A movement caught her eye, causing her to look up. Bo was running full-tilt towards her, behind him, the black-haired Robson devil walking along the cliffs. But he was going in the wrong direction if he was intending to make for his own castle. What was he up to? Anger tightened her throat. Before she knew it, she’d mounted and urged Geal to a gallop. Heedless of the danger, she hurtled towards the man who’d played her for a fool.
*
Marshall wasn’t intimidated by horses. He’d grown up around hardy and sometimes temperamental Highland ponies. However, his belly clenched at the fury on the face of the woman galloping towards him. Teagan MacCray fully intended to knock him off his feet.
It was a dangerous ploy. They and her horse could end up seriously injured. Yet, as he gritted his teeth, preparing to avoid disaster, he had to admire her spunk. Not many lasses would be brave enough to charge a Highland warrior. Or angry enough.
He dove out of her way as she galloped by, Bo nipping at the horse’s heels. Sprawled on the grass, he felt again the pain of bruised ribs he’d forgotten, and considered the cause of her anger. She must be aware she was promised to another man, as Beathan claimed. Therefore, that couldn’t be the reason. He scrambled to his feet and resumed his trek to Castle MacCray. “Nay, she’s furious because of the proposal to wed Elgin. But she has ne’er met my brother…so…”
He grinned as he swaggered across the stone bridge. “Idiot. She’s angry because ’tis ye she wants.”
The realization ignited a tiny spark of hope in his breast.
Duty
Panting hard, Teagan reined Geal to a halt, slid from the horse and fell to her knees in the grass. Beside her, Bo whimpered as she sobbed, hugging herself in an effort to stop the uncontrollable trembling racking her body. “I dinna…ken…why I’m so…upset,” she stammered.
Bo nuzzled her elbow, trying to get closer. She opened her arms and hugged him. “My one true friend,” she rasped. “Ye’d ne’er betray me. Beathan intends to marry me off to some mon I dinna like. Marshall Robson wants me to wed his brother in order to end a feud. He doesna care about me at all.”
As the sobs slowly subsided, she filled her lungs with fresh air, astonished to realize she’d come close to mowing down a man she’d met only scant hours ago. His callous disregard had prompted her to act in a totally uncharacteristic way. What was it about him that roused such passion?
Plucking up her courage, she risked looking along the cliff, relieved Marshall had apparently survived unscathed and was crossing the bridge. “I almost killed him,” she confessed to her dog. “Yet, if I’d hurt him, ’twould have broken my heart.”
Reluctant to return to the castle and face Marshall and her brothers, she sat with her faithful hound for over an hour, just staring out to sea. She’d hoped the journey to Wick would be a life-altering event. “But I ne’er imagined I’d meet a mon and become smitten as soon as I set eyes on him.”
Once again, the sea had delivered the answer. She’d fallen for a Highlander she could never have, a man who was probably complaining to her brother about the attempt on his life.
Lost in misery, she didn’t notice Beathan ride up until he dismounted and sat beside her. Expecting a scolding, she was surprised when he put an arm around her shoulders. “I didna mean to hurt yer feelings,” he said. “’Twas thoughtless of me to announce ye’re promised to a clansman. I ken yer distaste for that notion.”
Puzzled, she turned to look at him, wondering what the stranger beside her had done with her eldest brother.
“I wanted to explain I only said that to give ye time to consider Robson’s proposal. But ye disappeared before I had a chance.”
“I’m confused,” she confessed. “Ye’ve all along insisted I wed someone from our clan.”
His rough thumbs brushed away the tracks of tears from her cheeks. “Ye’re of my blood, Teagan. One look at ye and anyone can see we are brother and sister.”
She nodded. “Ye, me and Archie are the only ones with hazel eyes.”
“Aye. We might tease ye mercilessly because ye’re the only lass, but we all love ye and want ye to be happy. I have a lot to learn about being a good laird, but I would ne’er force ye to wed a mon ye dinna like.”
She leaned into his embrace, the newfound closeness causing the tears to fall anew. However, soon, she sensed from the tension in him that there was something he wasn’t telling her.
