Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2) (3 page)

"Arrian, the man isn't blind. How could he help but love a beauty like you?"

Arrian looked doubtful. "Am I truly beautiful?"

"You don't need me to tell you that. Ian wasn't your only suitor last summer. They were too numerous to count."

Lady Mary looked at her great-niece, seeing her as Ian Maclvors must have seen her. Arrian was a stunning beauty, from the top of her golden head to the tip of her dainty feet. Heads turned in her direction when she entered a room. Her eyes were light blue and often danced with humor. Many young girls in her circumstances would have been spoiled, but not Arrian. She reflected the modesty and kindness of her adopted mother, Kassidy.

"I only hope Ian is deserving of you, Arrian. That's why I decided to make this journey with you. Even though he is my nephew, I want to see his character for myself. There's still two months until the wedding, and during that time, I intend to watch him closely."

"He knows you watch him," Arrian said. "He's nervous when you are around."

"Why should he be nervous if he has nothing to hide?"

Arrian's musical laughter rang out. "I'm certain those that don't know you as well as I do could be intimidated by your haughty attitude."

"Nonsense. Me, haughty?"

"Perhaps it's the Scottish blood that makes you so."

"Your mother is half Scottish, which makes you part Scottish, Arrian."

"I'm proud of my Maclvors blood."

"Aye, but you have been raised with English traditions, and you may find life hard in Scotland."

Arrian smiled. "I will make Ian a good wife—I know I shall. Do you think he will be waiting for me when we make port?"

"Of course he'll be there. You can be sure of that."

Lady Mary suddenly turned white, and Arrian quickly pushed a basin in front of her. After retching until she was weak, Lady Mary lay back against the pillows while Arrian bathed her face with cool water.

"I'll never make it if the sea doesn't calm. To feel better I'd have to be dead," Lady Mary said.

Arrian felt pity for her aunt and guilty because she had never been the least bit seasick. Of course, she and Michael had practically grown up aboard the
Nightingale
.

"You aren't the only one who's ill. Tuttle is in her cabin feeling just as wretched."

"That doesn't make me feel one whit better. Go on and dream of your wedding. There's nothing you can do to help me."

"Are you certain?"

Lady Mary closed her eyes. "I believe I'll just try to sleep now."

Arrian pulled the cover to her aunt's chin and then watched the waves splash against the porthole. She sat for a while, looking out to sea, remembering how difficult it had been to say good-bye to her family that morning.

What a wonderful holiday they'd had in France. They had spent days in museums, in parks, and on picnics, while at night they had attended the ballet, musicales, and concerts. The holiday had been her mother's idea, because she had insisted that Arrian's trousseau be designed in Paris. Below decks there were dozens of trunks packed with magnificent gowns and accessories.

Arrian would always cherish that time with her family. She would miss them dreadfully after the wedding when they returned to England. And how she would miss dear Aunt Mary.

She thought of Ian, so tall and handsome, the very picture of what a Scottish chief should be. He would someday be an honorable heir to the Clan Maclvors, and she was determined to make him a worthy wife.

2

Edinburgh—Two Weeks Later

The morning was overcast, and only pale sunlight strained through the high window of Edinburgh Castle, adding a dismal air to the council room.

Ian Maclvors, future chief of Clan Maclvors, stood with his hands clasped behind his back, glancing across the volcanic cliffs on which Edinburgh Castle was built. His sandy-colored hair was swept off his wide forehead to expose an arresting face and deep brown eyes. His gaze moved to the three men who had accompanied him and his younger brother, Jamie. Ian nodded in approval when Jamie opened his coat to reveal a concealed pistol.

"Keep that hidden," Ian said. "The king's representative sent word we were to come unarmed."

Jamie quickly straightened his coat. "I don't trust Warrick Glencarin. He's too wild and unpredictable. And I refuse to present myself to him defenseless. Of all of us, he bears me the most ill will."

Ian glanced at Jamie's wife, who was sitting in the shadows near the back of the room. Lady Helena had once been considered a beauty, but now she was not even pretty. Her once flawless complexion was blotched, and her belly was swollen with child. Her extra bulk made her clumsy and awkward.

"I will take great satisfaction in flaunting your wife in Lord Warrick's face and tormenting him with the fact that she is heavy with a Maclvors's child. I want him to hear from her own lips that she preferred you to him."

Lady Helena had been reluctant to come today, knowing she was being used as a pawn in some kind of game between Warrick Glencarin and her husband's family. She looked furtively around the room and twisted her hands anxiously in her lap. Lord Warrick had a fierce temper—would he direct that anger at her today?

"Grandfather wouldn't approve of Helena being here. Unlike me, he is eager to settle the feud with the Drummonds." Ian's eyes narrowed, and he smiled in satisfaction. "When Warrick sees her, he'll become enraged and show himself for the devil he is."

There was movement at the open doorway, and two men entered the room. One was the king's deputy, and the other, the Lord Mayor of Edinburgh.

