Amanda Forester (7 page)

It had not seemed such a long trip when she rode to the ruined castle as when she returned. Tavish went first, wary of running into their English friends. He led them up to the heights above, so they could look down into the valley before venturing forth. The view revealed the gates of Alnsworth Castle open and both English and Scots intermingling.

“Looks safe enough,” stated Tavish. He urged his mount forward without a glance back. He had been quiet the entire trip. At first she thought he was worried of danger and so held her tongue so as not to announce their presence to any potential foe. But even when the way had appeared safe, Tavish had said nothing to her. In truth, he had hardly spoken since the earth-shattering kiss in the tower.

At least, the earth had shattered for her. Perhaps for him it was a different matter.

Riding through the valley filled with the English encampment soon got her full attention. She hoped a truce had been settled because, otherwise, they were making a significant tactical error. The soldiers noted their presence and grew quiet as they passed, but none stopped them or made a move to confront them.

Elyne felt more at ease when they rode closer to the castle and the Highland soldiers were out in force. Campbells, Grants, Douglases, and others milled about trying to look casual as much as they were trying to look intimidating. There was a truce, but it was a shaky one.

Beyond the human wall of intimidating Highlanders, people were busy at work… packing? Elyne looked closer and it was undeniable, people were packing things in carts and saddlebags. Everywhere she looked, people were wearing travel cloaks and shouldering bags.

“Elyne!” Effie ran across the courtyard toward them once they entered the castle gates. “Elyne, I’ve been so worrit for ye!”

Elyne was hardly able to dismount before Effie engulfed her in an enormous hug.

“Are ye well? Tell me ye’re well! Did the lads find ye? They were sent out looking for ye. And, Tavish, so good o’ ye to take care o’ my sister, but come, I have much to tell ye.”

Unable to answer any of her sister’s questions, Elyne was dragged into the castle. She glanced back at Tavish, but he was similarly being surrounded by his kin.

“Effie please start making sense and tell me what is happening. Why are people packing?”

“We all must leave. David made a deal with Lord Lockton. The English are to claim the castle and we must leave immediately.”

“What? Why would David give it up?”

“Well, it does belong to the English, after all. And David was well compensated.”

“How well?” asked Elyne, getting to the point.

“Enough to agree to leave with all due haste. Also, we should’na keep the lads in mixed company too long. Have ye seen them out there? They want to start a fight.”

“Which side?”

“Both! Here, ye must change yer gown and let me try to fix yer hair. Ye look a sight!”

Effie had dragged Elyne up to their chamber where, much to her delight, Elyne found supper still on the table. She filled her hungry stomach while Effie helped her change.

“Ah, sister, you are well!” Isabelle burst into the room. “I am so glad we found you before we had to leave the castle.”

“Oh, but, Isabelle, this is yer home. How can ye leave it?” Elyne asked.

“’Tis true I spent many years here, but these castle walls were as much my prison as my protection. I was never happier than when I was finally able to break free. David has his own castles and people who depend on him that he has been ignoring, all to try to keep this land for me. The war is long over. It is time for him to go home to the Highlands and me with him. David is my family now, and with him, I am home.” Isabelle smiled and went back to packing.

When she finished her meal, Elyne quickly washed and changed clothes to a smoky green silk gown with gold embroidered trim. Her hair was plaited in one long braid down her back, with a gold band over a gauzy veil to dress her hair.

“Ye look lovely!” exclaimed Effie.

“Thank ye, but I dinna think this is best for traveling. Let me wear my rust wool gown. This is the silk in which I had meant to be wed.”

“Aye, ye must get married now.”

“Married?”

“Aye, we are all a flurry. Everything must be done in haste before one of those hotheads out there starts a fight,” explained Isabelle.

“I must see David first,” said Elyne. She would explain the situation. Maybe he could quietly end the engagement. If only she had not signed the engagement papers!

“Och, make haste!” Their younger sister Gwyn rushed into the room. “The priest says he will leave. We caught him trying to sneak out the gates. If ye wish to be wed proper, ye must hurry!”

Before Elyne had time to voice complaint, she was being hustled into the great hall.

“I must speak to David first!” she pleaded.

