Awaiting the Wolf Killer Highlander by Alisa Adams
12
The midday sun warmed Sorcha’s head and shoulders as she rode alongside Nathan through a beautiful golden meadow not far from the castle. After they had finished breakfast, Malcolm had returned to his chamber (with several plates of the food he had denied himself previously), and the young laird had proposed an afternoon ride so that he might learn more of her clan’s situation.
“So this plague began with your brother Aodh, and you spent all of your time by his bedside with your healers,” he said. “Meanwhile, the same sickness spread to the rest of the people in your lands. Do I have it right?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “A tainted well was suspected as the source—”
“Ah, but you believe there is more to it than that,” Nathan interjected with a wink. “This ‘curse’ you spoke of, which comes from a woman leading the Campbells for the first time in four centuries.”
She nodded. “I realize that such things might sound nonsensical to some.”
“Aye, somewhat,” he affirmed casually. “But then, there might be something to it, at that. For if you had been a laird instead of a lass, you would not have been governed by your emotions, and you would not have spent so much time sequestered with your little brother instead of involving yourself in the larger affairs of your clan. This is why this McKenna fellow and his followers now plot your downfall. Well, that and to seize power, naturally,” he added with a chuckle.
How can he speak so blithely about what has befallen my clan?Sorcha balked inwardly. How can he grin and be so effortlessly rude, as though he is capable of acknowledging no one’s feelings but his own? Can I truly consider marrying a man consumed by such self-absorption?
But once again, she reminded herself that her current choices were Laird Nathan or Ryan McKenna—and that was no choice at all.
She decided that his response must have simply been due to his lack of understanding in terms of how dire her straits were. She decided to clarify in the hope that his reaction would be more serious.
“It is not just my own position that I fear for, Laird Nathan,” she explained patiently. “I am concerned for the safety of my siblings. If Ryan is so fixated on seizing control of the clan, I have no doubt that he will imprison my sisters and brothers, or perhaps even worse.”
“And one of your siblings is married to Laird Fergus Brodie, is she not?” Nathan asked.
The sudden shift in topic put her off her guard. “Why, yes. My elder sister, Moire.”
“I confess, I know little of the Brodie clan. How are they situated? Are they quite wealthy? Influential? Do they have many horses and warriors at their disposal?”
Sorcha frowned, confused. “I suppose they are a rich and powerful clan in their own right, yes. But I hardly see what that has to do with—”
Nathan pulled on the reins of his steed, stopping in the middle of the wide field and gesturing for her to do likewise. She did, and they both dismounted.
What has caught his fleeting interest now?she thought bitterly. Has he spied some fox or badger which commands his rapidly shifting attention?
“Perhaps you were taken aback by the apparent change of subject, and if so, I cannot blame you. I have been told that my conversational manner can be somewhat…scattered, ha. That my mouth cannot keep up with my mind, and that others cannot keep up with either half the time.”
Then, to her surprise, Nathan bent to one knee on the grass before her and took her hand in his, looking up at her tenderly.
“I know that we only became acquainted yesterday, Lady Sorcha, and that my ways may seem strange to you. I hope, however, that you will come to understand me better in the fullness of time…as my bride.”
Sorcha’s eyes widened. “So, you do wish to marry me, then?”
Nathan gave her a winning smile. “Your story has moved me, dear lady. You fear for the safety of your clan and kin, and who in your position would not? You are lovely, and you have a pleasant demeanor. Both the Campbells and the Frasers would benefit from such a union. In truth, we seem so perfectly suited for each other that I almost think we might have come to this conclusion on our own soon enough, curse or no! If you give your hand to me, I will use all the resources at my disposal to keep your siblings safe.
“So, then, do you accept?”
Oddly, Sorcha found herself hesitating, though she could not quite say why. Was this not what she had come here for? Had she not been handed the means to keep Ryan McKenna and his vultures at bay? With Laird Nathan, she could give birth to the next male heir to the Campbell lairdship.
Presuming that Aodh does not recover from the plague, she reminded herself, else I will have wed a man I do not love for no good reason at all.
But as a noblewoman, had that prospect not always been lurking in her future? Would it not have eventually been her duty to find a man of noble blood whose clan would lend strength to their own?
And Nathan was fair of face and largely pleasant of disposition, and he did have a manner that at times could be amusing.
This was her best chance presenting itself. She knew that she must take it.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I accept your generous proposal.”