Ian leaned closer to his brother. "I intend to win the English deputy to our side so the judgment will go against the Drummonds. If we can't defeat Lord Warrick in battle, we'll defeat him with the deputy's ruling."

Jamie's eyes filled with admiration for his older brother. "If anyone can do that, Ian, it'll be you."

Ian watched Lord Thorndike and Sir Brodrick approach, and he whispered to his brother, "All Englishmen are fools. Watch and learn how easily they can be outsmarted by a Scot."

"Gentlemen," Sir Brodrick said, plainly impressed with his role in the day's proceedings, "I'm pleased to present Lord Thorndike, deputy to the king and mediator between the House of Maclvors and the House of Drummond. Your lordship, may I present Lord Ian and Jamie Maclvors, grandsons of Lord Gille Maclvors."

Lord Thorndike acknowledged the two men with a nod. "I have been informed that you will be representing your grandfather."

"That is so," Ian replied.

Lord Thorndike noticed the men Ian had brought with him. "And who are they?"

"They're my men, who are here merely to make certain there will be no trouble," Ian answered.

"They are not to be part of the proceedings. They can remain only if they keep separate from us."

Ian nodded to his clansmen, indicating that they should move to the back of the room.

Lord Thorndike's gaze now fell on Lady Helena. "Who is the female?" he asked, annoyed by all the uninvited visitors. "You were informed that this was to be a private session, were you not?"

"Tis only my wife," Jamie said. "Since she is heavy with child, I wanted to keep her near me. She has promised to cause no interruption."

Lord Thorndike bestowed a look of displeasure on the young man. "See that she does not," he said. "Am I to take it that Lord Warrick has not yet arrived?"

"Just what you'd expect from a Highlander," Ian said. "They have no consideration for others. They have no manners and no liking for law and order."

Lord Thorndike was a seasoned negotiator of great insight, which was why he had been chosen by the king to settle the feud between the two clans. He had been warned by King William not to become entangled in a dispute between Highlander opposing Lowlander.

"It is not yet the appointed time for the meeting," Lord Thorndike stated, moving to a desk and placing his satchel on it. "I have papers to read. Perhaps the rest of you can make yourselves comfortable. We'll be in for a long day." His attention turned to Sir Brodrick. "You will no longer be needed. When Lord Warrick arrives, send him in at once."

Ian watched the Lord Mayor's hurried withdrawal. "See how the man scurries to do the Englishman's bidding? It fairly sticks in my throat to witness a Scot taking orders from an English dog."

"No one can force you to do anything against your will, Ian," Jamie said. "You'll have your way today."

There was no time for Ian to reply, because at that moment the door was thrust open, and two men stood in the doorway.

The older man, Ian dismissed as unimportant. The second man was not so easy to ignore. He was dressed all in black, save for the Drummond plaid across his shoulder, which proclaimed him to be the chief. His head was held at a proud tilt, and his gaze swept the room with indifference. Ian had last seen Lord Warrick at the battle of Kilmouris, when he had been only a lad. Now he exuded power and self-assurance. Ian was not a coward, but there was something in Warrick's eyes that sent a chill through his heart.

"That is he?" Jamie asked. For years he had heard much of the chief of Drummond, but until now he'd never seen him.

Warrick Glencarin's features were dark. From a distance it was impossible to tell the color of his eyes, but they were arresting, and there was a look of contempt in their depths. It was apparent that he had no liking for this day's encounter.

"I once clubbed him with the hilt of my sword," Ian said. "It was the time when our father married his sister. I should have killed him when I had the chance. Now he's too powerful to kill. Perhaps I can one day give him a choice between death and dishonor—he'll choose death."

"He has the savage, unkempt look of a Highlander," Jamie observed.

Lord Thorndike moved forward to greet the newcomer just as the mantle clock chimed the appointed hour. "Lord Warrick, I am Lord Thorndike, the king's deputy," he said. "You're right on time."

Warrick gave Ian a sharp glance but spoke to the king's man. "It is not my habit to be dilatory. I value my time as you must value yours." He turned to his companion. "This is my man, Mactavish." He glanced at the group of men who had accompanied Ian. "It would seem we are outnumbered."

"Quite so, quite so," Lord Thorndike said. "Shall we get on with the proceedings? Are you acquainted with Ian Maclvors?"

Warrick glared at Ian, his lips twisted into a grimace. "I know the man only by reputation, and by a fleeting encounter one night at a banquet." His eyes narrowed. "And, yes, he was present the day my father died."

There was a feeling of intense animosity in the room as the two men stared at each other like two predatory animals. They were both remembering that Ian had killed Warrick's father.

At last Ian spoke, pushing his brother forward. "You will have heard of my brother, Jamie? He is the husband of Lady Helena."

Jamie flinched and stepped back a pace as Warrick's cruel gaze was turned on him. He sucked in his breath, unable to look away from the probing intensity of Warrick's slate-gray eyes.

"Ah, yes, the bridegroom," Warrick said. "One can only hope you find happiness in wedded bliss, Jamie Maclvors. When one takes a bride by force, he can never be sure of the woman's true affection."

