When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (23 page)

He gave her a long kiss, trying to
imprint that knowledge in her head. “Nae ye,” he said once more and started
them walking again.

For a long moment, she said
nothing, and then, very quietly, she said, “Then it seems being worthy of love
does not assure anyone wants to give it to you.”

He could not respond because she
was right, yet every part of him rebelled against agreeing.

After a lovely feast that night, they arose early
the next morning to depart for Dunvegan. They had a road journey, as well as a
sea journey, ahead of them, yet Marion was already anxious about going to
Iain’s home, given what Bridgette had told her of Catriona’s sisters. But
Marion also had a sense of newfound hope. At dinner the night before, Bridgette
had asked her brother if she could go to Dunvegan with Marion to help her
adjust to life in the Isle of Skye, and he’d thought it an excellent idea. Marion
had been surprised by his easy agreement, until Iain told her later that night
about how Alex had spoken to him the day they’d arrived, requesting that he
take Bridgette for a time to allow a cooling period for the Campbell she’d
snubbed.

Marion was thrilled that Bridgette
was coming but not so thrilled that Alex had appointed Archibald to accompany
Bridgette to Dunvegan. He was to keep her out of trouble. Astonishingly,
Archibald didn’t oppose the duty. The man had actually seemed unconcerned, though
he may have hidden his annoyance well, since he did leave dinner early.

As they were packing the horses to
depart, Marion realized Archibald had not come down from his bedchamber, so
when he rode into the courtyard from the direction of the woods, she was
stunned to see him.

“Where have ye been?” Alex
demanded.

Archibald scowled. “Can a man nae
even say farewell to a lass without being challenged?”

Alex blinked in clear surprise. “I
did nae ken ye had a lass. Who is it?”

“Ye dunnae ken her,” Archibald said,
rather evasively.

Alex waved a dismissive hand at
Archibald. “Fine. Keep yer secrets. Ye may take them with ye.”

“I will,” Archibald grumbled.

Iain and Rory Mac exchanged a wary
look. They didn’t seem to want Archibald to come any more than Marion did, and
suddenly she felt bad for the Scot. He seemed to be an outlander in his own
home, just as she’d been.

With that in mind, she walked
toward his horse and looked up at him. “Archibald, I’m glad you are coming with
us.” She searched her mind for a nice compliment to give him. “You increase our
group’s strength and defenses, and that is always a good thing.”

Archibald gave her a surprised
look, but then he offered a small smile. “Thank ye, Marion.”

Iain came up behind her and set his
hand on her shoulder. “She’s right. Ye do aid us, and we welcome that. My wife
is wise.”

Marion turned and beamed at him.
He’d complimented her in front of everyone. Things were going so well between
them now that Marion’s hope swelled a little further.

It only took a few more minutes for
everyone to say their farewells, and then they were bound for her new home,
where she would hopefully feel as if she belonged.

As the rough sea made the birlinn dip continuously,
Marion’s weary body felt as if she had abused it with a month of travel, though
in reality, the trip from the MacLean hold to the farthest reaches of Scotland
had been two and a half weeks. But the breakneck pace at which Iain had ordered
the crew to row, in spite of the turbulent waters, had left her battered, bruised,
and seasick. She’d tried to appear brave so that Iain would not know just how
uncomfortable she was as she sat huddled in his plaid, but the God’s truth was
that she was afraid she’d never be warm again. Yet, she had to stay in the
fresh air, rather than seek shelter, or she would most assuredly become sick
again. Even now, her stomach roiled.

The Isle of Skye and Dunvegan
Castle could not come into view soon enough for her. The chill from bathing in
the icy rivers and sleeping outside in the winter-kissed highland air, followed
by the chill from the constant breeze blowing off the water and being sprayed
when the boat dipped had settled a cold deep into Marion’s body.

She seemed to be the only one
bothered by the weather or freezing water, however. Iain had slept with his
chest bare every night of their journey, and she was certain the only reason
she’d not perished from the freezing temperatures was because she fairly
burrowed into him until he wrapped his arms tight around her. His body gave off
heat like a fire, and she did her best to drink that heat up.

Yet, it wasn’t just Iain who had
appeared unaffected by the weather; it seemed all Scots were oblivious to it,
from Angus, Neil, and Rory Mac to Archibald and Bridgette. Bridgette had even
hummed when they’d bathed in the frosty river, and at this moment, she stood at
the front of the birlinn without a cloak, her red hair whipping in the wind.
Marion’s teeth chattered so strongly that even if she’d wanted to join in on
the humming, her frozen lips would likely fail her.

She frowned as she tried to curl
into a tighter ball under Iain’s plaid. The birlinn dipped sharply, reminding
her it wasn’t just the way the cold had affected her that seemed to separate
her from the others. They didn’t seem a bit queasy. None of them. She couldn’t
understand it. No one had retched over the side of the birlinn except her, and
when they’d been on horses before taking to the water, the others had not asked
Iain to stop so they could relieve themselves. Again, only her.

