Highlander’s False Betrothal by Alisa Adams
1
The gilded carriage trundled across the grassy plains of the Highlands, bearing the insignia of the Lloyd family and pulled by four white horses.
Caroline chuckled to herself bitterly. Knowing her father as she did, she had no doubt that he had specifically insisted on white horses and had probably ordered his stable hands to scour the surrounding towns and territories for horses without a single blemish on their coats, insisting that price was no object…and, failing that, commanded them to paint the horses white if necessary.
That had always been her father’s way: so fussy and particular in considering even the smallest details when presenting himself and his family to others. “Grandeur, my dear!” he used to repeat to her endlessly as he selected her clothes, shoes, and servants for her. “Spectacle! Panache! These are the things which turn heads and catch eyes. When making an impression, you must always remember that perception is paramount!”
Now he peered at her over his spectacles, the powdered white rolls of his wig cascading down his narrow shoulders. “Does something amuse you?” he asked.
“Yes, now that you come to mention it, I suppose it does,” she replied primly. “Mere days ago, you sent your soldiers here to wage war against the Campbell clan. Now you are calmly escorting me into the very heart of their lands with no battalions to keep us safe, just a quartet of your personal guardsmen. Does that not seem foolhardy to you?”
George Lloyd frowned, confused. “Do you mean to say that you fear Laird Aodh will order us killed?”
“You are his enemy,” she pointed out. “People tend to kill their enemies in times of war.”
“Yes, perhaps, but during a mutually agreed-upon parlay to discuss matrimonial prospects? The very notion of such conduct is nothing short of preposterous,” he assured her.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Why, because…because such things are simply not done!” he sputtered. “Certainly not among civilized people!”
“Is that who we find ourselves dealing with in this instance, Father?” Caroline challenged. “‘Civilized people?’ Funny, I was under the impression they were Scots.”
Lloyd grimaced. “Ah. Yes. Well. I do take your point there. These Highlanders can be a savage and obstinate bunch, to be sure. One of the many reasons they should count themselves fortunate to be under our rule.”
Caroline smirked. “It’s a shame your recent reminders of that fact appear to have fallen on deaf ears.”
“Quite true,” he remarked, clearly oblivious to the irony in her tone. “Even so, I have it on impeccable authority that the Campbell clan is relatively domesticated, as it were, and that their laird can generally be reasoned with.”
“Good heavens, Father, do you hear yourself?” Caroline blurted, exasperated. “‘Relatively domesticated’? ‘Can generally be reasoned with’? This is a man you are contemplating marrying me off to, and you speak about him as if he were little more than a wild animal! You were warring with him mere days ago, and now you expect me to wed him?”
“Caroline, my dear, I understand that such things might seem absurd from your perspective, but you must believe me when I tell you that it is simply the way matters such as these are handled. Laird Aodh has invited us to dine with him and consider the merits of his proposal, and I see no reason why we should not do so.”
“I fail to understand how such a union would benefit your plans,” she retorted. “Was it not your initial intention to conquer these lands, that you might present them to His Majesty as a gift?”
Lloyd fidgeted nervously with the ruffles of his cravat. “Ah, yes, quite. However, having actually embarked on the endeavor in question, I have since come to realize that my goals were…a bit more ambitious, perhaps, than I’d previously understood them to be. The Campbells’ resources may be fewer than my own, but they are still more formidable than I’d imagined them to be. The cost of waging this campaign has grown too steep by far, and the time has come, I feel, to significantly reevaluate my position.”
“You mean my position,” Caroline grumbled. “If the war has become so costly for you, then you should simply bid your soldiers to retreat and let that be the end of it.”
“Ah, if only I could be certain that would be the end of it. You see, not only would such an action make me look foolish in the eyes of the Crown—a state of affairs which I can hardly afford, given my relatively new situation as a lord—but I will have provoked more ill will among the Scots, which will leave His Majesty at a greater disadvantage than he was when I engaged in this ill-fated undertaking. An arranged marriage is, without a doubt, the best way for me to extricate myself from this conundrum without appearing weak.”
“In that case, perhaps you should marry him.”
“Now see here, Daughter,” he began with a dry harrumph. “I understand that you do not find this circumstance to be ideal, but you must see reason. Laird Aodh is of noble birth.”
Caroline scoffed. “A Scotsman of ‘noble birth’? Isn’t that rather like referring to a badger as being descended from impeccable lineage?”
“You have a sharp tongue and a singular wit,” Lloyd conceded, “but my point remains. By all accounts, he is a fine-looking young man.”
“A ‘fine-looking’ barbarian. Delightful.”
Lloyd crossed his arms. “You truly are determined to make this journey as miserable as possible, aren’t you, my dear?”
“You were bent on seeing this fellow and his kinsmen dead mere days ago, and now you intend to sell me off to them as though I’m livestock,” she pointed out. “I feel you should be thanking me for not kicking and screaming the entire way there. Honestly, Father, if you were to be married to a man who was an enemy of your family, how would you react to such a thing?”
