Highlander's Deception (Scottish Medieval Historical Romance) Page 4

  “Nay. It needs to be now. I need to have an excuse to return.” His eyes hardened and he smiled almost cruelly. “Visiting my beloved daughter gives me that excuse.”

  They were the words that she longed to hear, but his tone gave her chills. “Ye want to return to check on my happiness?”

  “I want to return to check on my alliance.” His gaze swept over her dispassionately as he stepped away from the window. “Brisbane will likely be sniffing around to keep an eye on his future bride. I must make sure that he does not sway MacFarlane’s opinion against me. Not that it matters. MacFarlane will be linked to me. He is, reportedly, the kind of man who might want to make his wife happy. That wife happens to be my daughter.”

  Sadness swept through her. It didn’t surprise her to know that her father was using her to strengthen an alliance, but she wished that her father cared a little for her happiness.

  Swallowing hard, she turned away. “I see.”

  “Sloane.” Reaching out, her father unexpectedly took her hand and squeezed it. “I have not given ye the attention that I should have. Yer mother’s death devastated me and I found myself saddled with the responsibility of raising a daughter. I had no idea what I was doing and I feel that ye paid the price for it. I would not have married ye to a man I thought would harm ye and I will be returning to check on ye and visit with ye. Perhaps, now that ye are a woman, we can forge a new relationship, one that I will not bungle.”

  The idea that she might finally have her father’s attention warmed her body, and she nodded. “Aye. I would like that very much, Father.”

  “Good. I will take my leave. No doubt ye women still have some fussing to do. I will see ye in front of the church and we will speak again at dinner. I will take my leave tomorrow after we break our fast. I hope that ye will see me off, but I know the night might be trying for ye, so I will understand if ye cannae rise so early.”

  It wasn’t until he left that she realized what he was saying.

  The night might be trying.

  Dear God, he was talking about her wedding night.

  Feeling ill, she sat heavily on the bed. Not for the first time in her life, Sloane felt well and truly alone.

  4

  His bride was late.

  Standing outside the church door, surrounded by the MacFarlanes and representatives from the other four clans, Lachlan was forced to listen to the prattle of Father Shaw as he continued his two-day rage against the marriage.

  “Ye must know that I can refuse to officiate the union!”

  “Ye can. I can also write to the king and explain that ye refused to officiate a union meant to bring peace and that we will require another priest,” Lachlan said easily, but his gaze sharpened with the threat. His patience was hanging by a thread and he was tired of listening to the man’s constant outrage. It was his decision whether to honor the mourning period for his cousin and although he hated breaking it, this marriage was too important to change his mind.

  However, if his bride didn’t come down soon, he would march up to the keep, sling her over his shoulder, and haul her down himself.

  The late afternoon had brought sun and warmth, but as the dusk began to rise, the air turned colder. Clad in warm cloaks and huddled together, the gathering audience of all five clans were waiting in anticipation of the union and their mixed reactions were clear. Most were eager for the feast that lay ahead. Some were angry at the choice of bride and others were merely curious. One was anxious to get it over with. Once again, Lachlan glanced impatiently over his shoulder.

  A wave of murmurs from the crowd drew his attention and he was relieved to see Sloane walking toward him. His mother and sister were flanked on each side of her. They wore tense smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. Sloane, on the other hand, had wide eyes and a face full of apprehension. Scanning the crowd, his gaze landed on Errol. There was a sharp gleam in the man’s eye as he watched them.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked his mother in a low voice as she delivered Sloane to the base of the steps. Anticipating that Sloane might not behave like a normal bride, he’d asked the clan to give them some space, so they stood several feet away from the door where he would not be easily overheard.

  His bride was dressed elegantly and her red hair gleamed under the setting sun. Obviously, his mother or his sister or both had gotten their hands on her, although it did nothing to wipe the obvious fear in her eyes.

  “Everything is fine,” Maggie said smoothly. “We jest wanted yer bride to be perfect.”

