“MacKay never actually designated which of ye lads he would like to see wed to his daughter. Now, something has happened to give her marriage some urgency and he writes that he wants a Sutherland to come to MacKay to meet her. And for the betrothal.”
“He’s jesting. Or ye are.” Anders frowned. “When did ye say ye received his missive?”
“Two days past. She found ye in Sutherland territory today, so her da sent the missive before she ran off.”
“Or escaped, by her telling,” Stellan reminded him. “And she’s fallen right into our hands.”
“How many men would have to go with us to ensure he didn’t kill us out of hand once we crossed into MacKay territory?” Anders frowned at their father.
Stellan agreed. It was madness to do what the MacKay asked.
“None. He guarantees safe passage.”
“He doesna ken we have her,” Anders stated.
“Nay, and by now, he’s probably quite concerned about our response since he canna produce her.”
“But we can.”
Anders’s speculative look, eyebrows raised, told Stellan he was thinking—hard. “Why Sutherland and no’ one of his other allies. Sinclair or MacLeod?” Stellan frowned. “He must be nervous about Domnhall.”
“I would be if I were he,” Sutherland said. He shrugged, then studied both twins and seemed to come to a decision. “I will notify him that she’s made her way here. Since he will doubt she has remained untouched, I must agree to the betrothal. If his response is still favorable, she must return home until the wedding.”
Stellan shook his head. “Da, ye canna. She fled because she feared a clansman.”
“If she’s betrothed to Sutherland, do ye think her da will allow her to be harmed?”
“We canna be certain…”
“Anders, ye will go—with an escort. Stellan,” he added, holding up a hand as both he and Anders opened their mouths to object, “I have other plans for ye.”
The twins exchanged frowns.
“Da—“
“I'll hear nay more about this for today. I have a letter to write. Both of ye, out.” He gestured at the door.
Stellan and Anders took their accustomed seats by the great hall’s hearth, and after a lass brought them ale, Stellan tipped his mug. “Cheers, brother. What do ye think of our lass?”
Anders choked on the mouthful of ale he’d just taken in and sprayed it toward the fire, which leapt when the alcohol hit it. “Yer lass, ye mean,” he said when he could breathe.
“Da wants ye to return her to MacKay. What do ye think he means, save that he’s expecting ye will wed her?”
Anders shook his head. “He may think so, but ye found her. Ye seem to like her. Ye should be the one to travel with her, to meet her da, even to marry the lass.”
“There's one problem with that,” Stellan said, staring into the fire.
Anders flinched. "Aye, she’s her father’s heir. Her husband must rule MacKay with her. And ye are da’s heir, so he expects ye will rule here after him. I’m the expendable one.”
“Nay to me. Nay to the vow we made.”
Anders nodded, then grinned. “Do we switch? Ye go as me to spend more time with her, and I stay as ye?”
“And when we are discovered?” Stellan couldn’t imagine the outcry that would cause.
Anders shook his head. “As long as ye manage to control yerself and dinna ruin the lass so ye are forced to marry her, ye can leave her there, and come home.”
“Aren't ye forgetting da said they probably think that has already happened? Da can decide to betroth ye to her. Me. One of us!” Stellan tossed off the rest of his ale, tempted to hurl the cup into the fire for the satisfaction of watching it shatter. They’d known a day would come when the Sutherland would try to settle wives on them. Mariota had unwittingly made that day today. “God’s bones, she’s the one lass I can never have. Da willna accept her for me. And I swore with ye when we thought ye would be sent to the Norse land forever that we wouldna marry any lass we couldna bring home.”