“Excellent!” he beamed. “We shall return to the castle at once and dine with Mar—sorry, Malcolm,” he corrected himself. “Tomorrow, we will announce our engagement, and the day after that, I shall return to your lands with you, and we will be married there.”
“And the plague?” Sorcha asked.
Nathan shrugged. “The plague is a result of the curse, and we are breaking that curse with our nuptials, are we not? Besides, we will bring additional healers with us in case fulfilling the old woman’s superstition does not prove to be enough. Either way, I believe it is safe to assume that your clan will rejoice when you return with me on your arm.”
Well, perhaps not theentire clan, she thought ruefully, picturing the putrid expression on McKenna’s porcine face when he learned of her betrothal.
She accompanied Nathan back to Castle Fraser, where he ordered the servants to prepare a supper in private just as they had for breakfast that morning. Then he bade Sorcha excuse him while he dressed for the meal.
Sorcha went up to the chamber where Malcolm had been staying and knocked on his door again. “It is Sorcha,” she said softly. “Please, may I enter?”
“It would not be wise,” Malcolm’s voice answered, “for a lady such as yourself to be seen entering or leaving the bedchamber of a man in her service.”
She frowned. “Surely you are being overcautious! May I please speak with you, just for a brief moment? I will do nothing to jeopardize your position while we are in this place, I swear to you!”
There was a pause, and she heard a heavy sigh. Then the door opened, and Malcolm ushered her in, the bottom half of his face exposed. “You do jeopardize my position by making a demand such as this,” he murmured darkly as he closed the door behind her, “but nobles and lairds are clearly accustomed to getting their own way in every particular, so I suppose I must obey.”
His words stung and bewildered her. “You seem upset with me, sir. Have I wronged you in some way?”
Malcolm appeared to consider this for a moment, then shook his head. “No. You have done nothing wrong. I apologize for my uneven temperament. Being back here after so long has affected my mood more profoundly than I imagined it would. How was your ride with Nathan?”
“It went quite well,” she said. “In fact, he…has agreed to marry me.”
A shadow passed over Malcolm’s face, but he forced a smile nonetheless. “Then our mission has been an unmitigated success. You have my most sincere congratulations.”
“I owe everything to you,” she reminded him. “My clan might be spared a dreadful fate, thanks to this welcome introduction you have made. Laird Nathan is having another private supper arranged for the three of us shortly. I do hope you might consider eating with us this time?”
“I suppose I may as well,” he replied wearily. “He speaks so freely of our past that any who eavesdrop will easily guess my true identity. If I am to be hanged, at least my belly will be full.”
Sorcha opened her mouth to ask him why he might be hanged if the people here learned who he truly was. She wanted to know what crime this good man she had come to know could possibly have committed that might warrant such a harsh punishment.
But deep down, she was fairly certain that she knew. And she was uncertain of whether she could bear to have it confirmed.
Before she had a chance to say anything, however, there was a knock at the door, which startled them both. “Just a moment!” Malcolm called out, wrapping his face once more. He motioned for Sorcha to remain out of sight, and she did her best to squeeze into a corner of the room.
He opened the door and found a plump, swarthy servant girl with thick black hair (and a wispy mustache to match) waiting for him. “Laird Nathan wishes the pleasure of your company at supper,” she informed him. “And that of Lady Sorcha as well.”
“I will tell her, then, if I see her,” Malcolm answered evenly. “Is she not in her chamber, then?”
The girl gave him a knowing look and clucked her tongue, as though she had been made party to some delightful mischief. Then she took her leave.
“I suppose we had best go down to supper at once, then,” Malcolm said, a bitter edge to his voice. “After you, my lady.”
But she did not move. Instead, her eyes searched his. “Malcolm, surely it must have occurred to you that Davina’s prophecy might refer to you?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Me? Preposterous.”
“Is it?” She moved toward him, putting a hand on his arm. “Is it really? You are a warrior, and you have killed a wolf. Likewise, you are Nathan’s brother, which means—”
“You are mistaken, my lady.” His voice was as hard and cold as the stone of a crypt. “That prophecy had naught to do with me.”
She nodded, deciding to let the matter rest. Still, she knew she could not have gone through with her engagement to Nathan if she had not at least presented the alternative to Malcolm.
As they proceeded down the wide stone stairs, Malcolm walked a few steps behind her, trying to keep up the appearance of being nothing more than her loyal servant.
Except it is not merely an “appearance,” is it?he thought. You are her servant, nothing more. You petitioned to enter her service when you first came to town, and you undertook this errand with her as a service to her.
Why, then, do you find yourself speaking so harshly to her when she has done no wrong?
