Page 6

“Well, dinnae ye think ye should take part in those battles rather than these ones against bandits? I dare say that an English soldier would be more of a challenge than a Highland bandit.” A titter of laughter followed her words. Others joined in, although the laughter was more reluctant than it had been with Gowan’s words.

“Aye, they are. In fact, I did take part in a skirmish near Berwick,” he said, and then proceeded to roll up his sleeve, exposing a thick forearm, the outside of which was covered with hair. Along the flesh was a long scar that wrapped around the limb. Again, his captive audience was intrigued.

“It was a grisly fight. The rain was coming down from the heavens in great waves. I thought we were all gaeing tae be swept away in the sea. Ye could barely move because yer legs kept getting caught in the mud, and it was difficult tae see anything more than a few feet ahead of ye. All ye could dae was swing yer sword and hope for the best. One English lad got a lucky swing and caught my arm. I think he was more shocked than me! But the biggest shock came when I wrestled him down intae the mud and made him choke on the ground.”

A knot tightened in Maeve’s stomach, and uneasiness churned. It was an awful thing to speak about death in such a casual manner, but here Gowan was taking great delight in the grim and murky area of sin. The others didn’t seem to mind at all, though, and were rather more fascinated by his tale. The woman pleaded with him to feel the scar, and he obliged by holding out his arm. They reached out tentatively and squirmed as they ran their fingers across the line that marked his flesh, squealing with laughter, although Maeve wasn’t sure what they found so amusing.

“Would ye like tae feel it as well?” Gowan offered, turning back to her, placing his arm before her.

“I would nae,” she declined, and waited for the next course to be served.

Gowan had many more stories about battles and fights that he had won, and there was a story for every scar. He held his audience in rapture as he spoke of evil villains and hoards of soldiers he had defeated. Maeve sat there wondering if there was anything more to this man than fighting. The meat was delicious, but the company was lacking, and time seemed to crawl by. She sat there in silence, having to endure this constant barrage of violence. Every story was the same; he faced insurmountable odds and eventually managed to triumph, and she was left wondering how much truth there actually was to his stories. The only people who could contradict him were dead, after all.

Gowan seemed to be in his element, though, which did not bode well for her. Was this to be her life going forward? A dinner party like this was not the usual form of occasion. For most of the time, it was only going to be the two of them once they were married, and she shuddered at the prospect of having to listen to these stories over and over again.

Once dinner was finished the conversation eventually died down, and she was glad that the night was coming to an end.

“I was hoping that before the night was over ye might give me a tour of the castle. I would like tae be able to learn my way around since this is gaeing tae be my new home,” he said.

Maeve wanted to reject his request, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Callum standing there, and she groaned inwardly. Callum had expressed a wish that she would be accommodating and polite and make Gowan feel welcome, and she supposed that at least if they had some time alone, she could get to know him a little better.

“That would be wonderful,” she said, and rose from the table, indicating for him to join her.

* * *

She led him out of the main hall and pointed out various things to him as they walked around the castle slowly. Her stomach was full, and she was glad for the chance to digest what she had eaten.

“I suppose ye must be worried that yer days of fighting are over, given how yer life haes revolved around it,” she said.

“I dinnae know about that. I just tried tae help out where I can. I’m glad ye are interested in battle as well. I’m impressed with yer knowledge. It’s nae common for a lass tae know sae much about warfare.”

“I’m nae a common lass.”

“Aye, I can see that. I would hae expected ye tae make yerself pretty when ye meet yer intended husband,” he said.

Maeve didn’t say anything in reply, but tension built inside her at his remark. Clearly, he didn’t think she was pretty. That wasn’t a surprise, she thought, considering how he was so involved with the other women around them. It took a special, arrogant kind of man to ignore the woman he was supposed to marry in preference to others. It was a brazen act of disrespect, considering she was also the Lady, but she decided to file it away for later rather than confront him about it now. She would have to keep an eye on him and collect evidence if she decided that he was ill-suited to marry her.

“How long dae ye think ye are gaeing tae mourn for?” he asked.

“I hae nae decided yet. I dinnae believe there is a limit ye can place on these things. I suppose I will be able tae get on with my life when I feel ready, and nae a moment before. Of course, there are some things that cannae wait, such as my duties as Lady of the clan.”

“I see. And our marriage, I hope,” he replied with a foolish grin.

“Indeed,” she replied coldly. “I must now retire tae bed. The events of the day hae taken their toll on me, and I wish tae light a candle in remembrance of my da, and tae say a prayer for him.”

“Of course,” Gowan said, bowing his head. “It haes been a pleasure meeting ye, and I look forward tae getting tae know ye more in the coming days,” he said.

Maeve turned away from him and sighed heavily, thinking to herself that the marriage had no chance of working at all. It was clear that the only reason he had asked about her mourning period was so he could plan for marriage and all the pleasures that came with it. The wedding night was likely the most anticipated part of the whole ordeal for him—and most men, she assumed—but it filled her with trepidation. There was nobody to prepare her for what was to come, and she didn’t feel comfortable speaking about it with Callum or Harrison, and she could not appear weak or uncertain in front of the maids.

The more time that passed, the more she realized how alone she truly was. Without her father and mother, she was isolated. She had to be so many things that other people expected her to be, and yet she was unsure if she could be any of them at all.

It would have been far easier on her if she could simply be the Lady by herself. Of course, there was the matter of an heir, but she was certain that such things had a way of sorting themselves out. This marriage was going to cause all kinds of problems for her, and she had never wanted to marry a brute, even a quick-witted one.

4

That stupid girl and her stupid father. Harrison sat in the hall, seething behind his calm visage. The food was bland because he should have been sitting at the main table. This was his birthright, not hers. She was just a lass, a girl who knew nothing of the world and nothing of ruling. Harrison had known her father was a simpleton for a long time, but now he had proven it with this disgraceful decision. The only sensible thing would have been to allow Harrison to be Laird of the clan while Maeve could be sent away to marry someone who could have made a woman out of her. The child had always been willful and had never respected the ways of the world. She knew nothing of how to cope with the rigors of rule and had done absolutely nothing to earn it, not like Harrison.

No, he had spent his life in the shadow of his elder sister. It had been appalling to him how she had married an outsider and they had wrested control of the clan, giving him menial tasks to oversee. He had done his duty, of course, because he was a man of integrity, but all the while, his anger had seethed within him, festering and growing until now it inhabited his entire being.