She swallowed, trying to block the images and memories of that night or the weeks since. It had been a trying journey as she’d made her way from London to her sister’s home.
She’d traveled at night so as not to be seen. When she had the opportunity, she’d stolen a horse, which she’d later left at an inn so it could be returned to its owner. She might be a murderer, but she was no horse thief.
The money she’d taken from Blackley House had helped ease her way. It was amazing how much loyalty and silence could be purchased with coin. Up until it had been stolen. But she must have been betrayed at some point if Sir Ridley had tracked her this far north. Or maybe he’d made a pact with the devil.
However, the man standing beside her had protected her, so he deserved the truth. She lifted her chin. “Yes. I killed him.”
Her would-be husband simply nodded and tossed his shovel in the cart. “What happened to your shoes?” He frowned at her feet—bloody, blistered, and covered in filth.
“I took them off to soak my feet in the stream. When the dogs came after me, I didn’t stop to put them back on.”
Another nod, and then he scooped her up. She was working herself up to be indignant about his manhandling when he plopped her up on the seat of the cart. She didn’t think there was enough room for him beside her, but he managed to fit. With his side pressed up against hers, he flicked the reins to get the horse to move.
“We should get you up to Dunardry. Your sister will be pleased to see you, I think.”
“That’s it?” Marian stared at his profile as he turned the horse and steered the cart in the opposite direction. “I tell you I killed my husband, and you’re still willing to take me to your mistress straight away? How do you know I’m truly Kenna’s sister?”
“It wouldn’t make sense to lie about that while telling the truth about murdering someone.”
He had a point. How annoying. “Both things are true,” she said.
She just hoped her sister didn’t hate her. She didn’t know where they stood. It had been years since they’d had any contact at all. Kenna had sent her a letter written in her own hand a few months after Kenna left Fletcher Castle to marry the MacKinlay laird. Marian had beamed with pride for her sister and shared the letter with all who would listen. Then she had written back to tell Kenna about the plans for her beautiful wedding. But she’d never heard from her sister again. Marian had sent many letters after that, with no reply.
Many a day after the post had been brought to her with no word from home, she’d wondered what she’d done to deserve their silence. Maybe they’d thought her too English to associate with. Which would be almost comical since many of the women in London thought her accent too rough. She was a savage from the wilds of Scotland, after all.
Apparently she belonged nowhere.
“What’s your name?” the man sitting next to her asked.
For a moment she considered giving him her alias, but there was no reason for that at this point. He knew she’d murdered the duke, and her sister would doubtless call her Marian.
“I’m Marian Grace Fletcher Blackley, Duchess of Endsmere.” She held out her hand awkwardly since he was holding the reins. He took it in his and squeezed it before pressing a kiss across her fingers. She felt a twinge of excitement at his lips touching her bare skin. She pulled her hand away at the same time he released her.
“So I hadn’t lied when I called ye Mari.”
He could call her whatever he wanted as long as he took her somewhere safe.
“Pardon the correction, Your Grace,” he said after a few moments of silence. “But it would be Marian Grace Fletcher Blackley MacKinlay.” He gave her a wink. “Since we’re wed.”
“Blast and damn,” she muttered and clenched her teeth. It appeared he was planning to hold her to this sham of a marriage.
Did he think to get money from her? She almost laughed at the thought. She had nothing. Even the dress she wore—tattered and dirty as it was—didn’t belong to her.
“And you would be?” she asked, thinking it was time he introduced himself as well.
“Cameron Michael Callum MacKinlay. Call me Cam.”
She shivered at the way his name rolled off his tongue. It was a good Scot name.
“Feel free to be pleased with yourself for besting me on having more names and impressive titles.” He winked, then smiled, and she couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips at his jest. She wasn’t expecting a sense of humor from someone so large and imposing.
“Please, just Marian. I’ve no need for fancy titles.”
“You don’t look much like Lady Kenna, except maybe when you smile,” he said, glancing at her, then turning back to focus on the path in front of them.
She shrugged. “I know. My father used our looks as a wedge between us. The pretty one and the wild one.” She shook her head, once again angry on her sister’s behalf.
“Don’t worry, lass. You’re bonny too,” he said with sympathy in those warm brown eyes. The sun glinted off his brown hair, showing strands of red and gold mixed through the sable.
She couldn’t help but laugh. It amused her that he’d confused them. “Actually, I was supposed to be the pretty one,” she told him, still smiling.
“Truly?” His surprise caused her smile to falter. He didn’t think her pretty at all? She looked down at her ratty gown. How oddly freeing not to have her looks define who she was.
She nodded and said, “I guess I don’t look very attractive at the moment. But my looks were the reason I was chosen by the Duke of Endsmere as his bride. It’s been five years. Perhaps I’ve lost what beauty I once possessed after having to endure such a hideous farce of a marriage.”
He shot her a glance. “As I said, you’re bonny. I just assumed you were the wild one, as I’ve never seen Lady Kenna tear out of the forest looking like a wood sprite, launch herself into a man’s arms, and force him into matrimony.”
