“I dinna blame them,” she told Bo, fondling his ears as she prepared to face her laird. “I’ve been adrift in my own unhappiness.”
Her hound growled his enjoyment of her attentions.
“’Tis easy for ye,” she teased. “Ye’re just a big baby.”
She had behaved like a baby herself. It was time to be an adult if she wanted her brothers’ respect, not their pity.
Resolved to shoulder her responsibilities, she sought out Beathan in his study, wisely leaving Bo in her chamber. She and her laird hadn’t spoken face to face since her decision to honor the promise to wed Elgin. His constant frown indicated he’d wrestled with the notion ever since. It was doubtful, though, that he realized her unhappiness didn’t simply stem from having to wed Elgin. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get Marshall Robson out of her thoughts.
Her laird stood when she entered his study, another sign his attitude had changed.
“Before ye say anything,” she began. “We need to make arrangements for my wedding.”
Her brother narrowed his gaze. “But ye dinna wish to wed the sot.”
“’Tis neither here nor there,” she replied, clenching her fists. “The marriage will benefit the clan.”
“I’m nay so sure about that,” he asserted. “We’ve only Marshall’s word that an alliance with the Robsons will bring the Scandinavian trade routes within our grasp. They’ve spent time in Wick and are readying their birlinns for a voyage, possibly to Norway. Yet, they’ve said naught.”
Teagan was about to protest Marshall would never lie about such a thing, but Beathan might wonder why she jumped to his defense. “Ask to go with them,” she retorted, immediately wishing the words unsaid.
He smiled. “I was thinking to do exactly that. I’d enjoy the adventure, as would Archie.”
Despite her belief Marshall was a capable mariner, the notion of her two eldest brothers undertaking the long voyage to Scandinavia filled her with dread. She fretted each time they sailed to Aberdeen. “But the wedding…”
“Crewing for the Robson laird will allow me to get the measure of the mon and his clan’s claims. Archie and I will learn the route and see the Norwegian markets for ourselves. There willna be a wedding until I’m satisfied.”
Teagan hated the thought of her brothers undertaking the long voyage. However, Beathan made a good point, and it would allow for a delay of her marriage. Before she could think of any objections, Archie entered. “Laird Robson and his brother are in the bailey,” he advised.
“Bring them here,” her laird commanded before she had a chance to flee. “Ye’ll have to face Elgin Robson sooner or later. Let’s hope he’s sobered up.”
She stiffened her spine, left with no choice but to stay in the study and greet her fiancé and his brother, the man who haunted every waking moment as well as her dreams.
*
Marshall hadn’t expected to find Teagan in her brother’s study, but was relieved Elgin at least looked more presentable than the first time she’d seen him.
He hung back by the door, hoping his brother would make a better impression. This was a formal meeting of two lairds, and he was weary of making up for Elgin’s shortcomings.
Beathan clenched his jaw. “Laird Robson,” he said coldly.
Elgin strode to offer a hand. “Laird MacCray. ’Tis a pleasure to see ye again. A fine castle ye have here.”
Marshall itched to wring his brother’s neck. Where was the abject apology for his earlier behavior that he’d agreed to offer? Small wonder Teagan rolled her eyes.
Credit to Beathan, he quelled the urge to punch Elgin that was clearly written on his scowling face, but he ignored the gesture of a handshake. “Ye’ve nay doot come to apologize to yer bride.”
Elgin gaped. “Er…”
Teagan squared her shoulders and took a step towards Elgin. “I’m glad to see ye’re feeling better than the last time we met,” she said without humor.
Marshall cleared his throat loudly. Now is a good time for an apology.
“Aye, weel,” Elgin replied, ignoring Marshall’s attempt to set him on the right path. “I dinna recall much about it, except ye struck me as a lovely lass.”
For a moment, Marshall thought Teagan was going to laugh out loud, but she brought the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth under control.
“I have some conditions before we proceed with the marriage,” Beathan growled.
Marshall wondered if this was a ploy to renege on the alliance, but he could hardly step in and object.
