by Reece Butler
Somerled leaned out over the water. The sun’s rays had faded before he spoke.
“If Cormac and James kneel to Sinclair only while on his land, and dinna fight our allies or support our enemies, I’ll nay begrudge them finding a wife, home, and bairns.”
Chapter Three
“What are ye fashed about, Somerled?” demanded Cormac as he strode into the hall, which his laird brother used as his office. “I had Malcolm in a headlock, or maybe it was Duff, and—”
“We have a guest,” said Niall, cutting off his complaint.
Cormac looked past the twins. James stood quietly to one side. On the other was the new alliance to their clan, thanks to Angus and Gillis. The laird of Clan Fraser was married to a Campbell, though she was a Lowland Cawdor, so the connection wasn’t quite so insulting. On the other hand, Fraser had brought a cask of gold as well as sheep and good ale. He’d best be polite to the old laird.
“I wish to hire you and James to escort someone to Caithness,” said Fraser.
Cormac took in his brother’s reactions with one eye sweep. He’d always been good at reading people. Their father had called it a gift, though it was nothing like Ewan’s visions, thank God. It was a skill, something learned by watching and listening well.
James looked torn, wishing to see his plans come true now that they had a bit of coin. Niall’s relaxed posture said he thought it a good idea. Somerled was always hard to read though his scowl seemed less severe. Their laird knew he had itchy feet and was eager to go somewhere. It was a long way to Caithness. Would Fraser pay well? He had a carefully neutral expression as if he wanted more than he was willing to admit.
“Ye’ve got a castle full of men, Laird Fraser. Why would ye want us?”
“I require someone not associated with Clan Fraser.”
Cormac showed all his teeth. “Who do ye wish me to kill on this journey?”
“Any who tries to harm the one ye’re hired to protect,” said Somerled.
“My guest is not at ease with the Sutherlands or Clan Gunn,” explained Fraser.
The man had been friendly before this. Why did he now raise his nose in the air to look down on a MacDougal bastard? Cormac could speak well, but preferred not to, especially when he was being insulted.
“Is yer man goin’ to the Sinclairs, Keiths, or the Mackays?” he demanded. They, along with Clan Gunn, boxed the Sinclairs into the far northeast corner of Scotland.
“She is going to Castle Girnigoe,” replied Fraser. “My sources tell me the Earl of Caithness has promised her to William Sinclair of Braal Castle. William has already lost two wives without gaining an heir so is looking for a bride to fill his nest.”
Cormac grimaced at the name. He and James had fostered with the two-legged rat, a sorry excuse for a man. William smiled like an angel when watched by the earl, speaking sweetly. In private he terrorized the young and weak, including Colin, son and heir of Laird MacKenzie. Cormac wasn’t surprised William had already gone through two wives, though he felt sorry for them.
The Earl of Caithness could be brutal and William was his nephew. No one else would step in, so he and James put a stop to the beatings, thanks to a suggestion from wee Alana. Before Cormac and James returned home Colin had offered his clan’s hospitality to any MacDougal, at any time, in thanks.
“Who’s the unlucky bride?” he demanded.
“An aging dowerless woman said to have lost her virtue long ago,” said Fraser. “Having lost two wives to accidents, few fathers wish to allow their daughter near William. He is lucky the earl offered the woman, but they are kin.”
“An old lady?” asked James, finally speaking. “All that way?”
“Aye,” said Fraser. “She is spry enough and has ridden astride. ‘Twill be far faster and safer than taking a cart. Will you take her to the earl? Your laird said you and James fostered there.”
They had a debt to the Sinclairs for years of food, clothing, training, and education. It certainly would be an interesting trip. He wouldn’t mind staying on for a while after, if invited. The northeast coast had warm winters compared to Duncladach. Girnigoe was huge, full of people with lots of action. The Keiths, a mile away at Ackergill Tower, were always good for a battle. He and James had enjoyed their time fostering. Once they’d proven themselves by fists and swords their bastardy was rarely mentioned.
Life had been good until Alana grew up. He pushed her into his past, where she belonged. He hadn’t seen her in ten years. She’d be long married by now, likely far away in some laird’s big castle with a half-dozen children just as wild as herself.