Marian laughed again. He spoke the truth. It was probably the most daring, adventurous thing she’d ever done, to flee London on her own.
“Perhaps Kenna has mellowed with age. She was once a hellion who ran around in breeches and only cared about riding her horse and hunting with our brothers.”
Cam snorted, a grin playing at his lips. “She hasn’t done so lately.”
When they were young, Marian had teased Kenna about her hoydenish ways, when really it was jealousy. How nice it would have been to go off without a care and do whatever she’d wished. As the oldest daughter, Marian had been primped and polished to perfection. She was enslaved to her duty to the family and was not afforded the luxury of fun.
She’d been paraded around at court and forced to attend tedious parties and dinners. The men who’d flirted had not been like the men she’d known in Scotland. They were all rather foppish. But despite their shortcomings, none of them had wanted to make an offer for a half-English woman from the Highlands. They’d teased her about her accent, which in fact barely remained, thanks to her tutors.
Only the Duke of Endsmere had been interested, having lost his first wife to a fall. It wasn’t until after Marian was married to him and had suffered her own first fall at his hands that she realized the true reason he’d chosen her. He’d been so desperate for a match he’d been willing to take a Scot.
How silly she’d been to think she had won the affections of a duke. Instead, she’d earned the attentions of a man with an evil reputation even in his own circles, and who had no other options. Hadn’t he told her time and time again how lucky she was to have been brought to London as his wife when she was only one step above a whore or a beggar? Most times when he’d said this, she’d been in such pain she knew it hadn’t been luck that had brought her into his lair.
She’d prayed to God for escape, vowing never to care about such trivial things as dresses and hair or making a noble match,
if she could only be safe.
Years ago, she’d been told she was beautiful, a sight to behold. Now she was nothing, and she didn’t care if a man ever fancied her again.
Her blond hair was loose; some fell to the front, covering the long scar along the side of her face. In London the fashion was to have only a few curls cascading down, which put her scar on display. Though, only the very brave or most vulgar people dared ask her about it. As with all of her injuries and scars she’d lied, knowing no one wanted to hear the truth…or could do anything to help her even if they’d wanted to.
And no one had wanted to.
…
Cam studied the lass in quick glances as they made their way to Dunardry. He avoided the village, not wanting to be stopped and asked who she was. He wasn’t sure what he’d say just yet.
It was quite a situation.
They were legally married, but would Lach allow it when he’d wanted Cam to marry someone else?
Cam looked at her again and thought she might be lovely once she was cleaned up and smelled better. He cringed at her bare feet, glad it was August so she hadn’t lost her toes to the cold.
“If you thought Kenna was the pretty one, does that mean my sister has blossomed?” she asked with a tender smile. “I always expected she’d grow into a lovely woman one day.”
“She has indeed bloomed,” Cam said and then coughed to cover his smile. He and Kenna were dear friends. He was happy for Lach to have found love with her. And while Cam might at times have felt a twinge of envy and wished he’d had a woman of his own, he knew love wasn’t wise for a war chief to indulge in.
Love made a warrior think too much. As a single man, Cam could rush into the heart of a battle, knowing no one would be shattered if he never came home. Well, except maybe Kenna and Lachlan, and his other cousin, Bryce, who was coming out to greet him as he pulled the cart to a stop in the bailey.
Bryce eyed the half-empty cart and then the lass in the seat next to Cam. “Did you dig her up out of the field?” he asked with a crooked grin.
“Wise arse.” Cam jumped out of the cart and came around to help Mari down. “Mari, I’d like you to meet my cousin, Bryce Campbell.” He turned to the shorter man who still towered over Mari. “Cousin, I’d like ye to meet Marian Fletcher MacKinlay, my wife.”
Watching Bryce’s eyes go wide as he coughed and choked was worth admitting the strange course of events that had landed Cam with a bride.
“Your wife? Are you mad? You’ve only been gone three hours. How did you take a wife?”
“She simply ran out of the woods and we married,” he said, enjoying himself a little too much. It was a funny story to tell, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be all that fun to live with the consequences.
Especially after Lach found out.
Chapter Three
Two little boys ran up and grabbed Cam’s legs, squealing in delight. He picked up the one on his right and held him up to inspect his face. Damn if he could tell them apart, even though Kenna and Lach knew at a glance.
“Are ye wee Douglas or the other one?” Cam asked.
His only answer was laughter. The lads were a little over a year and didn’t say much yet.
“You guessed it right. ’Tis Douglas,” Lach said, following behind. “What is this?” He scooped up Roddy and then took Douglas.
Cam didn’t know how the man managed to hold two squirming boys and still look imposing and in charge, but he’d mastered it when his sons were but wee babes.
“I thought I told you to gather rocks until nightfall.”
“Aye, but I had a run-in with an English tracker, a MacDonald, and a fugitive from the crown’s justice, whom I married.”
As with Bryce, Lachlan’s response was amusing. He looked from Cam to Mari and then over to Bryce who shrugged and made another choking sound.
“I don’t know where to begin,” Lachlan finally said.
“Perhaps with introductions,” Cam suggested and turned toward his wife.
