smoke felled them.” He pointed toward Ald-dabhach as the gates opened. “Now they will kill him.” Connor held up his hand to stop his men from moving forward, thinking they were about to witness the coldhearted murder of helpless men. “Nay. Look. They but take the weapons. Heed me. This lass wants no bloodshed. It would have been far easier for her and her men to just shoot the Goudies or the Dalglishes. Instead, she must be spending hours plotting these elaborate schemes to rout her enemy without spilling a drop of blood. And, she has done so twice now.” “I can understand disarming Sir Robert and his men, but why are they stripping them?” asked Diarmot. “A little added humiliation, I suspect. She should be careful. Few men take weel to humiliation, especially when delivered by such wee female hands. Sir David can be heard ranting long into the night. I suspect Sir Robert will soon echo him.” “They will be watching closely to see what she does to you.” “Aye.” Connor studied the collection of men sprawled on the ground before Ald-dabhach, most of them naked. Even Robert’s horse looked almost asleep as he was tugged inside the walls. “They will be eager to watch my defeat.” Diarmot’s eyes widened just a little. “Ye expect to be defeated by the wench.” “I believe I do. If naught else, how can one predict or protect oneself against such trickery? A stench that clings to a mon and smoke that steals a mon’s senses? Aye, I suspect she will have a trick to play upon us as weel.” “Ye are verra calm for a mon facing humiliation.” “I will look upon it as part of my strategy, as naught more than a necessary step toward winning the prize I seek.” “Ah, I see, a strategy. Verra wise. Just what is this strategy?” “That e’en a lass as clever as Lady Gillyanne Murray has to run out of tricks sometime.”
Four The red hint of dawn was lightening the sky as Connor stood watching Ald-dabhach. He had not lied to Diarmot when he had told his brother he would accept the humiliation this small woman would probably deal out as part of his strategy. That did not mean he liked the idea or that he faced it with any hint of calm. This was not really battle, but an intricate game and it would take time for him to learn the rules. It irritated him that he could not guess what she might do next so he could not avoid or end the threat he faced. He told himself he should be heartily relieved that she did not wish any bloodshed for, otherwise, he would be walking over the graves of the Goudies and the Dalglishes just to face his own death. “Connor,” Diarmot called softly as he approached his brother, “Knobby has returned and he has something to tell you.” Looking at the tall young man who was so thin all his joints seemed far too prominent thus earning him his name, Connor waited silently for the report. The game had begun. He was sure of it. “People have been fleeing Ald-dabhach for the last hour or more, laird,” Knobby said, his voice surprisingly deep and resonant for a man with such a thin chest. “Are ye certain they are fleeing?” Connor asked. “What else would they be doing?” “Playing a game,” Connor muttered, certain of his opinion, yet not sure how this trick would work. How could she expect to defeat him and his men if she was all alone? “Tell me exactly what ye saw? Slowly and precisely.” “At first ’twas a slow business. One or two people at a time with a bit of a wait between. Then more and more. They are all carrying things. They are definitely fleeing the place, like rats from a sinking ship. I suspect they fear this tussle will get bloody soon and they want nay part of dying just because a lass willnae choose one of ye as her husband.” It made perfect sense. Lady Gillyanne had been presented with three very eligible lairds to choose from.
Why would the people of Ald-dabhach wish to shed even one drop of their blood because she refused to marry? Lady Gillyanne might call herself their laird, but they could well see her as no more than a lass who had been given a piece of property by a doting kinsman. Why should they be any more accepting of a wee lass as a laird than battle-trained knights like Robert and David? Connor had to wonder why he felt so suspicious. “Did her own men leave, too?” he asked. “Or that cousin of hers?” “Nay. I didnae see any of them.” “They would stay with her,” said Diarmot. “Of course they would,” murmured Connor. “Six men. One wee lass.” “E’en they have to see that they cannae hold that place with so few.” “And since she has shown that she doesnae wish any blood spilled, they probably willnae e’en try.” He put his hands on his hips and scowled at the keep he so coveted. “Once they ken all the others have gone, they will probably let us walk right in.” “Aye, so why do ye look as if ye dinnae believe your own good fortune?” “Because I dinnae. It all seems so right, so reasonable, yet I doubt the truth of it all. After all, the people of Ald-dabhach stood by her when Sir David and then Sir Robert rode forth to try and take the prize. Why should they turn their backs on her now?” Diarmot shrugged. “Because they ken ye are the better fighter?” “That would please me but I dinnae think so.” “Because she has run out of tricks and they might have actually had to fight us?” “Possibly. Yet, I smell a trap.” He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Curse her and her games. I feel certain this is a trick yet I must go forward. ’Tis my turn to try for the prize and, by now, she has undoubtedly figured out that we each have only one day. Armed with that knowledge, she can simply outwait me and then I lose anyway.” “So ye ken she has set a trap, but ye will walk into it?” “I can see no other choice to make. At least we can go in certain we willnae pay with our lives.”
“True, and that is some comfort.” “Tell everyone to take only one weapon. We may find ourselves disarmed as was done to Robert and his men and I dinnae want us to return to our camp to set here with no arms at all.” “I will pass the word. And, I think I will find some braies or a breechclout, something to cover my nether regions. I noticed when Robert and his men were stripped such things were left on those men who wore them. I would just as soon nay be left to walk back to camp with naught to cover my tender parts.” Connor grimaced as he was left alone again and thought of the fine linen breeches he wore beneath his clothes. If they were exposed, he hoped everyone who saw them would think they were some rich laird’s affectation. He did not want the world and its mother to know he wore them to protect skin far too sensitive to wool and other rough cloth. It just did not seem a manly affliction to suffer from. He did find some comfort from that embarrassment in the knowledge that two of his brothers suffered the same delicacy. By the time the sun had fully appeared in the sky, Connor was ready. His men look as resigned as he felt, even the few he had decided to leave behind to guard their remaining arms and the horses. Connor could see the Goudie and Dalglish men lined up to watch them. He hoped they would not be too entertained as he moved forward, his men falling silently into step behind him. * * * “He is headed this way,” announced James as he strode into the great hall, followed by the five Murray men. “He and his men are on foot.” “Ah, afraid I will steal his horse as I stole Sir Robert’s,” Gillyanne said as she made herself comfortable in the laird’s chair. “Ye didnae steal that horse. ’Tis spoils of war.” “Weel, I think I will return it when this is all over.” “Why? ’Tis a fine horse.” “I ken it, but Sir Robert is obviously verra fond of the beast. He was still demanding its return when his men dragged him away.” Gillyanne grinned. “Ne’er had a naked mon yell at me.” She giggled when her men laughed but quickly grew serious again. “Do ye think Sir Connor will step into this trap?” James nodded. “What choice does he have? This is his day, his turn. He has to do something.”
