Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
"Come in. The Lord's house is always open to those who seek His blessing."
The chaplain was an old man with kind eyes and gnarled hands that shook slightly as he opened his prayer book. David had expected questions, who they were, why the rush, where they'd come from. Instead, the man had simply looked at Elinor's pale face and torn lip, at David's tense jaw, and nodded.
Now they stood before the simple altar, Tristan positioned awkwardly to the side as witness. The chapel was cold, their breath misting in the air. Late afternoon light filtered through a narrow window, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
"Do ye take this woman," the chaplain was saying, his voice thin but steady, "to be yer lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?"
"Aye." David's voice came out rougher than he'd intended. "I dae."
The chaplain turned to Elinor. "And do ye take this man to be yer lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?"
Elinor's hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles showed white. For a moment, David thought she might refuse. Might turn and run, even though there was nowhere to run to.
"I do." Barely a whisper. But it would do.
The words should have felt like victory. Instead, they settled in David's chest like a stone. She'd agreed because she had no choice. Because the alternative was worse. Not because she wanted this. Or him.
"Then by the power vested in me," the chaplain continued, "I pronounce ye man and wife." He smiled, the expression surprisingly gentle. "Ye may kiss yer bride, son."
David turned to Elinor. She looked up at him, those pale green eyes wide and wary. The split on her lip had scabbed over, a reminder of the events that led them here. What he'd taken her from.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. "We're meant tae kiss now," he muttered. "Fer the ceremony."
"Are we?" Her voice was cool, controlled. But he could see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat. "How unfortunate."
"Unfortunate?"
"You'll have to do a lot more than pay for me at an auction to earn a kiss, Laird MacDonald."
The words hit David like frozen water had been poured on him on a Highland winter day. Deserved, perhaps, but they stung nonetheless. Behind them, he heard Tristan's low chuckle.
"We'll see about that, me lady," Tristan called out, amusement rich in his tone.
David straightened, stepping back. He kept his expression neutral, even as something that felt dangerously like hurt coiled in his chest. "As ye wish."
He turned to the chaplain, placing a few coins in his palms. "Thank ye, Faither. Fer yer time and discretion."
"Go with God, me children." The old man's eyes moved between them, knowing. "Marriage is a journey. Sometimes the beginnin’ is the hardest part."
"Or the easiest," Elinor murmured, so quietly David almost missed it. "Depending on what comes after."
By the time the small party reached the tavern, they were relieved to find it was warm after the cold of the trail, fire crackling in a large stone hearth.
The smell of roasting meat and fresh bread filled the air, rich enough to make David's stomach clench with hunger.
They'd been riding for hours with nothing but travel rations.
"Two rooms," David told the tavern keeper, a stout woman with shrewd eyes.
She glanced between them, taking in Elinor's fine gown, David's dark clothing, and Tristan's practical travel wear. David caught the woman's knowing look and felt his jaw tighten. "Me wife and I will share. Me companion needs his own."
"Ah." The keeper's expression shifted to something more approving. "Newlyweds, are ye? Well, congratulations. I've a nice room upstairs, away from the noise. And I'll send up a tray."
"We'll eat in the common room," David countered. The last thing he needed was to be alone with Elinor in a bedchamber. Not yet. Not when she looked at him like he was another cage she'd been locked into. "Just bring us whatever ye have that's hot."
They settled at a corner table, away from the handful of other patrons scattered throughout the room. Tristan took the chair closest to the door, old habits from years of watching David's back. Elinor sat across from David, her spine rigid, her hands folded primly in her lap.
The keeper returned quickly with three bowls of stew, a loaf of bread still warm from the oven, and a wedge of cheese. Simple fare, but the scent of it made David's mouth water.
"There ye are, loves. Eat up." She set the bowls down, then paused, looking at Elinor. "Are ye alright, lass? Ye look pale."
"I'm fine," Elinor said quickly. "Thank you."
But David saw the way her eyes fixed on the food. The way her throat worked as she swallowed. The slight tremor in her hands as she reached for the spoon.
The keeper left. Elinor lifted a spoonful of stew to her mouth, and David watched her close her eyes briefly, something like relief crossing her face.
Then she took another bite. And another. Eating with a focused intensity that spoke of real hunger, not just appetite.