“Mari, I’d like to introduce the laird of Clan MacKinlay, Lachlan MacKinlay. Lach, my wife and your sister by marriage, Marian Fletcher MacKinlay.”
“My lord,” Mari said with a curtsy. “We’ve met. I was present at your wedding to my sister.”
Lachlan’s eyes went wide before narrowing in close examination. His appraisal seemed to land on her bare feet. “You married a duke, as I recall.”
“Yes. However, as Cameron mentioned, I murdered him and have fled London to end up here.”
Cam’s lip twitched at her casual explanation. He nodded and added his part. “She was being chased by the tracker and the MacDonald I spoke of. I had to stop them from taking her back to England where they planned to hang her. I thought Lady Kenna would not like that overmuch, so…”
“You married her,” Lachlan said flatly.
“Aye.” Cameron nodded. “Though not intentionally. It just worked out as such.”
“Of course.” Lach turned to Bryce. “Would you please fetch Lady Kenna from the kitchens?”
Bryce hurried away as Lach turned back to face Cam. “Your order for the day, if I recall correctly, was to gather stones for the curtain wall until nightfall. I do not remember telling ye to save damsels in distress by wedding them. As you may remember, you were contracted to wed the McCurdy lass at the end of the summer to secure an alliance with their clan.”
“I do remember, but I canna marry her now as I’m already wed.” He held out his hands innocently. He hadn’t wanted to marry anyone; however there was some enjoyment in not being forced to marry someone merely for a questionable alliance. “We still have the chance to take the McCurdys by force so ye can gain the port you want. While I’m not available to wed the lass, I am capable of training your men to take over their clan.”
“And how many MacKinlays will we lose in a battle of that size? Do ye think our enemy will just scurry off and give up their lands because we wish it?”
“Nay, but with training, and a good plan—”
Lach groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Surely there is some way to correct this misunderstanding.” Mari came forward with an elegant smile on her lips. It might have even looked regal if not for the dirty hair and ragged dress.
“Misunderstanding?” Lach raised a brow at Cameron. “Are you wed or not?”
They were legally wed, though Cameron was determined it would be in name only. It wouldn’t matter to him that a woman shared his name to stay out of a noose. So long as she didn’t carry expectations of him being a true husband.
In fact, this would be the best thing for both of them. He could go on about his life as the war chief, and she would be safe on MacKinlay lands. It was clear by fact of her having murdered her first husband that Mari didn’t take to marriage well. So this union would be just the thing to keep them both happy and free.
Cam waited for Mari to respond. She swallowed, then answered, “It appears that we are, based on Scottish law, my lord.”
“And we are in Scotland, aye?” Lach shifted and shushed the squirming children, who settled with their heads tucked on either side of his neck.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Humph.” Lachlan turned toward the door as Kenna stepped through it—though waddled was more accurate. Kenna was expecting another babe in a month or so.
“Hello, there,” Kenna said to the woman at his side.
Mari took a step forward, her eyes wide in surprise. “Sister?”
After a moment of shock, Kenna gasped and her eyes filled with tears. “My God! Marian?” She rushed to her sister. “Is it really you?”
…
Marian stood frozen as her taller sister hugged her. Or tried to. It wasn’t easy with her large belly in the way. Kenna pulled back to look at her, and Marian saw the confusion clear on her familiar face.
Marian now understood why Cameron would have thought her the wild one and Kenna the pretty one. Kenna was absolutely radiant. Her coppery hair was pulled up in a tidy bun with curls erupting in a perfect way. Pregnancy definitely agreed with her. It had given her lovely curves, and her dress was new and fashionable.
“Are you well?” Kenna asked, taking another step back and resting a hand on her belly.
“I am better now I’ve seen you.” And with that Marian broke down in tears. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”
She’d managed to keep her wits since leaving London. Her focus had been on getting somewhere safe. With that task finally accomplished, she was able to give in to the fear of what might come next. From the time she’d been a young girl and her father had made his plans to improve his standing with the English through her, she’d known what her future held. She had no idea what to do with this new feeling of uncertainty.
“Mayhap we should allow her to clean up,” Cam said. “She’s come a long way. Might ye have a clean dress that would fit her?”
“It would be a bit long, but I think we can manage,” Kenna replied.
“She’ll need a room,” he added.
The laird laughed once without humor. “Nay. She’s your wife now. She’ll stay in your chamber.”
It was clear her brother by marriage was using the situation to punish Cam—her husband. She’d been hoping this marriage could be one in name only. In truth, she didn’t want to give up a chance of freedom, but the MacKinlay name would protect her if Ridley or others showed up wanting to secure the bounty on her head.
“Wife?” Kenna looked between Cam and Marian with a startled expression.
“Aye,” Lachlan said bitterly. “Cam’s been gone for the morning. Doesn’t he always come back from such a task with a bride?” She could see the laird’s simmering anger at his war chief lurking underneath the amusement.
Instinctively, Marian took a protective step between this man and her younger sister. She wasn’t sure what to think of the laird. He looked ready to launch into violence at any second…and yet the children clung to him without fear.
Her Accidental Highlander Husband (MacKinlay Clan) Page 2
