The Bride Chooses a Highlander

by Adrienne Basso

  It took but a moment for Hamish to grasp Lachlan’s meaning that the union had been consummated. Drummond growled, his expression turning bitter. He took a menacing step toward them. Lachlan pushed Katherine from his side and pulled the sword off his back.

  “Hold!” the McKenna bellowed.

  Lachlan froze, yet kept his weapon at the ready. “Ye will cease accosting my wife, Drummond,” Lachlan said in a deathly calm voice. “Is that clear?”

  Graham also stepped forward. He stood in front of Hamish, his hand centered on the man’s chest.

  “How dare ye treat me in such a disrespectful manner,” Drummond cried, shaking his fist. “My father will be furious when he hears of these insults.”

  “He shouldn’t be,” Lachlan answered. “A true Highland laird respects a man’s right to guard and protect his woman.”

  “Lady Katherine is mine!” Drummond protested, beating his chest with his closed fist. “Ye stole her from me and I demand justice. Ye must stand trial fer thievery.” Then he spat in the dirt and began to pace like a caged beast.

  Lady Aileen let out an indignant huff. “Katherine is not yer chattel. Though it might be the more common way of thinking fer most men, I can assure ye, Sir Hamish, that my daughter is no man’s possession. Not even her husband’s.”

  “Aye. I honor and respect my wife, care fer and cherish her,” Lachlan said. “I dinnae own her, therefore I could not have stolen her from ye.”

  These unconventional comments rendered Drummond speechless; however, judging by the expressions on the faces of Katherine’s family, Lachlan knew he had made the correct response. Even Laird McKenna managed to soften his glare. A wee bit.

  Unfortunately, that small bit of softening vanished the moment Lady Aileen suggested they all go inside. The McKenna refused, shaking his head, widening his stance and planting his feet. Lachlan wondered if there was any force on earth that had the power to move him.

  Lady Aileen repeated her request. The McKenna again refused. The two locked eyes in combat, each assuming a nearly identical stubborn countenance.

  Silent tension reigned. Then suddenly, the McKenna blinked. Releasing a loud grunt of frustration, he took a few steps toward the wide wooden doors that led to the great hall.

  Those around them released a breath of relief, yet undercurrents of tensions swirled between the various members of the family—and Drummond—as they fell in line behind Laird McKenna and his lady.

  As Lachlan walked the long length of the McKenna’s great hall, he felt more like an itinerant knight and less like a laird of equal rank. He thought himself immune to the sight of wealth and comfort, but McKenna Hall was beyond anything he had ever seen, even in the richest holdings in the Lowlands.

  In truth, ’twas fit for a king.

  Massive tapestries embroidered with silk and gold threads hung along the gray stone walls. There was clear glass in the narrow windows and colored panes in others. The rushes under his feet were fresh and sweet smelling, the wooden trestle tables polished to a high shine.

  There were a half dozen multitiered wrought iron chandeliers strategically hung from the high rafters throughout the massive chamber. The costly beeswax candles positioned in them gave off a warm glow and a pleasant odor.

  The servants scurrying to and fro looked well-fed. Their garments were clean and tidy, their faces shining with good humor and health. Even the hounds sleeping in front of the hearth appeared content and well behaved.

  “I have much to share with ye,” Katherine announced to her family as they gathered around the table set upon the dais.

  “We are anxious to hear everything,” Lady Aileen answered. “It must be a fascinating tale.”

  Lady Joan motioned to one of the servants and within moments platters of cold meat, cheese, meat pies, dried fruit, and brown bread were set on the table, along with pitchers of wine and ale. Broodingly, Drummond poured himself a tankard of ale and began noisily drinking. No one else touched any of the offerings.

  “Mistress Innes, please take Lileas and Callum upstairs,” Lady Joan instructed, casting a wary eye toward Drummond, who had already downed a second tankard and was starting on a third.

  “I want to stay,” the lass whined. “I want to hear Aunt Katherine’s story. Callum does too.”

  “Hush, Lileas, and do as yer bid,” Lady Joan replied in a firm voice. “Aunt Katherine will speak with ye later in yer chamber.”

