Adrienne Basso (24 page)

“It doesn’t matter what he says,” Aileen interrupted impatiently. “I willnae marry him, and that’s the end of it.”

“Aileen Margaret Gertrude Sinclair,” the laird bellowed, pounding his fist into his hand. “I’ll not be having a lass of yer tender years dictating to me what’s to be done. If I say ye’re to marry him, then by the holy rod, that’s what ye’ll do!”

Gavin waited for the storm clouds to break when Aileen’s temper ignited and she fought back. But she proved to be a far more clever lass than he realized. Instead of digging in her heels and acting like a shrew, she bowed her head, brought herself directly in front of her father and knelt at his feet.

“I know ye’re wise and loving and that ye only want what’s best fer me and our clan. But, Father, please, I beg of ye not to press this marriage. I beg that in yer mercy ye’ll grant me a reprieve from a loveless marriage that will bring me a lifetime of unhappiness, misery, and regret.”

Unhappiness, misery, and regret?
That was a bit dramatic. Gavin lifted his brow, uncertain how he felt at being labeled such a poor husband. But then he realized she had the courage to speak the truth; it would not be a happy life for either of them.

They all waited anxiously for the laird to answer. Yet as one minute turned into two, Gavin realized no matter what Sinclair said, he would not marry Aileen. The woman who would share his life, and his bed, for the rest of his days was Fiona.

“I—” Gavin began, but Aileen cut him off.

“Please, milord. Have the decency to allow my father to make this all-important decision without any interference from ye!”

“I shall pray fer guidance,” Laird Sinclair finally answered, draining his tankard.

“If ye think it best,” Aileen replied meekly. “Though I vow if ye search yer heart, the answer will be revealed.”

Damn, she was good! Despite the gravity of the situation, Gavin smiled. Whoever Aileen Sinclair married one day would be a lucky man, though he would surely be led on a merry chase by his clever wife.

“Will ye truly be so miserable as the earl’s wife, Aileen?” Sinclair asked, peering down at his daughter, who remained on her knees before him.

“Aye. Today was a horror-filled day, being taken by those brigands. I’ve never been so frightened in all my life, nor in such grave peril. It made me realize how fleeting life truly is, how quickly it can all end. And when the end comes fer me, I want to have something beautiful and happy to remember.” She took a deep breath, her chest rising visibly with the effort. “I was willing to do my duty and I still am, but I cannae bind myself to a man in love with another woman and be happy. I know that fer certain.”

The laird gave a sharp hoot. “I suppose if I grant yer wish and dissolve this contract, ye’ll be wanting to choose yer own husband?”

“Nay. ’Tis too great a responsibility to be left to a young female such as myself.” Aileen’s shoulders sagged. “The choice will be yers.”

The laird eyed his daughter shrewdly. “Hmm. I’ll choose the man, but then ye’ll decide if ye’ll wed him. Is that what yer saying, lass?”

For a long moment Aileen simply stared at her father. Then she broke into a guilty smile. “That sounds like a fair and just arrangement.”

Sinclair threw up his hands, then turned his gaze to Gavin.

“I gather ye have made yer decision?” Gavin asked.

“Aye,” the laird grumbled. “I’ve decided that I’m the biggest fool in all of Christendom fer letting a spoiled child sway my opinion.”

“Oh, Father, thank ye.” Jumping to her feet, Aileen wrapped her arms around the laird and hugged him tightly. “All I want is the chance fer love. I want to marry a man who will at least try to find a place in his heart fer me. Some might call it foolish nonsense, but I believe that can happen, even in an arranged marriage.”

Sinclair’s eyes softened. “It can. It does. I met yer sainted mother the morning of our wedding. We lived and loved together for nigh on thirty years until the good Lord called her to sit at his side in heaven. I want the same fer ye, Aileen. Ye deserve it. Even if ye are a bold and impudent wench.”

Aileen laughed, her smile brightening the chamber. “I get my strength from ye.”

“And yer willful attitude,” the laird finished.

Seizing upon Sinclair’s even mood, Gavin switched the direction of the conversation. “Though our families willnae be allied through marriage, I hope that King Robert can count on yer support.”