“Do ye think the mon suspects something?” “If he has any wits, he does. As I said, he has no choice. ’Tis his turn and he has to ken that we could just outwait him.” He looked over the table heavily laden with bread, cheese, wine, and every sweet treat the cook could produce. “Are ye sure about this?” “Nay.” Gillyanne smiled and shrugged when he frowned at her. “There was a risk with my other plots, too.” “Nay as big a one. The others didnae get within grabbing distance of you.” “True, but there are six armed men here to, er, dim his urge to grab. And such a feast spread out to greet him and his men. After a few days of camp fare, what mon could resist all of this?” There was a halfhearted murmur of agreement from James and the others. “Aye, there are risks, but there is also a good chance that it will work.” “I ken it. He will be wary of the food and drink, unless he is a complete fool.” “And I dinnae believe he is which is why I shall join them in this meal.” James cursed softly. “ ’Tis a part of your great plan that I truly hate. Just dinnae eat or drink too much. A runt like ye could put herself to sleep for days.” Gillyanne crossed her arms and glared at the chuckling men then tensed. “I believe I hear George’s tremulous tones.” “So, he has walked right into the lion’s den,” James murmured as he took his place next to Gillyanne’s chair and the five Murray men lined up behind her. “As ye have said — what choice did he have?” When Sir Connor and his men followed George into the great hall, Gillyanne felt the pace of her pulse increase. She suspected it was not all due to the dangerous game she was about to play. Sir Connor MacEnroy was an impressive figure of a man. Gillyanne doubted any woman alive could look at him and not feel a tickle of appreciation. He was big, strong, and beautiful, a Viking of old come to full life. She shook aside her fancies and smiled a greeting at him, ignoring the suspicious way he looked over the bounty on the table. “Expecting me, were ye?” Connor asked as he sat in the chair to her right. “Once I realized I was alone,” she began.
“Nay completely alone.” Connor briefly looked over the six young men standing guard over her then met her far too innocent gaze. “I could just take ye and walk out of here.” “I dinnae think my men would like that.” “But ye have shown that ye want no blood spilled.” “And I dinnae, yet when one is pressed hard to the wall . . . ” She shrugged then smiled and, with a graceful motion of her hand, indicated the food and drink set out for him and his men. “Can we nay break bread together and discuss this sad business calmly?” She decided the cynical, faintly amused look he gave her, one brow raised, could easily prove irritating. “After what ye did to the others, why should I trust any food or drink offered by ye?” “Of course. I understand.” Gillyanne was proud of the touch of hurt she had put into her voice. She filled her goblet with wine from one of the jugs then placed a wide assortment of food upon her plate. This time she could eat and drink without fear. Untainted food had been strategically placed amongst the rest specifically for this moment and the half-full jug of wine she had poured from was also clear. If she was fortunate, the men would eat and drink enough to put them out cold before she was forced to down any of the tainted food and drink. Meeting Connor’s intense stare, she took a deep drink of the wine and ate a honey cake. Connor inwardly grimaced when his men took her actions as a sign that all was well, sat down, and began to help themselves to the wine and food. He did not believe her little show proved much of anything, but continued open mistrust could become an insult. The six well-armed men at her back might react badly to that and he really did not want to have to kill them. He decided he would eat, but would go lightly on the wine. “What do ye wish to discuss?” he asked as he spread honey on a thick slab of bread. “I have taken Alddabhach, have I not? Therefore, it and ye are now mine.” He felt the odd urge to smile at the look of irritation she cast over his men when many of them grunted an agreement to his bold statement. “Weel, to be precise,” Gillyanne said in a firm but pleasant voice, “ye have nay taken Ald-dabhach. We have allowed ye to come inside.” “I could put an end to that fine distinction quickly enough.” He held up his hand when her men tensed, their hands moving to their swords. “I willnae. I but point out a wee truth. One I suspect ye were aware of ere ye let us inside.” “Since ye were invited in, I rather hoped ye would hold to the rules of courtesy and hospitality.”
“Did ye? How sweetly trusting of ye.” Unable to resist, he helped himself to a few of the sweets set out in front of him. “Why continue to resist? Ye will have to accept one of us if ye truly wish no blood spilled.” “Mayhap I have no wish to marry.” “If ye mean to spin that tale about going to a nunnery, dinnae bother. I dinnae believe it any more than David did.” When he put a few cakes on her plate, she inwardly cursed, for they were tainted ones. Her reprieve was obviously at an end. However, since she had already eaten several things, she suspected she could delicately nibble at these and not rouse any suspicion. The way the MacEnroys were devouring the food and drink she did not think she would have to wait too much longer to savor yet another victory. “Eat up, lass,” Connor drawled. “Ye could use a wee bit of meat on your bones.” “If ye mean to convince me that wedding one of ye is in my best interest, a little flattery wouldnae be amiss,” she snapped, not only stung by his words, but annoyed that she had just devoured a small cake in the midst of her anger. “ ’Tis wooing ye seek, is it? Why? At the end of it the mon still gets what he first sought, the coin or the land that comes with the bride.” She nearly gaped at him. Gillyanne could not be sure if he really believed what he said or if he was trying to goad her. It irritated her to acknowledge there was some truth to his cynical words, but she had never heard anyone say such things. That this man might not believe in any of the things her clan held dear troubled her more than she cared to admit or thought it should. Try as she did, she could get no sense of how the man felt or thought. Reaching out to him, she felt as though she threw herself against a solid wall, and she was not sure she could blame that on the beginning effects of the herbs hidden in the food. “If that is how ye feel, why trouble yourself? And, why are the three of you so intent upon this nonsense anyway? I have no interest in stirring up trouble, am perfectly content to keep all as it has been for years.” “Ye are an unwed lass. Aye, when we sought the holder of this land after rumor said it was nay longer held by the laird of the MacMillans, we sought a treaty or e’en a chance to buy the lands. When the king told us it was an unwed lass, we had to agree with our liege’s opinion that the best solution was for one of us to marry the lass. There is e’er the chance ye could wed another mon, isnae there, and one who wouldnae be so peaceful, might e’en cast a covetous eye on another laird’s lands.”
