A Promise for Tomorrow

by Michele Paige Holmes

  Murmurs rippled through the crowd, and by their faces I began to see more clearly who might be a MacDonald— and for Ian’s plan— and who might not.

  “My brother has made a great sacrifice that I might be here today— with the people of my clan and the people of yours— Katherine’s. Liam Campbell saw this day. He saw the demise of the Highlands, except her people. Even sworn enemies such as are here tonight should band together in such circumstances.”

  Ian took my hand in his bandaged one before I could object.

  “At great personal expense Collin brought Liam’s granddaughter home to you, though the dowry promised him for such service was not delivered. In lieu of that, the MacDonalds will winter here, among you. All will work. All will share. Any who disagree or do not feel to do their part may leave. While I yet live, I vow to do mine to assure our lives as Highlanders continue. That Scotland, her people, are not driven from this land and lost forever, as was attempted here already by Brann Campbell, when he took your homes and kept for himself what was meant for all.”

  Murmurs of agreement passed among the crowd. For all his frightening appearance, Ian spoke well, and it seemed his words were winning them over. I would not have guessed it possible.

  “As a symbol of our commitment to this cooperation and to our people, Katherine and I will handfast.”

  My panic flared as he turned toward me.

  Already we had reached the end of his pretty speech. Had it been Collin who’d spoken those words I might have felt a swell of pride or at the least an eagerness to stand at his side and support him. With Ian I felt nothing but distrust. I was a pawn in whatever game he played. I didn’t like it but could see no choice but to play along. He’d known it would be so. For all my recent thoughts of dying, there was a hall full of people who needed me to live.

  Alistair and another man joined us, the latter unwrapping one of Ian’s bandaged hands. I braced myself for more atrocities beneath and saw I was correct when the red, raw skin of recently burned flesh was revealed.

  My nausea doubled. The hand was not healed, not nearly so, and had both blistered and bled recently, given the pink tinge of the inner bandage when it was removed.

  My questioning gaze flickered to Ian, but he stood still and focused, pain etched deep in the lines of his forehead. “To be binding, our skin must touch.”

  His brief explanation did not make me feel any better.

  “Join hands, please,” Alistair said, though he had to realize it would cause Ian discomfort.

  I didn’t want to touch him, and for several seconds my good hand remained at my side, twisting in the folds of my gown.

  “Katherine.” Ian spoke between clenched teeth.

  I swallowed back my repulsion and fear and slowly raised my hand, placing my palm against his. Our touch was light, made less so when a white cloth was wrapped around our clasped hands.

  “Well done,” Ian whispered. His uncovered eye flickered to mine as I felt the pressure of his fingers against my wrist. I shuddered and tried not to think of my hand against his or the feel of his charred skin on mine.

  “White for purity,” Alistair said loudly as I fought for calm.

  “Blue for loyalty.” A second cloth was added.

  My breathing evened. This is not a wedding. It was a way to protect the Campbells, nothing more.

  “Red for love.”

  Red for bloodshed would have been more accurate.

  A crimson band covered the others. Like the first ceremony I’d participated in with a MacDonald, this felt like far too much— too many assumptions, too much pageantry, and too false for this circumstance involving strangers who could barely tolerate one another.

  We were asked questions then. Not so many as when Collin and I wed, but enough—more promises than I cared to be making. I made them anyway, all the while refusing to look at Ian. I wanted this nightmare to be over, but these words were only the beginning of it.

  I am promising myself to a pirate.

  Ian looked down on me with his one eye. With courage I met his gaze, trying not to cringe. Without his hair, and with that angry scar crossing his head, he was horrifying to look upon. It was as if the evil inside him had come to light, and all could see what he truly was. Before, his beauty might have hidden his nature.

  Except that his appearance didn’t seem to be all about him that had changed. I’d have expected a speech like the one he’d just given to have come from Collin, not Ian. And the words he spoke next, as he knelt in front of me and bowed his scarred head over our joined hands, had come from Collin.

  “I take you to my heart at the rising of the moon and the setting of the stars. To love and to honor through all that may come, through all our lives together.”

  Not love. Don’t speak of love. My heart had known Collin, even when my mind had not remembered him. But I didn’t have that connection with Ian. I didn’t want that connection. Tears fell from my eyes onto our joined hands.

  “In all our lives, may we be reborn, that we may meet and know, and love again.” His hand tightened over mine. “And remember.”

  Remember me, Katie. It was Collin’s voice in my mind, and in my heart only Collin to whom I spoke the promise.

  “I will.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “Give me your knife,” I demanded of Alistair the second our hands were unbound.

  “Planning to murder me already?” Ian winced as the last cloth stuck to his tender flesh.

  I ignored his jibe. “Hold still.” I pricked his thumb with the tip of the blade, then did the same to mine. “Your words were very pretty, but I require a blood oath in front of all these witnesses.”

  His brow arched as if impressed. “What do you want me to swear?”

  “That you will not harm a single Campbell while you are here— or for a year after you have left.”

  Ian shook his head. “No.”

  “Then I do not wish to handfast.”

  “Too late.” His smile was positively sinister.

