The Border Lord's Bride (16 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: The Border Lord's Bride
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"I have news, but I would prefer that you and Conal hear it at the same time," the laird said.

Adair pouted. "Why can‘t you just tell me now?" she demanded.

He chuckled. "Because if I did, sister, you would blurt it out to Conal as he came into the hall, and it‘s my news to tell."

"Ohh," Adair said. "It must be very good news."

"Or very bad," he teased her.

"Duncan!" The laird of Duffdour‘s younger half brother, Murdoc, came into the hall.

"Ho, laddie! I swear you have grown another foot since I last saw you," the laird said, hugging his youngest sibling warmly.

"Duncan has news, but he won‘t tell me until Conal comes home," Adair said.

"I‘ll bet I know," Murdoc replied with a mischievous grin.

"You do?" Adair and the laird said in unison.

"Tell me at once, you wicked lad!" Adair said to her younger brother-in-law.

Murdoc shook his dark head. "Nay, ‘tis Duncan‘s news."

"How could you know?" the laird asked.

"I have just come from St. Mary‘s," Murdoc said. "I needed advice in a certain matter, and when Mother Mary Andrew heard what it was she allowed Maggie to speak with me. I have news too, and I will not wait for Conal to come into the hall. I have decided to become a priest. I am not comfortable as a fighting man, and I have naught to offer a lass, neither land nor coin. For younger sons such as myself there is only one other way, and that is the Church. Once I have been trained and ordained, I hope Conal will offer me a place here at Cleit."

"If he doesn‘t you can come to Duffdour, laddie," the laird said. "I would welcome a priest, and I even have a church for you. The priest there now is ancient."

"Thank you, Duncan," Murdoc Bruce said.

"What are you thanking him for?" Conal Bruce said as he came into his hall. "Duncan, what brings you to Cleit?" He took a goblet of wine from the servant, who had finally brought them, along with the laird‘s bread and meat.

"I‘ve made up my mind, Conal. I‘m going to St. Andrews to study for the priesthood," Murdoc said.

Conal Bruce nodded. "I thought it might come to that," he said. "I‘ll pay your way into the priesthood, Murdoc. After all, we share both father and mother."

"If you can manage to support a priest when I‘m through I would like to return to Cleit, but if you cannot Duncan has offered me a place at Duffdour. ‘Twas why I was thanking him," Murdoc Bruce explained.

"Why would you need a priest?" Conal Bruce asked his elder sibling.

"I have a church, and an old cleric who will eventually die or need to be sent to a comfortable cottage," the laird of Duffdour told the laird of Cleit. "My people are glad to have a priest among them, and I‘ll eventually need to replace him."

"Duncan has come with news!" Adair said excitedly, her violet eyes dancing.

"You‘re married," Conal Bruce said drolly.

His wife swatted at him. "Don‘t be silly, Conal. When Duncan marries we‘ll all come to the wedding, dance, and drink to his health and that of his bride."

"Then raise your goblets," Duncan Armstrong said, "for Conal is correct. I was married at Sterling in the king‘s own chapel, by the king‘s own confessor, almost a week ago. Her name is Ellen MacArthur."

Adair shrieked. "Why didn‘t you call for us to come, you wretch!" She hit him on the arm. "Now you must tell us all. Sit down, the three of you, at the high board, and we‘ll eat and speak on this.

How did you meet this lass? Who are her people? How old is she? And why were you married in the king‘s chapel by his confessor? God‘s wounds! The girl is enceinte by the king, and he wanted to give her a husband. That‘s it, isn‘t it, Duncan? You‘ll be raising a king‘s brat such as I was!"

Duncan Armstrong burst out laughing. He was still laughing as he seated himself at his brother‘s high board. He laughed so hard he almost choked on the last bit of bread and meat he had crammed into his mouth. "Adair, Adair," he finally said. "That is quite a tale you have just woven, but ‘tis not even near the truth. Ellen MacArthur was her grandfather‘s heiress. She was to wed with a cousin, Donald MacNab," he began.

"Northern names," Conal Bruce said. "Is she a Highlander, then?"

"Aye, she is," Duncan replied. "A distant kinsman, however, was offended that Ewan MacArthur would give his only heiress to a MacNab. He attempted to convince this laird to give the girl to his son, but the old man was adamant. Suspecting his kin would bridenap Ellen, he sent her to the king, asking that Jamie protect her. This the king did, putting her with his aunt‘s household.