Connor leaned back in his chair wondering why he felt almost compelled to be so honest. “ ’Tisnae nonsense to want to end the chance an enemy might slip into one’s midst. I decided I am eight and twenty, of an age to be wed, and these are good lands. I would prefer it if ye would choose me, but I would accept any one of the other lairds as laird here. What I dinnae understand is your hesitation. Each one of us is young, strong, nay too ugly, can give ye bairns and offer protection, are lairds of our own lands and nay poor. I would have thought a lass would have little complaint about such a bountiful choice. That has me wondering why ye are playing these games, especially when ye dinnae wish to have a real battle o’er it all. Ye buy time. Why?” “Time for my fither to come and sort ye fools out,” she snapped, thinking that she had never heard anyone describe a reason to marry so coldly, without even one small hint of interest in the woman he would have to marry. “I see. And ye dinnae think he would approve of the choices offered?” “Nay,” she said and was not surprised at his look of disbelief for it had been evident in the tone of his question. “My fither wouldnae like the way ye are all interested in the lands and nay in me. We Murrays believe a mon and a lass should choose their own mate and for love, nay for money or land.” When his snort of disbelief turned into a jaw-cracking yawn, Connor frowned. He felt a brief twinge of alarm when he looked at his men and saw that they were all fighting to stay awake. As he turned an accusing look upon Lady Gillyanne he caught her yawning and saw that she looked very sleepy as well. Connor felt a sudden urge to laugh and told himself it was a result of whatever potion she had given them. The occasional thump he heard told him that his men were rapidly succumbing, and, after a brief look at the wine he had drunk so sparingly, he looked at the food and shook his head. “Ye poisoned the food,” he said. “Nay poisoned. Just something to make ye all sleep.” Gillyanne yawned again. “After all, I wouldnae poison myself, would I?” “True. Yet, considering all ye ate, why is such a wee lass like ye still awake?” “The first foods I chose were nay tainted.” Diarmot laughed. “At least we had a grand last meal,” he said and dropped his head down on his crossed arms. “I wish ye wouldnae speak as if I have murdered all of ye,” grumbled Gillyanne. “I am but giving ye a wee nap.” “And will soon take our weapons and our clothes,” Connor said. “I suspect your people didnae really
flee here, either.” “Nay. They have been slipping back inside the walls e’er since ye arrived.” “Clever lass,” he said as he stood up, even as he wondered why he was doing so. “I would sit down, sir. Ye willnae have quite so far to fall that way.” Connor felt Sir James place his hands on his shoulders and allowed the man to push him back down into his seat. He was losing his grip on conciousness very quickly and none of his men were sensible. There was really no point in even trying to wriggle free of the trap. “I can appreciate the cunning here, lass,” he told Gillyanne, idly thinking that he sounded drunk. “Thank ye.” “The others, weel, though they might appreciate the skill of the game, they willnae be as forgiving as I am.” A little surprised that he had managed to complete that warning, Connor allowed the encroaching blackness to take him down into its folds. “I began to think he would ne’er fall down,” muttered Gillyanne as she bathed her face with cool water from the bowl George held out to her and felt a little of the herb’s effects fade away. “He certainly ate enough.” James nodded. “But he didnae drink much wine. Didnae trust it, I suspect.” “Ha! Fooled him. He wasnae surprised, was he.” “Nay. He expected ye to do something. He probably held only a wee hope that he would uncover the trick ere ye played it out.” He smiled faintly at a yawning Gillyanne. “Are ye going to have a wee nap, too?” “I think not. It would have happened by now. George, there isnae much food or wine left, but ye best see to its disposal.” Gillyanne looked at the sleeping MacEnroys. “Weel, best we finish this game.” “Ye dinnae think they will be asleep for long?” James asked as he and the Murray men began to collect the MacEnroys’ weapons. “ ’Tis difficult to say. I was careful to go lightly with my brew for too much can put one into a sleep that can last forever. ’Tis best if we dinnae take too much time in ending this game.”
The MacEnroys were soon stripped of their clothes and tossed into carts. Gillyanne glanced over their snoring captives and smiled faintly. Nearly every one of them had either braies or some sort of loin covering beneath their clothes. Then her gaze fixed upon the sprawled form of Sir Connor. It seemed unfair that he could still be so handsome when dressed only in some odd linen breeches. “Such a modest group,” drawled James as he moved to stand beside her. “ ’Tis evident they planned weel for the possibility of defeat. None of them had more than one weapon and then there is this obvious attempt to make sure they werenae left completely naked. Odd things the laird has on.” “My cousin used to wear something like that,” said George as he shuffled up to peer into the cart. “He couldnae abide certain cloth next to his skin. Itched like hellfire and caused a furious rash. Wool was the worst.” “Ah, aye.” Gillyanne refused to look at James for fear they would both start laughing at the thought of this huge laird having delicate skin, and she did not really wish to be unkind. “Acts upon the skin like nettles.” “Aye, so my cousin said, though he was sorely troubled by it. Said it wasnae monly.” Gillyanne shook her head. “Foolish. Many people are troubled in such ways by common things. With me, ’tis strawberries. Ye would ne’er think this giant unmonly, would ye?” George shook his head rather vehemently. “Weel, carry them away, lads.” “How far, m’lady?” asked George. “Nay too far,” she replied. “A mile or two. Just far enough to add to their confusion when they wake and give them a long enough walk back to their camp to pinch their feet.” She watched as the men drove the carts out of the bailey using a well-hidden rear entrance. “If ye have to choose, ’twill be that one, will it?” asked James. “He certainly is a handsome fool. Makes one think of Vikings, the Northmen of the old tales.” “An honest mon, I think.” “He certainly didnae hesitate to say what he thought.” “Gillyanne, I am willing to fight,” James stuttered to a halt when Gillyanne shook her head. “Ye deserve better than to be dragged afore a priest because ye have lands one of these fools covets.” “I do, but naught better has shown itself in nearly one and twenty years, has it? That matters little. I
willnae have anyone hurt or killed o’er this. After all, James, they offer honorable marriage. Sir Connor wasnae really boasting when he listed all that makes these three lairds acceptable choices for husbands. I was more than willing to use trickery to play these bloodless games, to buy time in the hope that Fither would come and help me out of this tangle. But, if the fighting turns real, I will put an end to it and ye swore to accept my decision.” “Aye, I did,” he snapped, “but I didnae swear to like it. Curse it, Gillyanne, ye cannae think it will be a marriage in name only.” “Nay. I suspect it will be consummated. A lost maidenhead isnae a fatal wound. And, just think, mayhap I will finally discover what lusting is all about,” she added and hurried back inside the keep before James could make any response. * * * “Curse it, where are we?” Diarmot’s muttered words made Connor wince. Cautiously, he opened his eyes, the bright sunlight aggravating the throbbing in his head. Slowly he raised himself into a sitting position and looked around. Most of the men were sitting up and, he noted, those who had bothered to don some underwrappings still wore them, as he did. “I believe we are about a mile or two north of our camp,” Connor replied. “We have to walk?” Diarmot indulged in a full minute of highly creative cursing. “If I e’er meet the mon who raised that wench, I will beat him — soundly and often.” “She certainly is a wily wee lass,” muttered Knobby, holding his head in his hands. “Why drag us out here?” As he eased himself up on to his feet, Connor replied, “To make certain we cannae try a second time to get her.” “Oh.” Diarmot staggered a little as he stood up. “Aye, most of the day will be gone by the time we get back to our camp. Do ye really think that tiny lass is the one thinking up all these tricks?” “I suspect she has the able assistance of her cousin, but, aye, these plots and tricks are of her devising.” “Are ye sure ye want to marry her?” asked Diarmot as he fell into step beside Connor who started them all on the walk back to their camp.
“I want those lands.” Connor realized that, although he had begun this venture reluctant to take a wife, that reluctance was gone, but Diarmot did not need to know that. “And such a clever, devious wit could be a boon.” “Or a wretched curse. She is verra small.” “Aye, nay much bigger than a child, but woman enough to wed, bed, and breed. At least I can be assured I will have children with all their wits about them.” “And then some. Ye ken, there will be a real battle now. Ye may not want it, but Sir Robert and Sir David will be eager to avenge their humiliation at her hands.” Connor nodded. “They may not be thinking of the damage they could do to the prize they seek.” “Do ye think the lass will ken the danger?” “I did try to warn her before I took my wee nap.” Connor thought the problem over for a moment. “Aye, she will ken it. If she still wishes no blood shed, she will have to act to stop the onslaught.” “So, she will finally pick a husband?” “Will she? That would seem to be her only choice. Yet, with this lass, we probably shouldnae be surprised if she uncovers another one.”
