by Reece Butler
Niall thought of the direction the carts had come from. South. That was Campbell land all the way to Kintyre, land now claimed by the southern MacDonalds of Clan Donald. He clenched his jaw to keep in a thousand curses. Meg had married a Campbell.
Oh, Lord! Meg once mentioned that her husband was from her same clan. That meant she’d been born a Campbell. He ran his hand over his face. They were bedding the enemy and Meg knew it. So did the king and his herald, of course. The herald who waited silently.
Niall couldn’t speak of it, to anyone. Unless it was one of the things Ewan knew and kept to himself? For now his mouth was sealed. For if Somerled found out the full truth… Oh, Lord, Somerled would rage like nothing they’d seen before!
It was a secret he would take to the grave to protect his clan, and Meg. No matter how much it hurt that she lied to him. So be it.
“Ye have that look, as if ye are waiting for me to pull my claymore,” he said to Cam.
“Pull it and you die,” was the quiet reply. “You may kill me, but King James will order your clan slaughtered for the doing of it.”
Niall’s right hand clasped on nothing. He swallowed, his throat dry. “I accept that Meg was married to a Campbell. But she chose to lie to us and—”
Cam grabbed Niall’s shirt. He shook him. “Lady Margaret didna choose to lie. She was ordered to keep the truth to herself as I kenned your laird would see only the clan, and not the woman. Choice?” The herald snorted. “The king gifted her to your clan. She had as little choice in Somerled as she did with Edgar Campbell.” He released Niall. “Has Meg shown any hint she wishes you harm? Has Ewan warned she couldna be trusted?”
Niall absently rubbed his horse. None of those things were true, yet she’d kept something from them, something important. She hadn’t trusted them. Right now it didn’t matter that she’d had no choice. The wound was too raw.
“Ye ken ’tis nay, and nay.” He stared the herald in the eye. The man flinched. “There’s more, aye?”
“I canna tell you. Nor will you speak of this.” Hs eyes narrowed. “King James says the marriage between Laird Somerled and Lady Margaret will stand. Do you, and your clan, deny your liege?”
They had as little choice in this as Meg. Clan MacDougal had lost far too much over the years by fighting those who ruled. Niall shook his head, swallowing his disappointment in Meg’s lack of trust. Meg had been beaten, and more, by the men who controlled her. Knowing the MacDougals were her clan’s enemies she’d had to bed them, keeping her secret. No wonder she’d swallowed wine that first night.
Cam quirked an eyebrow. “Dinna harm the lass because the truth is nay what you wish it to be. Somerled best not throw her in the pit.”
“My laird wouldna put wee Meg in the pit!”
“Nay?”
Would he? Not for this, but for the other… Niall tried to say nay, but he knew better. If Somerled thought a traitor had slinked into his clan, a stranger he had trusted and taken into his bed, he would explode in rage. He wouldn’t hit Meg, but he could lock her away. It would it punish her and keep her out of his sight, and reach.
“If he orders it we willna let him carry it out. As ye say, ’tisn’t Meg’s doing.” Niall’s mind whirled. He’d stood up to Somerled in private, even telling him he was a fool now and then. But deliberately disobeying a direct order was something else. It was akin to clan treason. Yet if Somerled ordered them to harm Meg…
“What are you thinking,” demanded Cam.
Niall exhaled hard. He straightened his shoulders as he inhaled. He looked down. Cam was shorter but far more powerful politically.
“If I must, I will overrule my laird for the sake of our clan. I hope my brothers follow me, and ken the why of it.” And that his twin, the man who’d shared his life since they were created, would forgive him for it.
Herald Cam nodded regally. “I will stay until this is over, as a witness for the king.” His harsh expression eased. “If Somerled tries to harm Meg the only way to save your clan is to lock him away until he calms and accepts what must be.”
Niall nodded, unable to speak. He finally understood what Somerled had to live with every day of his life. Decisions that were unpopular. Decisions that could be wrong. Decisions that might save their clan and ruin their brotherhood.