"Slow down," Tristan said mildly. "Food's nae goin' anywhere."
Elinor froze, the spoon halfway to her mouth. Color flooded her cheeks. "I'm sorry."
"Dinnae apologize." David cut off whatever excuse she'd been about to make. He tore off a piece of bread and handed it to her. "Eat. After today’s ordeal, ye need it."
She took the bread but didn't meet his eyes. She was quiet, focusing intently on her stew. Too intently.
David exchanged a look with Tristan, who raised his eyebrows.
Her faither wasnae feedin' her properly.
It made a twisted kind of sense. Control came in many forms. Food was one of the simplest. Keep someone hungry enough, and they became easier to manage. More compliant. Less likely to resist.
"Eat as much as ye want," David said quietly. "And if ye're still hungry after, we'll order more."
Elinor's eyes snapped up to his. She searched his face for mockery, for judgment. Found neither.
"Thank you," she said softly.
They ate in silence for a few minutes. David watched Elinor from beneath his lashes, noting the way she savored each bite, the careful way she broke the bread into small pieces and made it last. Like someone who'd learned to make food stretch.
To appreciate what she had because she didn't know when she'd eat again.
His wife. Christ, she was his wife now. And she'd been half-starved under her father's roof.
"So." Tristan broke the quiet, setting down his spoon. "What's the plan fer when we reach Alnwick?"
David pulled his attention away from Elinor. "We tell the Duke of Albany the truth."
"The truth?" Tristan's voice was carefully neutral. "Which version of the truth would that be?"
"The version where Elinor and I were quietly betrothed before his summons arrived."
Elinor made a sound that might have been a laugh if it hadn't been so bitter. "The Duke will never believe that."
"Why nae?"
"Because it's a lie." She set down her spoon with deliberate care. "And not even a particularly good one."
"It's the lie we're tellin'," David said flatly. "Unless ye have a better idea."
"I have several better ideas. Starting with the truth, you bought me at an auction to avoid obeying the Regent’s order."
"That's nae the truth that gets us both out of this alive, lass."
"Then perhaps you should have thought of that before you bid five hundred pounds."
The words had bite. David felt his temper stir. "I was thinkin' ye'd rather be married tae me than sold tae Langley."
“I think I’ll leave ye two tae talk about this properly.” Tristen said as he stood up from his chair. “I’ll go see if they have ale around here.”
And he was gone.
"At least you're honest about the fact that you see it as a sale."
"What else would I call it?" He leaned forward slightly. "I paid coin. I got ye. That's a transaction, lass. Nay need tae dress it up in pretty words just tae make us feel better about it."
"Feel better?" Her voice rose slightly. "You think I feel better about being purchased like livestock, however we call it?"
"I think ye feel better than ye would have if Langley had won that bid."
She went very still. The color drained from her face, and David knew he'd struck true. Too true, perhaps.
"Ye dinnae like hearin' it said plain," he continued, gentling his tone slightly.
"But that's what happened. I bought ye. And now ye're me wife.
And when we meet the Duke of Albany, ye'll stand beside me and smile and confirm that we've been betrothed since before his summons arrived.
Because if ye dinnae, he'll find ways tae make both our lives considerably more difficult. "
"So I'm to lie to the Regent." Elinor's voice was flat. "To protect you."
"Tae protect both of us."
"And what do I get in return for this lie?"
"Ye get tae nae be sold tae someone else. Ye get protection. A home. Comfort." He gestured to her now-empty bowl. "Seems like a fair trade tae me."
"A fair trade," she repeated. "You're asking me to commit treason by lying to the Duke of Albany, and you think living in a laird’s castle is fair compensation?"
He pulled her chair closer to him so that she was facing him and her knees touched his.
"What dae ye want, then?" The question came out desperate. "Name yer price, lass. What will it take tae get ye tae play the part of me devoted wife fer one meetin' with the regent?"
Elinor stared at him for a long moment. Around them, the tavern continued its evening bustle, but their corner felt isolated. Private. A battlefield where only words were weapons.
"Three favors," she said finally.
David blinked. "What?"
"You want me to help you lie to the Duke of Albany.
To convince him we're truly married for love and not convenience.
Fine." She leaned forward slightly, and David found himself caught by the intensity in her eyes.