Five Decisions, decisions, Gillyanne mused as she stared up at the ceiling of the great hall. She idly stroked the two cats crowded into the laird’s chair with her as she struggled to plot her next move. When she had first arrived at Ald-dabhach she had thought her biggest decisions would be such things as whether or not she could get someone to clean years of accumulated smoke and dust from the ceiling she was now staring at. It certainly needed it. Instead, she was faced with a decision that could affect her entire future. She had thought that problem all settled when she had finally made the move to Ald-dabhach. But, nay, she thought crossly. She who had never even been briefly wooed now had three lairds pounding at her gates trying to get her to marry one of them. She was little more than the quill needed to sign the deeds. Gillyanne was not sure, but she thought that was even more insulting than being thoroughly ignored by men. Still, she had defeated each one of them once and felt some pride in that achievement. She had also humiliated each one, and, although Gillyanne felt they had deserved it, she suspected she would soon pay for that. Men did not deal well with humiliation, especially when it was inflicted upon them by a tiny female. They willnae be as forgiving as I am. Sir Connor’s warning refused to be banished from her mind. In truth, she was a little surprised he had been so amiable about it all. Since she seemed unable to read the man in even the smallest way, she had decided he was a hard man, probably very proud and very stubborn. His remarks about marriage implied he held many of those very annoying man-is-master views. That sort tended to take humiliation hard. Yet, he had prepared for his defeat, had even seemed to appreciate how she had accomplished it, and there had even been the smallest hint of amusement in him. Strangely enough, even though she could not understand him at all, and despite the few unflattering things she had surmised about him from his wrong-headed opinions, she trusted his word that he was forgiving about what she had done. She also believed he was right to say the others would not be. Which meant that a real battle was soon to come, she thought with a sigh, and she had no more tricks or plots. The peace this land had enjoyed for so long would be torn away. People would be hurt, even killed. All they had built would be damaged or destroyed. And for what?, she had to ask herself. Because she did not want to marry one of three very eligible lairds? Because she did not want to lose control of her dower lands? Because she cherished her virginity so much she was not willing to sacrifice
it to buy time for her father to come and help her out of this mess? Although it was grossly unfair that she was being forced to accept such things, not one was worth risking people’s lives for. That was a cold hard truth she simply could not ignore. “Is the answer ye seek written up there?” Gillyanne smiled faintly when James sat down on her right. “If it is, ’tis weel hidden by the dirt.” She sighed. “If those fools lurking outside the gates are preparing to really fight, then there really is only one answer, isnae there?” “I certainly havenae thought of another and, believe me, I have thought o’er the problem so hard and continuously my head aches.” He shook his head. “It galls me, and ’tis a fair hard blow to my monly pride, but the only one who can solve this in your favor is our father. He is the only one who has the power to stop this, not only because he is your father, but he is close to the king.” “Who apparently set these hounds upon my trail.” James grimaced. “To most ’twas a verra reasonable solution he offered to the problem. Few fathers would object to the selection offered and they did present their offers first. ’Tis we Murrays who are seen as odd with our insistence upon choice.” He smiled faintly. “There are many who would say ye now have more choice than most lasses get.” “I ken it. I certainly wouldnae get any sympathy if I complained to someone outside our clan.” She sighed. “The people here have some sympathy, but nay much. I think they understand why I would nay wish to give up my lands to men who dinnae e’en try to woo me, but they also see three fine lairds prepared to marry me. Nay ugly, nay old, nay weak, nay poor. In truth, each one is just what many a maiden wishes for. Once I made it clear I wished no blood spilled o’er this, the people of Ald-dabhach were willing to help me hold the fools back for a wee while. They helped me gain three days’ reprieve. I really cannae ask them for more. If these men now mean to truly fight, I must end this game.” “We should have an answer to what they plan to do ere the night is o’er.” “Oh? How so?” “We sent a lad out to see what he could see, mayhap e’en to creep close enough to hear a wee word or two. No need to look so worried. E’en George felt sure ’twas safe enough, that the worst which might happen is he will be captured and we will ken nay more than we do now. Aye, if the lairds plan a battle, people will suffer, but George was confident they wouldnae hurt the lad if they caught him. After all, if they had wished to simply battle their way through the gates without a care to lands or people, they would have done so at the start.” “True. I hope he arrives soon. Something tells me I best get a sound night’s sleep, that ’twould be wise
to be weel rested on the morrow. After all, if one is facing a great change in one’s life and fortune, ’twould be rude to yawn one’s way through it.” * * * Connor leaned against a tree, his arms crossed on his chest, and frowned at the other two lairds. David and Robert were letting their anger rule them. If they unleashed that upon Ald-dabhach there would not be much left to claim. They could easily wound or kill the woman they sought to marry. It was true that being defeated and somewhat humiliated by one tiny woman was a bitter potion to swallow, but Connor did not think it was worth destroying the very prize they sought. The woman did, after all, have every right to defend herself and her lands by any means she could. They would all do the same. “Do ye think they will be much calmer by the morning?” Diarmot asked as he moved to stand closer to Connor. “Nay,” replied Connor, careful to speak quietly so as not to be overheard. “They feel their wee monhoods have been threatened. They think more of retribution than of gaining hold of the lass and her lands.” “Mayhap ye could convince them to let ye go first, toss dice for it as ye did before. If the gates of the keep need to be kicked down, I think ye would do it with the least cost to Ald-dabhach and its people.” “They willnae approach singly again for fear of yet another defeat.” Connor shook his head. “If David suffered yet another defeat at Lady Gillyanne’s tiny hands, I wouldnae be surprised to see him begin to froth at the mouth and rip out his hair. He willnae chance it.” “I ne’er thought this would be so difficult.” “Nay? We are dealing with a woman.” Diarmot briefly smiled. “True. And, yet, how many lasses have three lairds asking for her hand?” “Ah, but ’twas nay really her hand we asked for, but her lands, and the lass has some pride. ’Tis a lass’s place to wed and, if she has lands, to give them into the rule of her husband. Howbeit, mayhap we should have at least attempted some wooing.” “Have ye e’er wooed a lass?” “Nay, but how difficult could it be? A few kisses, a few sweet words. I think I could have done it.” “I think Robert could have done it better. ’Tis best it didnae come to that. Ye would have lost that game.”