“I’m told ye’re preparing for another voyage, perhaps to Scandinavia,” the MacCray laird said.
“Marshall is, but I willna be going,” Elgin replied.
Beathan ignored him. “I propose Archie and I accompany ye on such a voyage,” he replied. “’Twill confirm what yer brother has told us of yer knowledge of the route and introduce us to Norwegian markets.”
Elgin looked back at Marshall who merely shrugged, impressed with the MacCray laird’s canny reasoning. While he made a good argument for the trade routes, his main objective was clearly to assess his fellow laird’s skills as a mariner. In this part of the world, a man unable to tame the sea was no man at all.
“But, I rarely take part in those long voyages,” Elgin whined. “Too many duties at home, ye ken.”
“No voyage, no wedding,” Bethan declared.
Marshall stepped into the conversation in order to rescue his brother who obviously had no idea how to respond. “’Twill be a pleasure to sail with ye again, Laird Beathan. I look forward to it.”
Beathan shook his head. “Nay need for ye to come. I’ve seen yer impressive skills.” He turned to Elgin. “Send word when ye’re ready to cast off.”
*
Teagan stared at the door after the Robsons left. She’d seen something troubling in Marshall’s gaze. Was he bothered because Beathan had more or less forbidden his participation in the voyage, or was it something more?
“I dinna like this,” she told her brother. “Are ye sure ye dinna want Marshall along? Ye ken naught of his brother’s seafaring skills.”
Beathan cocked his head to one side. “I’m nay worried. Archie and I can handle aught that goes awry. In any case, I thought ye’d be glad he isna coming with us.”
Heat flooded her face. Had her brother guessed she was infatuated with the man? “Why would that be?”
“Nay reason,” he replied, shrugging off the question. “The two of ye can perhaps spend the time planning yer nuptials.”
Unsure if he was teasing, she clenched her fists. “That hardly seems proper.”
He regained his seat behind his desk and began shuffling papers. “Aye, weel. I’m sure tongues will wag, but there ye are. Now, if ye dinna mind, I’ve a lot to do before I go off to Norway.”
Piqued she’d been dismissed, she sought her own chamber.
Guided Tour
Marshall stood on the dock at Wick, wondering if any of the information he’d spent two days trying to drum into his brother’s head had actually taken root. Elgin had never fully grasped the proper use of the older astrolabe. The sextant—a newer invention—seemed to boggle his mind.
As the expedition got underway, Elgin’s confused orders to the crew made Marshall doubtful things would go well.
Taking one boat on a long sea voyage was never a good idea, and, so, it had been decided Ethan’s birlinn would also make the journey. Lachlan was to sail with his twin, Beathan and Archie with Elgin. Half the crews were Robson men, the rest from Clan MacCray. Marshall suggested Brosnan as Ethan’s navigator since he’d made the journey many times.
Teagan had come to see her brothers off. She stood on the dock a few feet from Marshall. He sensed her longing to go with them as she watched every detail of the preparations. He was more than glad she was staying on terra firma.
The MacCray brothers were skillful mariners who had the wherewithal to counteract Elgin’s ineptitude; they exchanged puzzled lo
oks and likely already realized the Robson laird was no sailor. All the same, Marshall’s gut clenched when he thought of the devastating loss to both clans if the birlinn and her crew went down with all hands. The sea could be an unpredictable mistress and Clan Robson could ill afford to lose another boat.
He was glad Teagan would remain at home but therein lay a problem. She drew him like a lodestone. The temptation to ride over to visit her at Castle MacCray on some pretext or other would be great.
As the birlinn pulled away from the dock, she leaned heavily on Seth’s arm. Marshall was relieved the brother she trusted would escort her back home. Still, an urge to console her welled up. He edged closer. “Dinna fash, Lady Teagan, they’ll return safe and sound,” he assured her, hoping his voice didn’t betray his misgivings.
She turned worried eyes on him. “I’m sure they will. My brothers are seasoned sailors.”
