Stellan headed for his chamber wrapped in another bath sheet after checking to make sure it was dry and not riddled with translucent wet spots. He knew the gamut that awaited him in the great hall. He crossed quickly, making a point to ignore the admiring glances the kitchen wenches and other clan womenfolk sent his way. Why hadn’t he sent for clean clothes before he got in the damned tub? None of the lasses at Sutherland interested him, but he and Anders had always interested them. He’d known since his beard came in not to give them more to feed their fantasies.
In his chamber, he wasted no time getting dressed in clean clothes, and hurried back downstairs toward the laird’s solar, glad to see the lasses paid him less attention now that he was clothed. Less, but not none. One or two smiled at him with invitation in their eyes as they fingered the edges of their chemises. He looked away and kept moving. They must think he was his twin.
Anyone who didn’t know them well had trouble telling them apart, a fact they’d taken advantage of many times before they’d spent the years between ages nine and sixteen fostered away. As lads, they’d get a treat from the cook, return as the other brother and get another. When they returned from fostering, they went right back to switching identities to fool their tutors so that Anders took Stellan’s French classes and Stellan took Anders’ history classes, saving them both from courses that made themcringe. Those days of impersonating each other were behind them, save for those rare instances when a lass caught Stellan’s eye.
As Mariota had.
When Stellan entered the solar, Anders and their father were standing at the worktable, studying a map.
“Ye needed to see us?” Stellan moved toward them.
Sutherland straightened and crossed his arms. “Are ye surprised? What the hell were ye thinking?”
His father’s vehemence took Stellan by surprise. “That the lass was lost, exhausted, and needed help. She’s a MacKay.”
“I’m well aware. Mariota.”
“Aye, ’tis her name.” A shiver ran down Stellan’s back. What did his da know?
“I received a missive from the MacKay. The second on the subject actually, two days ago.”
“What subject?”
Anders moved around the table to stand with his twin.
Sutherland gestured them to chairs. “His heir, his daughter Mariota, is of marriageable age.”
Stellan exchanged a shocked glance with Anders. Stellan felt the bottom drop out of his gullet. She was the MacKayheir? No wonder he’d felt she was withholding some of her story. The twins exchanged frowns. What an impossible situation he’d put them in. He groaned, not just because of who she was, but because of his attraction to her. A lass he could never have, as tied to her clan as he was to his. This was trouble, indeed.
“Did she leave because she was to be wed?” It made better sense than the story she told about being attacked, and her father, the laird, not protecting her. Or did it? She’d taken a huge risk in running away. Only a lass driven to desperation would do such a thing.
“Last fall, when ye both were away,” their father continued, “MacKay proposed an alliance. I posed it to Cameron. Ye ken he looked in another direction for a wife.”
“Mary Elizabeth Rose, the Rose laird, aye.”
“MacKay never actually designated which of ye lads he would like to see wed to his daughter. Now, it appears something has happened to give her marriage some urgency. He writes that he wants a Sutherland son 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.”
“Which means he sent a ghillie four days ago or more. She hasna been gone from home that long. She found us in our territory last night, so her da sent the missive before she ran off. Or escaped, by her telling. And she’s fallen right into our hands.” Stellan filled them in on what he knew of Mariota’s story. “She was exhausted by the time she found us. She wouldna have made it much farther, and I dinna like to think what might have happened if she’d run into anyone other than us.”
Anders frowned. “He doesna care whom she weds? Any Sutherland male?”
“Any son of mine,” Sutherland corrected. “Save the heir, of course.”
Anders gulped.
Stellan would have laughed but the situation was too serious.
“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 asked, finding his voice.
“None. He guarantees safe passage.”
“He doesna ken we have her,” Stellan said, trying to figure out how many ways this situation could go wrong.
“Nay, and by now, he’s probably quite concerned about our response since he canna produce her.”
