The task had been made all the easier by Malcolm being such an incompetent fool. Gabriel would by far have been the better man to inherit MacLachlan Castle upon their father’s death, but such was the destiny of younger sons without title or wealth to fend for themselves by taking up arms or becoming bound to the Church as priests.
If Gabriel hadn’t been away for so long, fighting other men’s battles, he might have become aware sooner of Malcolm emptying the family’s coffers on extravagant purchases of furnishings, fine clothing and the like, and ignoring his fiscal duties. Upon learning of his brother’s death, he had been granted dismissal from Seoras’s service, no doubt believing himself free of any further obligation so he might tend to all that he’d inherited.
Instead Gabriel had returned home with his four loyal captains accompanying him to find the castle in disrepair, his people near starving, and little coin left to rectify matters—oh, aye, Seoras couldn’t have set the stage any better!
“More wine!” he shouted, eying a comely lass with big, bouncing breasts beneath her tight blue tunic who rushed to oblige him. He felt himself grow hard as she bent over his cup, a saucy smile upon her rosy lips that he knew was a blatant invitation.
Yet he didn’t need any blasted invitations! He was earl of the MacDougalls and could take what he wanted, whenever he wanted! He reached down and grabbed hold of her ample bottom and gave her a good squeeze—
“I pity Magdalene.”
Seoras glanced at his wife sitting beside him even as the serving maid squealed and giggled, though with one irritated gesture, he sent her skittering away.
Cora MacDougall, formerly a Campbell, sat as pale as a nun in her somber black gown and met Seoras’s narrowed gaze with barely concealed disdain—no, not a wife, but a curse!
“Keep your voice down, woman,” he said tersely, though she merely straightened her narrow shoulders and kept staring at him. “You’ll dampen the festivities with such talk—”
“And you should be ashamed for what you’ve done tae your sister…and tae me—making me suffer from your constant humiliation. The very least you could do is refrain from your whoring untilafterI leave the hall.”
“Thengo, will you?” Seoras spat out, wanting so badly to slap her wan cheek but not daring to, never daring to.
The Campbells were becoming too powerful a clan, even though for years they had been kept subdued by the MacDougalls’ dominance in Argyll. Seoras didn’t want to jeopardize the alliance he had gained by taking Cora as his bride when he’d become earl.
She was a first cousin to their chief after all, and to Cameron and Conall, Gabriel’s men both younger sons of a younger son—those damned Campbells forever rutting like rabbits!
No, Seoras must endure her disapproval and contempt, which had dampened his jovial mood like a dousing of ice-cold water that no amount of wine would cure.
“Magdalene’s lucky tae have found a landed husband instead of rotting away in that convent,” he added, tempering his tone in an attempt to soothe her. “I’ve provided for her welfare as any brother would be expected tae do for an unfortunate sister—”
“You would have done better tae leave her well enough alone like your father did. Tae think how she must be suffering tonight, and yet here, you’recelebratingit! Not a wedding night in her hapless condition, but an assault—ah, God, it sickens me!”
“No more than our wedding night sickened me,” Seoras muttered as Cora rose abruptly from the table, the stiffening of her shoulders telling him that she had heard him.
“I bid you good night, husband.”
“Good night, wife.”
His courtiers all rose drunkenly from their benches as Cora hastened from the great hall, clearly affronted, her spine ramrod straight and her chin held high. Seoras couldn’t help thinking that she looked like a scrawny crow with her long black hair and black garb fluttering behind her.
His beloved wife—ha!
Their union at Christmas had been nothing more than another step toward his plan to become king of Scotland, for surely the Campbells would support him. How could they not? They were related by marriage and Gabriel was related by marriage. Too bad Seoras didn’t have more lunatic sisters to further cement his claim to the throne.
Now all he had to do was slay Robert the Bruce, MacDougall scouts keeping watch all over Argyllshire and further east, deep into the Highlands for the elusive bastard. That false king might have managed thus far to elude his many opponents, harrying them and winning small victories here and there, but with time, he would be crushed.
By Seoras. He could already feel the crown of Scotland settled upon his brow amid pomp and circumstance and the blessing of the Church. His ascent to the throne was virtually assured!
“Tae Mad Maggie!” shouted a courtier, the stout fellow climbing atop a table to hold his cup high.
As the hall erupted in a deafening din of laughter and ribald jokes, Seoras, too, raised his cup, his jubilant mood thankfully returning.
“Tae my sister, Mad Maggie!”
* * *
“Ah, God!”Magdalene sat bolt upright in the bed at the crash of thunder that seemed to rock the castle.
Brilliant flashes of lightning illuminated the room. Lashing rain beat at the windows while the sputtering fire sizzled and sparked at the raindrops finding their way down from the chimney.
