Highland Rake (19 page)

Dougald didn't look entirely happy with regard to whatever James had spoken to him about earlier, but he wasn't able to answer her as Alana was escorted so quickly away to the great hall.

Before long, she was seated between Lady Eilis, and Dougald's mother, Lady Akira. Since they had sat down, Lady Akira had been talking to her nearly nonstop about the castle and her sons, about Eilis and the baby, about their people and mostly how delighted she was to finally meet Alana.

Alana's attention was drawn to Dougald sitting on the other side of his mother. Alana tried not to look at him because every time she did he caught her glance. He appeared as though he wanted to say something to her, almost apologetic. Again she wondered what James had decided concerning her. At least she assumed he'd made some decision.

Trying to take her mind off her own troubles, she said to Lady Eilis, "I have some herbs that might settle your stomach."

Dismissing the notion, the lady waved her hand. "I am fine. I have been told this sickness will pass. And our healer, Tavia, has aided me greatly."

Alana nodded and again chanced a look at Dougald. He gave Alana a thin smile, but it wasn't warm and endearing, nor did he look amused as if he believed she was giving him fervent looks because she was interested in him. Nor was it the kind of smile that said he wanted her, like he had given her earlier when he had pulled her from her horse and seated her upon his lap.
No
. This was more of a show for her as if he was trying to be civil and put her at ease, which it wasn't.

She said to James’s wife, "Lady Eilis…"

"Eilis, if you please."

"Alana, if you would. Did your laird husband tell you what he intends to do with me?"

"Oh, dear." Eilis suddenly looked as pale as a puff of white cloud, then rose unsteadily, holding her expanded belly, and hurried away from the table.

Her healer and a couple of maids quickly joined her as she rushed out of the hall.

"'Tis the babe," Lady Akira assured Alana. She reached over and patted her hand. "James was easy on me and Malcolm, too. When I was carrying Dougald, och, he was a kicker and squirmer and unsettled my stomach something fierce. I fear Eilis is carrying such a babe."

"Dougald," Alana murmured, nearly feeling sick to her stomach herself. Not because of a babe, but with worry as to what James intended to tell her uncle. She said to Lady Akira, "Do you know what Laird MacNeill intends to do with me?"

"Oh, aye," his mother said cheerily. She squeezed her hand, and if Alana had not been so worried, she would have loved how the woman seemed to treat her as kin. "Why the perfect plan, really. On the morrow, you are to wed my Dougald, who needs a woman to tame his wild oats."

The lady’s words had barely reached Alana before she felt herself drifting into a black void, and heard nothing more.

***

Dougald carried Alana in his arms to her guest chamber, irritated with his mother for telling Alana he would wed her on the morrow and that the news had caused the lass such grief that she had fainted dead away. He had fully intended to tell the lass how much he wished to marry her.

James had the gall to laugh at him before Dougald carried her out of the great hall. Not hatefully, but just highly amused. He'd always scorned him for having such a reputation with the lasses, but a lot of it was exaggerated. Every time a lass was breeding and she was not married, Dougald was suspected as having been the father. Even when he was away on Crusade, or even when he was with Malcolm seeking an English bride south of the border. The timing could not have been proper for him to have spawned so many bastards, yet, there it was. He was the perfect man to lay blame to.

He hadn't even been with a woman in…over four months, he guessed. So it wasn't as though anytime a wench smiled wickedly at him, he lifted her skirt and had his way with her.

He placed Alana on the bed where two maids hurried to see to her as his mother walked into the room and gave him a brilliant smile.

"I believe she adores you already," she said.

Dougald frowned at her. "She fainted when you told her we would wed. How does that show adoration?"

His mother clucked her tongue. "She couldna keep her eyes off you at the meal."

"She worried about what James would do concerning her and wanted to know if I knew."

"She wanted to sit beside you at the meal, to speak with you."

"Aye." Dougald folded his arms. "To learn what James told me he intended to do with her."

His mother tsked and took his arm and led him from the chamber. "I will tend to her, but tomorrow morn, you and the lass will wed, and you will show her just how good you will be for her." His mother gave him a look as if to remind him of his obligation to the clan and to the lady.

Dougald let out his breath, cast one last look at Alana who was coming to, and shook his head. He could just see them on their wedding night, he ready to bed the lass, and she swooning with distress in his arms before he could even get her to the bed.

***

Alana couldn't sleep. Again. Even though the bed was soft, unlike the hard ground when they were camping on the way here, or the lumpy bed in the tavern. But she worried too much about the coming marriage to Dougald on the morrow for her to sleep. She couldn't believe she'd fainted at the high table at the evening meal! What a sight that must have been!

She heard rustling in the bedchamber and pulled aside the bed curtain. Her brother was looking at the
léine
she'd worn that was now hanging on a peg on the wall, leaned against the door, turned to observe her, his arms folded, and his mouth curved down as he studied her.

She groaned. "What, Connell?" she whispered. "Why are you here? I am safe."

"I told you, lass. I canna help it. I was off feeding Spirit—"

"Spirit?"

"Aye. My horse. And the next thing I know, you needed me."

"I dinna need you!"

He raised a skeptical brow.

"Why do you believe I need you?"

"You dinna want to wed Dougald. He is a rake."

She shook her head. "I have no' choice it seems."

"Did you know there is a wench who is haunting the place?"

"Lady Seana?"

"I have no' been introduced. Have you met her? She is a terror. As soon as she saw me, she shrieked! Scared a maid witless. Then the ghost got angry at
me
! Just because I scared
her
. She threw a brass pot at me. The woman is mad."

