With no other alternative, he had swallowed his pride and gone a month past to ask Seoras for coin so Gabriel might repair the crumbling castle he’d inherited from his slain brother, Malcolm.
So he might buy seed to plant and cattle to fatten for market, to ensure that the people who depended upon him had clothing on their backs and food in their bellies.
So he might provide decently for the young children of Malcolm and his deceased wife, Anna; Keira, six, and Rhona, four, whom Gabriel was now rearing as his own.
He’d had no fear that Seoras would deny his request. He had fought alongside him for years, protecting MacDougall lands and interests as well as those of the fearsome John “Red” Comyn, their overlord, while never once had Malcolm revealed to Gabriel the gravity of their family’s financial woes. His older brother’s death last autumn had brought the sad truth to light that the coffers were nearly empty and the two-hundred-year-old fortress falling into ruins.
Yet what he hadn’t expected was that Seoras would grant him the gold, butonlyin the form of a dowry.
Gabriel’s hands tightened on the reins as he watched the shrieking, disheveled nuns encircle the fountain while his bride dodged any attempt to catch her. Even the woman who had greeted him had hastened over to help, but to no avail.
Damn it all, he’d wanted no lunatic for a wife—or any wife for that matter, even if she had her wits about her!
It was common knowledge that a family curse had caused the tragic deaths of MacLachlan wives since his grandmother’s untimely demise. Gabriel wasn’t superstitious, but the curse remained unbroken with Anna’s death just after Rhona turned two. He didn’t want Magdalene’s death upon his conscience, madwoman or no, but Seoras had scoffed at Gabriel’s argument and the wretched bargain had been struck.
“Nooooo! Not go! Not go!”
The desperate, high-pitched cry making his horse snort and toss its head, Gabriel swore under his breath and dismounted heavily to find his men still gawking, stunned.
The scowl he threw them made Alun, Finlay, and Cameron clear their throats and look away, though Conall appeared not to have noticed and grinned as if thoroughly amused by the spectacle.
Gabriel loved his captains like brothers, and they had saved each other’s lives more times than he could count, but the younger Campbell’s legendary and lusty appreciation of women irked him now beyond measure. The naked lass in the fountain was his wife, after all!
“Wait for me outside the convent, all of you!”
At once Conall sobered as if realizing his impropriety, his expression apologetic, and he wheeled his horse around with all the others at Gabriel’s bellowed command.
The nuns encircling the fountain spun around, too, and gaped as Gabriel strode toward them, while the woman who appeared in charge rushed to his side.
“Laird, I’m Sister Agnes, the Reverend Mother of this Order. Be gentle with her, I beg you! She’s frightened, as you can see. I doubt she has any real sense of the fate that’s befallen her other than that she must leave us—”
“Byfate, I assume you mean our marriage,” Gabriel cut her off grimly. “Didna you prepare her? I sent word earlier in the week that I was coming tae fetch her with your Sister Therese in tow.”
“I only told her today, Laird MacLachlan, forgive me. She’s been so happy here—four years, it’s been! I feared the news would only distress her. She’s the sweetest child most times, but her manner can change in the blink of an eye tae a wildness that’s often hard tae control—”
“Like now, Reverend Mother?” Gabriel stopped a few feet from the fountain, Magdalene shivering uncontrollably as she peered out at him from behind the tumbling water. “It appears my bride is turning blue.”
Indeed, with the sun disappeared behind thick, gray clouds that portended a thunderstorm, Gabriel could see that Magdalene was chilled to the bone.
Her waist-length wet hair sheathed her body like a second skin, but not so much that he missed pale pink nipples hardened to nubs peeking out from her sodden tresses.
The sudden tightening in his lower abdomen made him scowl anew.
She might be petite, but she was perfectly proportioned with high, saucy breasts, a tiny waist and rounded hips, his gaze drawn to the damp triangle of tawny curls between her thighs—but for only an instant. Her sudden shriek made him start as she dove beneath the surface, nothing left to mark her presence than frothy foam.
* * *
Oh,no, oh, no, why hadna she drawn a deeper breath?
Her lungs already afire, Magdalene felt her panic growing as the dark-haired giant of a Scotsman drew closer to the fountain to stare down at her. Through the crystalline water she saw Sister Agnes appear by his side, wringing her hands and appearing close to tears.
Heaven help her, how could Seoras have done this to her? Had her four years of feigning madness to protect herself been for naught? Why couldn’t her wretched brother have left her well enough alone? She would never go anywhere with this man, husband or no! She’d rather drown first!
Bubbles erupting from Magdalene’s mouth, she feared she was drowning.
Desperately, her hair floating around her, she pushed off the curved side of the fountain with one foot to swim to the opposite side—only to gasp, sucking in water, when a steely hand clamped around her ankle. Coughing and spluttering, she felt herself pulled backward as if she were weightless and lifted so abruptly out of the fountain that her head spun, the world going gray around her.
Until she felt a sharp whack between her shoulder blades and water shot from her mouth.
