The Devil of Jedburgh (7 page)

“As many words as you require.” Arran’s grip on her arm tightened fractionally before he released her. “Though I doubt any one of them will be quiet.”

Breghan came to life with a gasping shudder.

“I don’t belong to you and I never will,” she informed Arran, then turned to her father. “What do you mean by evidence presented?”

“I gather McAllen is referring to our night spent together,” Arran supplied amiably.

“We didn’t spend the—” Breghan cut the lie short and changed tactics. Reasoning with Arran was a hard-learned lesson in futility. “Nothing happened,” she told her father firmly.

“You didna kiss me?” Arran taunted.

“
You
kissed me.” Breghan blinked hard and gritted her teeth. “Papa, it isn’t what you think.”

McAllen’s thick brows arrowed. “’Twould appear it is far more than I was thinking.”

“Explanations,” Arran tutted.

Breghan sent a glare his way. “Heed your own advice and keep quiet.”

A sharp tug on her arm jerked Breghan forward. She was happy to oblige as her father dragged her off between two rows of trestle tables. Before they reached the small charter room where her father did his business, she was matching his stride.

“Absolutely nothing happened,” she said as they entered, her confidence slightly restored now that Arran could no longer interrupt.

Her father kicked the door shut, folded his arms and gave her a long, gruelling look.

Succumbing to the pressure, Breghan blurted, “I loathe the man. Why would I let him touch me? He feels much the same. ‘I will never marry you.’” She mimicked his husky burr. “‘The act of begetting a child on you appals me.’ He doesn’t want a marriage trial, he wants revenge for some imagined grand scheme he thinks I played him. Arran Kerr humiliates our entire family with this preposterous suggestion of a handfasting.”

“You refused to be his wife,” McAllen pointed out, his blue eyes hard and narrowed.

Breghan backed away warily. “My behaviour has been atrocious. I’m deeply sorry for any trouble I’ve brought upon you.”

“I, too, am sorry. You decided your future when you ran yesterday and denied the Kerr today.”

Something hard hit behind her knees. Breghan glanced down to see she’d backed into a chair and sank into it thankfully as she mustered her dimming spirits. “You cannot mean to do this.”

“I already have.”

Her chin came up, but the disapproval stamped on her father’s brow melted all defiance. “Papa, please…”

“My mind is set, Breghan. This union will give you equal status of wife and at the first indication of you being with child, the Kerr will be obliged to wed.”

“You cannot force me into this handfasting.”

“I can give you to Arran Kerr regardless. You will be his to do with as he pleases. You’ll have no rights and no prospects and your children will be born bastards. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Then we are in agreement.” McAllen turned to open the door. “Half your brothers are still out there searching and your mother hasn’t slept since you disappeared. I trust you will stay put this time.”

It wasn’t a question.

Breghan rose on wooden legs. Of all the punishments she’d resigned herself to, she hadn’t anticipated the physical blow of losing her father’s love.

“No man tolerates wilful disobedience,” he said as she reached him.

Breghan searched his eyes for a hint of softening and found none. “How can you do this to me?”

How can you throw your only daughter away so easily?

“You did this to yourself, Breghan.”

“I have made a terrible mistake,” she said miserably. “Can you not forgive me?”

“Beg your forgiveness from the Kerr. The man has shown remarkable patience thus far and will undoubtedly be pressed no further.”

She tried to form an indignant protest but couldn’t seem to make it matter. Even at her angriest, at her most hurt, she’d never given up loving her father. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d given up on her, given up loving her, maybe even before she’d run off. Why else had he promised her to the Kerr despite her desperate pleading?

She swept past him and into the great hall. A few castle servants were rushing about, continuing with the wedding feast preparations that had been temporarily aborted. The high table was set with polished silver and the floor around it strewn with fresh petals from a variety of wild flowers. The tapestry her mother had been working on for years took place of honour on the wall behind. The picture was of Breghan as a young girl racing her mare across McAllen fields and was intended for Breghan’s wedding chest.

Arran was seated at one of the trestles, deep in conversation with Broderick and Duncan. As if sensing her presence, he looked up, straight into her eyes, and stood.

