Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
"This is nae negotiable, me laird."
Brian's voice cut through the wind, sharp enough to make the guards shift nervously. Ada stood frozen on the dock, her wet cloak clinging to her shoulders, staring at the man who'd just refused to marry her in front of a dozen witnesses.
Magnus Haraldson. The stranger from the festival. The man whose kiss she'd stolen a year ago.
And apparently her future husband—though he clearly wanted nothing to do with her.
She shouldn't have been surprised. A year ago, she'd used him as a shield, kissed him without permission, and vanished before he could demand answers. She'd thought she'd escaped.
She'd been wrong.
Her father's men had found her three days later, dragged her back to the MacTavish keep in chains. Conall hadn't even looked at her when she'd been thrown at his feet, bloodied and exhausted. He'd simply said, "Lock her in the tower until I decide what tae dae with her."
What he'd decided was this: offer her to the king's Pact. Volunteer his wayward daughter as a bride for one of the feared Norse jarls, despite the rumors, despite the danger. A chance to prove his loyalty to the Crown and rid himself of a troublesome child in one calculated move.
And now there she stood, facing the one man in all of Scotland who had every reason to hate her.
"Everything is negotiable," Magnus said, his tone flat as steel. "Especially when it involves me life."
"Nae this." Brian stepped forward, positioning himself between Magnus and Ada like a shield she neither wanted nor needed. "The king's decree is absolute. Ye ken this. Both sides have already agreed."
"I didnae agree tae anything."
"Yer presence here says otherwise." Brian's politician's smile had vanished completely, replaced by something harder.
More dangerous. "Ye received the decree three weeks ago.
Ye didnae refuse then. Ye didnae send word tae the king explainin' why this match wouldnae suit.
Ye simply waited, and now the bride is here, and the agreement is made. "
Magnus's jaw tightened visibly. "I'm refusin' now."
"On what grounds?" Brian demanded.
Magnus said nothing. His gaze flicked to Ada for just a moment, cold, assessing, then back to Brian.
"None that ye'll accept," he said finally. "So, then perhaps we should discuss this at the keep. Away from pryin' eyes."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Brian nodded once, sharp and reluctant. "Aye. That would be wise."
The walk to Dun Barra felt like a funeral march.
Ada kept her head down, her hood drawn up despite the fact that everyone had already seen her face. The path from the dock wound upward through rocky terrain, past scattered cottages where faces appeared at windows and quickly disappeared again.
Behind her, among the guards and servants, she caught sight of Donnan MacFerguson.
Her father's man. Sandy-haired, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile that had always made her skin crawl.
He was watching her, had been watching her throughout the entire voyage.
His presence was a reminder that even there, on that foreign island, her father's reach extended like a shadow.
Whispers followed in their wake, she could feel them like cold fingers against her spine.
The Serpent's bride.
Poor lass.
She'd heard the rumors about Magnus Haraldson before her father had told her where she was going. Everyone in the Highlands had heard them.
The Laird of Barra, who'd murdered his pregnant wife in cold blood. The Norse savage who wore his violence like other men wore cloaks. One of the five Viking lairds bound by the king's Pact, forced to take Highland brides to secure peace between the Isles and the Crown.
Five Viking lairds. Five marriages. Five desperate attempts to stop the bloodshed that had plagued Scotland's western shores for generations.
Ada was the second bride. The first—Claricia Mackenzie—had married Erik Thorsen, the Wolf of Skye, six months before. Ada had heard that union had nearly collapsed before it began, that Claricia had been almost kidnapped, and Erik had killed a Highland laird to get her back.
But they'd survived it. The marriage had held.
Ada wasn't sure she'd be so fortunate.
Dun Barra rose before them like a stone giant, carved into the cliffs with walls that looked older than memory.
The keep was smaller than her father's estate but more imposing, built for defense rather than comfort, every angle designed to repel invaders. Sea wind howled through the narrow windows and salt spray left white stains on the dark stone.
They crossed the courtyard in silence. Guards watched from the walls, their expressions unreadable. A few servants hurried past with buckets and bundles, casting quick glances at Ada before looking away.
The great hall was warmer but no less intimidating. A fire burned in the massive hearth, throwing shadows across tapestries that depicted longships and sea battles. The tables were empty, the benches pushed back against the walls.
This wasn't a hall made for feasting. It was a hall made for war councils.