“I’ve just come from the council,” he finally said. “The elders have agreed to grant Clan Robson access to Wick, provided they, in turn, agree to pool their superior birlinns with ours and share their expertise plying Scandinavian trade routes.”
“Everybody gets what they want,” she murmured, feeling the chill when he removed his arm.
“There is just one problem. The elders believe we should accept the proposal to wed ye to Elgin Robson. Such a marriage would signal goodwill and guarantee the alliance.”
Teagan hugged her knees to her chest and perched her chin atop them. She stared out at the waves, unable to gather her thoughts. Gradually, it occurred to her Marshall’s brother must be older than he was, and possibly even more appealing. Her clan would benefit from an end to the feud and she wanted to do the right thing. Married to the laird, she’d be the chatelaine of Castle Robson. At least, she’d always be close to Marshall. “I consent,” she whispered. “’Tis my duty.”
*
Upon his return to Castle MacCray, Marshall unexpectedly encountered a frowning young man who told him the council was still in session. “Ye’re to wait in yer chamber until sent for.”
There was something almost childlike in the way he spoke, as if he were making sure he conveyed a message exactly as he’d been told, but Marshall nodded politely. “Thank ye.”
“I’m Seth. That’s my brother’s shirt.”
“Ye’re one of Teagan’s brothers?”
“Aye. Seth.”
Marshall extended a hand. “Pleased to meet ye. I’m Marshall Robson.”
The youth stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, then shook his head. “I ken who ye are. Ye made Teagan sad.”
“Weel, the accident wasna entirely my fault,” he countered. “And I did rescue her.”
Seth shook his head more vehemently. “Nay. I mean ye pretended to like her, then proposed she wed yer laird.”
Marshall frowned as frustration crept in. “I didna pretend to like her, and she’s promised to a member of yer clan, so…”
Seth snorted. “Teagan willna wed a MacCray. Our dadaidh always said his bairns should marry outside the clan, and she will.”
Conflicting emotions swirled in Marshall’s gut. The youth seemed a bit simple, yet he claimed to know what was in Teagan’s heart.
“Now, to yer chamber, if ye please. And dinna take Beathan’s shirt when ye leave. He willna like it.”
Marshall dutifully obeyed. When he reached his chamber, he decided he probably shouldn’t put too much stock in Seth’s opinions.
Regretting there was naught he could do about the grass stains, he removed Beathan’s shirt. He half-expected Katie to bustle into the room. Feeling ridiculously alone when she didn’t appear, he reluctantly shrugged on his own salt-stiffened shirt and re-draped his plaid across his chest.
With nothing left to do but wait, he wandered to the window and looked out over the cliffs. Castle Robson loomed in the distant haze, but his attention fixed on Teagan sitting in the grass, hugging her dog. When she visited the cliffs in the mornings, she looked happy. Now, her posture suggested defeat and sadness. He’d wager she was crying. Leaning his forehead against the glass, he inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused ye, lass. But now, ye willna be obliged to wed Elgin.”
He watched for a long while, clenching and unclenching his fists in frustration. His heart knew she was the one for him, but his brain couldn’t fathom a plan to make it so.
It came as a surprise when Beathan appeared on the scene and sat with his sister. He’d bee
n under the impression they weren’t close, but the laird seemed to be consoling Teagan. Just because he and Elgin had nothing in common and had never enjoyed a healthy sibling relationship didn’t mean the MacCrays were the same. Seth clearly loved Teagan and the terrible twins had lashed out at him in defense of their sister. He should bear in mind seven young Highlanders would go to great lengths to protect the only lass in the family. A twinge in his bruised ribs reminded him of it.
He ground his teeth when Beathan and Teagan stood and began the ride back to Castle MacCray. He got the impression some decision had been reached and didn’t expect to wait much longer to find out what it was.
Tide of Despair
Marshall was a guest in Castle MacCray—albeit an unwelcome one. A guest instructed to wait in his chamber until summoned didn’t go rushing down to the entryway. He reminded himself of his obligation as he perched on the bed, remembering the bleak sadness on Teagan’s face as she’d come within sight of his window.