As he came toward her, she dropped her gaze. Tears were rising in her heart and she was afraid they’d spill. She felt alone, abandoned, cast out of her family. His boots came into focus as he stopped in front of her. She held her breath, staring at the well-worn leather, refusing to meet his triumphant gaze with her watery one. Then he walked on without saying a word. By the time she’d drawn a deep breath and looked up, Arran was following her father into the charter room.

Breghan turned and ran, weaving through the trestle tables and dodging servants until she reached the main entrance. She came to an abrupt stop at the outer steps when she saw Tristan waiting at the bottom. No one would allow her to run free today, to run through the fields until the closeness threatening to choke her slowly shed, one layer at a time.

Spinning about, Breghan ran back through the hall and up the stairwell to the second floor. Once inside her room, she pushed the door shut and fell upon her bed. Her heart was throbbing, not from the exercise but from emotional exertion. She welcomed it. The relentless throb filled the hole inside.

Her thoughts turned to Arran and the discussion no doubt taking place in the charter room. Scrambling up to sit cross-legged on the bed, Breghan pulled a pillow over and hugged it to her chest. Would her father truly hand her over to Arran Kerr, with or without a handfasting? He could cast her out of Donague and then where was she to go? As hard as she thought, Breghan came up with only one alternative. Her mother’s sister, Aunt Mary, was cloistered in a convent north of Edinburgh.

I could join the convent.

I could become a nun.

Breghan closed her eyes, but it didn’t take a lot of imagining to realise the life wouldn’t suit. She wanted to know love, to hold her babe in her arms one day. She wanted to hear laughter echo off the walls of her own great hall. She wanted to dance around the log come Yuletide and chase freedom on Angel’s back when the need took.

I’m too selfish to be a nun.

Breghan absorbed that admission, then snapped her eyes open. She could scarce believe it. Was she truly choosing Arran Kerr?

There was a light knock on the door. Before Breghan could answer, the door opened and her mother rushed in.

“Breghan, darling, we were so worried.” Lillian came to sit on the edge of the bed and scooped her daughter into her arms. “Your father believed you’d run off but I was convinced Angel had thrown you. Dear Lord, I had Thomas and Callum sweep the river for your body.” She pulled away to look Breghan in the eye and her voice went from adoring to stern. “How could you do this to us?”

Breghan touched her mother’s arm. “I’m sorry, Mama, I never meant to give anyone a scare.”

It felt like her hundredth apology today and Breghan had to swallow past a lump of resentment. She’d made some wrong decisions, yet if Arran Kerr and his men hadn’t accosted her, she would likely have made her way home before nightfall yesterday.

“What in heavens were you thinking, child, to go off like that?”

“I was thinking that I couldn’t be bartered to the Curse of Scotland.”

“Arran Kerr is a good, honourable man, darling. Your father wouldn’t accept any less.” A small frown crossed Lillian’s brow. “We’ve spoken of this.”

“I begged you to change Papa’s mind and you told me to trust in his judgement.” Breghan scooted off the bed and went to stand by the small window. The open field of long grass and the bend in the river just within view never failed to soothe her. “I—I feel as if I’ve done something to deserve this terrible punishment and no one will tell me what.”

Her parents’ faith in Arran Kerr was all very well, but neither of them had to live with the man!

“Ah, Breghan…”

“No.” Breghan spun about and put a hand up to stop her mother’s approach. “You refused to even question his decision to marry me off to the red-eyed beast of my nightmares.”

“I would not give him cause to procrastinate forever.”

“Procrastinate? He can’t wait to be rid of me.”

“If your father had his way, you’d grow old without ever leaving Castle Donague.”

“That’s not what he told me a few minutes ago.”

“Your father’s angry right now. You’ve publicly challenged both his authority and honour.”

“And what was he angry about when he first decided to marry me off?” Breghan demanded.

“That wasn’t your father,” Lillian said softly. “’Twas me.”

“
You
gave me to the Kerr?”