  “Probably best I hold this.” Alistair took the knife from me.

  I glared at him, wondering whose side he was on. Whispers had started again in the hall below, ripples of question about what we were arguing over.

  Ian took my thumb and pressed it to his. “Best do this before we have to use the knife again.”

  “You just said—”

  “Compromise.” He turned to the crowd and spoke loudly. “The lady would like a blood oath for her safety and that of her people, and so I give my word. So long as the MacDonalds, myself included, remain on Campbell land, no Campbell shall be harmed or killed by the hand of a MacDonald— save for two exceptions,” Ian added with a sharp look at me. “Should I have opportunity to meet Brann Campbell at any time, I may do with him as I please, as retribution for the lady’s injuries. And, should anyone attempt further harm upon Lady Katherine, he or she will answer in kind.”

  A cheer of approval rose up, as Alistair raised our hands together. Blood trickled down the side of my thumb, and I felt a little faint from that and all else.

  “Let the celebration begin,” Alistair declared. Another cheer went up, and the ale began to flow. He released our hands and turned back to me with a smile.

  “Braw lass.” He patted my shoulder. “And wise as well.” He seemed particularly pleased with how things had gone. “You’ve only to sign the document now.”

  I followed Alistair to the table and read over the brief paper. “One year and one day.” Forever. Somehow I would get through it— untouched. Ian had given his word, and I prayed he would keep it. I signed below him, noting his signature was little improved from when he’d signed as witness at my wedding. At least he had an excuse now, hands bandaged as they were.

  I turned to find him already accepting hearty congratulations from his clansmen. It appeared that I was the only one feeling bereft, as if I had just betrayed both my best friend and my family as well.

  * * *

  It was d
uring the celebration and feasting afterward that I realized what month it was.

  “August already and half the fields yet untouched. Even with help, how will we get it all done? What’s to become of us if we don’t?” a group of Campbell women lamented in hushed tones. They had gathered near the table laden with meat pies, slabs of venison, and trays of bread and sweets. Anyone looking at the generous offerings would not have believed that either Campbells or MacDonalds were in any danger of starving.

  But apparently— according to their worried conversation— we were.

  August. In two months I would be twenty. A widow already. Soon-to-be owner of one castle, crumbling to the ground a piece at a time. Alone in a strange land that was once my home. Handfast to the devil. Twenty promised to be a fine year.

  I’d been born on All Hallows’ Eve. Growing up in England, this had meant little to me, other than an extra hour or two sitting quietly in chapel— during our more religious years— to honor this hallowed or holy evening.

  But in Scotland, and particularly the Highlands, October 31st held much more meaning. Collin had told me that Samhain or Hallowe’en, as it was known here, was a time of remembering the deceased and even welcoming their return. Being born on such a day, along with the fact that I was Liam Campbell’s granddaughter, was seen as a great omen.

  Not only was I to see the events of the future unfold, but it was my link to the past that would allow them to do so. My connection with the dead.

  With Collin? A sort of hopeful fear shivered down my spine. Might I somehow possess the ability to communicate with him still?

  “This was needed.” Ian’s voice in my ear and his hand at my elbow startled me. I’d wandered away from him, amidst the sea of well-wishers, but had been aware of him tracking my movements the past several minutes. Unfortunately, I’d allowed my guard down enough that he’d managed to come near again.

  “Everyone needed this,” he said. “MacDonalds and Campbells alike. Each have been too long without hope.”

  “Some of us are still without hope,” I said miserably. I was surrounded by strangers and pledged now to the strangest one of all. I lifted my cup to my lips for another fortifying drink, while Ian looked on disapprovingly. He held his hand out. I surrendered the cup and waited as he first sniffed it then sipped.

  “Water?”

  I nodded. “I’ve been thirsty all day. And shaky. From the tea,” I admitted as I held out a trembling hand. Not to mention my headache, nausea, and dizziness.

  “No more than you deserve,” he said without sympathy and gave the cup back to me. “It is fortunate you were not subjected to Bridget’s poppy seed tea overlong.”

  I nodded, though a fair part of me yearned for it still.

  “If you care not for your welfare, care at least for hers,” Ian urged. “If so much as another drop of that concoction reaches your lips— or anyone else’s— she will be banished not only from this keep, but from Campbell lands entirely. How well do you think a woman of her years would do, alone in the Highlands, with winter coming?”

  “It is not within your authority to send her away,” I said, challenging him. “You are not the owner of this castle and therefore cannot order its inhabitants from it.”

  “I’m as good as married to its owner.” A wicked grin curved Ian’s mouth. “I believe you’ll find that affords me quite a bit of authority. I would not test that by drinking more tea if I were you.”

  I folded my good arm across my middle and turned away.

  “You needn’t be upset,” Ian said, his tone less arrogant than a moment ago. “I don’t intend to lord anything over you— unless you insist on acting foolishly.”

  Wanting to get away from you wasn’t foolish.

