Chapter 2
2
“ I dinnae understand why ye are here.”
On most days, Arthur Mason’s voice was very welcome. However, most days, he was not sitting in Neil’s chair, with his feet propped up on his desk.
Neil entered the room with an arched eyebrow and walked to his desk. Arthur was one of his oldest and closest friends. He was just about the only person who was allowed to speak to the Laird in such a casual way. If anyone else had dared to be so presumptuous with his space, they would be having a totally different conversation.
As it was, Neil moved close enough to slap his boots off his desk and motion for him to get out of his seat. Arthur rolled his eyes but slowly complied.
“If ye had been at yer braither’s wedding, then ye wouldnae have found me sittin’ in yer chair at all.”
“Ye have nay business sittin’ in me chair.” Neil sank heavily into the chair. “Besides, I cannae stand there and watch me braither ruin his life like that. He’s free to make his own choices. If he wants a bride, he can have one. But I dinnae have to watch it.”
“If ye were so worried, ye could have just forbidden him from doin’ it.”
Neil cast a pointed look at Arthur, who quickly changed the subject.
“Somebody needs to get married in yer family,” Arthur said with a sigh.
“I was married, ye ken.”
“Ye ken what I mean. Everyone in the castle was verra excited about their friendship turnin’ into something more. Rumors have been circlin’ about them for years on account of their closeness, so everyone is very happy to welcome her here.”
Neil didn’t dignify him with a response. What his brother did was none of his business. He had no desire to be the sort of Laird who restricted the choices and freedoms of his clansfolk. It was his duty to keep them safe. If Blaine wished to do something so foolish like getting married, then it was on his own head.
“Have ye met the bride?” Arthur pressed.
“I ken her last name—MacLean—but I never met her…” Neil looked up from his papers. “Why are ye askin? Ye ken I havenae been out of this damned castle for years.”
“Maybe that is yer own fault. Perhaps a change of scenery will do ye good.”
“And leave the castle undefended? I dinnae ken.”
“Yer daughter needs a maither, Neil, and ye ken that too,” Arthur persisted as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Neil was keenly aware of what his daughter needed. He had dedicated a great amount of time to figuring out the answer to that question. He just… didn’t seem to be able to bridge the gap between them well enough for her to feel comfortable confiding in him.
“If that’s nae enough to motivate ye, Laird MacTristan ,” Arthur continued, a wry smile on his face as he plucked a quill off Neil’s desk and started to absently turn it over and over in his hands, “ye are still in need of an heir. Ye arenae gettin’ any younger, are ye?”
“That is none of yer business either.” Neil sighed. “Have ye made it yer personal mission today to vex me?”
“Love is in the air, me friend. That is simply all I am tryin’ to say.”
“Then why are ye in here with me instead of out there, doin’ what ye think ye do best?” Neil countered. “That is if there is any lass left in the Highlands who’s willin’ to fall for yer tricks?”
Arthur pursed his lips, and Neil knew that he had a point there.
Arthur had more than a little bit of a reputation among the women who lived in the castle. He was known for loving and leaving them. While there were certainly some who were happy to have him warm their beds for a night or two in secret, most of the women were looking for husbands. And… well, Arthur was utterly repelled by commitment of any sort.
“Ye’re the one who still has to find a bride, nae me,” Arthur argued.
Neil opened his mouth to say something, only for a servant to knock on the open door of his study.
“M’Laird, excuse the intrusion, but… there is a bride here.”
Neil’s eyes flickered to Arthur, who was smirking to himself in his chair. “Well, that’s convenient.”
If Neil could have silenced his friend with a stern look, he would have. Though, after all the years they had known one another, he had yet to find the key to silencing Arthur when he had a mind to work his jaw.
Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Neil rose from his desk to go and see what this nonsense was about… when the bride in question burst through his study door, shouldering the servant out of the way.
A bonny thing she was, too. All blonde hair and blue eyes, high cheekbones and hips made for childbearing. She barely reached his chest, even puffed up on whatever fury was in her heart. But the passion and fire in her eyes were so hot, so intense that Neil found it next to impossible to look away from her.
“Where is he?” she demanded, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at the two of them.
Neil almost laughed. The whole thing was just so insanely timed. “Where is who, lass?”