"But I want three favors in return. Three times when you'll do something I ask, no questions, no arguments. "
"That's vague as hell, lass."
"That's the point." A small, sharp smile curved her mouth. "You're asking me to trust you. To put my life in your hands with this lie. So I'm asking you to trust me in return. Three favors. My terms. Will you agree?"
David considered. Every instinct he had, honed by years of negotiation and strategy, told him this was a trap. That agreeing to open-ended terms was foolish. That he should set boundaries, limitations, conditions.
But he looked at her pale face, her determined eyes, the set of her jaw that said she wouldn't back down. And he thought about what he was asking of her. To stand before a regent and lie. To tie her fate to his when she barely knew him. To trust him when he'd given her precious little reason to.
Three favors seemed like a small price for that.
"I have terms as well," he said.
"What?"
"Ye said ye want three favors, yer terms. Fine.
But I need some terms too." He held up a hand, ticking off fingers.
"First, ye cannae use one of these favors tae run away.
Ye're me wife now, lass. That's nae changin'.
Second, ye cannae ask fer anythin' that would harm ye.
I'm nae helpin' ye dae somethin' dangerous or foolish. "
"Anything else?" Her tone was dry.
"Aye. Third, the favors have tae be reasonable. Ye cannae ask me tae hand over me clan or murder someone or any other nonsense like that."
"Reasonable. That's rather subjective, don't you think?"
"That's why we're negotiatin'." He leaned back slightly. "Dae we have an accord?"
Elinor was quiet for a moment, thinking. David could almost see her mind working, weighing the terms, looking for loopholes.
"The favors won't endanger my life," she said slowly. "I agree to that. But I won't agree that they have to be 'reasonable' by your definition. That's too easy to dispute."
"What dae ye suggest?"
"The favors won't endanger me, won't require you to betray your clan, and won't involve anyone's death." She met his eyes steadily. "But beyond that, if I ask, you do it. No questions. No arguments. Agreed?"
David studied her. This woman who'd been sold by her father, nearly bought by a man she feared, was now sitting across from him negotiating like a seasoned merchant. There was steel in her spine. Intelligence in her eyes. She'd been caged her whole life, but she hadn't been broken.
He found himself respecting that. More than respecting it.
"Agreed," he said.
He held out his hand across the table. Elinor stared at it for a moment, then slowly reached out and placed her smaller hand in his.
Her palm was cold. Her fingers trembled slightly. But her grip was firm.
"Three favors," she said. "Your word on it."
"Me word on it." He squeezed her hand gently. "And in return, ye'll stand beside me at Alnwick and convince the Regent we're a love match?"
"I'll convince him we're legitimately married." Her smile was slight but genuine. "Love might be asking too much on such short acquaintance."
Despite himself, David felt his mouth curve. "Fair enough."
They sat like that for a moment, hands clasped across the table, sealing a bargain that felt more significant than a simple trade of favors for loyalty.
Then Tristan cleared his throat. Loudly.
When had he got there?
David pulled his hand back, suddenly aware that they'd been staring at each other.
"So," Tristan said, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes dancing with amusement. "Have ye two finished negotiatin'? Or should I go find another table?"
"We're done." David picked up his ale, needing something to do with his hands. "We've reached an understandin'."
"An understandin’." Tristan's grin was knowing. "Is that what we're callin' it?"
"What would ye call it?"
"A disaster in the makin'." But Tristan's tone was fond. "But at least it's a more peaceful disaster than it was when I left ye two."
Elinor surprised them both by laughing. It was a quiet sound, rusty from disuse, but genuine. "He's not wrong."
"He's rarely wrong," David admitted. "Annoyingly."
"Someone has tae keep ye honest." Tristan signaled the keeper for more ale. "So we're tellin' the regent ye've been betrothed. How long?"
"Long enough tae be believable." David looked at Elinor. "A year? Two?"
"Two is better," she said thoughtfully. "It explains why no one's heard of it. Secret betrothals aren't uncommon because families take lengthy periods to negotiate terms."
"We leave at first light. I want to reach Alnwick before the Duke of Albany hears any other version of events."
Tristan's voice drifted up. "This is goin' tae be interestin’."
David couldn't have agreed more.