She, too, had evidently paid heed to Elgin’s dithering.
“Yer laird seemed a wee bit perplexed,” Seth offered. “Does he nay like to sail?”
Marshall might have known Seth would voice his thoughts and he saw the same doubts reflected in Teagan’s eyes. “In truth, ye’re right. He doesna like the seafaring life, but he kens the route, and the Norwegian markets.”
Even as he spoke the words, it dawned on him Elgin had never negotiated with canny Norse traders without Marshall’s help.
In an effort to change the subject, he said, “He was likely nervous kenning his bride was watching.” He didn’t mention that Bo’s constant growling whenever he set eyes on Elgin hadn’t helped matters.
His words sounded lame to his own ears, and Teagan snorted. “I doot that,” she exclaimed.
They kept vigil until the birlinns disappeared from sight. Marshall was hesitant to return to Castle Robson. Elgin wasn’t good company, but he was the last member of Marshall’s family left, apart from Aunty Moira whose actions and demeanor were becoming increasingly peculiar. Besides, the only thing he had to look forward to for the next fortnight was fretting about the expedition. Although, on second thought, he was behind in keeping the clan journal up-to-date.
Looking to wile away some time checking on the Robson birlinn still docked in Wick, he climbed aboard, aware of Teagan’s eyes on him.
It was folly, but the next thing out of his mouth was an invitation for her and Seth to join him. “Ye might be interested in the differences between our boats and yers.”
“Aye,” Seth agreed without hesitation. “She’s an impressive vessel.”
*
Teagan couldn’t resist, and she suspected Marshall knew it. She accepted Seth’s offer of help, lifted the hem of her skirts and boarded the birlinn.
“Ye ken, of course, the birlinn is descended from Viking longboats,” he began, seemingly addressing his remarks to Seth. “Though the design has improved over the centuries.”
“Aye,” her brother replied. “Clinker built.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” she asked.
“The planks of the hull overlap each other,” Seth explained. “The Vikings invented the method. It made for stronger boats.”
“Some of the smaller birlinns used in the Hebrides have twelve oars,” Marshall told her. “Whereas, we have room for a full complement of thirty on longer voyages.”
“Ten more than MacCray boats,” Seth replied.
“Birlinns weren’t just useful for trade,” Marshall went on as they walked towards the prow. “They were very maneuverable in wartime. For hundreds of years there were many tribal conflicts going on in the Hebrides.”
Standing amidships, Teagan soaked up the wealth of information both men shared about birlinns and their history. She learned new words, repeating them in her head so she’d remember.
Strakes and thwarts, trenails and rudders, halyards and pintles became a silent mantra.
She and Marshall were playing a dangerous game. The lore of the sea poured out of him, his deep voice plucking at her heart strings. His pride in his vessel and his family’s seafaring history heightened her increasingly strong feelings for him. The suspicion he and Seth were quickly becoming friends was confirmed when Marshall launched into a traditional song about a shipwrecked birlinn, and Seth immediately chimed in.
*
My distressing loss and my sorrow,
For it happened to him,
A great roaring sea
Leaping round yer deck,
Ye and yer gem;
When yer sails ripped
And naught ye could do.
*
Teagan wasn’t sure a song about torn sails was the best choice in the circumstances, though the howling Bo clearly enjoyed it. The easy camaraderie and Marshall’s deep voice filled her heart.
*
Marshall couldn’t recall the last time he’d been inspired to sing, though his mother had often called on him to entertain in the dining hall of an evening. So long ago.
Seth had a strong baritone voice and his broad smile showed his delight in their impromptu duet.
Men from both clans working on the docks took up the refrain and echoes of the words carried on the wind.
Teagan’s laughing eyes produced the predictable reaction in Marshall’s body but he didn’t care. She’d enjoyed his singing.
“Ye have a good voice,” she said.
I’d sing ye to sleep every night if ye were mine.
But she could never be his. “What about ye, Mistress Teagan? Do ye sing?”
She shook her head. “Nay. I havena a musical bone in my body.”