It is because once this matter is concluded, I will have to leave her service. I will have no alternative available to me…not if she is to be wed to my brother. And I cannot bear the thought of never setting eyes on her again for the rest of my days.
When they reached the dining hall, the table was once more loaded up with marvelous food and flagons of wine and ale. The dishes were inlaid with pearls and rubies, and Malcolm noticed that the tapestries hanging around them had been changed for different ones.
“Did Lady Sorcha share the good news with you, Corncrake?” Nathan asked eagerly.
Malcolm put on what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Indeed she did. I am delighted to hear it, and I wish you nothing but the best.”
“And it is all thanks to you!” The young laird shook Malcolm’s hand vigorously, then hugged him. “If you had not ventured back here in the face of personal peril, I would not have found my bride and my happiness!”
Malcolm took his seat at the table. He ignored the food in front of him, choosing to regard his brother shrewdly instead. He could not help but notice that in his exclamations of gratitude, there was one phrase Nathan had taken great care to avoid—one that any laird in his position would have uttered without hesitation: I am in your debt.
No, Nathan would not dare to say that. If he did, he would risk Malcolm asking for a pardon in return, and Nathan had no desire to be confronted with that request, did he? He would much rather have the living proof of that horrid night as far away from him and his lairdship as possible.
Even if that proof was his own brother, whom he’d once loved above all others.
The thought of it broke Malcolm’s heart, though he felt more anger than sadness; not anger at his sibling, but at himself for expecting to find anything different upon returning home. For daring to hope that somehow he might be allowed to stay and reclaim the name he’d been born with.
“So, Brother,” Nathan said briskly, “how have you passed the day, eh? Been revisiting old haunts, seeing how the clan has fared in your absence?”
Suddenly, Malcolm felt his temper slip away from him. He was already disgraced from this place without hope of redemption, and he had forced himself to watch the woman he desired so fiercely be betrothed to the man responsible for his exile in the first place. He would be leaving under a dark cloud one way or the other.
Sorcha deserved to know who she was marrying. He decided that if he could not give her his heart, he could at least give her the gift of truth.
As the old saying went, Tell the truth and shame the devil.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Malcolm answered in a neutral tone. “And as I did, I saw many farms which had once been prosperous fallen to ruin. I saw families starving and begging for alms in the streets…far more than I recall from our youth. I also cannot help but note all the fine things that decorate this castle, these walls, this table. Even your guards wear gilded armor and carry swords of silver. Tell me that these things are unrelated, Brother, I beg you. Tell me that our people’s suffering resulted from poor seasons of planting or unfortunate weather and that all of these riches surrounding us simply fell from the sky. Tell me that your greed and excess has not reduced our once-proud clan to such squalor and misery.”
Sorcha was surprised to hear these things and turned to frown at Nathan. “Laird Nathan, is this true? Have the fortunes of your clan declined so sharply in recent years, and if so, what was the cause?”
The smile remained frozen on Nathan’s face, but his eyes grew dark and flinty. He barked a humorless laugh. “Did you know, Lady Sorcha, that Corncrake here is not of my blood? Not long after I was born, he was discovered in a basket near the gates of the castle by one of the servants. From his lack of manners, one can almost believe it.”
She looked at Malcolm, and when his eyes met hers, she understood his vehemence in denying his connection to the prophecy and the deep sadness in his eyes when he’d done so.
That shared look was not lost on Nathan, whose smile widened.
“That fat girl I sent to fetch you returned here once she had done so,” the young laird went on. “From the blush in her cheeks and her ham-handed attempts at innuendo, she seemed to be under the impression that Sorcha was in your chamber, doing her best to remain hidden from view.”
Malcolm’s face turned pale. “Nothing untoward happened between us, I swear it.”
“Oh, there’s no need to convince me!” Nathan laughed. “I’m quite sure it didn’t! And not only because you are a man of such surpassing honor and self-sacrifice. No, it is because you have never believed yourself worthy of what would make you happy, Marcus. Do you remember when we were boys, and you would see something at the market which you wanted? You knew that all you had to do was tell our father you desired it, and it would be yours. But instead, you always bought it so that you might present it to someone else as a gift. And that is what you have done once again in bringing this woman to me, haven’t you, Brother?”
Malcolm could hear no more. He stood, and in that moment, he was wholly uncertain of whether he meant to head for the door or throttle Nathan where he sat. They were in opposite directions, yet both were equally tempting.
He made his choice and took his leave without a backward glance.