Connor supposed there was some truth in what Diarmot said, yet he still felt a little insulted. He had had women. Not many, it was true, but that was probably because he did not leave Deilcladach very often. There were some women there who were always willing to bed down with him. The rare times he had traveled somewhere else, he had enjoyed the favors of a few women, answered a few welcoming smiles. Thinking about that for a moment, he realized responding to a woman’s lusty invitation was not really wooing. Neither was tumbling with one of the whores around Deilcladach. Then he decided it was not worth worrying about. Soon he would either wed Lady Gillyanne or he would not. One did not have to woo a wife and it was wise if one did not woo another man’s wife. “Weel, are ye with us or nay?” demanded Sir David. Pulling his attention back to the matter of attacking Ald-dabhach, Connor looked at Sir David. The man was so angry, so eager to make someone pay for his humiliation, Connor was not sure he could talk any sense into the fool. Sir David was also still a little rank which, unfortunately, probably acted as a continuous reminder of what the tiny Lady Gillyanne had done to him. It looked as if the only one who could stop any blood from being spilled on the morrow was the lady herself. Since she would have to marry one of them to do it, Connor was not completely sure there would be any reprieve for Alddabhach or its people. “And what happens if the lady herself is hurt or killed in the attack?” Connor asked. “Then all will be as it was.” “Ye dinnae think the MacMillans or the Murrays or her cousin’s clan the Drummonds might be angered?” “The woman started this fight. I refuse to go home like a whipped cur, driven off by some half-grown lass. So, are ye with us or nay?” “I am with ye, if only because, at the moment, I seem to be the only one who would like to see the lass live long enough to marry one of us.” * * * “Oh, dear,” Gillyanne murmured as George led the youth he had sent to spy on the lairds into the great hall. “George looks worried.” “George always looks worried,” James murmured and sipped his wine. “I have discovered that he has many different levels of being worried. This looks to be a particularly
strong worry. The lad doesnae look too happy, either.” She smiled at George and the youth. “Sit down, George, and ye, Duncan, is it not?” She poured them each some wine as they sat down and the five Murray men moved closer to her end of the table. “Aye, m’lady, ’tis Duncan. I am wee Mary’s uncle.” She allowed George and Duncan to have a drink before asking, “And what have ye learned, Duncan?” “I was verra lucky, m’lady,” Duncan replied. “I got close enough to hear things and all three lairds had gathered together.” “That was most kind of them. I assume they are nay too pleased with me.” “Weel, nay, they arenae. Sir Robert and Sir David are verra angry, though Sir David is the worst.” “That doesnae surprise me.” “Sir Robert didnae argue with anything the mon said so ’tis most certain he agrees with a lot of it. They are planning to attack us on the morrow, m’lady.” Gillyanne sighed. “I feared as much. Nay one at a time, either, I suppose.” “Nay. Sir David says they will join together to kick down our gates and decide which one gets ye afterward.” “If I am still alive after the onslaught. Ye havenae mentioned Sir Connor.” Duncan hastily swallowed another drink of wine. “He didnae say much, m’lady. Stood there frowning at the other two and passing a word or two with his brother. When Sir David finally demanded to ken if Sir Connor was with them or nay, he finally spoke out. He did mention that a full, hard attack could put ye at risk. Sir David felt that would just put all back as it was. Sir Connor asked if the fool didnae think that that might annoy your kinsmen, but Sir David said ye had started this and he wasnae about to slink home with his tail atween his legs. Then Sir Connor said he was with them but only because he seemed to be the only mon there who would like to see ye live long enough to marry one of them.” Even though Sir Connor would be with the attacking army, his hesitation was strangely comforting. It was true that she would do none of them any good if, by the time she was dragged before a priest, it was only to be given last rites. Still, it was one mark in the man’s favor that he was not joining the chorus that was screaming for her blood. “ ’Tis clear my time has run out,” Gillyanne said. “I did suspect this outcome yet I had hoped there
would be some time ere they reached the decision to fight. A need to come to terms between themselves, mayhap one last attempt to get me to do as they wish, and other such things that might have given me a day or two or e’en more.” “From what I saw and heard, m’lady, two of those lairds are too angry to talk o’er anything, e’en the best way to attack.” “They mean to simply charge the walls?” asked James. “Aye, though I am nay sure how many MacEnroys will do that. Their laird didnae like the idea, but the Goudies and the Dalglishes dinnae have much respect for our fighting skills.” Duncan briefly smiled. “Sir Connor said we didnae need much skill to fill a bunch of charging fools with arrows. Said they didnae need to bring a scaling ladder for he suspected they could soon just pile up the dead and climb o’er them. I tried to stay to hear more, but some of the men started wandering too close to where I was hiding. Ere I slipped away, though, ’twas fair clear that Sir Connor wasnae going to be heeded. Sir David leads and Sir Robert stands with him, so Sir Connor must follow.” “But nay too close,” said James; then he looked at Gillyanne. “Gilly, let us. . . .” “Nay.” She smiled faintly at the disgruntled looks on the faces of James and the five Murray men. “I have no doubts about your fighting skills or e’en the ability of those within Ald-dabhach to defend their home,” she added with a nod to George and Duncan. “This isnae something to fight o’er, to spill blood o’er.” “They are forcing ye into marriage.” “At the suggestion of the king himself.” She nodded at the grimaces that briefly contorted each man’s face. “And, once blood is spilled by the ones outside our walls, it could mark the end of the long peace. ’Tis the same if blood is spilled by any of us within these walls. That becomes an insult to the MacMillans, the Murrays, and the Drummonds. And all their allies. Instead of a small argument between those three fools and me, this could grow into a long-lasting, widespread, painfully bloody feud.” “Saints’ tears,” muttered James as he rubbed his hands over his face. “Exactly. And for what? Because I willnae pick one of three lairds for a husband?” She shook her head. “Nay. That would be madness. I dinnae want to marry any of these men, nor do they plan to woo me into changing my mind, but I will pick one and put an end to this. I promised I wouldnae let this come to a bloodletting and I hold to that.” “But ye will be wed to a mon ye didnae choose.” Although she could understand James’ distress and distaste over the situation, she did think he was
beginning to be annoyingly repetitive. “By blatant and weel witnessed coercion.” She nodded when the men’s eyes widened with sudden understanding. “When my fither finally arrives, he will mend this. No one else can, not e’en ye, James. We have argued that truth already — several times. True, I may nay enjoy myself for a while, but naught will happen to me that is so verra terrible. I dinnae think it will e’en hurt what small chance I might have of eventually finding a husband of my own choice. And, who can say? Mayhap the one I choose will prove to be the one I wish to keep.” Gillyanne suddenly noticed Mary lurking in the doorway. “Is something wrong, Mary?” “Nay, m’lady,” Mary replied as she took a few steps into the hall, “I but wished to see that my uncle was safe.” “Weel, come here then and have a good look. We are nay saying anything ye cannae hear.” She smiled faintly when the young girl hurried over to her nearly as young uncle and embraced him. Duncan blushed, looking both pleased and a little embarrassed by his niece’s concern. Although she had not been at Ald-dabhach very long, Gillyanne had quickly seen that the people here were as closely bonded as the Murrays. If any one of them was hurt or killed, they would all grieve. She could not do that to them, not simply because she had no wish to marry a stranger. Gillyanne knew she could survive even a bad marriage, and one she was almost certain she could escape in the end. “Mary, ye are a woman,” Gillyanne bit back a smile when the girl stood up very straight and nodded, “so, tell me, if ye faced the choice that I do, which mon would ye pick?” “Nay Sir David Goudie,” she replied with no hesitation. “I am nay saying the mon is bad, but I think he would soon make ye wish ye had stood firm and fought.” She blushed faintly when she added, “I think he is one of those men who feels a lass is in her rightful place only when she has a mon’s boot on her neck.” “Ye are a clear-eyed lass,” said James. “All good reasons for Gillyanne not to choose that fool, and from those verra reasons would soon grow one more.” “What?” Gillyanne asked when James paused to grin at her. “The fact that ye would try to kill the fool within days of the wedding.” “Within hours,” she said and joined the others in a brief moment of welcome laughter before looking back at Mary. “I agree. Sir David would be a poor choice. I thought so from the start. Sir Robert Dalglish?” Mary frowned and lightly bit her lip. “I am nay sure about him, m’lady. When he came here with the others he seemed to be a gentlemon and he is a handsome mon. Yet, when he realized what ye had done to him and his men and that ye had taken his horse, he acted much like Sir David. And, the things he
screamed at you were things no true gentlemon should e’er say. Nay, mayhap ne’er e’en think. So, I cannae say. I just,” she shrugged, “dinnae feel sure about him.” “Your thoughts echo many of mine about the mon. Which leaves us with Sir Connor MacEnroy.” “Aye, m’lady, and if ye were choosing a mon for his appearance, he should certainly be your first choice.” “True.” It was hard not to laugh at the way the men rolled their eyes. “He looks just like one would think the old marauding Northmen must have looked.” “Oh, aye. A huge Viking indeed. He accepted the trick ye played upon him with calm and dignity, unlike the others. I have ne’er heard anything bad about the mon. I have heard tales of how fine a laird he is, pulling his clan up from the mire years ago and making them all prosper e’en though he was nay more than a lad himself. ’Tis a fine tale. I think, e’en if he didnae look so fine and strong, I would choose him. At least he has shown that he can control his temper.” Gillyanne nodded even as she mused that she would be willing to wager that Sir Connor not only controlled his temper, but nearly every other emotion. It could be that he did such a thing when he faced a battle or felt threatened. If, however, she had difficulty sensing anything about the man because there simply was not anything to sense, even a brief marriage to the man could prove difficult. Then, too, Sir Connor could be like James in that he possessed some strange unseen armor that prevented people like her from seeing too much. Gillyanne could not believe that a man who had pulled his clan out of the ruin made by years of feuding did not have a very big heart indeed. She suddenly looked at the men who were all watching her. “And ye, gentlemen, do ye agree with wee Mary?” They all nodded. “Then Sir Connor is the one I shall bless with my own wee self. On the morrow, ere the army begins to gather, Sir James and I will go out to the lairds and I will tell them of my decision.” James frowned. “Would it nay be better if ye called them to ye here?” “Aye, but after what I have done o’er the last three days, I dinnae believe they will agree to that.” “Nay, probably not. Yet, it could be dangerous.” “How? They wish to marry me to get these lands. I think the worst that can happen is they might start fighting amongst themselves and we will be forced to flee ere we are caught in the middle. Also, if I go to them, it may just keep any of their men from settling themselves inside these walls. Once in, they would be verra hard to oust.” “But this keep is what they seek to grab through marriage to you,” said the youngest of the Murray men.