  It was a lie, but they were here now, so he let it slide. Grasping Sloane’s hand, he frowned when he found it ice-cold. Although she didn’t pull away, she did tremble.

  Bloody hell, she is terrified.

  “Once again,” Shaw began.

  “If ye are so against it, then give us the quick version,” Lachlan snapped. “Now.”

  The priest hissed, but he dutifully asked Sloane if she was a willing participant in the marriage. The nod was so small that Lachlan almost missed it. Shaw didn’t seem all that happy, but he quickly skimmed through the marriage rights and rituals.

  “Before God, we are gathered today to bless the union between the Fenton and MacFarlane clans. Before His powerful presence, Sloane and Lachlan will profess the vows that will bind them in this lifetime. If the bride will repeat these vows: from henceforth, I vow to serve my husband with reverence and obedience. I will be respectful and faithful.”

  He paused and stared at Sloane who cocked her head and frowned.

  "Lass." Lachlan nudged her. "Ye must speak."

  "What?" Blinking, she jerked and turned up to him. "What am I to say?"

  Gritting his teeth, he hoped that their voices were not carrying over the crowd. He’d been worried that she might turn and run. It didn’t occur to him that she had no idea what to do or say during the ceremony.

  "Father Shaw, if ye will please repeat vows Lady Sloane must swear to."

  "The lass is aware that she is marrying ye, aye?" the priest demanded. "I am well aware of ye Highlander's penchant for kidnapping yer brides and wedding them against their will."

  Before Lachlan could growl in response, Sloane cleared her throat. "I can assure ye, Father, that I am not the type to be kidnapped nor would anyone want to force me to marry them. I believe 'tis actually the Laird who is marrying against his will. I will ask that ye be patient with me. I have never seen a wedding ceremony and I am not sure what I am to do. Ye want me to echo the vows, aye? Please say them again."

  Seemingly mollified, the father repeated the vows. Sloane frowned. "Will he be vowing the same? To be obedient to me?"

  Lachlan was only slightly amused when the priest's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "Certainly not!" Father Shaw sputtered. "He will vow to protect ye and be faithful and be respectful."

  "How is he going to be respectful if I am the only one to be obedient?" she demanded a little too loudly. The clan leaders shifted on their feet and covered their mouths to hide their laughter except for Errol who stepped forward with rage in his eyes. Not wanting him to embarrass his bride on their wedding day, Lachlan shook his head and bent his head low to her ear.

  "Sloane," he whispered. "We must do this. We must have peace within the clan alliance. Doona fight me on this. ‘Tis jest words."

  “’Tis a vow before God,” she whispered back. “’Tis not something to take lightly.”

  Bloody hell, the lass was difficult. “I willna ask ye to do anything that will harm ye. Ye shall not fear being obedient to me.”

  She seemed to consider his words carefully before she nodded and turned back to the priest. "Verra well. I vow to be faithful, respectful, and be obedient so long as the request made to me is also respectful and not absurd."

  Groaning, Lachlan held up his hand before the priest could bluster further. "'Tis fine," he snapped. "Continue, for God's sake."

  The father glared and gave Lachlan his vows which he hastily repeated. Finally, he rose his han
ds in the air and widened them as if to encompass the couple.

  “Today, we bless these two to grow in love and the light of God. May their union be blessed with many fruits and the joy that can only come from love.”

  Gritting his teeth, Lachlan wished he’d reminded the priest to take out the parts about love. This was a political marriage. Taking the walking stick leaning against the church, Shaw dragged it along the ground in a circle around them.

  “Within this ring, ye make yer vows, and in this ring, yer vows have become binding. Wedded ye are and wedded ye shall remain until death.”

  A cry rose up from the crowd, but Lachlan suspected that it was more about the dinner feast ahead rather than the fact that he was married. Sloane tried to tug her hand away, but he didn’t drop it. Instead, he drew her near. “The clan can be crass during marriage celebrations. Doona let it get to ye.”

  He expected her to tell him that she understood or that she’d seen it before, but her eyes just widened and she nodded again. Instead of comforting her, he’d just made things worse.