Over a year later a message came from Ewan MacArthur asking that Ellen be returned home to Lochearn to be wed to her cousin Donald MacNab.

"It was at that point I arrived at court asking the king‘s permission to fortify Duffdour. The king gave me permission in exchange for escorting Ellen home, which I did. When we reached

Lochearn we found the old laird and the bridegroom slain by his MacArthur kin. They had forced Ewan MacArthur to sign papers making this same kin‘s son his heir, and betrothing Ellen to him."

"How terrible," Adair exclaimed. "The poor girl."

"I had six men with me, and there was no way I could get her out of there. I managed to extract a promise from the bastard that he would not wed her for a month, so she might mourn her grandfather and her bridegroom. Then I took my men and departed with all haste. That night, however, her betrothed husband attempted to rape her. She defended herself and cut him up quite badly with her dirk. Then she fled Lochearn and came after me. I returned her to the king, who put her in my care until the matter could be straightened out to everyone‘s satisfaction. Maggie came from St. Mary‘s to chaperone Ellen. She remained at Duffdour all last winter.

"Several weeks ago the king recalled her to Sterling. She had not, sadly, dispatched Balgair MacArthur—that is his name—to hell, where he certainly belongs, but she had done a lovely job of carving him to bits. He was a horror to behold, and his hatred for Ellen oozed from him,"

Duncan continued. "Once the snows had melted and he had healed so he could travel, he had come down from the Highlands to reclaim her. The poor lass was terrified. The king questioned her once again, but she did not waver in her story. Balgair, however, blustered, boasted, and demanded the return of his bride, but the king is no fool. Balgair‘s father is one of the MacDonald‘s pipers. For the sake of peace between the lord of the isles and King James, he could not detain Balgair and punish him for the murders he had committed. Balgair even admitted to the murders before us all, for he was proud of having Lochearn retained as MacArthur family property.

"Instead the king told him that while he would be laird of Lochearn, Ellen would not be turned over to him. Jamie said he saw the anger Balgair had for her, and it was obvious that she detested him. There was too much hatred between them ever to be mended, the king said, and he sent him home. Ellen thanked him for saving her once again, and asked the king‘s aunt, who had been with us, if she would take her into service, as she now had nothing for a dower.

"Jamie laughed, and told Ellen she had a very comfortable dower. It seems that after Ellen‘s escape from Lochearn the king had gotten in contact with the MacDonald regarding the murders of Ewan MacArthur and Donald MacNab. After some negotiation they had agreed that Ellen could not return to Lochearn, but that she should be compensated for the theft of her dower. The lord of the isles paid a more than fair compensation for Lochearn and for the old laird‘s murder.

As for Donald MacNab, it is a certainty that his kinfolk will have their revenge on Balgair, not just for Donald‘s murder, but for the loss of Lochearn‘s lands. And I would enjoy being a shadow in the chamber when Balgair MacArthur learns that Lochearn does not belong to him."

Duncan laughed heartily. "He dare not defy the MacDonald, who is his overlord, and even his own father will not defend him against his master. All his scheming has come to naught. He has neither the land nor the lass."

"But he was certainly encouraged by his family to take Lochearn by force," Conal noted, and the others nodded in agreement.

"Aye, he was, and I have no doubt the MacDonald knew of the MacArthurs‘ plans. But I doubt any anticipated the level of violence that would be done. Balgair was not content to force the old man to sign a document making him his heir, or to sign another giving Ellen to Balgair as his wife. He lured young MacNab to Lochearn and then murdered both of them in cold blood. It was unnecessary. Ellen would have returned home and been forced to the altar. Would the MacNabs have objected? Aye, they would have, but it would have been done. There might have been a bit of warring between the two clans, but then a penalty would have been paid for the MacNabs‘

disappointment. Ewan MacArthur was not a well man. He would have died in a year or less.

There was no need for Ellen to come home to find her grandfather and her bridegroom with their throats slit, tied to chairs at the high board."

"I cannot even begin to imagine her horror at such a sight," Adair murmured.

"She‘s a braw lassie," Duncan Armstrong said. "She kept her head about her and was able to successfully escape." There was just the hint of pride in his voice when he spoke of her, and while his brothers did not particularly notice it, Adair did.

"How did she end up your wife?" she asked her brother-in-law.