Sinclair’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Gavin fiercely. “Given how ye’ve insulted my daughter and broken yer word, I should ride with the MacDougalls against the king just to spite ye,” the laird retorted. “But I’m not such a fool as to be driven by pride. Aileen fell to harm while under yer protection, but ye rescued her and kept her safe from any true danger. She has made her feelings about a marriage to ye very clear and they are good reasons. In the end, I’ll allow that no real harm’s been done.”

“Yer support?” Gavin prompted.

“Will rest with the Bruce. Ye have my pledge that my best fighting men will flock to the king’s banner when called.” Sinclair paused. “And unlike ye, I honor my pledges.”

Gavin released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding and met the laird’s sharp gaze. “ ’Tis a wise choice, and one ye’ll never regret.”

“That remains to be seen,” Sinclair scoffed.

“The Bruce’s cause is just, as ye have stated on more than one occasion,” Aileen said, taking an anxious step forward. Sinclair looked none too pleased at his daughter’s revelation, but did not correct her.

Gavin remained silent, grateful that he had been given the chance to redeem himself in Sinclair’s eyes and secure the support the king so badly needed.

“There are plenty of good men who have showed an interest in my daughter,” Sinclair said. “Men on both sides of this conflict, as well as those who have yet to declare their allegiance.”

“’Twould make more sense to choose someone who will stand with ye, rather than against ye,” Gavin replied, taking a long sip from a tankard of ale.

Sinclair nodded and held out his empty tankard. Gavin obligingly filled it—with whiskey. “I think Brian McKenna could be such a man.”

“Thus far he has fought for neither side,” Gavin mused.

“Aye,” Sinclair replied, his gaze fixed upon his daughter. “I hear he has a keen appreciation fer a bonnie lass.”

Aileen’s head tilted. “If ye so desire, Father, I shall be pleased to meet him.”

“And?” Sinclair prompted.

“And then I’ll decide if it’s worth listening to his offer. Agreed?”

Sinclair sighed, then nodded. “’Tis criminal how I cannae deny my Aileen anything. Just wait until ye have daughters of yer own. ’Tis enough to put the gray in yer hair and the worry in yer brow.”

Gavin answered with a slight grin, though his heart was momentarily heavy. He would never have any daughters, or sons for that matter. Fiona was barren. Yet as he gazed over at Fiona, a warm, contented feeling began to surge through his blood. He could never let her leave him. He knew now it would feel as though a part of him were being torn away.

The lack of children to enrich their lives was a sorrow they would face together. It would not weaken their love, nay, ’twould make it stronger for it was a shared sorrow.

That knowledge alone was enough to bring Gavin a feeling of acceptance. In life it was necessary to recognize that no one escaped heartache. It therefore made it even more essential to hold tight and savor every drop of happiness that came your way.

“I’m glad we have weathered this storm together and come through it as allies,” Gavin said, offering his hand in friendship to the laird.

Sinclair looked down for a long moment before grasping it firmly. “I’ll see ye when the king next calls us to arms.” Then turning to his daughter, he added, “Come, daughter. We are fer home.”

Before leaving, Aileen allowed Gavin to send her a courtly bow, though she did not return the gesture with a curtsy. As for Fiona, Aileen never once glanced in her direction, silently voicing her resentment.

“Well now, that was thoroughly unpleasant,” Gavin announced the moment they were alone.

“For all of us, I fear,” Fiona concurred. “Except perhaps Laird Sinclair, but I think that’s only because he drank so much of your fine whiskey.”

It took but three long strides to get close enough to gather Fiona in his embrace. Taking her chin, Gavin angled it so she had to look directly at him. She smiled and he felt a pang deep in his heart. There was no feeling on earth that could compare to having her in his arms. Though he vowed never to lose her again, it had not been an easy feat, and knowing he had achieved that goal made him feel almost invincible.

Gavin pressed a soft kiss on her lips. He felt her hands clutching his shoulders to hold him near. The heat rose quickly between them, the restless hunger yearning to be satisfied that increased to a shimmering ache.

Gavin knew he could take her now, right here on the table, rough, hard, and urgent. She would not deny him. Hell, she’d probably be the one to suggest it. But she deserved more—and so did he. A warm bath, a soft mattress, and all the time they needed to explore each other’s bodies, to relearn what gave them gentle pleasure and what drove them wild.