"I . . ." Jamie's voice trailed off as fear sealed his lips.

Ian stepped forward and spoke for his brother. "Lady Helena carries my brother's child. Theirs is a love match."

"Ah, well," Warrick said, with a smile that did not soften his eyes. "No doubt you will breed many little— Maclvors to inhabit the Lowlands."

Lord Thorndike, realizing that the animosity between the two men could quickly turn into a fray, intervened. "Be seated, gentleman. There is much we need to accomplish here today. The king's orders are that we are to remain sequestered in this room until all concerned have come to a satisfactory agreement."

Warrick stared at the Englishman. "Why is Lord Gille not here? Can it be that he is late for the appointed meeting?"

Lord Thorndike looked uncomfortable. "The Lord Mayor advised me that his lordship will be represented by his grandson and heir, Ian Maclvors. Is that acceptable to you?"

Warrick's lip curled in disgust. "I came here today expecting to meet with Gille Maclvors. Surely you don't intend that I deal with an underling who has no power?"

Ian's temper flared at the insult. He reached down where his sword should be, only to find the scabbard empty. "You'll pay for this affront. I'll not stay in the same room with a slovenly Highlander."

Before Ian knew what was happening, Warrick grabbed him by the coat front and jerked him forward.

Jamie rushed to help his brother, but a warning glare from Warrick made him reconsider. He felt the cold metal of the gun against his chest, but his hands trembled so, he dared not draw the weapon.

"Ian Maclvors, return to your grandfather, and tell him not to send an unworthy to speak in his stead. I came on the king's orders, and I assumed your grandfather had received the same command. I had no inkling that a subordinate would be representing the Maclvors."

Lord Thorndike was too wise to restrain physically the angered Lord Warrick, so he spoke quickly. "I was about to inform you of Lord Gille's request. Will you please hear what I have to say?"

Warrick flung Ian away with a force that sent Ian stumbling against a table. "I'll listen, but if I don't like what you say, be warned, I'll not feel obligated to remain."

"I was told that Lord Gille Maclvors is in ill health." Lord Thorndike glanced up at Warrick. "After all, he's a man of eighty-three years."

"He is an old man," Warrick said. "But I also know he still has the faculties and strength of a much younger man." He glared at Ian and Jamie. "I can hardly credit that your grandfather would miss an opportunity to face me. There must be another reason he did not come."

Ian started to speak but was interrupted by Lord Thorndike.

"There is another reason Lord Gille could not attend today. He is making ready to welcome his great-granddaughter, who is Ian Maclvors's betrothed," Lord Thorndike said.

Warrick wasn't placated. "I see no reason why that should have kept him away."

"Lord lan's betrothed is the daughter of the duke of Ravenworth, and the king expects her to be shown every courtesy. His Majesty has also sent an envoy to welcome the duke's daughter on her arrival. I hope you will agree that Lord Gille's reasons for not being here are legitimate."

Warrick looked quickly at Ian for confirmation and could tell from his self-satisfied smile that Lord Thorndike spoke the truth.

"My felicitations," Warrick said. "I'm sure you and your English bride deserve each other."

Lord Thorndike stepped forward. "I'll not have brawling and accusations. This meeting will be conducted in a manner befitting gentlemen of your stations. Don't force me to return to London and advise the king to send troops to quell this hostility between you."

The Englishman now had both men's attention, and they fell silent. Neither wanted the king embroiled in their age-old feud.

"Say what you will," Warrick agreed. "Just get on with it. I have important matters that require my attention."

Lord Thorndike cleared his throat. "I'll cut right through the formalities and go straight to the charges— is that acceptable?"

Warrick thought for a moment before he replied, watching Ian, who was straightening his coat. "Lord Thorndike, I'll only remain if I'm satisfied you are not a Maclvors man," he said.

"I'm no one but the king's man," Lord Thorndike declared indignantly. "If anyone believes differently he's at liberty to leave. Otherwise, be seated and I'll begin."

An uneasy peace settled over the room as Lord Warrick and Lord Ian sat down at the table. They both watched Lord Thorndike rifle through papers until he found the documents he needed.

"Starting with the Maclvors's grievances," the king's deputy stated, "you, Lord Warrick, are accused of denying the Maclvors passage through your lands to visit their property, Kilmouris. It further states here that they are often attacked and harassed by your men."

Warrick stared at Ian. "I will never allow them access to Kilmouris, because the Maclvors have no legal right to it. Kilmouris belongs to me."

"Why say you this?" Lord Thorndike asked.

Warrick drew in a deep breath. He was wasting his time talking to the Englishman, who he doubted would be impartial. "In the year 1818, the lands of Kilmouris were deeded to my sister, Gwendolyn, as part of her dowry. Even then my father did not trust a Maclvors well enough to deed the land directly to them." Warrick's eyes hardened. "At that time my sister was in good health. Even so, she died the night of her marriage to Gavin Maclvors under mysterious circumstances."