“True, Iain,” Gillyanne replied, “but I believe I can keep the mon waiting on taking full possession for a while. After all, he will hold the laird to all of this anyway. I amnay sure why, but I believe the first thing my chosen husband will wish to do is wed me and get me shut up behind the walls of his own keep as swiftly as he can.” “Because he doesnae trust the other two lairds,” said James. “Not completely. That much I did sense when they were all here. I dinnae think a feud will start, but I suspect they may consider trying to snatch away the prize. So, the rest of ye are to shut the gates and keep them shut unless I tell ye to open them — nay matter what happens. Or James does. If naught else, my fither will be seeking some answers when he gets here and ye are best placed to answer them. And, James, ye will ride back to Dubhlinn to tell the ones there just in case Fither goes there first. Then I should like it if ye would come to me at Deilcladach, bringing whatever I might be forced to leave behind.” There were several moments of hearty argument, but Gillyanne finally got the agreements she sought. James and the Murray men had come to Ald-dabhach to protect her and felt they had failed. She could not seem to convince them otherwise. Fortunately, her plans made sense and, despite their bruised pride, they had to accede to her wishes. All too soon she found herself alone with a scowling James. “This is how it must be, James,” she said gently. “Ye ken that, dinnae ye?” “My head does. The rest of me rages against it. And I really dinnae wish to give our mither this news.” “Aye. After poor Sorcha was raped, beaten nigh unto death, then joined a nunery, Fither feared for our mither’s health. Of course, there was no need. She is stronger than she looks. Then I was taken hostage by Cameron MacAlpin along with cousin Avery. That turned out weel for Avery as she loves her dark knight, but Mither was wracked with worry. Now this. I think she will begin to fear she has caused some curse to be set against her daughters.” “And Fither will be enraged. Not only for what has been done to you, but for the worry it shall bring to our mither.” “Make her understand that I am fine, that I am mostly irritated, and that I willnae be harmed.” “And is that the truth?” Gillyanne thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Aye. ’Tis the truth. I cannae sense anything about Sir Connor. He is as closed to me as ye are, more so, I think. Yet, although that worries me a little, I believe it also intrigues me. Then, when I search deep into my heart, I find no fear of the mon. Aye, I shall be set in the bed of a mon I dinnae ken much about, but, when I try to worry o’er that, a little voice
in my head reminds me that he is a bonny, bonny mon.” James laughed and shook his head. “Ye have spent too much time with our rogue of a cousin Payton.” Then he grew serious. “I will tell Mither what ye said. If Fither is there, I will tell the tale from the safety of a few feet away.” “He wouldnae hurt you,” Gillyanne protested even though she heard the hint of dark humor in his voice. “I ken it, but his anger will be so strong I may be knocked o’er by it.” “Aye, but e’en at his angriest, Fither will ken that ’tis best if this is solved with words, nay swords. He will also ken that a coerced marriage may be set aside, and, unlike these three lairds, he has the king’s ear.” She shrugged. “And, who can say? Mayhap when I gain the chance to walk away, I willnae want to. At least I ken, without doubt, that I will get that choice in the end. Verra few lasses do. This need not be forever.” “And that is why ye are able to do it, isnae it?” “In part. I truly feel no fear of the mon. When I say those vows, I will mean them, yet, in my heart will rest the certain and verra comforting knowledge that, if there proves to be no hope of a good and true marriage, I can just walk away.” “Will ye tell Sir Connor that?” “I will warn him about Fither, but instinct tells me the mon willnae heed what I say.” James slowly smiled. “The poor fool. Fither will come as a great surprise to him. And, I think, so will you.” “Without a doubt, Cousin. He thinks he need but wed me, claim my dower lands, and all will be as it should. ’Twill be interesting to see how long it takes him to see that naught which occurs with a Murray lass can e’er be so simple.”
Six “The lass has left the safety of the keep and has but one mon with her,” cried Sir David as he started to mount his horse. “What are ye doing?” demanded Connor, grabbing the reins of Sir David’s horse to stop the man. “I am going to go and grab the lass.” “She is coming to us under a sign of truce with no one but her own cousin at her side. Ye must honor that.” “I must, must I?” “Aye, David,” said Robert, “ye must. The king himself kens we have come here. ’Twould be wise to walk a verra careful path.” After a brief hesitation, David dismounted and Connor breathed a silent sigh of relief. He suspected David acted out of the somewhat blind fury he felt toward the small woman walking toward them. There was always the chance Robert had seen an opportunity to grab the prize for himself as well. Connor would not be surprised to learn that, despite Sir Robert’s tactful words, that man was also a little suspicious. “My lairds,” said Gillyanne as she paused a few feet away, “I wish to treaty with you. Ye do notice this wee flag of truce we carry, aye?” “Aye,” said Connor, her words revealing that she had watched the little struggle with Sir David and guessed its meaning. “We are ready to talk.” “And, if we cannae come to some agreement, I will be allowed to return to the keep with my cousin.” “Agreed. Ye will be allowed to go back and prepare for battle,” said David, glaring at her.