  “When? When will she come to see us?” Lileas asked, her voice rising anxiously. “If she waits too long, Callum will fall asleep. We’ll have to wake him and he’ll be cross. Aunt Katherine wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  “If Callum is asleep when she arrives, she will leave him be and speak only with ye. After all, ye are the older sister and therefore entitled to a special privilege.”

  “But Mama—”

  “Enough! If ye continue to argue, ye willnae see yer aunt until tomorrow.”

  Lachlan smiled at the uncanny resemblance between the lass’s whining and Hamish Drummond’s complaints. ’Twas remarkable, really, to note how much the man sounded like a spoiled, petulant babe when he protested the loss of his betrothed.

  Lileas’s mouth turned down in a mulish frown. She crossed her arms and huffed, but a stern glare from Lady Joan silenced any forthcoming protests. After a second, louder sigh, the lass nudged her younger brother with her elbow.

  “Mama says we must go.” Lileas suddenly brightened. “Prince will come with us and keep us company so we willnae be lonely while we wait.”

  One of the hounds lounging in front of the fire lifted its head. Lachlan assumed the mangy dog was the aforementioned Prince. Lady Joan beckoned the beast. Tail wagging, it lumbered over and obediently followed the children from the chamber.

  “I will speak with ye, MacTavish,” the McKenna demanded, standing toe-to-toe with Lachlan. “Alone.”

  Katherine’s eyes widened in alarm and she clutched the sleeve of Lachlan’s tunic. Lachlan smiled gently and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “’Tis to be expected,” he said, inflecting his voice with a reassurance he didn’t entirely feel.

  Head high Lachlan followed Katherine’s father from the great hall, girding himself for whatever objections, disapproval, and veiled threats he fully expected the McKenna to spew at him. Yet no matter what was said—or threatened—Lachlan would not yield. Katherine would remain his wife.

  They entered a chamber with several large windows. There was a desk, another table piled with scrolls, and a thick woven rug covering the stone floor.

  Two finely carved high-back chairs were set by the fire blazing in the hearth. The McKenna settled himself in one, then indicated Lachlan should sit in the other. Did he dare take it as a good sign that he was at least offered a seat?

  “I need to decide what’s to be done with ye,” the McKenna said without preamble. “Drummond’s protests that ye are a thief are not far off the mark. Ye did take what belonged to him. But I’ll not condemn a man to lose a hand or be hung by the neck until I hear his side of the story. Explain yerself.”

  Lachlan held his expression steady, ignoring the deliberate provocation in the McKenna’s voice. The man might be spoiling for a fight, but Lachlan was determined not to give him one.

  “I’ve shown ye proof of my marriage to Katherine. If ye want—”

  “I’m not a lackwit,” the McKenna interrupted sharply. “My daughter tied herself to ye to avoid wedding Drummond. I want to know why. Did ye force her? Seduce and compromise her before ye spoke the vows?”

  “Nay!” Lachlan declared vehemently. “I would never take advantage of a woman, any woman, under my protection, least of all one as gentile and refined as Katherine.”

  The McKenna restlessly tapped his fingertip on the arm of his chair. “Not wanting to marry Drummond is far different from wanting to marry ye.” He scowled. “Ye know that ye dinnae deserve her, don’t ye?”

  “Aye. But I’m a damn better choice tha
n Drummond. He would have made her life a misery. Ye already know that’s why she fled. Katherine feared that ye might force her to honor the betrothal.”

  “I still might,” the McKenna retorted with a sniff.

  Though tempted to loudly protest, Lachlan resisted the bait. “I can understand that you dinnae wish to throw fuel on the fire of a feud that ye are struggling to prevent. But the cost is yer daughter’s future happiness.”

  The McKenna shrugged. “I’ll allow that Drummond has revealed a lack of character. He’s young. He’ll mature in time and with Katherine as his wife, he has the chance to become a far better man and a choice leader.”

  “I’m already a leader,” Lachlan said modestly. “I dinnae expect my wife to be saddled with the task of molding me into a worthier man.”

  The McKenna scoffed. “If she’s anything like her mother, Katherine will relish the notion.”

  “I’m certain Katherine willnae have to look very hard to find flaws within me that she can try to reform,” Lachlan replied with a fond grin.