He blinked, giving it some consideration. “Well, no, when you put it that way, I suppose I would not be overly fond of the prospect. Then again, I don’t suppose I’d relish the concept of matrimony with any fellow, now that I come to think of it. At any rate, no one is attempting to ‘sell’ you to anyone. I only ask that you meet with this man and decide for yourself whether you feel you might be able to wed him in order to further your family’s interests. So little has been asked of you in this life, Caroline, that simply put, it is your duty, and I expect you to do it…preferably with as little complaining and carrying on as possible, though I suppose that last bit is the least important facet.”
“I’m delighted to hear it,” Caroline said sourly, “for I have no intention of ceasing my complaints until we have returned home, and you have assured me that we’ve put an end to this ridiculous venture.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, giving Caroline plenty of time with her thoughts.
Yes, she knew full well that this was the only duty of all pampered daughters of noblemen. Well, not the “only” duty, perhaps…there was also reserving her maidenhead for such a marriage, and having married, providing her husband with children (preferably males, though how she was meant to have any control over such a thing, she had no idea).
She had not particularly savored the prospect of being wed to someone for reasons of convenience. Privately, she had hoped that the groom her father eventually chose for her would be handsome and charming—a fantasy she assumed she shared with every other girl of her age and station. Her potential suitors had taken many forms in her mind, all of them attractive.
All of them, however, had been British.
It had never occurred to her that she might be expected to wed a Scotsman. Even now, the idea seemed every bit as absurd and unlikely to her as the prospect of being married off to some native of the East Indies or the Orient…a place where the people, accents, and customs would all be foreign to her.
Who knew what such a pack of uncultured brutes might demand of her? How would she be expected to dress? Did the women in this primitive place have the same regard for their modesty that Englishwomen did, or would she be forced to go about in what she would consider to be a state of exposure?
Caroline considered mentioning this to her father, then thought better of it. Clearly, there was no point. He’d made up his mind that she would be expected to participate in this farce. She doubted that he would reconsider, even if he were told that the people she was betrothed to wore bones through their noses and routinely practiced cannibalism.
And why?she reminded herself angrily. Because my father’s reach exceeded his grasp, and now I am expected to remedy the matter for him by any means necessary. How dreadful. Even if this Scottish fellow does turn out to be handsome, I see no reason why I should be pleasant to him or give serious consideration to any proposal he makes.
She briefly wondered if she might improve her chances of marrying someone she truly desired by remaining as cross, obstinate, and unappealing as possible during the entire process of this courtship.
Somehow, she doubted it.
Her father might have been a fool in many respects, but he could be quite stubborn indeed when he put his mind to something.
That must be where I get it from,she thought. The second part, not the first.
At last, their carriage arrived at Campbell Castle, and they were announced by the guardsmen who rode alongside them. The gates opened, and they came to a stop in the courtyard, where a young man stood next to an older one.
The young man stepped forward to politely open the carriage door and help her down from it. “Lady Caroline, I presume,” he said in his thick Scottish burr. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Laird Aodh Campbell, and I hope you will enjoy your stay with us.”
Now that she was face-to-face with the man, she was willing to admit—to herself, at least—that he was one of the most handsome fellows she’d ever encountered. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a heroic V-shaped torso and arms so muscular they barely seemed to be contained by the sleeves of his shirt. His wavy brown hair hung down to his shoulders, framing his strong cheekbones and solid jaw.
But although his features were attractive, his countenance most certainly was not.
Caroline would scarcely have believed that any other person could be feeling as unhappy as she was that day, but the look on Aodh’s face told her that she was not as singular in her dissatisfaction as she had previously imagined. He was obviously not happy to greet her. His tone was cordial, but there was a hard edge beneath it.
Even so, she gave him a curtsy. “Thank you, Laird Aodh. I shall do my best. May I present my father, Lord George Lloyd?”
“We are grateful indeed for your hospitality,” Lloyd said, giving Aodh a small bow.
Aodh returned the courtesy, then gestured to his companion. “This is Edmund, my most trusted advisor. This…arrangement was his idea.” He sounded quite eager to distance himself from it.
Not only am I meant to marry a man I would prefer not to, Caroline balked inwardly, but now I find that he does not wish to marry me? I come from a place of wealth, elegance, culture, and fine breeding, whereas he and his kinfolk are still practically living in the Dark Ages, with their crumbling castles and brutish ways! He should feel fortunate that such a prospect has been offered to him! By God, he should be on his knees before me with gratitude, and instead, I receive a gruff and insincere welcome upon my arrival?
Still, she mustered up all the enthusiasm she could, flashing a smile at Edmund. “Then it seems I owe you thanks indeed, good sir.”
“Come.” Aodh offered his arm stiffly, and Caroline took it, wondering when his shirt had last been washed. “I suppose we ought to take a walk and become better acquainted with each other if we are going to go through with this.”