Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Is it done?”
Alasdair stalked toward the makeshift camp he and his clansman, Hamish, had erected earlier in the day. The area was little more than a swath of sprawling grass, a pair of threadbare bedrolls, and a small cooking fire.
“Nay,” Alasdair answered gruffly. His jaw was so tightly clenched, it was an effort to expel even that single word.
“You didnae finish the task?”
Alasdair sent his friend and kin a sharp glance, but all Hamish did was blink his large, blue eyes in surprise.
Hamish was only a year younger than Alasdair, but somehow, his features always carried a youthful, hopeful look in them.
On this evening in particular, with his bright blue eyes twinkling near the firelight and his plump cheeks looking rather rosy, Hamish was the picture of health, good fortune, and bafflement.
He blinked rapidly, as if stunned by Alasdair’s reply.
“I couldnae.”
Hamish’s jaw dropped. “You mean to say you were thwarted by the McDonoughs?”
At the mention of his foe’s name, Alasdair emitted a low growl. “Not thwarted, Hamish. Merely delayed.”
He dropped onto a plush patch of green grass near the campfire and reached for one of the water skins Hamish had at the ready.
Careful not to spill more than was necessary, Alasdair poured the cool, clear liquid into his hands and rubbed them together.
Then, he ripped the sleeve from his already damp, blood and perspiration-soaked shirt and pressed it to the mouth of the container.
Once the material was saturated, he dabbed the strip of cloth to his nose, wincing slightly at the tenderness near the bridge.
“Ye let the McDonoughs get away and yer injured?” Hamish’s voice was now a mixture of puzzlement and jesting.
“I’m nae injured,” Alasdair corrected as he scraped away a bit of dried blood with his thumb nail. “And only one of the McDonoughs lived to tell the tale.”
Hamish frowned. “Ye broke it again?” He nodded toward Alasdair’s nose.
“Aye,” he grunted in reply.
“And yer hand…” Hamish made a small tsking noise in the back of his throat. It was the same sort of sound Alasdair heard his grandmother make when she meant to give the lads a round scolding.
“A scratch.”
Hamish hurriedly produced a small pewter bowl and a stack of fresh, clean cloths.
These were the sorts of essentials one or the both of them naturally carried in their packs and Alasdair nodded his gratitude when Hamish passed them in his direction.
He poured a measure of water into the bowl, dunked a fresh cloth into the liquid, then wipe the cloth over the length of his face.
He scrubbed heartily at his forehead and chin but moved gingerly when it came to dealing with his broken nose.
“Ye ken,” Hamish mused, “ye could have sent me to dispatch the McDonoughs on your behalf.”
Alasdair pulled the cloth away from his eyes and peered at his clansmen. “Ye?”
Hamish shrugged indifferently. “Me. Malcolm. Anyone would’ve done the honors.”
“The McDonoughs needed to be taught a lesson.” Alasdair’s upper lip curled in distaste when he thought of the crime the McDonough brothers had committed.
Just three days prior, they’d attacked the home of a McReah’s clansmen, pilfered the property, and assaulted the eldest daughter of the household.
It made Alasdair’s blood boil to think that even one of those scoundrels had been left standing.
“But did ye need to handle them alone?” Hamish motioned toward the splotches of dried blood that covered Alasdair’s forearms. “If revenge was what ye wanted, ye could’ve sent the Watch to track them.”
“I couldnae send others to do what I wasnae willing to do meself.” Alasdair dipped the cloth in the water again, then used the material to sponge away dirt, grime, and blood that was caked around his right wrist.
“You always say that, Al, but…”
“But…” Alasdair finished cleaning his wounds, then looked up and met his friend’s gaze.
“You dinnae need to prove anything to me…or our clansmen.” Hamish leaned forward so that the cracking firelight once again made the depths of his eyes sparkle.
“Tomorrow,” Alasdair grunted, as a way to abruptly change the subject. “Tomorrow, we’ll track the second McDonough, the tall one…”
“Evan,” Hamish supplied helpfully.
“Aye,” Alasdair snarled. “Evan. We’ll find him and…” As he began ruminating and making quick calculations of how they might find this man, Alasdair’s eyes landed on an envelope that Hamish was holding. “What’s that?”
He hadn’t noticed the thick, white bit of parchment in Hamish’s hands a moment ago. But now, all he could see was an official-looking document that had the seal already broken.
“What’s wrong?” Alasdair was on his feet immediately.
He did not know precisely what words were written in that letter, but he recognized trouble when he saw it.
No one, except a select few of his own clansmen, knew that he and Hamish were camping out in this territory this evening.
They’d traveled light and stealthily purposely to avoid detection.
But if someone…some messenger…had found Hamish and delivered a letter, that meant disaster was likely to follow.
Hamish rose slowly and held out the letter. “I wouldnae say something is wrong, Al. But…”
Aggravated by the way Hamish continually started a sentence, then broke off midway, Alasdair snatched the letter from his outstretched hand and unfolded it quickly.