  The remark elicited a small crack in the McKenna’s stoic demeanor. There was less open antagonism in the chamber, but Lachlan dared not relax his guard. The McKenna was a law unto himself, his power insurmountable. His mood could just as easily turn combative again.

  “How do ye answer Drummond’s charge of thievery?” the McKenna asked.

  “I dinnae steal anything. Katherine married me of her own free will. As fer the kidnapping, my brother Aiden was the man who seized the chance to take Katherine when the opportunity presented itself,” Lachlan replied.

  “Fer ransom? Yet sent no messages. Why dinnae ye demand any?”

  “Aiden hoped to make an exchange.”

  The McKenna let out a grunt. “Fer what?”

  “Our youngest brother is yer prisoner. He toils in yer quarry.”

  “Christ’s blood!” The McKenna’s expression of puzzlement slowly gave way to cold appraisal. “Tell me what happened to her from the moment Katherine was kidnapped,” he demanded.

  Lachlan paused, wondering if it was possible to save a conversation that was rapidly slipping out of his favor. He filtered the events through his mind, trying to present the sequence in the most favorable light until he realized only the full and unvarnished truth would satisfy a man like Katherine’s father.

  Still, he chose his words carefully, starting slowly and gradually picking up speed as he related all that caused Katherine to be brought into his life. The only thing Lachlan deliberately omitted was Katherine’s proposal, as he wanted to make certain the McKenna understood how important retaining this marriage was to Lachlan.

  “Bloody hell. Ye’ve one brother who’s a brigand—and my prisoner—and another who’s a kidnapper. ’Tis an exemplary bloodline.” The McKenna’s sarcasm turned into a sigh.

  “We’re not perfect,” Lachlan conceded.

  “In truth, I know nothing of yer people except that the MacTavish fought beside Longshanks, against the Bruce, against me, in the war fer Scottish independence,” the McKenna added. “I believed yer clan had vanished when Robert became king.”

  “We survived. Barely.” Lachlan took a deep breath, ignoring the jibe. “My grandmother was a Comyn. John the Red was her first cousin. I’m sure you can appreciate the need my grandfather felt to answer the call fer justice when the Bruce stabbed John the Red on the high altar at Greyfriars Kirk.”

  “Not our king’s finest hour,” the McKenna admitted, shaking his head.

  “Mistakes were made on both sides during the war, but it is long over. The MacTavish fully support the Scottish crown and the Bruce’s heirs,” Lachlan insisted. “We have sworn our loyalty and have kept faith with that oath. I have no regard fer the English. Fer many years I’ve fought with the clans in the Lowlands to keep the enemy on their side of the border.”

  It was a risk offering this information. Little was thought of men who sought their fortunes and pledged their swords in the service of others for coin. Yet Lachlan reasoned that the McKenna would discover it at some point. Best that he hear it directly from Lachlan.

  “Ye claim to support the Bruce’s son and heir. Fer how long?”

  “Fer as long as he rules justly and fairly.” Lachlan smiled ruefully. “We are not the first Scottish clan to switch sides in a conflict. There are many others who are not adverse to the practice, including King Robert when he sought allies to support his claim to the throne.”

  The McKenna snorted in acknowledgment. He reached for his tankard, drained it, then slammed the empty vessel on the table.

  “I’m not unsympathetic to yer circumstances, MacTavish. I can appreciate how persuasive my daughter can be when she wants something and ’tis obvious that she wanted to avoid a marriage to Drummond.” The McKenna cleared his throat. “I’d be willing to compensate ye if ye set the marriage aside.”

  “Ye want me to abandon Katherine?”

  The McKenna shrugged his shoulders, yet Lachlan could see the eagerness glittering in the older man’s eyes. “I want to make peace with Laird Drummond and that will happen much faster if ye disappear. I’ll pay ye half as much as ye would have received with Katherine’s dowry. If ye leave within the hour, I’ll even consider granting yer brother his freedom so that he may go with ye.”

  This was unexpected. Lachlan assumed he might need to talk his way out of being tossed in the castle dungeons. He never anticipated being bribed to renounce the marriage.