He and Cam worked together, each unsaddling their own horse. They were quick and efficient, finishing as the carts approached.
“There is another thing,” said Herald Cam. “’Tis good news.”
Niall regarded the herald with a jaundiced eye. “Good for who?”
“For your clan, and all in it. You must put your laird and his lady where they canna watch the carts unpacked.”
“Why? What is in them?”
“I said Meg married a Campbell. You didna ask which one, or where she lived.”
“I didna think it mattered. They’re all—”
“Halt, MacDougal,” ordered Cam. “I was born a Campbell. I am now the king’s man, and my birth clan doesna matter.” He leaned closer. “Neither does Lady Meg’s. She did as she was ordered by her father, and then by King James.”
He clenched his jaw to keep quiet. There was so much history between the two clans. As Lords of the Isles the MacDougals had built at least nine castles. Over two hundred and fifty square miles of land once held by Clan MacDougal was now controlled by the Earl of Argyll and his Campbell brethren.
“Where did Meg live?” he asked. It sounded far better than asking which Campbell bastard had owned her and done all he could to control her mind, body, and soul.
“You can say naught to your laird,” warned the herald. “He must discover it himself.”
Niall moved away from the horses. His agitation was affecting them, and he didn’t wish to be kicked. “Tell me.”
“Lady Meg didna ken Clan MacDougal built Duntrune Castle.”
“Duntrune!” Niall’s heart pounded. “That means…” He couldn’t speak. Had the Campbells destroyed everything they’d found when they took over?
“Aye. Those carts are filled with what you lost long ago. I searched the attics and cellars and found portraits of your ancestors, and more. Far more.” He nodded. “Your clan will be pleased that, because of Meg, lost MacDougal treasures are now at Duncladach. If you do as you ought they will see her time there as a sacrifice to aid your clan.” He scowled. “Somerled best see it that way as well for those years were very hard on Meg. Edgar Campbell was a quietly vicious man who enjoyed subtle tortures.”
It all fell into place. “Ye kenned all this afore ye chose Meg to marry Somerled.”
“Aye. I wasn’t sure the sheriff would allow all four carts, but he didna like Edgar’s highlanded ways, and dislikes John Campbell even more. Now do ye ken the whole of it?”
Somerled believed all in life was black and white, aye or nay. Meg married a Campbell so must be the enemy. She’d hidden the name of her husband, knowing he was their enemy, compounding the black mark. Yet, because of that marriage Clan MacDougal would regain most of what had been lost for centuries. The only harm was their sense of betrayal. Even there, Meg had to do as the king ordered. As did they.
Niall didn’t know what was in the carts, but he’d spotted chair legs, carpets, beeswax candles, and more. Somerled would never have allowed them to spend coin on such things, merely for comfort. The cost to retrieve their past was to accept Meg as she was, now and forever.
“Because of Meg’s marriage we now have some of what we’d thought forever lost,” he said. “So her marriage was a needed step to gain all this. We have a Lady MacDougal, a wife who suits us well, and now we also have…whatever you brought. All we must do is forgive her for not speaking of it.”
“Aye, and you’d best convince your laird to see it that way.”
* * * *
“I have to tell my laird husband,” said Meg to Herald Cam.
Aggie stayed close, giving her silent support. Meg hugged herself, nails pinching into her skin as if the pain out
side might help the pain within. Somerled would say she’d lied to him. He would call her a traitor. Would he turn away from her? Would he insist on rutting with her as it was her duty to produce MacDougal heirs? She would have to accept it, though doing so would be worse than with Edgar as she now knew how wonderful it could be. Could, but no longer was.
“You canna tell him yet. We have a plan,” said Cam. “You must be in the bailey, sitting so you and the MacDougal brothers canna see what is carried in. When the villagers see these things returning they will be full of joy. They will bring it all into the hall, and then you will enter with Laird Somerled and his brothers. With all the clan so happy so much has been returned, Somerled and Niall willna be able to show their anger.”
