Cormag looked at Gillian. “Nay. I still wish to wed the lass. If the Englishman has won the hunting competition, and I have won theGillie Callum, and the results of the other contests remain—murky—then we’re tied.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Which one of us will wed your daughter, Laird MacLeod? Me or the Sassenach?”
The hall fell silent as Donal considered. “Will ye speak?” he asked John. “Tell me why I should allow ye to wed my daughter. You’ve no fortune, no kin, and . . . ye’re not a Scot.”
“Deeds speak louder than words, Papa,” Meggie said but John kept his eyes on Donal.
“I love Gillian,” he said simply. He turned to her and dropped to one knee.
“If your father gives his permission, I promise to love you all the days of our life together, to do everything in my power to make you happy, and to protect you and care for you. Will you marry me?”
Gillian blushed with pleasure. “Yes, John. I’ll marry you” She bit her lip and looked at her father. “Oh, Papa, please say yes. I want your blessing, but I belong with John. I will marry him with or without your approval.”
“What will ye live on?” Donal asked. “He’s penniless.”
Dair cleared his throat. “He’s not penniless at all.”
He turned to John. “If ye’d been just an hour later tearing out of Carraig Brigh to come here, ye could have received your visitor yourself. He came all the way from England to find ye. He rode in just after ye rode out.”
John frowned. “My father?”
Dair shook his head. “A man named Scarsden. Do ye know him?”
John’s brows rose. “He was a secretary of the Company of Adventurers. He was at York Factory when I left.”
“You never told us about your time in the New World. Mr. Scarsden had some grand tales to tell us about you, John,” Fia said. “Fine tales. I wish I’d known.”
Dair grinned. “It seems he’s been looking for ye for some time. Ye see, I stopped by your father’s estates on my way home from my last voyage to ask a few questions—” He held up his hand when John frowned. “I wasn’t prying. I was trying to help, to reconcile ye with your family, to at least let them know where ye were, and what ye’d done for me. That’s why I was late getting home—your father’s been ill these past years, a recluse, in mourning for his sons. He believes you’re as dead as your brother, John. The earl has good days, and bad days. I was advised to wait, see him when he was better. Your father’s secretary informed me that if you were alive, you should be told you are still his lordship’s heir. As his only surviving legitimate son, you cannot legally be cut out of the succession. The secretary asked where he might find you when the time comes. I told him to send word to Carraig Brigh, John. I didn’t get the chance to see your father.”
John frowned, and Gillian squeezed his hand.
“Does that mean my grandsons will be English earls?” Donal Macleod asked.
Dair grinned ruefully. “And as Clive, John will rank higher in the peerage than a Scottish earl. He’ll outrank me.”
“But Scarsden—why did he come?” John asked.
“It seems he’s been holding your share of the profits from your last voyage in trust for ye. Ye left the ship without claiming them.”
“My share?” John said.
Dair grinned again. “It appears you’re a wealthy man, John. Very wealthy. So wealthy, I may just start investing in the fur trade myself, build another ship or two for the new venture. Of course, I’d need a partner, a man who understood the business.”
“Will you sail?” Fia asked. “I gather you’re not really afraid to—and Gilly loves the sea.”
John looked at his hands. “My brother died on the sea, is buried under it. I am reminded of that every time I look at the water. To me it became his grave.”
Gillian took his hand. “From what you told me, he wouldn’t want you to feel that way. He didn’t blame you.”
He scanned her face. “He wanted me to be happy. I didn’t think I’d ever find what he had. I didn’t think I deserved it.”
She smiled at him. “And now?”
“I have you,” he said. He looked at Donal. “Do I?”
Donal MacLeod rose from his chair and left the room. Gillian’s smile faded, and she turned to John with tears in her eyes. “Oh no.”
But Donal returned, holding the quaich in his hands. He poured it full of whisky and crossed to John. “Ye said ye wanted to wait for a welcome, or a wedding,” he said. “It seems I’ve underestimated ye. Sassenach earl or no, you’re a fine man, and a brave one. Ye have my blessing to marry my daughter.”
He turned and looked at Davy and Cormag and Padraig. “The wedding is tomorrow. Any objections?”
Davy managed a crooked smile, and Padraig wiped a tear from his eye. Cormag frowned. “I cannot say I’m not disappointed, but I withdraw my proposal to ye, Mistress Gillian, and wish ye happy with John Erly.”
He called for his own quaich and filled it for a toast. “It appears our warrior maid has met her match, and the best man won her heart. May they have many adventures and much happiness always.”
And everyone drank, and every Highlander surrounded the happy couple and cheered the perfect match of English John and his brave, bonny Highland bride.
