Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Close the southern well immediately."
Magnus stood at the head of the council table, his hands braced against the scarred wood. Around him sat his most trusted men—Torvald, his steward Fergus, the captain of his guard Hamish, and two village elders who'd ridden up from the coast.
"Post guards on it," Magnus continued. "Nay one drinks from it, nay one draws water, nay one even approaches it until we ken exactly what's in there."
"And the sick?" Fergus asked, his weathered face creased with concern.
"Lady Ada has set up a healin' station in the elder's cottage.
She'll tend tae them until Mairi returns from Lewis.
" Magnus straightened. "In the meantime, I want fresh water delivered daily from the northern well. Clean buckets, clean barrels. Naethin’ that's touched the southern well gets anywhere near the sick. "
Hamish leaned forward. "Ye think someone poisoned it deliberately?"
"I dinnae ken what tae think yet. But the sickness spread too fast, too evenly.
And Lady Ada noticed somethin' in the water—a smell, somethin' that shouldnae be there.
" Magnus looked around the table. "Until we ken more, we treat it as deliberate.
Which means we check every well on Barra.
Every stream, every spring. If someone's tryin' tae poison me people, I want tae ken about it before anyone else gets sick. "
The men nodded grimly. They'd all heard stories of wells being poisoned during clan feuds, a coward's weapon, but effective. If someone wanted to weaken Barra, sicken its people and make Magnus look like a laird who couldn't protect his own, contaminating the water supply would be a good start.
"Send riders tae the other villages," Magnus said. "Tell them tae boil all drinkin’ water until we've checked their wells. And I want samples brought back here fer Mairi tae test when she returns."
"That could take days," one of the elders protested.
"It will take what it takes. I willnae risk more lives on assumptions." Magnus's tone left no room for argument. "Fergus, make sure the affected families have enough food and firewood. They'll be quarantined until the fever breaks."
"Aye, me laird."
"Hamish, double the guard on the southern well. If anyone tries tae tamper with it further, I want them caught."
"Aye, me laird."
Magnus dismissed the elders with instructions to spread word through their villages.
When they'd gone, he sank into his chair and rubbed his face with both hands. The exhaustion from the day was catching up with him—the long ride, the hours spent tending the sick, the constant worry about what the sickness meant for his people.
And beneath all of it, the memory of Ada falling asleep against his chest. The weight of her in his arms when he'd carried her to her chamber. The trust in her voice when she'd told him healing was the only thing that had ever been truly hers.
"Ye're thinkin' about her."
Magnus looked up. Torvald sat across from him, arms crossed, wearing that insufferable knowing expression.
"I'm thinkin' about the poisoned well and who might've done it," Magnus said flatly.
"Aye, and also about the lass who figured it out." Torvald's grin widened. "Dinnae deny it. I saw how ye looked at her today."
"I didnae look at her any particular way."
"Ye growled at me when I tried tae help her with the torn skirt."
"That was—" Magnus stopped. He had growled. Like some jealous hound guarding a bone. "That was about propriety. She's tae be me wife. I willnae have other men seein' her in a state of undress."
"Propriety." Torvald's tone suggested he didn't believe a word of it. "That's what we're callin' it now?"
"What would ye have me call it?"
"Interest. Attraction. The beginnings of somethin' that might actually make this marriage bearable fer both of ye." Torvald leaned forward. "She's smart, Magnus. Skilled. She cares about yer people. Ye could dae a hell of a lot worse."
"I'm nae interested in her like that."
"Then why did ye carry her all the way tae her chamber instead of lettin' her walk on her own?"
"Because she could barely stand."
"Why did ye wrap her in yer cloak tae hide the torn skirt?"
"Because it was cold and fer propriety. I told ye."
"Why did ye send me away instead of lettin' me help?"
Magnus clenched his jaw. "Because she's mine tae protect. Mine tae care fer. That's what a husband daes."
"Ye're nae her husband yet."
"I will be in a fortnight."
"Aye, so ye have made up yer mind, aye? If ye keep lookin' at her the way ye did today, those two weeks are goin' tae be very long indeed.
" Torvald stood, stretched. "I'm just sayin', Magnus.
She's nae Freydis. She's proved herself today.
Maybe it's time tae stop waitin' fer her tae betray ye and start considerin' that she might actually be exactly what she appears to be. "
"And what's that?"