  Lachlan paused. It was a good offer. As laird it was his duty to ease the burdens of his clan, but he knew he could never weaken and consider it, for it would mean losing Katherine.

  “Ye place far too little value upon yer daughter, Laird. Katherine’s true worth doesn’t lie in her worldly goods, but in herself. She is a female with strength and character. She will make me a fine wife and be a good mother to our children.”

  The McKenna cast Lachlan a suspicious look. “Ye tell a pretty tale, MacTavish. Was it yer silver tongue that convinced my daughter to take ye as her husband?”

  Lachlan ignored the sarcasm. “I am humbled by Katherine’s regard, fer she is a most extraordinary woman. I believe we are a well-matched pair. Far better than Katherine and Drummond.”

  “Weddings in the Highlands are meant to settle feuds, not start them,” the McKenna said bitterly. “Hamish’s anger over the breaking of this betrothal contract is a mere pittance compared to the wrath of his father. The last thing I want is a feud with the clan that resides on my southern border.”

  “There must be some way to appease them. Aside from dissolving my marriage,” Lachlan hastily added.

  The McKenna’s gaze held steady. “I’m not inclined to search for another solution. If ye insist on holding fast to the marriage, ye’ll have to take Katherine with the clothes on her back and nothing more. I refuse to relinquish her dowry to ye.”

  The McKenna’s expression was most serious. Lachlan struggled to read the motives behind the words. Was this a test? A way for him to prove that he did indeed care for Katherine?

  “’Tis yer decision,” Lachlan said cautiously. “I’ll not lie and say it doesn’t matter, for my people are in need of much, including food stores to get us through the rest of the winter. But I’ll not renounce Katherine over a bit of coin and goods. Though I warn ye that I willnae be pleased to have my wife pained over the slight of not bringing her rightful dowry to her marriage. She is a proud woman.”

  “Where, exactly, do ye think she came by that pride?” the McKenna scoffed.

  “I also have concerns about the clan on my southern borders,” Lachlan answered honestly. “Archibald Fraser was most displeased when he learned that I had concealed Katherine’s true identity from him. Fortunately, I was able to thwart his attempt to take her from me.”

  “Ye could have bartered her freedom to Fraser and earned some coin fer yerself.”

  Lachlan nodded. “He was certainly interested, but fer years I’ve heard enough rumors of his cruelty to believe them
. I could never consign an innocent woman to such a fate.”

  “Graham tells me that ye fought Fraser to save her.”

  Lachlan nodded. “I took his sword.” Lachlan stood and reached beneath his cloak, bringing forth the weapon. “Katherine told me of the bad blood between Fraser and yer eldest son, Malcolm. I thought he would appreciate having it in his possession.”

  The McKenna accepted the weapon with obvious reluctance, his face puffing with indignation. “A sword fer my only daughter? That hardly makes us even.”

  “’Tis a start. I am willing to compromise on almost anything—except my marriage. Katherine is my wife and will remain so until God calls one of us to his side.”

  “Perhaps ’tis my duty to make my daughter a widow.”

  Lachlan felt his determination tighten. “Ye can try,” he answered softly. “I’ll not raise my sword first against my wife’s kin, fer she loves ye all, but I will defend myself if provoked.”

  The McKenna gave him the slightest of smiles. Yet the glimmer of respect Lachlan thought he saw in the other man’s eyes must have been a delusion, as Katherine’s father then made his position very clear.

  “Ye’ve given me much to consider. However, I’ve not yet decided if I’ll allow the marriage to stand. In the meantime, ye shall enjoy the hospitality of my dungeons.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Being reunited with her mother momentarily eclipsed Katherine’s worry over the conversation her father was having with Lachlan. Graham had somehow managed to remove Hamish from the great hall, affording Katherine, her mother, and her sister-in-law some much needed privacy. Yet once she had relayed some of her adventures after fleeing Drummond Castle, Katherine’s thoughts again returned to her husband.

  The McKenna’s anger usually flared quick and hot and burned out as rapidly. But today had been different. His wrath had been deep and quiet so much so that he had not welcomed her home nor embraced her. She had been greatly disturbed by the air of hostility emanating from him and felt uncertain how to combat it.