He’d been tempted to shout, “I dinna care if ye’re promised to another, marry me.”
But he’d be putting his clan’s future in jeopardy when the possibility of a long overdue alliance was at hand. Not to mention he might find himself facing seven angry Highland warriors, eight if he counted the man she was apparently promised to.
He nigh on leaped off the bed when the knock came at the door. Filling his lungs, he opened it to find a scowling Katie.
“Ye’re summoned to the laird’s study,” the maid informed him curtly before flouncing off down the corridor, her previously friendly demeanor gone. He seemed fated to alienate everyone in Castle MacCray.
Clearing his throat, he stiffened his spine and set off for his appointment. He faltered momentarily when he entered the study and saw the stern faces of the three men who awaited him. His spirits plummeted further when he caught sight of the pale lass standing by the hearth, one hand clutching the mantel. He’d give anything to wipe away the desolation on Teagan’s fair face.
“Archie and Cooper are here representing the council,” Beathan explained curtly. “A decision has been reached.”
Judging by the sour expressions on the brothers’ faces, Marshall didn’t hold out much hope of an end to the feud. He began to wonder if he’d even leave Castle MacCray alive. He wouldn’t stand much chance against three well-muscled giants. And why was Teagan present? Surely they wouldn’t murder him in front of her? Although, she’d already tried to run him down with her horse.
It penetrated his confused brain that Beathan was still speaking. “…Wick…birlinns…Scandinavia…marriage.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Laird MacCray, can ye repeat that?”
Beathan nodded. “I ken, ’tis a lot to take in. Clan Robson will have complete access to Wick provided ye commit yer birlinns to a joint fleet and share yer knowledge of Scandinavian trade routes.”
The knot in Marshall’s innards loosened. “Wonderful news,” he exclaimed, offering a hand. “On behalf of my clan, I agree.”
“We’ll shake on it when ye’ve heard all of the conditions,” Beathan said.
Marshall frowned, a terrible premonition creeping up his spine when he risked a glance at Teagan. She seemed to have lapsed into a trance; present, yet not.
Beathan cleared his throat. “The council has decided to endorse yer offer to wed Teagan to yer laird.”
Marshall’s heart plummeted to his boots.
Nay, nay! She canna wed Elgin.
“And Teagan has agreed.”
*
If she let go of the mantel, Teagan feared she’d be swept away on a tide of despair. She tried hard to listen to the discussion of arrangements for the opening of Wick to their former enemies and her marriage to the Robson laird, but her head felt like it was full of cobwebs. Her future had become the stuff of negotiations and expediency.
She dared not look at Marshall lest her eyes betray her utter lack of enthusiasm for marrying his brother. Nay, ’twas dread and disappointment knotting her innards.
“Is that acceptable to ye?” Beathan asked, jolting her back to reality. She had no idea what she was expected to agree to, but it didn’t matter. She’d consented to wed Marshall’s brother, and that was that. “Aye. Whatever ye decide.”
“On the morrow,” Beathan continued, “ye and I will travel to Castle Robson with Marshall to finalize the alliance and discuss plans for the nuptials.”
Spending time at close quarters with the man who’d broken her heart was the last thing she wanted, but how could she object? Still, she risked finally looking at him, just so he’d know from her glare…
Their gazes met. She fled the study when she saw her despair mirrored in his blue eyes.
*
“What was that all about?” Cooper asked.
Archie shrugged. “’Tis impossible to ken why females behave the way they do.”
Marshall heard the exchange between the brothers, but couldn’t gather his thoughts. As a mariner plying the trade routes to Scandinavia, he’d been in some challenging, even life-threatening situations. They paled in comparison to his current predicament. Out on the waves, he’d known exactly what to do to set things aright.
Now, he was lost. He’d seen the same despair in Teagan’s eyes that threatened to break his heart. She cared for him but, when she met Elgin, her regard would turn to hatred.
Castle Robson would be cursed with a resentful chatelaine. He’d be condemned to living close to a woman he wanted but could never have.
The urge to agree to all the terms except one surged in his throat. He would wed Teagan.