"A woman who's been hurt, same as ye. A woman tryin' tae survive, same as ye. A woman who might make a decent partner if ye'd pull yer head out of yer arse long enough tae see it."
Magnus wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Torvald he was wrong, that this wasn't about attraction or partnership or anything beyond political necessity. But the words stuck in his throat.
"Get out," Magnus said.
Torvald grinned. "As ye wish, me jarl." He headed for the door, paused. "eor what it's worth? I like her."
Then he was gone, leaving Magnus alone with his thoughts and the uncomfortable truth that his friend might be right.
Magnus woke to pounding on his chamber door.
He jerked upright, disoriented, reaching instinctively for the blade he kept beside his bed. Gray morning light filtered through the narrow window. Too early. Far too early.
"What?" he shouted.
The door opened. Torvald stood there, already dressed, his expression grim. "Brian wants tae see ye. Now."
Magnus cursed. "What time is it?"
"Dawn. Maybe a bit past. A messenger arrived from the king an hour ago.
" Torvald moved into the room, began gathering Magnus's clothes from where they'd been discarded the night before.
"Brian's been in yer study since then, readin' whatever the king sent.
He willnae tell me what it says, but he's nae happy. "
"Of course, he's nae happy. He's never happy." Magnus swung his legs out of bed, took the shirt Torvald tossed him. "Did he say what the message was about?"
"The weddin’. What else?"
Magnus pulled on his clothes quickly, ran his hands through his hair to tame it into something resembling order. His mind was already racing ahead, trying to anticipate what new demands the king might have made.
More witnesses? A larger ceremony? Some performative display of Highland-Norse unity that would make them both look like fools?
He made his way down to his study, Torvald trailing behind. Brian stood by the window, still wearing his traveling clothes from the day before, a rolled parchment clutched in one hand.
"Me laird," he said without turning. "Thank ye fer comin' so promptly."
"Ye didnae leave me much choice." Magnus moved to stand behind his desk, using it as a barrier between himself and whatever news Brian carried. "What daes the king want now?"
Brian finally turned. He looked tired, Magnus noted. Older than he had just the day before. "The king is... concerned about the pace of this union."
"The decree said a fortnight. We still have some time."
"Ten days. Aye, I ken." Brian unrolled the parchment. "But His Majesty feels that given the... circumstances... a longer engagement serves nay purpose. He wishes the marriage tae take place as soon as possible."
Magnus's jaw tightened. "How soon?"
"In two days."
"That's nae possible."
"It's an order, nae a request." Brian's voice hardened. "The king has heard rumors. About yer refusal on the dock and yer reluctance tae honor the Pact. He's beginnin' tae question yer loyalty, Magnus. And when the king questions a man's loyalty..." He let the sentence hang, unfinished.
Magnus knew what came after that silence. Accusations. Investigations. Armies sailing for Barra's shores.
"In two days," he repeated.
"Aye. The ceremony will be simple, just witnesses from the Crown and yer own people.
Nay need fer a feast or celebration. Just the vows, the consummation, and the signed documents provin' the union is complete.
" Brian set the parchment on the desk. "I'm sorry, me laird.
I ken this is nae what ye wanted. But the king is losin' patience. "
"With me or with the Pact?"
"With all of it. Erik's marriage tae Claricia nearly failed.
Yer refusal has made him doubt the entire arrangement.
If this marriage daesnae go smoothly..." Brian shook his head.
"He'll find another way tae secure the Isles.
One that daesnae involve givin' Norse lairds any say in their own futures. "
Magnus stared at the parchment. Two days. In two days, he'd be bound to Ada MacTavish for the rest of his life. Bound to a woman he barely knew, barely trusted, barely understood.
But…
A woman who'd proven herself yesterday in ways he hadn't expected.
A woman who might, might, be exactly what Torvald said she was.
"Fine," Magnus said. "Two days."
Brian's relief was visible. "Thank ye. I'll make the arrangements."
"I'll tell her meself." Magnus moved around the desk. "Where are the weddin’ clothes? The documents that need tae be signed?"
"In me chambers. I'll have them brought tae ye."
"Dinnae bother. Just tell me when and where I need tae be, and I'll be there." Magnus headed for the door. "Now if ye'll excuse me, I have a bride tae inform that her weddin’ date has just been moved up by nearly two weeks."