“Run and find Laird Campbell,” Isabelle commanded a ghillie. “Tell him the wedding o’ his sister must begin now and to meet us immediately in the great hall.”

Grigor was already in the hall, as tall and stoic as ever, perhaps more so. The priest tried to leave again and would only stay if the ceremony could begin immediately. Elyne scanned the gathering people for her brother, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Elyne glanced up at Grigor beside her. He was dressed in his Highland plaid and his clothes fit well over his muscular form. She was fair enough to confess Grigor was taller and more muscular than Tavish, but Grigor lacked any warmth in his black eyes. His mouth was set, and he did not appear happy to see her. Of course, he never looked happy doing anything, so his lack of enthusiasm for his wedding was no surprise.

The priest stood before them while Effie and the rest of her family stood as witnesses. The groom’s side was also well represented, except that Tavish was not there. He wasn’t there. If she had meant anything to him, or if he wished her to stop the wedding, surely he would have appeared. But he was not anywhere in the hall. Perhaps he did not know the wedding was beginning?

Elyne searched her mind for some reason to stop the wedding, yet she had signed the contract. She had committed to this course. If she wanted to back out now, she would need to have grounds to do so. She would have to prove Grigor had done something to break the contract, and she did not even know what kind of offense would be heinous enough to do it.

The priest said a few words and then moved to the vows. Every moment brought her closer to the point of no return. It was now or never. She could not be Grigor’s wife. She could not. She opened her mouth.

“Nay! I protest this union!”

Elyne opened and closed her mouth, confused. It was not she who had spoken, which meant he had come back to rescue her!

Except the only person in the middle of the great hall was Mistress Douglas. Mean ’Leen was surely not here to rescue her; the bad blood between her and the entire Campbell clan was legendary.

“This woman has spent three nights unchaperoned with Tavish Grant,” accused Eileen Douglas. “How do we know for sure she remains a maid. She could be with child with another man’s seed?”

Elyne gasped.

“That is a lie!” Once again Elyne realized it was not she who spoke, but someone who knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Tavish Grant strode into the great hall, dressed in his Highland finest, his great broadsword strapped to his back. It was all Elyne could do not to swoon at his feet. It took a few moments to catch her breath before she even noticed her brother was by his side.

“None shall impugn the character of Elyne Campbell!” commanded Tavish. “She is an honorable lady, and I shall challenge any who declare otherwise to a duel of honor. Let him who speaks against her step forward now or forever hold his tongue.”

The assembly paused and all looked at Grigor then at Eileen Douglas. Would Grigor challenge his intended? Would anyone stand up to champion Eileen’s accusations? Tavish stared down Grigor then circled slowly to challenge anyone in the room. His eyes were ablaze. He might not be the biggest man in the room full of mountain-bred Highlanders, but Elyne had no doubt that on this occasion, he would best anyone who dared to oppose him.

The sentiment must have been shared because none spoke.

Tavish held up a scroll and slowly unrolled it as he approached the unhappy couple. “I have here the marriage contract.” Tavish pointed to the bottom. “It is signed by my lady Elyne Campbell, but cousin, ye have not signed it.”

Elyne’s heart leaped against her rib cage and pounded hard. If Grigor had not signed the contract, she was not bound to him!

“Grigor,” Tavish spoke quietly to his cousin, “do ye wish to marry this lady?”

“I came a long way to get married.” Grigor’s eyebrows clamped down over his eyes, his arms folded across his massive chest.

“I understand, cousin,” said Tavish. “But I have fallen in love wi’ this lady. I wish to wed her too.”

“Aha!” chimed in Eileen Douglas, always ready to make mischief. “I knew something was awry.” She pointed at Elyne. “Can ye swear that naught happened between the two o’ ye while ye were gone?”

Heat rose to Elyne’s cheeks. No, she could not swear to such a statement. A good deal had happened. And now he had declared his love for her!

“What do ye have to say, Elyne?” asked her brother, his face unreadable.

What did she have to say? The hall quieted and all appeared to lean toward her to hear what she might say. Even some of the warriors, such as Laird Douglas and Laird Maclachlan, wandered in from the field to witness the true battle being waged inside the hall. Now was her time to say what she wished. Could she turn her back on her agreement with Grigor? Could she turn her back on Tavish?