Recognizing the futility of that notion, he allowed himself to be led to the dining hall for a celebratory meal.
MacCray Backbone
Marshall was almost glad Teagan didn’t appear in the dining hall. Her absence made it easier to act as if he were delighted with the turn of events. He’d achieved his goal—access to Wick and a bride for his brother, thus securing the succession of his clan. Yet, he felt no joy.
At the outset of the meal, the brothers were subdued, though, seemingly, all politely in favor of the alliance. They gradually bombarded him with questions about his voyages to Norway. As the evening wore on and the ale flowed freely, they became louder and less standoffish. They’d apparently decided he knew what he was talking about, and had accepted him as an ally rather than an enemy. Only Ethan and Lachlan maintained their cool demeanors.
He began to let down his guard, discovering he could learn to like the MacCray men. They were a handsome lot, tall, well-muscled and ready with a jest once they warmed to him. Only Ethan and Lachlan were redheads; the rest had chestnut brown hair like Teagan’s.
The late MacCray laird and his wife had been blessed with a bevy of fine sons, unlike his own father.
After the meal, Beathan invited everyone to his parlor for a wee dram. Marshall couldn’t very well refuse, though he’d imbibed a quantity of ale.
He was impressed when they entered a comfortable parlor warmed by rich wooden paneling and expertly milled moldings—mahogany, he’d guess. There were enough upholstered chairs for everyone and discussion inevitably turned to the next steps necessary to cement the alliance.
“My birlinn is still docked in Wick,” he reminded them. “My crew will worry what’s become of me.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing this vessel of yers,” Beathan replied. “We could go to yer castle by way of Wick and ye can give us a demonstration of the touted Robson sailing prowess.”
Beathan had likely drunk more whisky than Marshall, and he’d lost count of how many he’d imbibed, so he didn’t take offense. “Ye’re on. However, ye’ll have to sail with me to Cèis, so I can get my horse.”
He supposed it was the amount of alcohol consumed that caused everyone to find that proposition hysterically funny, with derogatory references made to the docking facilities at the hamlet on Sinclair Bay. Even Lachlan and his twin forgot to pout and guffawed with laughter. Havin
g to dock at Cèis likely was ridiculous, though Marshall’s clan had been obliged to do so for generations. He decided it was past time to seek his bed, lest his irritation become evident. “’Til the morrow,” he declared, feeling unsteady as he got to his feet.
Beathan rose and shook his hand firmly. “Aye. I look forward to the morrow’s adventure and to visiting yer castle. Hopefully, Teagan willna be afraid to board a birlinn again.”
Marshall couldn’t later recall leaving the parlor and making his way to his chamber. Even as he tumbled into a hazy doze atop the brocade counterpane, his mind was still filled with the dreadful image of Lachlan’s boat tipping Teagan into the cold waters of Wick Bay.
*
The following morning, Teagan resisted Katie’s insistence she get out of bed. She’d spent most of the night reliving the moment of intense relief when her savior had wrapped his strong arm around her body as she struggled to escape the sea’s icy grip. “I’m too tired,” she murmured.
“Ye canna lie abed all day,” her maid retorted, drawing back the draperies around the bed. “The Robson laird perhaps isna the mon ye fancy, but he is a laird, and ye’ve always said ye didna want to wed a MacCray.”
Teagan squinted against the bright light of day. Katie was right, but the courage to get up and face her family eluded her. “’Tis ludicrous,” she admitted. “I’ve only kent Marshall Robson a day, yet…”
“’Tis likely his aulder brother is even more attractive,” her maid declared, pummeling the pillow so Teagan had no choice but to raise her head. “And ye’ll be chatelaine of a grand castle nay too far from home.”
“I suppose,” she agreed, sliding out of bed. “The feud will at last be over. Common sense has prevailed.”
Katie nodded as she pulled back the linens. “Best ye make haste. Our laird is waiting in the dining hall.”
Teagan’s stomach churned. Marshall was no doubt also in the hall. “I dinna feel like eating this morn.”
Kilts Ahoy! Page 6