When she finally requested he stop,
she’d seen the amusement in all eyes but Iain’s. He’d looked exasperated. And
when she’d heaved over the side of the boat, they’d all made comments that it
was to be expected, as if her being half-English made her inherently weak. Even
Bridgette and Angus, who should have been squarely on her side, made the
comments. Only Iain had said nary a word. He’d watched her with wary eyes,
though, as if he expected her to fall over and die at any moment.

The birlinn dipped yet again, and
this time a spray of water came over the edge and drenched her. She had to
clench her jaw until pain shot through it to stop the violent chattering of her
teeth, which she was sure everyone could hear even above the hum of the rowing
men. She was not weak; the Scots simply were not normal.

The birlinn entered the loch with
the ship that was transporting the men’s horses directly behind it. Soon someone
called out the sighting of land. Marion peered out from the plaid and then
parted it, her eyes going wide at what she was sure must’ve been Dunvegan
Castle.

“Iain,” she called loudly over the
noise of the water, oars, and sudden chatter of everyone on board.

Iain glanced over his shoulder from
where he stood a few feet away, frowned, and then made his way to her, concern
etched on his face. “Are ye going to be sick again?”

“No,” she said, willing it to be
so, even as her stomach roiled. “Are we home?”

“Aye, Marion,” he said, his voice
catching. “We’re home.”

She parted the plaid more and an
icy wind caressed her cheeks, but she left the garment open, entranced at the
sight of Iain’s home. Dunvegan Castle sat like a crown high atop the steep
rocky cliffs of the seashore. Its stone walls seemed to reach Heaven itself. It
sat very near the edge of the bluff, and as she stared at the square keep and
the turreted tower, she inhaled a sharp breath. The high land the castle stood
on was completely surrounded by a curtain wall, and it appeared the only entrance
was through the seagate.

“What is it?” Iain asked her,
taking her hand in his.

Instinctively, she curled her
fingers around her husband’s hand. “I thought my father’s castle was surely the
most impenetrable, but Dunvegan would be impossible to breach. You’d see your
enemies coming long before they reached you.”

He squeezed her hand. “It is as
close to invincible as a home can be, but there is nae a place anywhere that is
invincible.”

She looked at him. “How would
anyone get inside?”

“By drawing us out,” he said
simply.

As the birlinn glided closer to
shore, Marion thought she heard pipers playing. “Is that—”

“Aye,” Iain interrupted. “They’re
welcoming us home.”

“Us?”

“Me and Rory Mac,” he replied. “But
when they learn of ye and our marriage, they will welcome ye, as well.”

She did not miss the steely
determination beneath his words. “Iain,” she said hesitantly, trying to
determine the best way to ask him to let her try on her own to befriend his
people.

“Aye?”

“I am a bit concerned about your
clan liking me.”

“Dunnae worry,” he replied. “I’ll
command them to do so.”

She bit her lip. It was just as she
thought. She loved that he wanted to keep her safe, but his actions would
actually make the task harder for her. She was sure of it. “Iain, you cannot
command them to like me. They will resent you—and me—if you try to make them
accept me directly. I beg you to let me win their friendship on my own.”

She watched his eyes narrow. “There
are some that may nae be nice to ye if I dunnae command it.”

“Are you referring to Catriona’s
sisters?”

“Aye,” Iain replied. “Her mother
has passed. How do ye ken of her sisters?”

“Bridgette told me, but I can
defend myself,” Marion stated firmly, feeling more sure of herself than she
ever had before. Being away from her father and with Iain, who truly offered
her respect, had helped her to see that it was not her duty to constantly try
to prove she was worthy of admiration, but for others to see her worth and
recognize it. And if she’d not broken under years of her father’s harsh
treatment, two women would not defeat her. She also had Bridgette as an ally.

Iain studied her for a long moment
and finally nodded. “I’ll let ye try,” he said.

She exhaled with relief.

“But,” he added, causing her to
tense once more, “if anyone gives ye any trouble at all, ye will come to me,
tell me, and let me attend to them. Ken?”

She understood, but she’d never
utter a word if someone was unkind. She would simply get them to like her by
meeting their dislike with care. She wanted Iain to see that she could manage
without help. What she did not want, above all, was him thinking he needed to
worry about her or protect her every moment. He’d never relax around her enough
to let her close if he was anxious about her.

“Marion, did ye hear me?”

“I did. I understand,” she replied,
without actually agreeing.

Iain squeezed her hand. “Verra
well. Ready yerself.”

She laughed. “You act as if we’re
about to be descended upon.”

He stood and brought her to her
feet with him. “It will nae be long,” he said looking up toward the castle.

Marion followed his gaze through
the growing darkness and up, very high, beyond the battlements. On the barmkin,
blazing torches suddenly appeared, and the sound of the pipers floated down the
seawall stairs in clear notes. By the time the birlinn reached the shore, was
secured, and they left the ship, hundreds of torches made a long, curving line
down the stairs.