Reluctantly, Gavin pulled back, trailing a soft line of kisses up Fiona’s neck to her cheek. “Were ye really going to journey to the shrine of the Virgin Mother?” he asked.

“Yes, and from there I planned to continue to the convent at St. Ives.”

“To join their ranks?”

Fiona laughed. “To seek asylum. Though I cannot fathom why you are looking so shocked. Do you not think I would make a good bride of Christ, my lord?”

“I know you would make a terrible nun, milady,” Gavin declared, kissing her hard and fast. “And for that, I am truly thankful.”

Gavin faced the church doors and listened closely as Father Niall recited the vows he was to repeat. Fiona, dressed in her elegant wedding finery, stood beside him, her expression solemn but for her eyes, which glowed with joy. Gavin could not stop looking at her.

“My lord?” Father Niall cleared his throat. “Do you need me to recite the words again?”

“Nay.” Gavin drew a ragged breath. He knew what to say. This was, after all, his third marriage. But it felt completely different this time. There was an aura of hope radiating from deep inside him, mingled with amazement at his good fortune. He was binding himself to the woman he loved beyond measure, was willingly, nay
eagerly
, pledging his body and soul to her as long as they both drew breath.

The emotions coursing through his blood gave greater meaning to his vows. This was a fresh start, a new hope, the beginning of a life that offered endless possibilities.

Gavin’s voice was strong, powerful, as he spoke, ringing throughout the courtyard. He wanted each and every one of his clansmen to know how committed he was to this union, how determined he was to cleave to his new bride.

When it was Fiona’s turn to speak, she first lifted her hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his beating heart. Her voice trembled with emotion, but she never faltered.

Gavin tilted his head, fascinated at seeing the glow of his happiness reflected in her sparkling eyes. He longed to bend down and taste the sweetness of her lips, to kiss her senseless, but that would have to wait.

As was the custom, the first part of the ceremony had taken place outside, in front of the chapel doors. When the vows were done, all that remained was for the bride and groom to enter the chapel and kneel at the altar for the final blessing.

They did not, however, have the chance to enter the church, as there was a sudden commotion at the castle gates. They could hear men shouting and swearing, followed by the distinct sound of approaching horses.

“Make way for the king!” someone yelled.

Gavin met Fiona’s gaze and he watched the color drain from her face. He pulled her in a tight embrace.

“What will he do?” Fiona whispered fearfully, as the king rode into the bailey.

“Hush now, all will be well,” Gavin insisted, sweeping a stray piece of hair from her face with the back of his hand and tucking it under her veil.

Fiona gave him a look of such confidence and trust his chest tightened. The crowd parted seamlessly, and Robert rode boldly through the mob until he was positioned directly in front of Gavin and Fiona.

Gavin’s arms fell from around Fiona’s waist and he stepped away. Duncan, Aidan, and Connor instantly moved in, surrounding him. Though dressed more formally in honor of the occasion, each still wore a sword. Gavin noted all three men already had their hands on the hilts of their weapons.

Gavin stepped forward. Without breaking formation, the trio moved with him—one man on either side with the third guarding his back.

“Nay,” Gavin ordered. “Stay here and protect my lady wife.”

The king’s great warhorse pranced nervously, agitated at being in close quarters with such a large crowd. Looking every inch a royal presence, Robert controlled his mount with graceful skill, a true warrior king.

“Lord Kirkland, I am most displeased to discover that my invitation to this important event has been waylaid.”

Gavin looked up at the man seated so regally on horseback and met the angry gaze of his king. Resisting the answering anger that flared inside his own chest, Gavin instead assumed a casual, confident demeanor. King or no, this was the happiest day of his life and he wasn’t about to let anyone ruin it.

“I sincerely beg yer pardon, sire. We decided but two days ago to wed, leaving no chance to invite any guests, save for my clansmen.”

“That was rather convenient. For ye.”

Gavin nodded, but remained silent. The white lines around Robert’s mouth indicated his growing fury. ’Twould be foolish indeed, to poke at an already snarling bear.

“Is the ceremony completed, good priest?” Robert asked, his angry voice cutting through the tension like a sword slicing flesh.

Father Niall’s face froze in horror as he hastily went down on one knee in supplication. “ ’Tis done. Save fer the final blessing,” he croaked.