Meg shook her head. Her husbands would put on a good face for their clan, but once they were alone they would attack. Not physically, but with biting words and eyes that would drill through her. She would rather have a beating that would be done and forgotten than have their accusing eyes on her for the rest of her life. Or worse, them refusing to look at her. No, seeing her husbands’ scorn for her betrayal, and hurt at her lying, would be far worse.
“I have to tell Somerled afore he learns from another,” she insisted. “He willna trust me again unless I do so.” He likely wouldn’t trust her again anyway, but she would hope.
Aggie nodded. “She is right, Herald. Lady Meg must do so, but not until all is ready.”
Meg looked at Cam, beseeching him for permission.
“Aye, you may tell him but not until you’re told.”
Meg used her sleeve to wipe tears. She never cried. Even when she’d been badly beaten by her father, or when Edgar humiliated and shamed her, she’d kept her eyes dry. Why was she crying now? Was it because she feared what her husband would do? Or was it that her body could take physical blows, but her heart could not stand to be crushed. She’d had no practice in loving, or losing that love.
“I brought you something,” said Cam. “This has naught to do with the MacDougals. ’Tis for you alone. A gift, or perhaps an apology for asking you to keep from speaking. Aggie thought you’d like it.”
“I ‘member ye’d look at it while ye had to stand like a statue, my lady. I hoped ye’d wish to have it for yerself. Not to mind ye of the bad time, but of gettin’ away from it.”
“You play chess, aye?”
She frowned, thinking what Cam might mean. Edgar used to have her stand across the room from his desk. She’d stare right at…
“Not the carved ivory Viking set Edgar prized so much?”
“Aye!” Aggie bubbled. “Did ye wish it, my lady?”
“Oh, Aggie!” Tears threatened again. “Aye. Thank you so much.”
“’Twill keep yer men busy while we work. They’ll wish to look at all the pieces, as each is different.”
“John is going to be so furious,” replied Meg with satisfaction. “’Tis a prized set, the only one like it. Edgar paid much for it.”
“Edgar is dead and buried. John can soothe himself by counting the gold in his coffers. I tried for some, but the sheriff said you could only have portable goods that could fit in four carts.”
“The sheriff? I dinna wish to cause problems—”
“Lady Margaret, I spent many days with the sheriff making sure this couldna be contested,” said Cam. “The will stated Edgar’s wife was to have four cartloads of goods. The tax on them will be paid by John as he inherits the gold and the land. Neither the sheriff nor myself are fond of John Campbell,” he added. “The sheriff didna see fit to inspect them afore we left.”
She looked at the well-overburdened carts that held double what was usual. “If you had to cross water you’d have to empty each one. ’Twould take a day for each river or loch.”
“Luckily there are none between Duntrune and Duncladach,” replied Cam smugly. “We waited until the weather would be dry for days before leaving. Aggie kenned your favorites, and the things you wished never to see again. You never went in the attics or cellars?”
She shook her head. “I saw little but the rooms Edgar allowed me in. Once he was bound to his bed I was too busy keeping the estate and household going to search for things. And why would I look? None of it would ever be mine.”
Cam looked toward the men now getting ready to unwrap the carts. “You will hear many exclamations of joy from your new clan, lass. They will believe you brought this for them and will think you being married to another afore their laird was a good thing.”
“What of Somerled?” She clasped her hands together to stop herself from biting her fingernails. Edgar had been most unhappy when she did that. Sometimes he would leave her bound overnight, unable to move at all, in punishment.
“Niall kens what will happen, and why, though not what we brought. If Somerled rages at you Niall will overrule him for the sake of the clan.”
“Nay! It would destroy the brothers! I canna let you do that!”
Cam took her by the shoulders. He shook her gently. “Lass, you mustn’t think of yourself or Somerled. You do this for the future of your clan. If Somerled willna think beyond his rage he canna rule as laird.”
She reluctantly nodded.
“Good. We must get Somerled off the wall walk and into the bailey.”