I love other things about yer tempting body, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he suggested, “Ye should let the wind play with yer hair.”
It was all he could do not to grasp the old-fashioned net confining her hair and toss it into the wind.
“’Twould be unseemly,” she countered.
“Nay,” Seth retorted. “Marshall’s right. I dinna ken why ye wear that thing.”
And that was all it took! A few seconds later, the net was in the water and the wind lifted her chestnut locks like a streaming banner.
Transfixed by her beauty, Marshall feared he might stutter like a babbling fool if he opened his mouth. He had to get away from Teagan MacCray before her brother noticed the erection straining to be free of his trews. “Ye’ll see yer sister home safely?” he asked, gesturing to the ramp.
“Of course,” Seth replied jovially. “Perhaps, we’ll meet ye here again.”
“Aye.” Marshall fled the dock, swearing to stay away from Wick for the next fortnight, but his heart knew it was an empty oath.
The Wave
“I like Marshall,” Seth told Teagan when they were halfway across the stone bridge. “Ye should marry him instead of Elgin.”
Wishing she lived in a world where everyone could be as honest and forthright as her brother, she filled her lungs with the sea air. “’Tisna that simple,” she replied.
“Ye like him more. I can tell.”
“Aye. But he isna the chieftain of his clan.”
“Weel, the Robson laird is overfond of the whisky, if ye ask me. I dinna like him.”
Seth had always been able to sense what was in her heart, so it was useless to lie. “I canna deny I’m attracted to Marshall. He’s everything his brother isna.”
“I’ll speak to Beathan when he returns. I dinna want to see ye married to a mon ye dinna love.”
She shook her head as he assisted her to dismount in the forecourt. “’Twill do nay good. I’m promised to Elgin, and that’s that.”
“We’ll see about that,” he replied angrily, stalking off into the keep before she had a chance to calm him.
Reluctantly, she made her way to the library but Master Halkirk apparently sensed her lack of interest in their lessons. “We’ll continue on the morrow when ye’re in a more attentive mood,” he said. “I’ll assign this passage to read before then, if ye please,” he told her.
She picked up the book, having n
o idea what passage he was referring to. However, there was no censure in his voice, so she nodded and left.
The afternoon loomed as a vast emptiness. She tracked down her dog and remounted Geal. She crossed back over the bridge and began the gallop along the cliffs. Perhaps if she read the book outdoors, she might briefly forget her worries about her brothers out on the open sea and the too-tempting nearness of Marshall Robson.
*
Marshall sensed Teagan would ride out along the cliffs after returning home. Determined to attend to bringing the clan journal up-to-date, he found himself instead climbing the steps to the battlements.
“Ye’re just torturing yerself,” he complained aloud, delighted nevertheless to see the woman he desired sitting on her usual rock, looking out to sea, an open book in the grass beside her.
Clearly, the tome hadn’t held her interest. “Is the answer out there?” he shouted, inevitably drawing the attention of a clansman standing watch nearby.
He was tempted to order the man inside. Robsons had kept watch on these battlements for centuries, but to what end? There was no threat from the sea, and the feud with the MacCrays hadn’t seen a drop of blood spilled for three hundred years. Both families had simply stared at each other with enmity and loathing across a five-mile divide. Daft.
“I’m tempted to record my opinion in the journal,” he muttered. “As allies, we could have helped each other build a great shipping empire.”
He shook his head. The clan’s journal wasn’t for opinion—just historical facts. He’d wager his father’s log made for dry reading, though perusing the old tomes would help pass the time until the expedition returned.
He was jolted from his reverie when Teagan stood, shaded her eyes and looked towards Castle Robson.
She was too far away to see him, but he lost control of his arm and waved anyway. He laughed like a wee bairn when, after hesitating briefly, she returned his wave.
*
Bubbling with excitement, Teagan began the slow ride back to the castle. “’Twas wrong of me to wave. But I’m nay sorry I did,” she confessed to her hound.
Kilts Ahoy! Page 9