A muscle twitched under the king’s eye. “So, I have missed the part when one can voice an objection if they know of any reason or just cause why this couple should not marry?”

“Aye.” The priest blanched, then nodded nervously. “They are indeed wed in the eyes of God.”

“But not their king!”

There was a collective gasp from the crowd. Father Niall pulled a linen cloth from his sleeve and wiped his sweating brow, looking as though a few years had been taken off his life.

Gavin’s eyes immediately sought Fiona’s. She appeared to be holding up well—her back was straight, her head held high. But no matter how hard she tried to hide it, he could see the small tremor of her hands, clasped together so tightly the knuckles were white.

“Perhaps ’tis best if we speak of this in private,” Gavin suggested.

There was a long pause. Robert favored him with a mulish expression, looking far less like a king and far more like a petulant little boy. Finally, he leapt from his horse. Without waiting to see if Gavin followed, the king took several long strides and entered the chapel. The moment Gavin stepped inside, Robert slammed the door behind him.

“I’ve always known that ye are far too stubborn fer yer own good, but I never thought ye’d go this far.” Robert’s mouth fell into a grim line. “When did ye plan on telling me that instead of marrying the Sinclair lass, ye’ve taken it into yer fool head to wed an English widow?”

Gavin hesitated. It was important that he show remorse or else Robert would never be appeased. Yet he could not let the king believe there was any room for negotiation—Fiona was his wife and would remain so as long as they each lived.

“I sincerely beg yer pardon fer being so impulsive, but once the decision was made there seemed no point in waiting.”

“Ye willfully defy me without a qualm, giving no thought to the consequences,” Robert shouted, his gaze boring into Gavin. “And then ye have the gall to stand before me, unrepentant, righteous, and arrogant.”

“What’s done is done, sire.”

The king made an exasperated sound. “For ye, perhaps. But for a king, what’s done can be undone, if he so commands.”

They squared off, each determined to maintain their position. Gavin knew that Robert was at his core a fighter and could be impossibly stubborn. But he was fair, and most importantly, he rarely held a grudge.

Still, Gavin acknowledged the incident was his own fault. He could have waited until Robert sanctioned the marriage. The consequences of ignoring a dictate from his sovereign was one of the risks he had taken into account when insisting that Fiona become his wife.

Yet in his heart, Gavin knew there was no other choice. He could not, nor would he, live without Fiona. It was a fact that Robert would have to accept, in spite of his justified anger.

“Do ye want me to pay ye a bride price?” Gavin offered, knowing that years of warfare had left little time for Robert to collect the rents owed to the crown, usually leaving his coffers dry.

“I should demand twice the normal payment.” Robert made a frustrated sound. “I probably will.”

“I’ll willingly pay whatever ye require.”

Robert let out a huff. “A Scotsman willingly parting with his gold? Bloody hell, she’s turned yer head with her passion.”

“Aye, but ’tis more, so much more. She’s captured my heart. I would gladly give my life fer her.”

“Love? Well, then, that’s another matter entirely.” Something approaching understanding flashed in Robert’s eyes. “Love is a rare occurrence, an emotion that most men believe is an illusion. In my experience ’tis also an impression that many women seek to change, fer they value love far above the more practical aspects of marriage.”

“ ’Tis no illusion,” Gavin answered readily. “True love is difficult to describe, but fer me it has brought a completeness to my life that I never believed possible.”

Jaw locked, the king rocked back on his heels. “And how did Laird Sinclair take the news of yer decision to forsake yer promise to his daughter and wed the English widow?”

“Better than I had hoped.” Gavin grinned. “Lady Aileen also rebelled at honoring the betrothal, making it harder fer Sinclair to insist. But in my quest fer my own happiness, I did not neglect my duty. Sinclair has agreed to support yer claim to the throne and swear allegiance to ye.”

The king paused. “What will become of his daughter?”

Gavin slowly let out his breath, relieved that Robert’s anger was visibly cooling. “Sinclair said he was considering a match with Brian McKenna.”

The king stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Now that Sinclair rides with me, the marriage would create a strong alliance fer my cause. The McKennas are fierce warriors and there are few who equal Brian’s fighting prowess. I much prefer him to be fighting at my side than to face him across a field of battle.”