Brian moved to stand near the hearth, motioning for Magnus to join him. "Shall we?"
Magnus's friend—Torvald, Ada thought she’d heard him called—touched his arm briefly. "I'll wait outside."
"Stay." Magnus's voice carried an edge of command that made Torvald hesitate, then nod. He moved to lean against the far wall, arms crossed, watching.
Brian produced a rolled parchment from inside his robes, breaking the wax seal with practiced efficiency. "The decree," he said, unrolling it. "From King Alexander II of Scotland, sealed and witnessed by his Council."
He began to read, his voice echoing in the empty hall.
"By royal command and in accordance with the Lairds' Pact established in the year of our Lord 1230, Laird Magnus Haraldson of Barra is hereby ordered tae wed Lady Ada MacTavish, daughter of Laird Conall MacTavish, within a fortnight of her arrival on Barra.
This union shall be witnessed by representatives of the Crown and consummated as proof of the alliance between Highland and Norse bloodlines.
Refusal tae comply will result in forfeiture of lands, title, and—"
"I ken what it says," Magnus interrupted. "I can read."
Brian looked up from the parchment, his expression carefully neutral. "Then ye understand there is nay room fer refusal. The marriage will take place."
Magnus's voice was quiet, but something in it made the air feel heavier. "I willnae be forced intae a marriage I dinnae want."
Ada's breath caught. She'd been standing near the door, trying to make herself invisible, but the words still struck like a physical blow. Humiliation burned through her chest, hot and suffocating.
Neither had she wanted that marriage. But no one had asked her what she wanted.
Not her father, not the king, not the man who'd once fought two guards to protect her and now refused to even look at her.
She was a bargaining piece, passed from hand to hand, and Magnus's rejection only proved what she'd always known: her worth began and ended with her usefulness to men more powerful than herself.
"Want?" Brian's eyebrows rose. "Me lord, with all due respect, this is a political alliance, nae a love match. What ye want is nae relevant."
"Dinnae forget that I am a laird, Brian, and I have the power tae choose what is good fer me and me clan." Magnus moved away from the hearth, his movements controlled but radiating tension. "This is me life. Me keep. Me people who'll suffer if this alliance fails."
"Then dinnae let it fail." Brian's voice hardened. "Marry the lass. Honor the decree. Keep yer lands and yer title and yer people safe. Or refuse, and watch the king's armies sail fer yer shores."
Magnus stared at him for a long moment.
"The decree says a fortnight," Magnus said finally.
"Aye, tae prepare fer the ceremony."
"Tae decide if this alliance will work." Magnus's gaze shifted to Ada for just a moment, then away again, as though looking at her cost him something.
And perhaps it did. After all to him she was a desperate woman who'd used him without explanation, without gratitude, and disappeared before he could demand answers. She'd made him a fool once. Of course, he wouldn't risk it again.
The silence that followed felt heavy enough to crush stone.
Brian studied Magnus's face, looking for something. Whatever he found there made him nod slowly.
"A fortnight and nae a moment longer. If the marriage hasnae taken place by then, I'll have nay choice but tae report yer refusal."
"Understood."
Brian rolled up the parchment, tucked it back into his robes. "I'll need chambers fer meself and the guards. We'll remain here until the ceremony is complete."
"Torvald will see tae it." Magnus gestured toward his friend, who straightened from his position against the wall. "And someone should show Lady Ada tae her chambers." He still didn't look at her. Magnus moved toward the door, pausing only long enough to call out into the corridor. "Isla!"
A young woman appeared almost immediately, as though she'd been waiting just outside. She was small and sturdy, with braided-back dark hair and intelligent eyes that took in the scene quickly.
"Me jarl?"
"Take Lady Ada tae the east tower. The blue chamber." Magnus's voice was carefully neutral. "See that she has everythin' she needs."
"Aye, me jarl." Isla bobbed a quick curtsy, then turned to Ada with a much warmer expression. "This way, me lady."
Ada's throat felt too tight to speak. She managed a small nod and followed Isla out of the great hall, her face burning with humiliation, her hands trembling at her sides.
Part of her wanted to run—back down to the dock, onto that cursed ship, to go anywhere but that cold stone keep where she was unwanted and trapped. But where would she go? Back to her father, who'd sold her? Into the Highlands, where his men still hunted her?
There was nowhere left to run. There never had been.