  Swearing silently at himself, he dropped her hand and pointed to the keep. A couple of steps behind her, Lachlan escorted her to the hall. When she tried to sit at the wrong side of the table, he wrapped a hand around her waist and escorted her to the chair left of him. It puzzled him that she didn’t understand the marriage rituals. As the daughter of the Laird, she should have attended more than a few. Why would Errol sequester her away from even his own clan?

  She picked at her food and wrapped her arms around herself until she all but disappeared right there in her seat. When he realized that no one was saying a single word to her, he narrowed his eyes and glared at the men around him.

  “I believe some well-wishes are in order,” Lachlan demanded.

  At first, his men just gaped at them, but it was Elspeth, the lovely woman seated by Adair who rolled her eyes. “Sloane, my dear, welcome to the MacFarlane clan. I am Elspeth. My husband, Adair, is part of Lachlan’s inner guard. Please doona mistake their silence toward ye as rudeness. They are all complete blockheads.”

  “Hey,” Adair objected. “Ye cannae call me a blockhead. I married ye, did I not?”

  “Even a blockhead is allowed a brilliant move once in a while,” Elspeth retorted.

  The table broke up in laughter, and Lachlan was relieved to see Sloane relax a little. Although she didn’t eat more of her dinner, her smiles looked more relaxed and she politely answered questions. When dinner was over, the music and dancing began around the bonfire outside. He tried to keep an eye on Sloane, but Gair caught his attention.

  “I wish ye well in yer marriage,” Gair said stiffly.

  “Strange how yer well wishes doona seem sincere,” Lachlan replied dryly. “Why do ye not jest come out and say what has been on yer mind for days?”

  “Forcing a woman to wed because of an alliance is distasteful.” Lifting the mug of ale, Gair stared into the fire. “Yer sister hasna spoken one word to me once she discovered her fate. We were friends.”

  They were more than friends. Lachlan was not a fool. He could see the obvious affection that had bloomed between the two. “Freya is a willful woman. She doesna like having a decision made for her even if it were a decision that she would have made herself.”

  Gair turned his head and the bonfire burned in his eyes. “Aye? Ye think?”

  “I know. Woo her for the next three months. ’Tis all she wants.”

  At that, Gair visibly relaxed and he grinned like a fool. “I think I can handle that.”

  “Good. I care about my sister’s happiness. I wouldna have agreed to it if I didna think she would be happy.”

  “And what about yer happiness? Yer wife doesna seem thrilled with the union.”

  His wife was a strange one, but Lachlan didn’t point that out to Gair. Instead, he shrugged. “We are strangers. We will discover a way to make this work.”

  With anger on her face, his mother stalked toward them and interrupted with a hiss. Lachlan narrowed his eyes as he watched Maggie. The last time she’d looked like that, she’d found out that he’d been caught sneaking into the tavern and tupping one of the girls. He’d been seventeen.

  “A word, my son,” she all but growled.

  Gair’s eyes widened, but he was no fool. Only a fool would stick around when his mother sounded like that. Quickly, he took his leave. “Mother,” Lachlan said carefully. “Ye doona seem happy.”

  “I am not happy. Ye have married a child.” Glancing around, she grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the crowd.

  “I have eyes, mother. Sloane is no child.”

  “I am not saying that her mind or her body is like a child. Do ye know that she has never attended a wedding before?”

  “Aye. She said so as much when she bungled the wedding vows,” Lachlan said calmly. “’Tis not my fault Errol Fenton didna force the woman to do her duties nor is it enough to keep me from doing my duty.”

  “Nay. Before I escorted her down, she asked me what would happen during the wedding. And after the wedding. Then the woman turned scarlet when she asked me about the wedding night.”

  “Mother,” Lachlan snapped. He didn’t want to talk about his wedding night with his mother. “Please.”

