On a Highland Shore (6 page)

“Caithness is in an uproar,” Lachlan said.

“Those Norsemen canna ever keep peace amongst themselves, can they?” Mother said, and all agreed.

“Which is why ye found one of their heads on the beach,” Father said to Margaret. “They’re always fighting amongst themselves.”

“The most important news,” Lachlan said, “is what’s happening in England.”

“The struggle between King Henry and Simon de Montfort?” Margaret asked.

“The war ye mean,” Lachlan said. “It’s come to that.”

“De Montfort and King Henry are brothers-in-law,” Margaret said, looking at Rignor. “Imagine waging war on yer own kin.”

Rignor made a face at her. “Aye,” he said. “There are times…”

He and Margaret laughed together.

Lachlan smiled and went on. “And, of course, everyone’s worried that France will jump into the fray and back de Montfort to try to wrest the throne from Henry.”

Mother shook her head. “The French,” she said. “Always causing trouble.”

“We thank ye for the news, Lachlan,” Father said, “but none of this touches us, does it? We’ve got peace here in the west and we’re determined to keep it.”

“God willing,” Lachlan said, then drained his cup and turned to Margaret. “Dance with me, lass? One more time before our wedding day.”

She linked her arm in his, laughing as he whirled her across the floor, and again when he pulled her against him.

“Mine,” he said, his eyes gleaming, pressing her to him. “Tell me that ye’re mine, Margaret.”

“I’m yers, Lachlan,” she said breathlessly.

He kissed her then, bending her against his arm, continuing the kiss even when the music stopped and the applause began. At last he lifted his head and grinned at those watching before bringing her upright.

“That should hold ye,” he said, releasing her. “I’m off to play dice with Rignor. Go dance with yer wee brothers.”

She sent him off in Rignor’s direction with a smile and did as he’d bid, dancing with Fergus and Davey until she could not dance another step. She came to stand with her mother and Nell then, smiling as she heard Rignor’s laughter rising above the other voices.

“Sounds like Rignor is winning,” she said, looking over at the men gathered around the table. Her father leaned back against the wall, laughing at something his son said. “But where is Lachlan?”

“He needed some air,” Mother said.

Nell looked at her mother in surprise. Mother put a hand on Nell’s shoulder.

“Air?” Margaret asked. “It’s raining outside.”

“He’ll be back. Och, look at yer brothers. Can they never behave?”

Margaret turned in surprise. Mother had barely looked at Ewan and Cawley in weeks, and they were doing nothing terribly wrong, simply pummeling each other in time with the music. She glanced at Nell, whose eyes had widened, then back at her mother.

“D’ye ken where he went?”

“He’ll return. He went out for a bit.”

“Out for a bit? What d’ye mean?”

“He left with Fiona,” Nell blurted out.

Her mother shook Nell’s shoulder. “Nell!”

“They left together,” Nell said. “They were holding hands and laughing.”

M
argaret looked from her sister to the men playing dice. Lachlan leaving with Fiona? But why? It made no sense. She touched her mouth, where the memory of his kiss on the dance floor still lingered, then looked around the hall. Fiona’s father was there with Margaret’s father, both laughing, as Rignor shook the dice. Lachlan was not with them. Margaret looked around again, willing Fiona to be here among the clanspeople. But Fiona was gone as well.

“No,” she said loudly. “No. This canna be!”

Her mother clasped her arm, her voice low and tense. “Let it go. It’s ye he’ll marry, ye who will bear his children. People are watching ye. Smile. Let none of them see yer distress. Ye’re not the first woman to discover her man fancies another. Be quiet now and smile.”

Margaret pulled away, but her mother tightened her grip, her tone and touch harsh. Margaret had seen this woman a few times before, this fierce, unrelenting woman who had somehow in the last few years replaced the loving mother of her childhood. The concern in her mother’s eyes was not for Margaret, but that others might hear them.

“Where are they?”

“Ye’ll no’ shame me by following them, Margaret MacDonald. Swallow yer pride. Fiona’s a lovely lass. She was sure to catch someone’s eye.”

“Did ye ken this, Mother? Did ye ken and not tell me?”

“I kent ye’d discover it soon enough. What difference does it make?”

“What difference? It changes everything!”

“It changes nothing, Margaret. Look away, ye willful child.”

“I canna…I willna!”

“Aye, ye will,” Mother hissed. “Think on all that rests on this marriage and not just about yerself. Why should ye be any different than the rest of the women in the world? He willna be faithful to ye, not now, not after yer wed. Ye best set yer mind to accepting that. Look away. I did.”

“I am not going to suffer in silence while my husband plays me for a fool!”

Her mother recoiled. “Like me? Is that it, Margaret? Ye willna do as I did? Well, if ye think ye can do it better, then ye’re the fool, lass. Ye’ll be sharing yer man. Accept it.”

“I will not accept it! How can he do this to me? How can Fiona? She is my friend!”

“Inghinn was once my friend. Before she became yer father’s mistress. She was not the first of his women, nor will she be the last. It is the way of men, and it’s time ye learned that. Now smile, Margaret, and dinna disgrace me! People are watching.”

