Stellan fought the urge to crumple the missive into a ball in his fist. Should he refuse his laird’s order and send word to Sutherland that the situation here was still precarious? Anders would convince their father why he was reluctant to leave Mariota. Without Sutherland guards’ presence to keep her father honest in his efforts to protect her, Stellan couldn’t predict what would happen. The news about Mar added a sense of urgency to Stellan’s concern over Mariota’s safety. She was still in danger within her keep, but if MacKay was forced to get involved in Mar’s incursion, taking many of his best men with him, he could leave his daughter in an even more precarious position.
Was he even recovered well enough to ride and fight? That would be a question for the healer to answer.
Stellan ran a hand through is hair. Should he and his twin switch back? He’d have to return home so that Da would see the two of them together, then he could send the real Anders out on the scouting mission. That would keep Anders busy and away from MacKay. Stellan trusted his twin. But he knew him well. If the real Anders came to MacKay, he would spend a lot of time around Mariota, perhaps fall for her himself, even though she professed to love only Stellan. And with Anders at MacKay,the betrothal their father had proposed could proceed— against Mariota’s wishes. And his own. That, Stellan could not allow.
When the MacKaysummoned him to his solar the next day, Stellan was still wrestling with what to do about the Sutherland’s summons and whether it made sense to switch places with his twin. That would pull Alber’s fangs and make anything he’d overheard less useful, though not useless. He could still cause trouble for Mariota and by extension, for Sutherland. Stellan walked into the solar and stopped inside the doorway. The laird sat behind his desk, but across from him, Mariota sat, glaring at the woman standing off to the side. Fionnuala.
Stellan knew instantly that all his concerns about his brother’s missive and perhaps even what Alber thought he knew were about to become inconsequential. “Laird MacKay, ye sent for me?” He nodded to Mariota, then turned his attention back to her father, doing his best to remain calm.
“This woman brought me an interesting tale,” MacKay said, but his frown made it clear he wasn’t amused by her storytelling. “Perhaps ye would like to repeat what ye told me, Fionnuala.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Stellan could see her tremble, and gave himself a moment to feel sorry for her, but she’d brought this on herself. If she was about to say what he expected, she could have kept it to herself. She could have protected Mariota. She should have.
In a quavering voice, she related what she saw when he and Mariota came out of the storage closet. “I held my tongue for days, but finally told my mate and she spread the tale from there. I’d guess by now the whole clan kens.”
MacKay glanced at his daughter, gestured from Fionnuala toward the door, and said, “Ye may leave.”
“Thank ye, laird,” the woman said and got out as fast as she could.
Stellan was surprised to see how calmly Mariota seemed to be taking this revelation. Then again, he shouldn’t be. She’d sworn to be strong around her father. But the effort must be costing her.
“Mariota, is her story true?”
“Aye.” Mariota spat the word, the only indication of the anger simmering in her. “She came into the storage chamber where we were having a private conversation. We told her so, but she obviously imagined aught else.”
“Did he ruin ye?”
“Nay, of course no’.” She frowned at her father. “He cares for me.”
“More than he should before ye are formally betrothed, it seems,” MacKay said in agreement. He turned to Stellan and narrowed his eyes.
Here it comes. Stellan kept his breathing slow and even, waiting for whatever punishment MacKay would choose to mete out.
“Ye have two choices. Marry my daughter or leave. For Mariota’s sake, I give ye until the day after tomorrow to decide. Daughter, ye have that much time to prepare yerself for yer wedding, or nay. ’Tis up to him and whatever influence ye may have over him.”
When Stellan opened his mouth to object, MacKay waved him to silence. “Make yer peace with what ye did or leave MacKay. And be glad ye are who ye are. Any other lad would be on his way to the kirk right now. I extend Sutherland the courtesy of allowing ye to choose in the hopes that if ye remain, ye will be the husband my daughter needs, and the strength ofthe clan when I am gone that she canna be. Now get out.” He turned his glare on his daughter. “Both of ye.”
Stellan heldthe door for Mariota. She left the solar with her head high and her back straight. He had to admire her courage, though his heart broke for her yet again. Her father had not given her the choice of what to do. He’d given it to the Sutherland right in front of her. Once again, Mariota’s wishes, and her value, were ignored by her father.
“I’m sorry, Mariota,” Stellan told her back as she paced away.
She kept walking, traversing the great hall and yanking open the keep’s heavy oaken door, dodging horses in the bailey until she passed outside the keep’s gates and marched around the wall away from any guards on the wall walk. There she whirled and pinned him in place with one finger. “Dinna dare tell me ye regret what we did. I willna accept that.”
“I willna tell ye that. I dinna regret a moment of it and given the chance—” he paused and swallowed, not daring to go on or Mariota would be in his arms, their mouths fused together and he wouldn’t know how to stop. “But there is aught else I must tell ye.”
She frowned, then looked up at the wall walk. Stellan glanced up at the same time to ensure no one was up there to hear what they said to each other.
“Well?”
If he wasn’t still intent on wooing her, Stellan might have made light of their situation and asked her which of the options her father gave him she preferred. But first he had to take care of his immediate problem.
“I’ve been called home. I must leave tomorrow at the latest. I dinna wish to. I would stay here with ye if I could. I’m the twin who wants to wed ye. Never doubt that. But I canna. And for the same reason, ye canna. And if I tell yer father who I truly am?—”
“He’ll have ye lashed and send ye on yer way. Is that what ye think?”
“Or force us to wed and damn the consequences. I dinna want to steal yer birthright from ye, lass. No’ if that is the future ye truly desire. I wouldna want anyone to do that to me, either, so I will understand if ye decide?—”