  “Ye need to hear this, Lachlan. This is the first time she has ever been away from Fenton lands. Quinn’s funeral is the first time she’d ever dined with a group of people. From what I’ve gleaned, the girl was raised by servants. Her father didna lift a finger to teach her anything. She is delicate and terrified. I am telling ye this because, for once, someone needs to treat her with respect and I am asking ye to do that tonight.”

  Stunned, Lachlan ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That explains so much.” Gazing over her head, he could see Errol and Ness Fenton walking toward them. Part of him wanted to throttle the man for not raising his daughter right.

  “Thank ye for letting me know, Mother. I’ll take that into account. Ye should go dance and have a good time.” He didn’t want her to be there when he spoke to the Fentons. He knew that she hated Errol although he felt it ran deeper than just Quinn’s death.

  While Errol Fenton was unlikeable and untrustworthy, Ness was a completely different story. The younger brother of Errol, Ness was the heir of the lairdship since Errol had never birthed a son. While Errol was welcome to lead his clan until his death, Lachlan wished that he would step down like his own father had.

  It was time for a younger man to lead the prosperous Fentons, but he suspected that Errol liked the power too much. Rumor was that Errol resented Ness. He made the man travel and kept him away from the clan. This was the first time that Lachlan had met Ness and he found himself liking the man. Unlike his older brother, Ness seemed a man of solid temperament and fair logic.

  “Lachlan,” Errol said in a suspiciously oily voice. “Ye have thrown quite the celebration for us despite yer mourning. I appreciate that.”

  Lachlan hadn’t done any of this. Freya was to blame and she had done it for Sloane and not her father. “The MacFarlanes will return to their mourning tomorrow. I am pleased that they have agreed to celebrate with me. Will ye be taking yer leave in the morn?”

  “Eager to get rid of us?” Errol smirked. “I do have matters to attend to at home, so we will be taking our leave, but I will be back. I want to make sure that ye treat my daughter well.”

  “Are ye insinuating that I wouldna?”

  Ness quickly stepped between them. “Of course not,” he said smoothly. “Sloane is Errol’s only daughter and she is my only niece. I, for one, will miss her. I hope that ye will not take offense if I want to visit with her. She has a sharp mind and I will miss her wit.”

  Having Ness visit would not be such a bad thing. Lachlan wanted to establish a friendship with the man who would be Laird. “Aye, Ness. As heir, I think it would be good if ye visited more. I am sure that Sloane would like to stay in touch with family.”

  If Errol noted that Lachlan didn
’t extend the invitation to him, he didn’t say anything. Instead, the two made their leave and slipped back into the group. Lachlan went in search of his bride.

  * * *

  Sloane heard him calling her name just as she was trying to squeeze herself into a corner in an attempt to make herself invisible. Not that it mattered. From the way that the people around her were acting, she seemed to already be non-existent.

  It was her wedding celebration and only a small number of people had congratulated her. They danced and drank and drunkenly toasted with crass predictions of what the night would hold for Lachlan, but they did not once turn their attentions to her. Of course, the more she heard of the carnal tales that would happen tonight, the more she wanted to hide.

  More than ever, she missed her private library and the solace that she found hiding in the storerooms and reading.

  "Ye have been difficult to fine," Lachlan growled as he strode toward her. "I didna want ye to leave my side."

  The flames from the bonfire flickered over his handsome face and she forced a smile. "'Tis easy to get lost in the madness. I have never seen such a celebration before." She’d abandoned his side as soon as she found a way to slip away. He seemed to notice that she was avoiding the accusation, but he dismissed it.

  "Are ye enjoying yerself?"

  Sloane found it strange that her husband would seek her out simply to ask her a strange question. At what point would he think she was enjoying herself? She knew no one here. No one spoke to her. She was married to a stranger who'd accused her of being terrible wife material.

  "'Tis an interesting time," she said blandly.

  "If ye are tired then ye are welcome to retire early."

  Panic seized her. Was he asking her to retire so he could perform his husbandly duties? She could not put it off forever but even another hour would give her some reprieve. "I wanted to speak to yer sister before I go inside. Is that her right there?" Pointing in the distance, she started to walk away from him, but he snagged her elbow.