Alana frowned. "A brass pot? Like your horse?"

"Since when is a brass pot like a horse?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "You didna drink overmuch this eve, did you?"

"I mean, Connell Cameron, that the pot was like you, a ghost."

"How can an object be ghostly?"

"I dinna know. How can a ghost throw a solid object?"

"
Here
you are, you
beast
." Seana glanced at Alana. "Dinna tell me you see
him
, too."

"Meet my brother, Lady Seana," Alana said with apology. "Connell Cameron. Connell, meet Lady Seana MacNeill, sister of Laird James MacNeill of Craigly Castle." She frowned at Seana. "Did you really throw a brass pot at my brother?" She was almost wishing the pot hadn't missed as many times as she had wanted to do the same when he was living!

The lady snorted. "Aye. But it did no good. Went right through him and all he did was laugh. No' that he didna jump a little." Her mouth curved up in an evil smile. Then her smile faded. "Then he grinned. The brigand. After he got over the shock that I could throw something at him."

"You were the one who made the poor serving girl faint dead away," Connell accused, waving his hand at her.

"Why are you still here?" Alana asked the lady. "It has been years since you…uhm, should have gone away, has it no'?"

Looking suddenly very sad, Lady Seana sat down on a bench. "I wished to wed Laird Dunbarton's nephew. His father and my brother, James, wouldna permit it. We ran off together and…" She gave a dejected little shrug. "We died. Caught a fever."

Alana felt terrible for her. She glanced at Connell to see his reaction. His brow was deeply furrowed as he watched the lass, his expression bothered as though he felt badly that she had run off with the man she had loved and died without finding the happiness she deserved; whereas, he was caught fooling around with another man's wife and had wasted his life without thought of finding the right woman to settle down with. He saw Alana looking at him and crossed his arms again and stood taller as if he was not affected by Seana's tale, but she knew her brother well enough to recognize he was.

"But you were together. In death. Aye?" Alana thought that the two should have been together for all eternity. But what did she know of such matters? "So why have you no' gone with him? Why have you returned here to Craigly Castle?" To her family, Alana thought. To be with those who loved her no matter what even if they hadn't approved.

Seana twisted her mouth as if considering what had occurred before she spoke. "Henwas said he loved me more than life itself. I believed him. At the first hint of trouble, he got scared and abandoned me. Every man for himself. He died, too, anyway. But he had left me to die to save himself, afraid he would become ill as I had done. I was so angry with him, I stomped all the way home, not realizing for a long time why some could see me and others couldna. Henwas never followed me home. Mayhap he passed over. I dinna care."

"The man was an idiot," Connell said, his tone angry.

Seana twisted a length of hair around her fingers and studied Connell, then furrowed her brows. "How would you know that? You, sir, were a notorious rake, by all accounts. Henwas may have feared dying and left me to die alone, but you would have never offered to settle down with a woman in the first place. That takes courage, you know."

"I wouldna have left you to your fate alone, lass," Connell said so sincerely, his comment brought tears to both Alana and Seana's eyes.

And the woman vanished.

"What did I say?" Connell asked, as if he couldn't believe his words would have or
should have
upset the lass. Before Alana could come up with a reasonable explanation, her brother vanished, too.

As tired as Alana was, she didn't believe she could stay awake through most of the night. All she could think of was her impending marriage to Dougald MacNeill, lover of lasses, and what being married to him would entail. The way he had looked at her in the hall over supper, he had not been happy about having to wed her.

She tried to tell herself he'd be a good lover as much experience as he had and that he had been protective and kind to her, not too bad a husband as men went. But she was certain he didn't wish a wife.

She didn't know the first thing about making love. Except for what she'd overheard other women speak of.

Still, hearing about what would happen and actually doing it… She shuddered. She would be a paltry example of womanhood. Trying to will herself to sleep, she closed her eyes, intending to make the best of the situation.

She was certain her uncle intended to marry her off to Hoel MacDonald, and he had a reputation with the lasses as well. She'd also heard he loved to drink with his men—a lot.

When she had watched Dougald, she hadn't seen him drink overmuch. Certainly not as if he was drowning the annoyance that he might feel with having to wed her in the morn against his will. So mayhap he would suit better than Hoel. Her own uncle was not a heavy drinker, and he did not allow his own men to imbibe too much, except for in celebration.

She sighed. She could refuse the marriage before she said her vows. Then she'd have to say them before Hoel instead. Especially after she had disappeared from the Cameron keep. Her uncle would have her wed just as quickly as James was trying to do. She did have to consider that Dougald's explanation about his sister made it seem as though he wasn't concerned that Alana saw ghosts and spoke to them. What would Hoel think should he ever catch her behaving so strangely? He might think her a witch or truly mad.

She closed her eyes. Tomorrow eve if she wed Dougald, she would be just as wide awake. Only for a much different reason than this eve. He would be bedding her as his wife,
if
she went through with it.

***

Dougald sat by the fire in the great hall, staring into the orange-red flames. His last night to be free to enjoy the loving of a willing lass, and three had offered themselves to him already, but he could only think of Alana. The fragrant way she smelled, of mint and nutmeg. The softness of her body pressed against his when they had ridden together. Her whispered breath against his cheek. Her expression so passionate—her cheeks full of color, her golden brows raised—even when she was calling him names, or looking for his support when she looked so weary.

Then her face turning ashen right before she fainted at the news she would have to wed him. He feared the lass would not hold up well during the ceremony, and he could just imagine what would happen on their wedding night.