A summer adventure would be just the thing to get his blood flowing. With luck he’d get to spill someone else’s. He looked at James for a decision. One nod sealed their agreement. Fraser named a sum that would purchase the new breeding stock James had been urging Somerled to buy.
“Paid now, in full, to Laird MacDougal,” said James.
“You ask me to pay for a job that has yet to be done?”
“Ye are hiring us to travel to the North Sea with an old woman,” replied Cormac. “’Tis a hundred miles or more as the crow flies. As we’ll be riding around the earl’s rivals, ‘twill be much farther than that.”
Fraser thought about it a moment. He nodded. “Done. We sail in the morning.”
“Sail? What of my horse?” demanded Cormac.
“All will be provided,” said Fraser.
“How will we return to Duncladach without horses?” asked James.
“Should you return, Clan Fraser will provide all you need.”
“Should we return?”
It was Niall who answered Cormac. “’Tis a long way, through land claimed by many clans. Who but God knows what will happen to ye.”
“Which is why Lord Fraser will pay in advance,” said James.
Somerled lifted an eyebrow at Cormac. He had nothing to lose, so nodded.
“Accepted,” said Somerled.
“I think ye ken the lady,” said Niall from his corner after the deal was complete.
Cormac turned. Niall looked too pleased with himself. Cormac narrowed his eyes, questioning. In return, Niall laughed.
“’Tis Lady Alana Sinclair ye’ll be deliverin’.”
“Alana!” blurted James. He turned away, jaw tight.
Cormac turned his glare on the man who’d just hired them. “Ye said ‘twas an old woman ye needed moved.”
“Aye,” said Fraser calmly. “Alana is five-and-twenty. She should have married at fifteen but ‘twas said she threw away her virtue. As he couldna marry her off, her father banished her. Her mother and my wife fostered together, so we took her in. Now her father insists she be returned.”
Alana had haunted Cormac’s dreams for years. He’d imagined her slender body writhing under him, and riding him in triumph. And now he was to escort her home to marry someone else? It would be torture to see her and not be able to touch.
“We ken her well,” said James mildly. “The lass acted wild with us, but no others. Her father sent her to his dowager sisters to learn to be a lady. Instead, they taught her to flirt outrageously, but ‘twas innocent. I canna see her losing her virtue unless someone took it from her.”
“Aye, ‘twas not her choice to be touched,” said Fraser. “However, her father believed her accuser. Now she is his last hope for heirs. The earl has therefore bid her return home to marry her cousin. William needs a wife.”
Alana, marry William? The wee lassie he’d comforted as a child, marry a brute?
“Nay!” Cormac roared the word. He strode forward and slammed his palms down on Somerled’s desk. “The lass canna marry that rancid turd!”
Somerled, eyes boring into Cormac’s, slowly stood. Six-and-a-half feet of raging laird stared him down. “Ye will keep a civil tongue in yer haid, Cormac MacDougal, or I’ll have ye thrown in irons and send Tearlach and Rory in yer place!”
The first four sons shared a mother. Tearlach and Rory, the second set of near-identical
twins, bore a strong likeness to the first. Remembering Alana the last time he’d seen her, eyes wide as she demanded a kiss, had Cormac cursing. If anyone was going to marry Alana, it should be him!
“I’ll do sommat to William so he canna marry any lass,” he muttered, meaning every word. James used his keen mind to solve problems while Cormac preferred to use his fists. William’s face would be the perfect target. His groin deserved the toe of their boots as well. Many times. A quick knife slice would remove his desire for any woman.
Fraser sniffed like a fop, ignoring the tension. “The earl wishes his daughter wed. He cares not to whom as long as she begets sons.” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him, either. “Due to her circumstances, no one but William will take her.”
“You mean her so-called lack of virtue?” asked James. His voice was quiet, but intense. “It doesna matter to us.”
“The earl has done much building at Castle Girnigoe,” said Fraser. “He did not expect to need a dowry.”
“Ah. Sinclair built up his fortress, and now the lass suffers.” James crossed his arms over his chest, curling his lip at the older man.