“Blaine. I demand to ken where he is. Has he been holed up here?” the lass pressed.
“Well, now, I dinnae make it a habit of answerin’ questions that could get me braither in trouble.”
“So he is here, then? Fine, I shall find him.”
With that, she hiked up her skirts and bunched them in her fists, turned on her heel, and started to leave.
“Stop!” Neil commanded, his good humor starting to fade.
“Ye clearly have matters to resolve, the two of ye. I’ll just…” Arthur rose from his chair as if he were the one who had jilted the lass at the altar. Even the thought of an upset woman tended to make him itchy. It was truly no surprise that he sidled past the woman and nearly ran out of the study.
The lass’s eyes followed his retreating figure, but she did not move from her spot.
The moment she and Neil were alone, she huffed loudly. “Where could Blaine have gone? Why would he leave me? He made me buy this dress…”
“Nay, he bought that dress for ye with me money.”
“That is nae the point.”
“But ye have made it the point. So, it’s mine. Nae to be used as a bargainin’ chip in yer quest to find me braither,” Neil said plainly as he moved closer to her, eyeing her carefully.
She was somewhat familiar to him, but he could not place her voice. If he had seen a face like hers before, he would have remembered. Even more so if she spoke with such passion all the time.
When he was close enough that he could inhale the sweet almond scent of her hair, he smirked. “Perhaps ye should take it off and return it to me?”
“Guard yer tongue, M’Laird,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
He snorted. “Me braither wouldnae have gotten cold feet for nothing.”
“What are ye implyin’?”
It was such a pretty pink color that colored her fair skin. Right over the bridge of her nose and her high cheekbones. It might be a bit improper to push her at such a trying time, but he could not help himself. He did not have the faintest idea where his brother might be. And, even if he did, he would not have told her until he had spoken with Blaine himself.
“I mean to say that if me braither decided that marriage wasnae for him…” he trailed off, walking in a half circle around her, relishing the way she watched him warily. “Or perhaps he didnae agree to the marriage at all? Perhaps he didnae wish to be trapped?”
“Trapped?!” she screeched, whipping around to face him. Her hand flew at the exact same moment.
Bold. But Neil was easily able to catch her hand before it could connect with his cheek. “Careful, lass.”
He expected her fire, her ire, or even more of her temper. Instead, he was met with her tears.
That he did not know how to deal with. Even less as she muttered something that sounded vaguely like an apology and fell into a heap on the floor. All of her sass just… evaporated.
“Ye’re right nae to trust me,” the lass said in a shaky voice. She was trying to keep it together, but she was failing miserably. “He was me last chance, ye ken? He kenned what I needed him for, and he… he promised to help me.”
She looked up at him with such soft, pleading eyes. She was begging him for understanding, but he could not fathom for what.
“It would be a white marriage… he’s me friend. If something happened to him…” she trailed off, her shoulders slumping. She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand quickly, as if she didn’t want him to see her crying.
Neil studied her for a good long while before sighing. “And if ye find him?”
She looked up at him. “Then… well, I dinnae ken.”
“If I help ye find him, it willnae be to help ye wed him, lass,” Neil said, surprising even himself with the words that left his mouth.
He crouched down in front of her, eyeing her carefully. He didn’t think she was faking her distress. She truly seemed to be in trouble, and he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what that trouble was. Nor, outside of his capacity as Laird, did he have any reason to care.
“I cannae condemn me braither to a loveless match.”
The moment he said it, she reacted. She shook her head and shuffled up on her knees, her hands fisted into his shirt as she pulled herself closer to him as if she were about to beg him to reconsider.
His stomach fluttered strangely at her proximity. Her eyes widened as he gently curled his fingers around her wrists.
“Yer name, lass?” he asked softly, trying to keep her panic in check.
“Ceana.”
He swiped his thumb under her eye to wipe away the tears that were threatening to fall. “Ceana, me braither might nae be lookin’ for a marriage, but I am.”
Words came out before he could stop them yet again. He had no reason to presume that she would want such an arrangement, or that he could just make such sudden offers and that she would wish to hear him out.
She furrowed her brow. “What do ye mean, M’Laird?”
“I want to make ye me Lady.”