He had to squint at the neat handwriting to see the words better in the firelight, but even as he read the script, he could hardly believe it.
“What…is…this?” Alasdair felt as if someone had delivered a punch right to his groin.
“It’s a marriage announcement,” Hamish replied in a tone that indicated he was slightly amused by the document.
“It’s more than that,” Alasdair growled as his eyes flew over the words a second time.
Bound to Wed.
Lowlands.
Neither party is required to consent. Neither party may refuse.
Enraged, Alasdair tore the document into bits, then tossed them on the fire. He watched as the decree from the Elders went up in smoke.
“I thought ye might react that way.” Hamish’s voice no longer held the levity it had a second before. Now, it was filled with something akin to sorrow.
“How?” The word burst from Alasdair’s lips. “Why?” He could not summon full sentences, nor could he formulate complete thoughts as his mind spiraled tumultuously. “Can they do this? Can the Elders make such a decree?”
Hamish nodded. “It seems so.”
“But…but…” Alasdair spluttered. “I ken nothing of this…this…” He struggled to come up with the lady’s name, having only seen it twice.
“Isobel Graham,” Hamish inserted. “She and her family live in the Lowlands.”
Bile rose in Alasdair’s throat as he recalled the Lowlander who had kept him from defeating the deplorable McDonough brothers thoroughly during the afternoon hours.
He and Hamish had spent days tracking those wretched creatures only to have a wisp of a woman disrupt the battle and allow Evan to escape with his life.
“I will not marry a Lowlander.” Alasdair said each word sharply, emphasizing each syllable, as if he were making a solemn vow that he needed even the beasts of the wild to hear.
“You will,” Hamish returned in a gentle tone.
Alasdair shot him a cold look.
Hamish shook his head slowly. “You must do this, Al.” He gestured toward the fire, likely indicating what was left of the decree. “You ken as well as I that the Elders didnae make this decision lightly. They chose you for a reason. They paired you with this lady so…”
“They did it for their own gain!” All his agitation, outrage, and despair were poured into those words as he shouted them toward the heavens.
“Aye,” Hamish said slowly. “That they did.”
“And what I am to do?” Alasdair begged to know. “How am I to receive this command?”
“You will marry the lass.” Hamish met Alasdair’s disbelieving stare and continued to speak in a soft, soothing tone. “You will do as the Elders bid.”
Alasdair balled his hands into fists. He wanted to hit something…someone…hard. But he could not and would not take out his anger on his dearest friend, Hamish. He breathed raggedly through his busted nose. “Why? Why should I just accept this edict?”
“The Elders mean to play a game with us…ye.” Hamish stepped closer to Alasdair and lowered his voice. “We must find out what they want…why they would make this declaration.”
“Aye.” Alasdair nodded. What Hamish said was reasonable. The letter made it clear that neither the bride nor groom could reject or deny the alliance, but why? Why did the Council of Elders need the Clan MacRaeh to align with the Grahams from the Lowlands?
Alasdair raised both hands and raked them through his black hair. The ends were tangled and his fingers caught there, but he shook them free, then sighed heavily. “Send word to the lady’s family.”
A hint of a smile tickled Hamish’s lips. “I have already done as much.”
“Ye kent I would have this reaction?” He arched a curious eyebrow at his friend.
Hamish nodded as his smile stretched wider. “I kent ye would be flummoxed, but then ye’d allow me to talk ye round. Seeing as we are already campin’ in the Lowlands, it only made sense for me to tell the messenger boy to ride onto the Graham household and inform them of yer imminent arrival.”
“And ye made this decision as soon as ye read that letter? Before ye let the messenger leave?” Alasdair was surprised that Hamish had acted so quickly. “Without waitin’ to hear me thoughts on the matter?”
Hamish lifted and lowered one beefy shoulder in a good-natured shrug. “I ken ye feelings well, Al. I ken that ye must marry and I also kent that ye would be intrigued.”
“Ah…” Laughter bubbled up in Alasdair’s throat. “Intrigue. Aye, Lady Intrigue will lead us in the wrong direction every time.”
After snorting a laugh, Hamish clapped Alasdair on the shoulder. “Get some rest, M’Laird. In the morn, we ride for the Graham household and then…”
“No,” Alasdair interrupted. “In the morn, I’ll ride for the household. Ye will…”
“Ye don’t want me to come with ye?” Hamish’s long, feathery eyelashes fluttered as he blinked confusedly.
“I will collect me bride on me own,” Alasdair declared. “Ye will ride back home and alert the clan.”
“Ah…” Hamish murmured, making it apparent that understanding was slowly dawning on him. “They will need to prepare themselves to meet the new Lady of Dunalasdair.”
Alasdair snorted in derision. “The new Lady of Dunalasdair. A Lowlander. Who would’ve dreamed it?”
Hamish laughed loudly then added, “May Heaven defend us all.”