  “Uniting our people will be hard. Surviving winter, possibly even harder.” Ian moved around me so that we faced each other again. “But if we work together, it’s not impossible.” He tipped my chin up gently so that I was forced to look at him. “The worst may be having to look at this, aye?” He drew a circle in the air around his face. “Everyone here already believes you a braw lass, just for standing up with me tonight.” His mouth quirked in a smile I found all too reminiscent of Collin, as his eye roved over me in a way I found far too possessive. “You look bonny tonight, Katie. Thank you for wearing the gown. It’s the kind of dress you ought to have had on your wedding day.”

  “My name is Katherine. Henceforth, if you wish me to respond when you speak to me, you will please call me that and nothing else.” No endearments, and certainly not Katie. My eyes smarted. “I would also ask that you do not speak of the past or of Collin. Looking at you is reminder enough.”

  “Is it?” Ian asked curiously. “Even with my scars and shaved hair?” He smoothed a hand over his head.

  “What hair? You haven’t any.” A half-sob, half-laugh escaped my throat. I wasn’t jesting with him, merely trying to keep grief at bay a while longer. I could fall apart later, when I wasn’t surrounded by a hundred or more people.

  One side of Ian’s mouth twisted. “I did this for you.” He angled his face to and fro, showing off all sides of his head.

  “Thank you for—” I waved my hand at his head “— removing your insect-laden hair.”

  Ian laughed outright, eliciting curious looks from several people around us. No doubt the MacDonalds were not accustomed to such a sound coming from him. And the Campbells could only feel as disturbed as I when looking upon him.

  “There were no insects,” he said. “But anything— for you.”

  I lowered my chin almost into my cup. “What do you want from me, Ian?” This wasn’t the place to ask that question, or perhaps it was, as it was certainly safer among so many. His reaction would be careful and calculated here. I braved a glance at him. “What do you really want? What game are we playing at?”

  “No game.” He shook his head slowly. “Too many lives at stake for that.” He caught my gaze and held it. “Use your gift when you really want to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  It was near midnight when I ascended the stairs to return to my room. The celebration below didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, but I’d no desire to be a part of it. The week of profound grief and tension had left me exhausted, and I was still feeling the effects of Bridget’s special poppy seed brew, though nearly two full days had passed since I’d consumed any.

  I’d done my best tonight to meet members of my own clan and to welcome the MacDonalds, doing my best to act as the lady of this castle and my clan. The last I’d seen of Ian, he and a group of men had been headed outside, presumably for the watch. As before— the first time I’d wed— it seemed I was to be granted a night to myself.

  I opened my door and stepped inside, then turned to secure the bolt behind me. When it was in place I pressed my forehead to the cool wood and released a weary sigh.

  “Was it that awful?”

  I whirled to find Ian lounging casually on the bed in the near dark— legs crossed, hands behind his bald head. A low fire burned in the grate, and two glasses stood beside a tall bottle and a tray of bannocks on the table.

  “You hardly ate anything tonight,” he said, following my gaze. “I thought you might be hungry.”

  “I’m not.”

  “In that case.” He lowered a hand and patted the spot beside him. “Change out of your gown and come to bed.” It was an order, not a request.

  “I’ll do no such thing. Not with you.” I reached behind me for the crossbar.

  Ian’s brows rose. “You prefer sleeping elsewhere? With someone else?”

  “The man I preferred is dead.”

  “Be that as it may,” Ian said. “It is within my rights to order you to come to bed with me.”

  I stared at him blankly, doing my best to conceal my fear beneath a mask of anger. “I need not stay with you.”

  “True enough,” Ian said. “In a year’s time you may choose to end our agreement. But until then...”

  I was
as good as wed to him and subject to his law. I’d just hoped he wouldn’t care to impose it quite so soon. So much for his promise to Alistair.

  Ian uncrossed his legs, and I caught him wince. His injuries still pained him. There was something in my favor at least. My fingers closed over the bar, and I pushed it up.

  “Change and come to bed, Katherine.” He spoke more sharply than before, as if he had guessed my intent. “If you try to leave this room, I’ll only come after you. And neither of us ought to be chasing about while we’re still healing. Not to mention that I doubt you’d like putting on a show for the crowd downstairs.”

  And no one will dare to help you, he might have said. Bridget the brave feared him, and Alistair had bade me to do Ian’s will. What closer allies did I have? I let the bar fall and crossed the chamber to the dressing screen, grateful for what little protection it offered. At least I wouldn’t have to look at Ian for a few minutes.

  Or a few hours... a few days. It would probably take that long for me to figure out how to get out of this gown myself, one-handed as I still was.

  I stood in the dark, hugging myself, shivering with cold and trepidation and trying to calm my racing heart.

  Even if Bridget wasn’t in bed already, I doubted Ian would allow me to call for her. Why had I come upstairs? Why had I imagined for a minute that Ian would be the gentleman his brother had been?

  “Head up.”

  I startled at and instinctively obeyed Ian’s command, looking up as a bundle of cloth fitted over my head and slid to my shoulders. I reached up to touch the fabric and realized it was my sleeping gown. At the feel of Ian’s hands on my waist I started to turn.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” he warned. “Unless you want to be facing me when your gown is loosened and comes free. Hold still.”

  I did as he instructed, hardly daring to breathe as he worked awkwardly at first the buttons and then the laces of the gown, petticoats, and corset.