer pulled her gaze away from Marion and looked past her to Archibald. “Come,” she commanded loudly. “Let me take yer hand.”
Marion turned to see what he’d say.
He shook his head. “Nay, old woman. I dunnae wish to learn my future. Only God should ken that.”
In this moment, Marion rather wished she hadn’t let the seer touch her, either. She found she suddenly, desperately wanted to leave. She thrust the cloak at the woman. “I must return to castle,” she said.
“Oh, aye,” the seer replied. “Ye can leave, but that will nae change what I’ve told ye.”
“Hush yer trap,” Archibald snapped. “Come, Marion.”
This time, Marion gladly followed Archibald, and as they started back, she didn’t try to make conversation, lost as she was in worry about what trouble she might cause Iain’s clan.
When Archibald cleared his throat, Marion met his hooded gaze. “Ye asked me afore how I ken what Alex’s father did to min
e…”
Marion nodded.
“Alex told me. It took him until I was fifteen to do so, but on my fifteenth birthday, his father died and Alex told me the story. Do ye ken, up until then, I’d imagined my father must have done something terrible since no one would speak of it? I thought perchance he was a traitor or a coward, but Alex told me he was verra courageous and his father had been tormented with guilt over what had happened.”
“You must have been very glad to learn the truth,” Marion said quietly, seeing the pain etched on Archibald’s face and hearing the catch in his voice.
He stopped and gave her an incredulous stare. “Glad?” His hands were fisted at his sides, his knuckles white. “I was nae glad. I was angry that no one had been courageous enough to disobey the mighty laird’s command to nae speak of what happened. They all let me believe my father was a bad man, that I should be ashamed.”
Marion reached toward him to give him a reassuring pat on the arm, but he jerked away. She licked her lips, a nervous feeling sprouting in her belly. “I’m sure they didn’t know that you felt ashamed of your father. They were simply following the orders of their laird.”
He said nothing for a long moment, but he continued to walk. Finally, when she thought he was not going to speak on the subject again, he said, “I’m sure ye’re right.”
To her, his words sounded false and forced, but she didn’t comment. She simply quickened her pace toward the castle and, hopefully, Iain.
Fourteen
Iain muttered to himself as he strode up the path toward where he’d been told the seer lived. When he’d returned to Alex’s hold not long before, Iain had been exhausted, but his anger at learning where Marion had gone had woken him right up. He couldn’t believe Marion was as foolish as to go back to the seer’s when she knew Froste’s men could be about. It didn’t lessen his fury that she had taken Archibald to watch over her. It increased it because Archibald should have known better. The man was too sure of himself to think he was so invincible that he could take Marion from the safety of the castle.
Iain stalked up the steep embankment, aware that he needed to get control of himself before he saw Marion and Archibald. He took a few deep breaths and regarded the rocky cliff. As he was considering the best way to make his way up it, Marion and Archibald crested the hill. Iain watched, his eyes narrowing, as they descended hand in hand. Once they were on flat ground again, Archibald didn’t let go of Marion. He faced her and said something that Iain couldn’t hear. But even if he’d been standing right next to them, he doubted he’d have heard Archibald’s words over the roar of his blood in his ears.
He would keep his calm. He repeated the thought in his head as Marion and Archibald looked his way as one. Archibald released Marion’s hand.
“Iain!” Marion cried out, scrambling toward him so quickly she slid, arms flailing, the last few paces to him. He caught her around the waist to stop her forward motion. She laughed as she peered up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold and her eyes glistening. “How was the hunt?” she asked, touching his cheek. Her hand was warm, and Iain suspected it was because Archibald had been holding it. Iain moved her hand away from his face, and unmistakable hurt filled her eyes. It normally would have given him pause, but he was livid.
“Ye kinnae be so foolish as to think it’s safe to visit the seer when there is a verra real danger of Froste’s men lurking around here.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “You said I was safe, and that Alex had increased his guard. And you also said that by dawn a knight would not have a hope on MacLean land, so don’t look at me as if you’re angry.”
He stared at his wife, disbelieving. He had said all that, but he’d not meant she was so safe that she could go running off, and especially not without him. She was safe with him, not Archibald. “Ye misunderstood me.”
“So I’m not safe?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.
Iain moved his gaze to Archibald. “Ye are safe with me, Marion. Only me. And Archibald should ken that I’d feel that way.”
“Why are ye so churlish?” Archibald asked in a goading voice.
“Ye think me churlish?” Iain challenged, his temples pulsing with ire. “This is mildly annoyed, but if ye take my wife’s hand again, I’ll show ye just how churlish I can be. Ye ken?”
“Oh, I ken,” Archibald said with a smile directed at Marion, not Iain, which only served to make Iain angrier. “I’ll take my leave and let ye walk yer wife back in the safety of only yer company.”
Iain nodded. “That seems a wise choice.”
