Allyson understood no priest in Scotland would marry her to any man without her consent. She also understood she played a dangerous game, one where her father might use a proxy to ensure the marriage went forward.
“Father,” Ewan spoke up. “You want me to bring this shrew home to Huntly? You’d subject our clan to her viperous tongue?”
“I’m questioning whether I should subject the lass to you,” Laird Gordan grumbled. “You denied none of what the lass said, so I take it, it’s the truth. She found you leaving Lady Bevan’s chamber with Eoin.”
“Aye. We were. But as she also said, it was before any of us, Lady Allyson or Eoin or I, were aware of this arrangement. The lady is a widow, and Eoin and I are unwed. We did naught wrong.”
“Naught wrong? You’re depraved!” Allyson blurted. She spun around toward her father. “They share their women! How am I to be certain which one arrives at my chamber? How do I know they don’t expect to do with me what they did with Lady Bevan? You’d force me commit adultery at their whim?”
“Allyson, you’re overreacting. You’re speaking as though they’re lads who still play tricks,” Kenneth scoffed. Allyson swung back around and shifted her eyes among the three Gordon men.
“When’s the last time they swapped their positions?” she demanded. She suspected that it would vindicate her. There was something about their nonchalance and ennui that told her she wasn’t far off the mark. The sheepish glance Laird Gordon exchanged with his sons was enough to answer her question, but she would have her due and hear it admitted. She crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrow.
“A fortnight ago when I sent Eoin on patrol, but he had plans with a woman in the village,” Laird Gordon admitted.
Allyson’s lips thinned as she glared at Ewan. She remained silent, letting the laird’s last words hang in the air.When no one else spoke, she turned to her father.
“And you’d make me believe my concerns are for naught,” she whispered. Frustration and fear caused tears to prick the back of her eyelids, but years of repressing public displays of emotions and pride enabled her to overcome the threat of crying.
“Lass, men must sow their wild oats before settling into marriage,” Laird Gordon offered the placating words, but Ewan’s grumble proved them to be an empty reassurance.
“I owe her naught, not even once she’s my wife. You’d have me marry her for her dowry, just as she said. You’ll get your grandson and my heir, maybe even additional sons, but other than clothes on her back, a roof over her head, and food in her belly, I owe her or any other wife naught more.” Ewan spat each word at her as his temper got the better of him. He didn’t mean what he said, but he was tired of being lambasted for his earlier choice, one he couldn’t undo nor could he have known not to make. He realized that he’d erred when Allyson’s already ramrod straight back seemed to lengthen, and a look of such loathing entered her eyes that he feared she would thrust a dirk into his chest on their wedding night.
“You intend to continue your whoring?” Allyson demanded.
“So what if I did? There is naught a wife can do to control a husband. You are to be my property, not the other way around.” The remorse that tried to take hold of Ewan evaporated as he dug himself into a deeper hole.
“Will your leman live in the keep that I will run? Will she share your chamber? Will you bed her before or after you come to swive me?”
“Allyson,” her father hissed, shocked that her vocabulary contained such language.
“What do you think I’ve learned in the years I’ve been here?” she threw back in his face.
Throughout the exchange, King Robert remained quiet. The Bruce was impressed with the young woman’s gumption to take on four towering men with a mettle he wished more of his warriors possessed, but the time had come to draw an end to the squabbling. After all, the men were right that she had no say in the outcome of the negotiations.
“Lady Allyson,” King Robert strode toward the group. “What your father and Laird Gordon failed to inform you of is that it’s my wish for the two of you to marry. I’ve decreed the alliance.”
The high color drained from her face and neck, and her ghostlike pallor caused Ewan to shift toward her, fearing she might collapse, but the scathing glare she shot him warned him away.
“Yes, Your Grace. As you wish.” Allyson curtsied and lowered her gaze. She’d fought a good fight, but she realized the time to challenge the arrangement had ended. For now.
“That’s a good lass.” The king offered her a conciliatory smile. “We shall announce the betrothal at the feast tomorrow night, and the betrothal ceremony will take place the following morning so that it is done before Lent begins. The banns have already been posted, so you may wed here or at Huntly.”
Allyson’s gaze shot up, her eyes widening as she discovered they could force her to marry Ewan any day, now that the church had given its blessing. Her heart’s rapid staccato slowed when she remembered that no priest would conduct the ceremony during Lent. She had at least forty days before she’d be bound to Ewan. She nodded, but refused to look anywhere but over the king’s shoulder.
“Allyson,” Kenneth rested his hand on her back, but when he caught the look of betrayal in his daughter’s eyes, he pulled away and swallowed. He loved his children, but he barely knew his youngest. He realized he’d overlooked her far too many times, and now her inability to trust that he did this not only for their clan but for her came home to roost. “I believe you need to prepare for the evening meal. By the king’s leave, return to your chamber.”
“Aye, Father,” Allyson murmured. The king nodded his dismissal, and Allyson slipped from the chamber like a wraith.
Once the two lairds and Ewan signed the contracts, Laird Gordon spun on his sons, his temper ready to rain down on them. “You shamed us in front of the king,” he hissed. “Go directly to my chamber, both of you.”
The twins bowed to the king when he offered them the same dismissing nod. When they entered the passageway, Ewan searched for Allyson, but she had disappeared faster than he expected.
“You’re an arse,” Eoin muttered. “You didn’t mean half of what you said, but you were spiteful because she poked at your pride.”
“She started it.”
“And now you’re a petulant child. You and I made our beds, and it’s not one we want to lie in. In fact, we’ve done far too much in bed. You’d do well to smooth this over with her, or you’ll have a long and miserable life with a woman who detests you.”