Gillyanne met the man’s glare with a faint smile. “I am hoping to avoid the need to watch ye hurl yourself against my walls in some futile but verra monly display of fury.” Sir David took a threatening step toward her, but Sir Robert grabbed him by the arm and held him back. Gillyanne could see that Sir David was straining at the reins of whatever agreements the lairds had made amongst themselves. The man could prove to be a problem in the future which, Gillyanne decided, was another good reason to choose Sir Connor. She sensed Sir Connor would be able to deal with the somewhat brutish fellow while Sir Robert appeared to be on far closer terms with the man. In some subtle way, it was those two men against Sir Connor. When her father came to her rescue David and Robert would ally themselves with each other, she was certain of it. Just as she was certain they would both leave Sir Connor to face her father all alone. “I would ask that ye wait until my fither arrives,” she said, looking at Sir Connor. Connor crossed his arms over his chest and steadily met her look. “Why should we do that?” “To discuss the matter of marriage to me with my fither as is right and proper.” “Again — why? The king himself has set us upon this path. We have our liege’s approval.” “But the king didnae talk this o’er with my fither ere he set ye after me. My fither willnae be pleased about this and ’tis something ye would be wise to think about.” “Ye cannae believe your father can argue a king’s decision,” said David, his tone one of deeply felt contempt. Seeing how the lady’s eyes narrowed in anger, Connor quickly spoke up. “Whether your father can change the king’s mind or nay, simply doesnae matter. We will settle this now. Any displeasure your father suffers can be dealt with later.” It was obvious not one of the men believed her father would or could, in any way, go against a king’s wishes. They treated the king’s suggestion of this solution to their problem as if it were a royal command and Gillyanne knew that was their mistake. She also knew nothing she could say would convince them of that. “So be it,” she muttered and sighed with an even mixture of irritation and resignation. “When this foolishness began, I swore I wouldnae allow any blood to be spilled o’er it.” “Ye have changed your mind?” Sir Connor asked. “Nay,” Gillyanne replied. “I will end this now. I choose Sir Connor MacEnroy as the laird I will take as my husband.”
There was a heavy moment of silence in which Gillyanne easily sensed the other two lairds’ anger over her choice. Connor then nodded, stepped forward, and grabbed her by the hand. James tensed, but Gillyanne stopped any move he might make with one abrupt slashing gesture of her hand. She was startled, however, when Sir Connor began to stride toward the tiny church barely visible from where they stood, dragging her along behind him. James and the others hurried to follow. “What are ye doing?” she snapped, fighting not to stumble as he pulled her along. “Taking ye to the priest,” Connor answered. “Ye brought a priest with you?” “Aye, and he isnae pleased to have been kept waiting for four days.” His tone of voice indicated that was all her fault and Gillyanne suppressed a fierce urge to kick him in his far too attractive backside. “Ye are just going to drag me off and marry me? Shouldnae we plan a feast or something?” When he briefly glanced at her over his shoulder, one brow raised, Gillyanne decided that it was indeed an irritating gesture. “I believe ye should understand why I feel disinclined to dine at your table again.” “A lass should be allowed some way to mark such a day.” “Ye have had it. Three days of turning back three armies, defeating three lairds, and all with naught but a bruise or two — and those were inflicted upon us, by you. Few lasses can lay claim to such a feat.” Gillyanne could hardly argue with that. She had not anticipated this immediate saying of the vows, however. Now she was heartily glad she had settled everything before leaving the keep as she suspected she would not be returning to it any time soon. As he tugged her down to kneel beside him in front of a plump, extremely cross-looking priest, she hoped he would not consummate the marriage with such speed. Barely had the last of the vows been spoken when Connor stood up and Gillyanne was yanked back onto her feet. Connor pulled her into his arms with an equally abrupt movement, actually lifting her off her feet. Gillyanne was about to protest the way he was acting when he kissed her. His lips were warm, soft, and tempting. She felt almost entombed in strong, clean man yet was not intimidated, did in fact find it very pleasant. Just as she felt an intriguing warmth begin to seep into her blood he released her, and, still dragging her along by the hand, started out of the church. Stunned, Gillyanne felt only a flicker of shock when the priest was offered help in getting home and refused it in a highly unpriestly manner.
“Where are ye taking her?” demanded James, stepping in front of Connor and stopping the man’s march back to his camp. “I am taking my wife to Deilcladach,” replied Connor. “Are ye nay going to take hold of Ald-dabhach?” asked Robert when he caught up to them. “I have hold of it.” Connor tugged Gillyanne close to his side. “Right here. ’Tis enough for now.” “Curse ye,” snapped James, “ye cannae just grab her, wed her, and drag her off.” “Nay? Why not?” Connor stepped around James and strode on toward his camp. Glancing over her shoulder, Gillyanne could see that James’ rarely seen, but glorious temper, was rapidly rising. “Dinnae fret o’er this, James. Ye have things ye must do.” She was relieved when he nodded curtly and strode back to the keep. “What must he do?” asked Connor as he reached his saddled horse and mounted. “He must be sure my family has the whole tale,” she replied as she was swiftly, but gently, pulled up to sit behind him. “Ye refuse to see the trouble ye court, but it will soon be kicking at the gates of Deilcladach. Calling your keep the Devil’s Shore isnae enough to keep my fither away, either. In truth, when he comes, ye may just think that the Devil himself has indeed arrived.” “ ’Tis good for a lass to have such faith in her father.” Gillyanne had no chance to respond to that. Connor issued a few curt commands to his men, a few equally curt farewells to Sir David and Sir Robert and kicked his horse into a gallop. As she wrapped her arms around his trim waist and hung on tightly, she glanced back at the camp they were rapidly leaving. Most of his men were following, but a few lingered to clear away what might have been left behind. Instinct told Gillyanne those men were also there to keep an eye on Robert and David, to make sure those men left Ald-dabhach. It was yet more proof that these three lairds were allied through necessity and not through mutual trust or liking. Although she had expected this course of events, she had not anticipated the extreme haste. It felt more like a kidnapping than a wedding. She had only the clothes she wore and it would be many days before James could bring her things to Deilcladach. This was not the wedding she had always dreamed of. In an attempt to keep her spirits up, she tried to recall all that was good about the arrangement. Alddabhach and its people were safe. Her father would come after her and would rescue her, if she still needed to be rescued. Even if she had been forced to choose Connor, he was, in many ways, a fine choice. A lass could certainly find few so fine of looks or strong of build. The kiss at the church had not
been very intimate or long, but it had shown some promise of passion. As she rested her cheek against his broad back, she decided there was hope of something pleasant coming from this wretched tangle. * * * Connor made a very male noise of satisfaction and rolled off Gillyanne. She stared up at the roof of the tiny cottage and wondered which she felt more inclined to do — scream or cry. After barely two hours of riding, he had stopped at a tiny cottage, pleasantly forced the aging couple there to leave, and dragged her to a pallet by the peat fire. His kisses had stilled her protests. His caresses had melted her bones. Then, suddenly, he was inside her. The passion he had stirred within her had dimmed for a moment, dampened by such an abrupt, if nearly painless end of her maiden state. She had just begun to feel it flare to life again when Connor had found his own satisfaction and left her. Left her aching and unsatisfied, she thought in angry wonder. Once he had taken her maidenhead and she had neither screamed nor wept, he had obviously ceased to care about what she felt or needed. Gillyanne glanced down at herself and carefully pulled her skirts down. He had not even fully removed their clothing. She was just relacing her bodice when he sprang to his feet and straightened his clothes. For a brief moment, as he gently helped her to her feet, she thought there might be a moment of tenderness, a soft kiss or a touch, but he simply stood there and looked at her, a hint of a frown curving his beautiful mouth. “Did I hurt ye?” he asked. “Nay,” she began to reply. “Good.” He patted her on the back and started out the door. “ ’Tis time to finish the journey home.” Gillyanne stared after him and wished she had some thick cudgel to beat him with. She could not say she had been raped or abused, but she certainly had not been made love to. There was a faint soreness between her legs, but it was made inconsequential by the deep, nagging ache of unfulfilled passion. The fact that it had all begun so wonderfully, with such promise, made that even harder to bear. Muttering every curse she knew, she found some water, hastily cleaned herself, yanked on her braies, and left the cottage. She was too angry to be embarrassed by the fact that all of Connor’s men and the old couple had been standing around outside waiting for Connor to consummate his marriage. Intending to vent some of the anger growing inside her, she marched up to Connor only to find him and Diarmot scowling at two fair-haired youths who were just dismounting in front of them. It would have been impossible to know the smaller of the two was blond except that a few wisps of hair had escaped the unusually large hat he wore. Gillyanne stepped closer to Connor. The brief look he gave her told her all too plainly that he had forgotten her for a moment. She silently cursed some more and wondered now much longer she would be able to control her temper.