Archibald laughed and looked at Marion again. “I’d say ye have the answer to yer question,” the man said before turning and departing.
“What question?” Iain demanded.
Raw hurt glittered in her eyes as she stared at him. “You’re jealous,” she said, her voice coming out as a choked whisper.
For a moment, he was too surprised by her accusation to offer a response. Jealous? Him? The woman was daft. “I dunnae get jealous.”
“I know,” she groaned.
Confusion pricked him, and he ran a hand across his stubble. “You seem distraught by that.”
She pressed her lips together and glared at him. “Your keen understanding fills me with wonder,” she muttered.
He narrowed his eyes. “If anyone should be angry, Marion, it’s me.”
A flush colored her cheeks and her eyes flamed brighter. “You wouldn’t be angry that I went to the seer with Archibald if you trusted me!” she snapped.
He was about to deny it when it struck him like a hard blow. She was partially correct. He would still be angry because she put herself in danger, and Archibald assumed too much by thinking he could protect Marion on his own, but her accusation was true in that he was jealous. He became jealous every time another man looked at her or dared to touch her. It was irrational and unlike him, but it wasn’t her. It was him.
“It’s nae because I dunnae trust ye,” he said.
Her eyes grew wide. “Then why? Archibald told me you were never like this with Catriona.”
He stilled at the mention of Catriona. Marion was right, he’d never gotten angry when a man looked at Catriona overly long or touched her to aid her, and he would not have minded Catriona asking any of his men to accompany her somewhere for her safety. But he had known Catriona all his life and had trusted her fully. He did not yet really know Marion. His gut tightened as he looked at her. He wanted to know her. God help him, he did.
He sighed. “I dunnae trust myself; therefore, I dunnae trust ye. So I suppose ye’re right. I’m sorry.”
He expected her to become angrier at his words, but she stepped close to him and put her small hand on his arm. “What do you mean you don’t trust yourself?”
“I dunnae want to get close to ye,” he admitted.
Her jaw went slack even as her body grew rigid. She removed her hand and started to step away from him, but he grabbed her arm and held her still.
“Let me go,” she demanded, hurt underlying her tone.
“I kinnae.” He swallowed hard. “I dunnae want to let ye go. Even as I fight against getting close to ye, ye’re pulling me toward ye. Don’t ye see?”
“I am?”
Her voice held a depth of hope that he feared he would destroy with his own demons. But he’d not lie. “Ye are,” he replied. “I need to think on some things.”
“How long do you need to think?” she asked, making him laugh.
He circled his arm around her waist and tugged her close until her soft breasts pressed up against his chest. When he inhaled, her freesia scent filled his lungs. “I kinnae say for certain.” He didn’t know if he could ever give her what he knew she wanted, but he wasn’t going to say so and cause her undue pain. He was struck with a thought, though, that he could not keep from her. “Do ye trust me fully?”
“I do,” she answered without hesitation.
“But ye were jealous, so it must mean ye dunnae trust me.�
��
She quirked her mouth. “Not at all. I trust you. It’s those women who stare at you worshipfully that I don’t trust.”
His chest expanded with happiness at her honesty. “That’s good. A wife should trust her husband.”
She frowned at him. “What else is the duty of a highland wife?”
“To love her husband,” he replied, regretting the words the minute they flew from his mouth. Marion made him lose his control in more ways than one, it seemed.
A wary shimmer came into her eyes, and she shifted away from him as far as she could until he stopped her. “I’m not about to love you until you show me you can love me,” she said, her voice breaking.
“That’s understandable,” he replied, “but I think ye’ll nae be able to stop yerself from loving me.” He grinned at her.
He watched as she struggled not to smile, and when her body defeated her will and a lovely smile settled on her lips, his body stirred at the sight. She tossed her hair back as she stared up at him. “You think you’re that enticing?” she asked playfully.
“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice husky with the sudden burning need for her. “I’d hazard I’m so enticing that ye’ll let me take ye now.”
A scandalous look crossed her face. “In broad daylight? With danger lurking?” Her eyes twinkled as she toyed with him. “I would not be so bold.”
He grinned as he slid his hand around her waist but paused when he felt a dagger sheath. He was about to ask her where she had gotten it but decided the question could wait. He brought his hand to her breast and cupped the delectable flesh. “But I would, Marion. I’ve been thinking of taking ye in broad daylight since the ride here. It was all I could do nae to pull ye off my horse yesterday and bury myself in ye.”
“Oh my,” she murmured, her chest rising with her inhalation. “You want me that much?”
“I do,” he readily admitted. “Do ye ken what the motto of the MacLeod clan is?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry to say I don’t.”
He traced his hand from her breast to her lips. “It’s hold fast, and I’ve held fast since yesterday to the idea of being inside ye with the woods around us. I dunnae think I can wait any longer.”
When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) Page 19