Chapter Seventeen
Somerled sat in the bailey in the sun. It felt strange to be idle. Torquil, Finn, and Dougal carefully handled the carved ivory chessmen, admiring the different expressions and the bright paint on each. Torquil said they were made of walrus tusks and could have come from the first Somerled, dead four hundred years ago. Whoever Meg’s husband had been, he was a man of taste and wealth. The overburdened carts proved it.
“The lads are quite taken with that chess set. They must get your aye afore they use it,” he said to Meg.
She attempted a smile, but it faded too soon. She also fidgeted, which was unlike her. Was it seeing the goods, reminding her of her husband, that had her upset? When he saw how happy his clansmen were to have the carts arrive he’d decided to take the delivery as good news and accept it as Meg’s dowry. The Stewarts, other than Balquhidder, were not allies of the Campbells. Would what was in the carts tell him who Meg had married?
“Soon, laird,” called Rab from the top of the stairs. Somerled almost turned to him but remembered in time. Instead, he waved over his head in acknowledgment.
The herald had asked Niall to help. Ewan was up on the wall walk, watching and pacing. Both cats kept him company. None of them were comfortable with so many people.
Their stone bedchamber was cool and could get bitter cold in winter. Aggie said something about tapestries, but it would be difficult to hang them on curved walls.
“If we have enough tables and stools we might be able to use the upper hall for ourselves,” he said to Meg. “’Tis divided into two rooms with a fireplace in each. We could use the small one as our bedchamber with the other a private place for us.”
He’d put Meg’s chess set there. Herald Cam had made it very plain that this one item belonged to Meg. Somerled hoped a board came with it. Their new carpenter, a Maclean, could easily make one. As for his wife, Aggie, having a housekeeper would save Meg time and energy. And that meant more time to play.
“I have sommat to tell ye, husband,” said Meg abruptly.
Her tone, and the way she curled into herself, made him stiffen. She was afraid, and it had to do with the things being carried into the hall. Her first husband was haunting her from the grave.
“’Tis about who ye married afore me, aye?”
She nodded quickly, biting her lip. She’d stuck her hands under her thighs to keep them from twitching. Her news was that bad? Showing a calm he did not feel he leaned back on his hands and stretched his legs out.
“Best tell me, then.”
“’Twas not my choice.” Her voice sounded high, and tight.
“Just tell, me, Meg.”
“I was married to a Campbell.”
He jerked,
sitting up. “A Campbell?”
“What?” demanded Dougal.
“Shut it,” warned Torquil. “Let the laird and lady be.”
His mouth went dry. He’d wondered, but she’d said nothing… She’d spread her legs and…
Nay! He got to his feet. His heart pounded, chest tight, as he paced. He kept his head down even though the door to the hall was closed.
Ewan said there was both good and bad in everything. Meg had lived with their clan’s enemy for years. Maybe she knew things that would help to defend Duncladach, or attack the Campbells should it be necessary.
Of course the marriage was not her choice. A woman wed to better her clan, doing the duty she’d been born for. He’d not thought about it as he’d not known a woman of Meg’s rank before. But MacKenzie had chosen Malcolm and Duff for his daughter, letting her fall for Duff and then telling her to marry his identical twin. It ended well, but Laird MacKenzie did it not for Kiera, but to gain strong men to keep Kinrowan Castle safe. The Earl of Caithness would have married his daughter Alana to the man who’d abused her, just to get grandsons. Laird Fraser had hired Cormac and James to escort her home, knowing they had a link and a mutual hatred of Alana’s attacker. That had turned out for the best as well.
He himself had treated Isabel badly so she would turn to Tearlach and Rory, convincing them to return to Calltuin. He’d been harsh to give them a better future. The MacDougal clan had done well from these marriages, but those wives had chosen their husbands.
Meg had not.
She’d been forced into the bed of a wealthy old man, her virginity and youth traded for gold. From what she’d said it wasn’t to help the clan survive but for her father to buy baubles for his whores, whiskey and wine to drink himself senseless, and to dice with wealthy men. And when Meg was returned to her father as a widow he’d found another old man to do the same thing again. Herald Cam had saved her from that fate as the king had already married her to the laird of the clan her own had feuded with for centuries.