“Let them watch!” Margaret ran down the stairs and through the guardroom.

She was halfway across the courtyard when Nell caught her.

“Mother wants ye to come back!” When Margaret did not reply as she passed through the gate, Nell followed, her voice rising with worry. “Margaret! Ye must come back!”

“I need to see if it’s true.”

“It is true. Everyone’s kent for weeks…”

Margaret spun around. “And no one told me! Did ye ken?”

“No, no! I would ha’ told ye.”

Margaret nodded tightly, then stalked through the village, ignoring the rain, ignoring the guards who watched her, ignoring Nell, who hurried just behind her. She slipped once on the wet stones, caught herself, and plunged ahead, pushing her sodden hair out of her eyes. At the weaver’s hut, light spilled from under the door.

“Dinna go in there,” Nell whispered. “Let’s go back.”

Margaret opened the door. The room was lit by the fire in the corner and by the candlestick on the table, the one that had been in Lachlan’s room. Her mother had brought the silver candlestick with her when she’d come to Somerstrath as a new bride, and now her mother’s precious beeswax candle illuminated the small space, flickering in the wind that swirled past Margaret into the room.

Lachlan’s shoes were by the door, his shirt nearby. And on the narrow bed on the other side of the room, Lachlan, naked, writhed above Fiona. Fiona clasped his shoulders, her head thrown back against the coverlet, her legs wrapped around his. Margaret watched, frozen in shock, her breaths coming in huge heaving gasps, as Lachlan bucked one more time, then fell against Fiona, his breathing audible. Nell’s stifled cry and the wind from the open door caught their attention at last and they turned, Lachlan’s eyes wide, Fiona’s expression horrified as she saw them.

Lachlan rose, grabbing the blanket from Fiona to cover himself. “How dare ye follow me!”

Fiona scrambled to sit up, clutching her discarded clothing, fear in her eyes.

“I told myself it wasna true,” Margaret said. Her voice shook. Her whole body shook. “When I heard ye’d left together, I told myself there must be some mistake, they must all be wrong, that neither of ye would betray me this way, that it was someone else they were speaking of. But it’s not.” Her breath caught on a sob, then another. “How could ye do this to me?”

“It has naught to do with ye,” Lachlan said. “She’s nothing to me.”

Margaret ignored him, staring instead at Fiona. “I trusted ye! Every day of our lives! I told ye all that was in my heart and believed ye were my friend. And all along ye were playing me for a fool! This morning, when we came by, ye talked…did ye enjoy that, yer little game, planning this in front of me? Was that fun for ye? I canna believe this, that two of the people most dear to me have betrayed me this way. Fiona!” The name came out in a wail. “How could ye?”

“I dinna mean to…”

“Dinna mean to! Ye looked me in the eye and lied to me, Fiona.”

“I had no choice!”

Margaret looked in horror at Lachlan. “Ye forced her?”

“No! No, of course not.” Lachlan shook his head vehemently. “Tell her, Fiona! Tell her how ye flirted and told me she’d never ken. Tell her!”

Margaret stared at her friend. “Did he force ye?”

Fiona’s voice was a whisper. “No. But ye dinna understand…”

“No, I dinna!” Margaret looked at Lachlan then. “And ye…!”

“Margaret!” Her father’s voice boomed from the doorway, drowning her words. “Get ye home. Take yer sister. I’ll deal with this. Now!”

Her father yanked her out into the path and slammed the door. She did not remember how she got back to the keep, nor how the hall was emptied of the revelers, nor how she managed to climb the narrow spiral stairway and finally throw herself onto her bed. She let the tears come then, not acknowledging her sister when Nell sat on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair. She did not speak when Nell at last left her alone again.

Later, after she’d cried for what seemed like hours, she was summoned to the hall. Rignor waited for her on the landing just above the hall, his face creased with worry.

“I’ll kill him if ye wish it, Margaret,” he said vehemently.

She gave him a wan smile. “I may yet ask that of ye.”

“Just tell me when.”

“Thank ye.”

“And I’m sorry I was right about him. I have never liked Lachlan, and I suspected he was too friendly with Fiona, but I dinna see this coming. I would ha’ warned ye.”

She kissed his cheek. “Thank ye for that. It’s good to ken ye’re with me.”

“I am,” he said.

She nodded and thanked him again, then straightened her back and went down to the hall. Her brother followed.

Her father sat at his accustomed place at the table, her mother at his side, arms crossed over her belly. Nell, hovering near the fireplace, gave her a tremulous smile. Lachlan, who had been pacing in front of the table, stopped as she and Rignor entered. The boys were nowhere in sight, nor was anyone else. Rignor moved to stand with Nell, his arms crossed over his chest. Behind Margaret the heavy wooden door closed, the sound reverberating from the stone walls. Her parents watched her as she came to stand before them, her father’s expression stern, her mother’s smug, almost triumphant. Lachlan moved closer. Margaret ignored him, still shaken by what she’d seen in her mother’s eyes.

“He has something to say to ye, Margaret,” Father said.

Lachlan took her hands in his. Margaret withdrew them.