“Wife,” Connor said, “meet my brother Andrew and my sister Fiona. My wife Gillyanne.” It was not easy to hide her surprise over the revelation that the smaller of the pair was female, but Gillyanne smiled and nodded a greeting. “Why have ye come?” Connor demanded of the pair. “We began to wonder what had happened to ye,” replied Andrew. “When ye left, ye didnae think ye would be gone for more than a day or two.” Connor was almost certain he heard Gillyanne mutter something that sounded very much like arrogant swine, but he had to ignore it, keeping his stern gaze fixed upon his siblings. “I told ye to stay at Deilcladach.” “But we were worried about ye and Diarmot,” protested Fiona. “There was no need to worry,” Connor said. “Now there is. Ye disobeyed my orders.” The wary looks on Andrew and Fiona’s faces made it all too clear that Connor was a man who expected his orders to be obeyed. Gillyanne got the feeling, however, that punishment would be little more than suffering his disapproval. That the pair clearly thought that bad enough said a lot about the close bonds of the family. Andrew nervously cleared his throat. “Weel, since ye are unharmed and obviously won the prize, Fiona and I will go back to Deilcladach now.” “Ye will ride with us,” Connor said. “ ’Tis nay safe for the two of ye to be riding o’er these lands by yourselves.” Another dire breach of conduct, Gillyanne mused, as she watched the shoulders of the pair slump a little. Despite the fact that Fiona appeared to be staring at her feet, Gillyanne suddenly realized the girl was studying her very closely. She sensed no anger or wariness, just a strong curiosity. It occurred to Gillyanne that Fiona might not be dressed as a lad simply for this unapproved ride. Before she could consider that possibility any further, however, Connor grabbed her by the hand and pulled her to his horse. Her cousins would never believe this, Gillyanne thought, as she was settled behind him and they started to ride. She was not sure she did. There was a small part of her that wondered if it was all some strange dream. A hasty wedding, a hasty retreat, an annoyingly public and hasty bedding, and a little more hasty retreating. It was all almost funny. “Why do ye wear a mon’s clothing?” asked Connor.
Confused, Gillyanne glanced down at her gown. “Ye ken many men who wear gowns, do ye?” “I mean the braies ye wear under your skirts.” “A lot of women in my family wear braies.” “Ye willnae.” She was more than ready to indulge in an argument over that blunt command, but he spurred the horse into a gallop. Although Gillyanne knew she could still make herself heard, she decided to save that quarrel for later. One could not have a good, satisfying argument while trying to stay in the saddle of a rapidly moving horse. It did strike her as a typically annoying male thing to do for Connor to tell her she could not wear one small, insignificant male garment while his sister galloped over the countryside dressed as a lad. And that was a puzzle, Gillyanne decided. Every instinct she had told her Fiona often dressed as a lad, might even do so all the time. Considering the history of the MacEnroys over the past dozen years there was the possibility Fiona had been raised much like another brother. Gillyanne felt no real shock or outrage over that, but Fiona would now be becoming a woman or was very near that age. It would explain the intense curiosity the girl revealed. She inwardly shrugged. There would be time later to sort out the puzzle of Fiona. Fixing a glare upon her husband’s broad back, Gillyanne knew there were several puzzles she would have to solve. The man himself was a very intricate puzzle indeed. Of immediate importance to her, however, was how such a beautiful man could be such a poor lover. One thing she had hoped to gain from this tangle was a taste of passion. Well, he had given her a taste, but he had left her hungry. If that was his usual way in bed, Gillyanne suspected she would soon be praying long and hard for her father to come and rescue her. It was another several hours’ ride before they reached Deilcladach. Gillyanne had tried to get a good look at the keep as they approached it, but it proved difficult to see around her very large husband. For a man who probably did not have one extra pinch of meat on him, Connor proved to be a sizable obstacle. What she did notice was that his lands did not appear to be as rich as Ald-dabhach’s. Ald-dabhach could easily produce more than it needed while this land looked as if it would barely supply enough to feed the people who lived on it, and that only in the best of years. That would explain Connor’s deep interest in getting his hands on her lands. Immediately noticeable amongst the people greeting Connor and his men were two tall, fair-haired youths. Connor, Andrew, and Diarmot moved to greet them and Gillyanne frowned as the five men were immediately surrounded by many of the clan. It was obvious these were two more brothers. It was also increasingly obvious that she had either been forgotten or was expected to attend to herself. She was just
wondering if she could dismount from Connor’s massive horse with any semblance of grace when Fiona paused by the horse and stared up at her. The girl had lovely violet eyes, Gillyanne noticed, and experienced a fleeting twinge of envy. “My other brothers,” Fiona said, pointing to the two young men Connor was greeting. “Angus and Antony. Andrew is eighteen, Angus is twenty, and Antony is two and twenty. Close in age and in almost every other way. We call them Angus, Nanty, and Drew.” Fiona did not wait for a response, but hurried away to join her brothers. Angus, Nanty, and Drew were all about the same height, had the same dark golden hair, and were lean of build. Gillyanne suspected it would be a while before she could easily tell them apart. A moment later she gaped as everyone disappeared into the keep, leaving her still sitting upon Connor’s horse. Gillyanne wondered if this was what some wives complained about, the cessation of the man’s courtly ways once the vows were said. Since Connor had yet to display any courtly ways, she doubted it was that simple. She stared down at the ground and wondered if she should slide down out of the saddle or hop down. Getting down was suddenly very important because she was eager to chase her husband down and kick him — repeatedly. “Do ye need help, m’lady?” Gillyanne looked at the tall, too thin man standing by the horse. “Who are ye?” “They call me Knobby, m’lady.” “A little unkind.” “Nay, ’tisnae meant so. My name is Iain and there are eight Iains here so ’tis less confusing to call us all something else.” “Ah, of course.” She decided to ignore the gleam of laughter in his dark eyes. “I believe I could use some help descending from this mountain as it appears my overgrown oaf of a husband has forgotten me.” “Och, nay, m’lady,” Knobby protested even as he helped her down. “He was telling everyone how he had brought home the prize.” The prize, Gillyanne thought, and wondered if anyone would take notice if she hurled herself to the ground and had a kicking, screaming fit of fury. It would be a childish thing to do, but it might prove satisfying. Glancing down at her dusty, wrinkled gown, she decided it would not endure such abuse, not if it was to last until James brought her clothes.