“Of course not.” Lillian took her hand and led her back to the bed. Once they were sitting on the edge, she turned to face Breghan. “Your father loves you so much, darling, he would have that no man is good enough or powerful enough to keep his daughter safe. You’re nineteen years of age, Breghan, you should have had your own home and family by now. Your father pretended to heed my concerns, then went on to turn down every offer for your hand.”

Breghan blinked in surprise. She’d not known of any offers.

“Until Arran Kerr,” Lillian continued, reaching up to smooth a tendril of hair from Breghan’s forehead. “So you see, he didn’t choose lightly. I confess myself relieved he chose at all.”

Breghan wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure what to think. Hearing her mother speak of her father’s love lifted the ache from her heart. Yet nothing much had changed. Her father wouldn’t go back on his word and he’d promised her to Arran Kerr.

With a pat on her shoulder, her mother stood and walked to the enormous wooden trunk by the wall. When she pulled open the lid and brought back the exquisite gown she’d been working on all week, Breghan winced.

“There won’t be a wedding after all,” she blurted out. “Arran insists on a handfasting instead.”

“So I heard.” Lillian unfolded the gown carefully and laid it across the bed. “And you’ll look beautiful for the hand-binding ceremony.”

“It’s humiliating.”

“It’s perfect.” Lillian looked at her with a smile. “You have a year to discover if you wish to share your life with this man. ’Tis an advantage marriage wouldn’t grant you. And think, a year of living as a married woman will gain you much freedom and independence. I warrant your father would be more inclined to respect your wishes if it comes to arranging another match.”

“That’s if I survive the year.”

“You spent last night in Arran Kerr’s camp.” Lillian stopped fussing over the gown and came to kneel in front of Breghan. “Surely you learnt something of his nature to quieten your concerns?”

“’Tis said he killed his own mother.”

“You’re afraid of the unknown, of leaving your home and making a new life with a man you don’t know. I raised you better than to use rumours as a shield to hide your true fear.”

“That’s simply…”
Ridiculous
.

Or maybe not.

In the short time she’d known Arran Kerr, she’d teased him, stood up to him, argued with him, insulted him and tried to slap him. While she thought herself afraid of both the man and legend, her actions spoke otherwise. ’Twas as if her mind had built a stone wall of each and every rumour, but her body and soul knew it for the straw façade it was.

“So,” Breghan asked, “you don’t believe there’s any truth in the stories?”

“This land of ours is harsh.” Lillian stood and dusted off her gown. “No man is a saint.”

Rather than ponder her mother’s vague response, Breghan contemplated the sudden improvement on her future. “You truly believe Papa will allow me to choose my own husband once the year is done?”

“I dare say he’ll consider your opinion in the matter, darling.
If
you return, you’ll be a woman and no longer a child.”

“Oh!” The implication of her mother’s word felt like a punch to Breghan’s gut. Although Arran might be appalled at the thought of bedding her, he was a man and she’d be his wife in every sense of the word. From what she knew of him, he’d simply close his eyes and block his mind while he pressed on with that tasteless duty. “If I bear his child, I’ll never be free.”

“There are ways…” Lillian stooped to look her daughter in the eye. “If you wish, there are ways to prevent that.”

“Hah. You think I can keep Arran Kerr out of my bed if he chooses otherwise?”

Lillian shook her head and smiled. “I speak of herbs to prevent a man’s seed from taking root. Magellan makes a powder for me that is quite effective.”

“You have thirteen children,” Breghan protested.

“Aye, and no more after the Lord blessed me with a daughter.” Lillian straightened. “I’m sending up a tub of hot water for your bath. I’ll return later to help you dress.”

As soon as the door closed behind her mother, Breghan fell back on the bed. What offers had her father turned down?

Alexander Gordon, she decided. That night in the apple orchard, two summers ago, when he’d composed a melody for her upon his lute, still brought warmth to her heart. He’d been so earnest, gazing into her eyes with tender longing as he’d declared himself incapable of capturing her beauty with mere words. Perhaps he’d been seeking her approval when he’d taken her hand in his and spoken of how being a third son was a blessing, for he had a townhouse in Edinburgh and no duties to keep him away from court. Enticing her, perhaps, with those vivid descriptions of elegant dances and royal banquets and not a moment to spare for boredom.