“I am terribly sorry,” Elyne addressed Grigor. “But my heart must and always belong to Tavish Grant.”

Grigor appeared even more severe, if such a thing was possible. “I came to get married and I’ll no’ leave empty-handed.”

“Nay, and nor should ye,” exclaimed Elyne with sudden insight. “Ye need a woman who can run yer household with precision. Ye need a woman of high standing to bring alliances and prosperity to yer clan. Ye need a woman who can stand independent and not place too many demands on ye while still respecting yer authority.”

“Aye,” agreed Grigor.

“There is only one woman who can meet yer high standards. The only woman for ye is Mistress Douglas!”

The entire assembly gasped. Eileen Douglas gasped.

“Wait!” roared Laird Douglas as he pushed himself toward the front of the hall. “What is this talk of my daughter getting married?”

“Mistress Douglas would make the perfect match for Grigor Grant, heir of Laird Grant the Sheriff of Inverness,” chimed in Tavish.

Laird Douglas stroked his black beard. “I like it!” He slapped Grigor on the shoulder, a smack that would have taken down a lesser man. “I consent!”

Grigor gave Laird Douglas a curt nod then pushed Elyne aside, took Eileen by the hand, and drew her beside him. “Proceed!” he commanded the priest.

“Wait!” cried Eileen Douglas. “Not one o’ ye oafs have asked my consent on this matter!”

“Ye wish to stay unmarried yer whole life?” asked Grigor.

“Nay!” declared Eileen Douglas.

“Ye find my standing or my clan lacking?” asked Grigor, with ice in his voice.

“Nay.”

“Ye find me wanting as a man?” growled Grigor.

“Nay, ye are a fine man, Grigor Grant, and that is the truth,” she conceded. “But I wish ye to ask me first, is all.”

Grigor smiled. Small at first then spreading across his face, cracking through his whiskers like a spring thaw.

“I like ye Eileen Douglas,” declared Grigor. “Ye are a woman who knows her own mind and will run my household wi’ precision. Ye remind me o’ my stepmother.”

Another person may not have suggested the comparison as a compliment, but with Grigor, it meant he was pleased.

“I am terribly sorry, but I must leave now,” said the priest, edging away.

“Nay!” roared Grigor, staying the man’s attempt at flight. “Mistress Douglas, I wish ye to be my wife. Will ye?”

“Aye! Now ye may proceed.”

“Wait!” This time it was Tavish who stopped the proceedings. “Elyne, I made this for ye.” From his sporran, he pulled a ring of three bands twisted together, one of silver, one of steel, and one of gold. “I made it from melting down part o’ my knife. I got the idea from a scripture I saw on the wall, a rope of three strands is strongest of all. I wish to bind my life wi’ ye, now and forever.”

“Aye, Tavish!” Elyne blinked tears from her eyes.

Tavish held up the ring. “One strand for ye, one strand for me, and one strand for our Lord who binds us together.”

Elyne rushed into his arms and drew close for a kiss.

“Ahem!” interrupted the priest. “Are ye getting married or no’?”

So it was that Elyne and Tavish, and Eileen and Grigor, were married side by side by a harried priest as the occupants were packing to abandon the castle. By all accounts, it was a lovely wedding, and both couples sealed their union with a kiss. And then another. And another. And then their clans hustled them out of the abandoned castle.

***

Elyne held Tavish’s hand and followed where he led. They walked through the lush overgrowth of spring, down the little path to the hermit’s hut carved into the rock. They ducked inside and Elyne was treated to a beautiful room lit with soft candlelight. The overgrowth, dirt, and debris had been removed, and in its place, flower petals were sprinkled on the stone table and the hard-packed floor.

More of the scripture was now visible, carved into the walls. It was like walking into the Bible itself.

“’Tis beautiful.” Elyne smiled at Tavish and he returned the sentiment, his eyes dancing in the candlelight.

“That night, after the English left our gates, I came here and prayed somehow the Lord would find a way to let me wed ye. The good Lord answered that prayer, and I wanted to come back here to say my true thanks.”

Elyne smiled. “Our marriage shall be rooted in faith.”

Tavish leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “I wanted to bring ye here our first night in our new home.”