Duncan smiled. "The king and his aunt agreed she must have a husband. Jamie asked her if she would accept his choice, and she said she would. Since she had lived at Duffdour all last winter and was familiar with me, and since I did not have a wife, the king decided that I should make her the perfect husband."

Adair giggled. "Was it a shock?" she asked him mischievously.

"Aye," he responded with a grin. "It was, but I could not say nay, could I?"

"You were wed that same day?" Conal Bruce wanted to know.

"The next day," Duncan said. "Jamie wanted us on the road immediately thereafter. The king‘s own confessor married us after Prime. We returned Maggie to her convent and departed the next day for Duffdour, reaching it late that second day, yesterday. I left my keep early this morning to ride to Cleit to share my news with you."

"You left your bride alone to herself?" Adair was shocked.

"I wanted her to have a little time to take in all that has happened to her in the last seven months, and be settled in her mind." He sighed. "Unlike you, Conal, I had hoped to find love—true love—in the woman I married."

"You do not think you can love her?" Adair said softly.

"I do not know, because I don‘t really know Ellen," Duncan replied. "She spent just about all of her time last winter with Maggie. Maggie seems to like her, though."

"What does she look like?" Murdoc asked his eldest sibling.

"Oh, she‘s fair, very fair. The king calls her bonny," Duncan said. "Ellen is petite and just slightly rounded. Her eyes are a soft, misty gray-blue, her skin luminescent like a pearl. But ‘tis her hair I love. It is long, thick, and a glorious red-gold in color."

"It would appear you like her," Conal Bruce said dryly to his elder half brother.

"I do!" Duncan said. "She‘s pretty, intelligent, and amusing, not to mention brave. Of course I like her."

Adair smiled a little cat‘s smile. "Then there is hope, Duncan, that you will come to love her. Be certain to tell her when you do. Do not be like your brother."

"Will you never leave off naggling me about that?" the laird of Cleit said, irritated. "I finally said it. I‘ll say it now, Adair. I love you!"

Duncan and Murdoc laughed, remembering how difficult it had been for Conal Bruce to admit that he loved the woman who was now his wife.

"When do we get to meet your bride?" Adair asked.

"I‘ll stay with you a day or so. Perhaps, Conal, I can ride out with you when you go raiding tonight. Then I must oversee the moving of my cattle to a summer pasturage. Come in another week or ten days."

"We‘ll come in a month," Adair said. "You need time alone with your Ellen, you great lout. The poor lass will begin to think you don‘t want a wife if you don‘t spend some time with her." She laughed. "I do believe that you are shy of her, Duncan, and I have never known you to be shy with the lasses. How Agnes Carr would laugh."

He reddened. "Damn, madam, you have too sharp a tongue."

"And a sharper eye," Adair told him. Then, reaching out, she took his hand in hers. "You‘re a good man, Duncan," she said, and she squeezed his hand. "Any lass would be fortunate to have you as a husband. The king and his aunt saw it. I suspect your little Ellen sees it too. But remember, if you are shy of her, she is even shyer. She‘s been raised by her beloved grandfather.

She‘ll need your reassurance, gentleness, and good heart. And in time she will learn to love you, and you her. This is not a bad thing, this marriage. I doubt if you would have ever had the courage to ask a woman to wed with you. I don‘t know what it is about big, strong men that they cannot say certain words."

"I love you," Conal Bruce murmured in his wife‘s ear, and she turned, smiling, as she released her brother-in-law‘s big hand.

"I love you," she told him, and he grinned as if he had never before heard the words from her lips. Then she patted his rough cheek. "Be careful out there tonight," she said. "The moon is almost full, my lord."

"Do you know who has been raiding?" Duncan asked. "It‘s been very quiet at Duffdour, but I suspect my walls no longer make us so easy a target. And you‘ve always been safe here on your hill."

"It‘s my village on the other side of the hill. They are vulnerable to raiders," Conal Bruce told his brother, "and my keep isn‘t big enough to shelter them all. The English have discovered that.

The raiding parties all seem to be directed by the same man, Sir Roger Colby. He is, the gossip would have it, a friend of King Henry."

"I thought we had a peace with the English," Duncan said.

"We were supposed to," Adair said, "but even as the two kings signed the document, the Tudor king‘s ships were attacking Scots ships in our own waters. The three-year truce has lasted but eight months, I fear."

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