“I was told to have Lady Alana Sinclair brought to Castle Girnigoe,” said Fraser. He surveyed Cormac and James, his expression saying he found them wanting. “I’ve hired the pair of you to do the job. We leave at sunrise.”
Cormac stood back as Fraser swept out, nose in the air. He was the only one to leave. As soon as the door shut Cormac turned to his laird.
“Dinna say a word!” thundered Somerled, pointing his finger at him. “The bargain is sealed. Ye’ll deliver the lady, and our clan keeps the gold.”
“Fraser doesna care about Alana, who she marries, or what her father will do to her when she speaks up!”
“Did ye nay hear the earl killed off his sons and other daughter? The lady must marry and give him heirs.” Somerled’s scowl got deeper. “I dinna like to think of a woman being beaten. Mayhaps she will keep her mouth shut.”
“Not the Alana we knew,” said James dryly. He shrugged. “It’s been ten years. Mayhaps she’s learned her place.”
“Ye care for the lass,” said Niall.
Cormac sighed, long and deep. They’d first met Alana almost twenty years earlier, when they’d been sent to foster with the earl. They’d missed having a horde of little brothers underfoot. They did not miss the cold at Duncladach, or the constant hunger. They’d enjoyed the wee curious lass who’d pestered them with questions, desperate for affection and attention. She’d demanded innocent hugs. She’d been five years to James’s ten and his eleven, and looked up to them as if they could do anything.
Her father had finally noticed her budding womanhood and sent her off to be trained as a lady. Unfortunately, he sent her to Keiss Castle where his dowager sisters reigned. They were as selfish as their brother and taught Alana that a woman teased and demanded, holding the power. Not knowing better, Alana did the same on her return to Girnigoe. Embarrassed at the erections they sported whenever they thought of her, he and James stayed far away. It hadn’t helped. She’d demanded they kiss her, more than once. Each time they refused she got more furious. They’d been hard even as she raged at them like a gorgon, screaming about their bastardy in front of everyone in the hall. Knowing she was far above their station in life and that the earl would flay them for touching her, though it was at her insistence, they’d left early the next morning.
The years since had been even more cold and hungry, having enjoyed the earl’s hospitality. It had also been lonely, though they shared Duncladach with fourteen brothers.
“Aye, we care about the lass,” he admitted. “But Alana is a lady, and far above us.”
“Was,” corrected Niall bluntly. “She is now a woman with no dowry who may not be a virgin. Mayhaps she could marry someone other than her cousin. Someone who cares naught about her virtue or lack of a dowry. At the worst, she’d live at Girnigoe and be fed, clothed, and kept warm. As would her husbands and bairns.” He gave them a shrewd look.
“Husbands? Are ye saying we should marry her?” asked James, his tone seemingly mild.
“And why shouldna two braw MacDougals marry such a lass?” demanded Somerled.
Marry Alana? Have her laugh, keen mind, and smile given to them? Have the right to finally kiss, and bed, her? His cock thickened at the thought.
“Virtue and dowry be damned,” he said in a deep growl. “We’ll marry her and keep her from the fists of that true bastard.” Somerled cleared his throat. Cormac twitched, acknowledging the rebuke. “If Laird MacDougal agrees?”
“We have Fiona’s dowry to ease our way,” said Somerled, speaking slowly as he thought it out. “Aye, ye can have the Sinclair woman to wife.”
“Ye’ll need the lady to agree,” said Niall.
“William tormented her when she was a lassie, which we oft saved her from,” replied James. “Alana wanted us at fifteen. She’d take us over her cousin.” His lip quirked. “One kiss and she’ll fall into our arms.”
A small kernel of hope grew in Cormac’s chest. He and James had always wanted Alana. Knowing that dream was impossible they’d tried to find a local woman to marry. Even that seemed hopeless as they were just another set of Duncladach bastards. Could they really convince Alana to marry them? They offered nothing but the protection of their name. Considering the power of her father, it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Do ye think Fraser will try to turn Alana against us?” asked James.