“If ye so desire, I shall undertake the duty to broker the match, at my own expense,” Gavin volunteered.

There was a short pause. “And achieve the same outcome as the last time I asked ye to arrange a marriage? Do ye think me daft?” the king said sarcastically.

“Please, sire, ye must allow me the opportunity to redeem myself,” Gavin asked humbly.

Robert’s mouth twitched. “I suppose I must. I need yer loyalty and yer sword too much to push ye toward my enemies.”

“Ye have both, as well as my unwavering devotion,” Gavin replied, wishing there was a way to further prove this in deed as well as words.

As if reading his mind, the king gazed at him expectantly. Gavin was just about to offer Robert more gold when a thought struck. A brilliant thought! A way to placate the king and relieve himself of the nagging complication that sat languishing in his dungeon—Ewan Gilroy.

Gavin had lost more than a few hours of sleep trying to decide the fate of his bastard brother. He wanted him executed, but Fiona had begged and pleaded that the rogue’s life be spared. Though determined not to let anyone, even his beloved wife, dictate his actions, Gavin found he could not gainsay her in this request.

“In fact, not only do ye have my sword, but I’ll pledge ye the loyalty of my bastard brother, Ewan Gilroy,” Gavin offered.

“Ewan Gilroy? I’ve never heard any mention of him. Has he always been a part of yer army?”

“No, Gilroy’s always fought against me. He’s a legendary outlaw in these parts, who’s led a band of mercenaries intent on causing mischief. He’s never killed any of my people, which is the main reason he hasn’t been put to death. To be honest, he’s been a royal pain in my arse fer far longer than I care to recall—no disrespect to yer royal personage intended.”

Robert waved his hand. “None taken. Tell me more about this Gilroy.”

“Well, I’m ashamed to admit he’s run me in circles on my own lands fer years. He’s cunning, ruthless, and a natural leader. He’s got a fair hand with a sword and dirk and he’s a fearless rider. I was thinking ye could use a man with his talents.”

“I could. But can I trust him? The last thing I need is to be guarding my back in my own camp.”

Gavin nodded. “I spared his life when I captured him a few days ago. He knows he’ll only gain his freedom by repaying his debt to me. Though he was raised to hate our clan, he oddly carries the McLendon honor within him. If he agrees to serve, he’ll do it with his whole heart. I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise.”

Robert’s eyes were alight with interest. “This man intrigues me. I wish to be present when ye pose this proposition to Gilroy, so I can look into his eyes and judge his character.”

“Fair enough. Shall I have him brought to ye now?”

Robert’s face creased into lines of puzzlement. “In the middle of yer wedding?”

Gavin groaned.
Bloody hell, how could he have forgotten the rest of the ceremony?
“The blessing willnae take long,” he said sheepishly.

“What of the celebration that follows? No—Gilroy can be brought to me after it ends.”

“Ye’ll stay?”

Robert quirked his brow. “If I am welcome? After all, I was not invited.”

Gavin laughed, his amusement genuine. “We would be honored to have our good king as our guest on this most sacred and special day.”

Robert’s mouth turned up with obvious delight. “Excellent. I have made it a practice to never miss an opportunity to kiss a lovely, happy bride.”

 

 

It was a wedding celebration for the ages, one that would be talked of for years and years to come. Attended by the king, who offered the first toast with the earl’s private stock of whiskey, followed by music and dancing and more specially prepared food than most had seen in their lifetime.

Tables laden with food and kegs of ale had been sent to the villagers, so that they, along with the hundreds of guests filling the great hall, could share in the earl’s happiness, too.

Yet it was not only the bounty of food and drink, but the obvious love and affection shared by the bride and groom that made this event so markedly different from any other. Gavin’s solicitous care and affection for his bride was swooned over by all the women, while Fiona’s obvious devotion to her groom was the envy of many of the men.

The celebration continued into the wee hours of the morning, but the king departed before nightfall. Bellies full of good food and drink, the people lined the road trying to catch a glimpse of their sovereign. A riotous cheer went up from the crowd when Ewan Gilroy, leading a contingent of his men, rode out with the king. There seemed little doubt among the common folk that Gilroy would acquit himself well in his service to the crown and thus bring honor to the clan.