“I am truly sorry, Margaret. I must have been mad. It will never happen again, I swear it. I will be a faithful husband to ye.”

Her father put his hand heavily on the table. “See that ye are,” he said, as though that settled the matter.

Margaret shook her head. “Ye canna expect me to marry him now.”

Her father’s jaw was firm. “I do. Ye will.”

“No.”

Nell put her clasped hands to her mouth.

“Margaret!” Lachlan cried. “I swear this will never happen again. It was Fiona who tempted me, ye ken. She was so welcoming…”

“Dinna blame this on her! Ye chose…”

“Enough!” her father roared. “The contracts have been signed. Ye’ve pledged yer troth. He’s apologized. That is the end of it. Ye’ll marry as planned.”

Margaret stared at him. “Ye canna mean it.”

“I do mean it,” her father said firmly. “I’ll see the two of ye wed.”

“To a man who cares only for his own pleasures, who breaks his word?”

“I dinna promise to be faithful to ye before we wed, Margaret,” Lachlan said.

She turned to meet his gaze. “No,” she said, putting all the contempt she felt for him in her words. “No, I suppose ye dinna.” She turned back to her father. “How can ye think to marry me to a man who neglects his properties and his people? Who buys new clothing instead of repairing his home? Did ye ken his tenants have complained to Uncle William?”

“How do ye think ye ken all this?” Lachlan shouted.

She met Rignor’s eyes, saw his plea for her silence. “I listen, Lachlan,” she said. “I turned away from it, thinking we’d change all that together, but I listened. I willna marry ye.”

It was her father who answered, his tone stern but not angry. “Margaret, surely I dinna need to remind ye of what ye already ken. We marry to make the clan stronger, to increase our lands and our power, not for our own pleasure. Ye’ve been betrothed to Lachlan since ye were a bairn. I’ve given my word to yer uncle William and to the king that ye’ll marry, so marry ye will. That’s the last of it.”

Lachlan took her hand again. “I swear on my life that it willna happen again, Margaret. I swear it.”

“I willna marry ye. There has to be more than this.”

“There is not more,” her mother said. “Ye’ve been dreaming of something that doesna exist.” She threw her husband a glance. “Ye’ll marry Lachlan and be glad of it.”

“No.”

There was silence in the room.

Mother glared at Father. “Tell her! Tell her she must marry Lachlan!”

“I ha’ done that,” he said wearily.

“I willna marry him,” Margaret said.

“So I’ve heard,” Father said. “Go to yer room, Margaret. When I’ve decided what to do I’ll come to ye.”

It was evening of the next day before Father came for her, knocking quietly at their door. Nell, who had kept Margaret company the long day, answered. Father stood for a moment, looking at his daughters. Ewan and Fergus peered around their father’s side, but he waved them back.

“Go now, laddies. This is no’ for ye,” he said.

Her father’s tone was somber, and Margaret winced. It was this tone that frightened her more than his shouting, for this tone was what he used when he delivered bad news or set decrees that were unalterable. He closed the door behind him. Nell retreated to stand by the window. Margaret sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment her father joined her, rubbing his hand along his thigh, then straightening the wool of his feileadh.

“Margaret,” he said, “ye’ll be going to the shielings as planned. Nell will go with ye. Then ye’ll be going to the Abbey at Brenmargon for a night or two, until yer uncle William comes to fetch ye. And then ye’ll go to court.”

“To court? But, Father, why?”

He met her gaze. There was regret there, yes, but this was the gaze of the clan chief and no one, even a daughter, could gainsay him. She felt her heart sink.

“Ye need to make yer choice, lass. It’ll be marriage to Lachlan or the convent for ye. There are no other choices.”

“There are other men, Father, other families…”

He held up a hand to stop her. “That’s it, Margaret. Ye’ll marry Lachlan and live a life of luxury with him. Or ye’ll spend yer days in the cloister. I’ll give ye the choice and hope you’re not foolish enough to dig yer heels in.”

“He lied to me, Father.”

Father sighed again. “Aye, he did. But I’ve given my word, and ye’ve given yers. A contract is a contract, and we’ll live up to our half.”

“Father!”

He stood. “Tears willna change it nor will shouting. Ye should ken that after listening to yer mother for all these years.” He started for the door.

“Why is it, Father,” Margaret cried, “that Rignor remains unbound and I have to marry where I dinna wish to?”

Her father turned back, his eyes aflame now. “Yer brother remains ‘unbound’ as ye call it, because no one will have him. I’ve had four families refuse him. Four! Each time he destroys what I’ve built! I dinna ken where I’ll try next. Nell’s betrothed died. I’ve been avoiding that task for years, but now I’ve got to find someone for her. That’s why yer marriage is more important than ever, Margaret. Without strong alliances we’re just one isolated clan on the western shore; with them we’re part of Scotland. Without them we face our enemies alone. With them we have allies on which to call. I’ll not have ye, nor anyone, prevent me from doing what’s best for the clan. I’ve no patience left for a lass who only thinks of herself, so make yer choice, lass. Marry Lachlan or spend yer life in the abbey.”