“Fraser is a wily old fox, nay stupid,” said Niall. “Angus said he’s fond of wee Fiona, who he didna ken until Gillis and Angus hauled her to his summer camp. Alana has bided with Fraser and his Campbell wife for ten years. Methinks the man cares for her, yet he canna be seen to refuse the earl’s demand.”
“Fraser hired us knowing we must be alone with Alana while travelling,” mused James. “He tells us she’s in danger, hoping we take matters in our own hands and marry her.”
“I’m older, so I will give vows to the priest,” said Cormac.
“Do the same as Gillis and Angus,” said Somerled. “One handfasts with the lass, and the other marries her.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Ye’ll send a message and tell us of yer bairns, aye?”
* * * *
“’Tis a long time since Duncladach had decent ale.” Tearlach poured more into his mug.
James nodded solemnly. Tonight was his last night with his brothers. Somerled and Niall were meeting with Fraser to work out the logistics. James shared the table with a few of his closer brothers. The four of them leaving with Fraser might never return so had done something to be remembered. While Fraser was in his chamber avoiding them, they’d offloaded almost all the laird’s supplies into Duncladach’s empty storeroom. They’d get thirsty heading back to Lovat Castle unless Fraser stopped for provisions along the way. James thought it was a small price for Fraser to pay for playing them. Not that he minded being encouraged to marry Alana. He shifted on the hard bench as his cock nodded in agreement. He would miss his home but not the cold rain and snow that lashed the west coast all winter. If they returned here with Alana they’d at least have her warming their bed.
“Laird Fraser will be a wee bit surprised when he kens his barrels are gone,” said Cormac, toasting the table. “’Tis a parting gift for my brothers.” He got roars of approval.
“My wee wife’s gold will bring Mags the ale-wife back,” said Gillis. “Best make it last until her first batch is ready.” He lifted his mug, drained it, then slammed it down. “Fiona’s a wee bit loud in her lovin’, and there’s little privacy on yon ship. I’m off to make sure she’s nay cold.”
“’Tis summer, and Angus is keepin’ her warm.” Cormac glared at him for rubbing it in.
“Aye, but she wishes my hands, and more, on her, as well.” Gillis winked.
“Shaddap, ye’ve got fourteen brothers here achin’ for what ye found,” replied Duff.
“There’ll be twelve on the morrow,” said Gillis.
He slapped a coin on the table. “This says Cormac and James marry their wee Alana no matter that she’s old, ugly, and penniless. Aye, they’re that desperate for a woman they’ll take a horse-faced old maid to bed.”
James and Cormac rose to attack, but Gillis rushed out, laughing, before they could pound him.
“I would have tossed my trencher after him, but I’m too hungry,” said Zander, the youngest brother. He gnawed on the hard crust to prove the point.
“We had meat again tonight, and lots of it,” said Torquil. He patted his flat belly. “I’ll be thankin’ wee Fiona afore she sails off with ye.” He touched his face, frowning. “The lass doesna flinch when she looks at me, though I dinna wear a mask.”
“Why should she flinch?” asked Duff. “Yer scars are part of who ye are. Fiona was raised by soldiers so is used to fighting men being marked. Ye and Ewan should find yerself a wife like that.”
“Ye daft fool, ye ken there’ll be no wife unless Ewan can stand her touch,” replied Torquil.
“Ye dinna mind Fiona being near,” said Duff.
Ewan stared at his ale, slightly apart from the rest of them.
“Do ye think the lady Alana will want ye?” asked Artair. He was the second youngest, though not by much. Their father had been busy that winter twenty-five years ago. Finn, Dougal, and Artair, bastards by three different mothers, had been born within a few weeks of one another.
“She will want them,” said Ewan. He’d drunk sparingly as usual, watching rather than talking. He picked up what a person was feeling and more when he touched them. The only person he felt safe around was Torquil. They’d been born on Beltane under a full moon, to different mothers. Ewan also got visions, which he hated as he could see what was to come and could do little about it.
“Do ye have a vision?” asked James, turning to him.
“Nay, just an itch that says ye’ll nay be here for some time.” He looked up, hesitated, then reached out and touched a finger to the back of James’s hand. It was so unusual for him to do so that the table went silent. “Well, then!” He smiled, making their jaws drop.
