Chapter 2
The following morning, Cormac woke early, washed and dressed, then made a plan to quit the Keep and return to his men. The plan was to eat a quick breakfast, saddle his horse, and leave before anyone could corner him about marriage prospects.
It was a good plan.
It lasted approximately thirty seconds after he entered the Great Hall.
"They're here!" his mother announced gleefully, rushing past him toward the main doors. "The Ruthvens have arrived! And early, too. How wonderful."
Cormac froze. "Who?"
"The Ruthvens, dear," his mother replied. "I told ye yesterday – Annag Ruthven is arriving to meet ye today. Ye need to make a good impression."
"I dinnae care if the king himself wants to see me, I'm not staying," Cormac protested.
But his mother simply clasped his arm tight and began marching him toward the bailey, with his father close behind.
Soon they stood at the top of the stairs, watching the gates to the bailey. His parents stepped away to discuss something among themselves.
Ninian appeared at Cormac's elbow, grinning like a fool. "Ye're trapped now, brother. Might as well face the inevitable."
"I'm leaving," Cormac said flatly. "Right now. Tell them I've gone."
"Look," Nessa said softly from behind him.
Cormac cursed under his breath. An impressive entourage was filing through the gates with fine horses and well-dressed servants, and at the center of it all, a woman who he assumed was the reason he was still here.
Annag Ruthven dismounted from her horse, her golden hair catching the morning sunlight.
Even from this distance, Cormac could see she was handsome – delicate features, perfect proportions, the kind of beauty that turned heads and stopped men in their tracks.
The exact kind of woman he had no interest in, because she reminded him of all the vapid women at King David's court.
"She's bonnie, aye?" Ninian said. "If ye dinnae want her, I'll take her."
"Be my guest," Cormac muttered.
"If ye want to leave, ye better go now," Nessa said gently. "I'll create a diversion."
"How would ye do that if—?"
Before he could finish the sentence, Nessa ran out into the bailey, screamed, and fainted in front of the Ruthven entourage.
Cormac shook his head and took it all back.
His sister was just as daft as the rest of his family.
Unfortunately, her theatrics had no effect whatsoever, for he watched his parents simply step over Nessa and continue to greet the confused-looking Ruthvens as if nothing were amiss.
Eventually Nessa sighed, stood up, shrugged her shoulders at him, and mouthed, "I tried. "
Against his better judgment, Cormac remained through a blur of polite introductions.
Laird Ruthven, a portly man with shrewd eyes, clearly saw this as a business arrangement.
Lady Ruthven simpered and fluttered, no doubt already planning the wedding in her head.
And Annag smiled at Cormac with perfect teeth and said all the right things in a voice like honey.
"Master Cormac," she said, extending her hand. "What an honor to finally meet ye. I've heard so much about yer... adventures."
There was something in the way she said adventures that suggested she didn't quite approve.
"Miss Ruthven," Cormac replied politely, dipping his head. "Welcome to Stewart Keep."
Her eyes traveled over him in a calculating manner, taking in his impressive physique. "Mother Nature has been very generous with ye. Ye're everything they said, and more."
It should have been a compliment. It sounded like one. But something about her heated gaze made Cormac's skin prickle with discomfort.
The morning devolved into a seemingly endless series of pleasantries – a tour of the Keep, a lavish midday meal, polite conversation that revealed absolutely nothing of substance. Through it all, Annag was charming. Gracious. Everything a future laird's wife should be.
Except Cormac noticed small things. The way she snapped at a servant who spilled wine. The disdainful look she gave Nessa's simple gown. The gleam in her eye whenever his father mentioned the Stewart holdings.
By midafternoon, Cormac was looking for any excuse to escape. He found it when Annag's parents announced they needed to rest before supper, and his own mother went to oversee preparations for the evening meal.
"Perhaps Master Cormac could show me the gardens," Annag said sweetly. "I've heard they're quite lovely."
It wasn't a request.
Cormac forced a smile. "Aye, of course."
***
THE GARDENS WERE INDEED lovely in the late afternoon light, but Cormac barely noticed. He was too focused on trying to figure out how to extricate himself from this entire situation.
"Ye seem distracted," Annag said after they'd walked in silence for several minutes.
"Forgive me," Cormac replied. "I have much on my mind."
"Is it about yer work as a bard?"
Cormac grimaced. "I am not a bard."
"But ye spend all yer time wandering about the countryside. Ye may as well be one." She tilted her head. "I'll not have a husband who sits idle and does naught but sing tales and drink too much wine."
"Then perhaps 'tis right that we dinnae marry," Cormac replied. "If ye please, I think we should return. 'Tis getting cold." He turned and began walking back toward the Keep.
Cormac knew he was being rude, but he was done.
This woman had no right to judge him. In the past decade he had worked for two kings and amassed a sizeable fortune in the process.
He was well respected by his men and had never passed an idle day in his entire life.
But their short exchange had told him plainly enough that this woman would make a terrible wife.
She fell into step beside him, quickening her pace to match his. "Wait, I did not mean to offend. 'Tis just that a man of yer ilk should be making something of himself. Ye should settle, lead the clan, take yer rightful position as laird."
"My father would have to be dead for that to happen. Is that what ye are suggesting?"
"No! Of course not. I simply meant ye have so much to offer, and yet ye waste it wandering about with no purpose." She moved closer, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "I merely meant to say that it must be lonely. All that time away from home and family."
"I manage," he replied.
"But would it not be nice to have someone waiting for ye? Someone to return home to?"
Cormac took a deliberate step back. "Miss Ruthven, allow me to be plain. I dinnae want this marriage. If ye believed otherwise, then I apologize."
Annag's expression shifted. Some of the sweetness fell away.
"I'm afraid ye dinnae have a choice. Our fathers have already agreed on the terms. The betrothal documents are being signed as we speak.
" Her smile returned, cooler now. "I thought surely yer da told ye – that's why they asked us to take a walk, so we might come to ken one another better. "
Cormac felt ice flood his veins. "What did ye say?"
"The betrothal between ye and me. 'Twas all arranged weeks ago. This visit is merely a formality, a chance for us to meet before the wedding."
"There is not going to be a wedding," Cormac bit out.
"The contracts are as good as signed. The agreement is binding, unless ye wish to pay the penalty and embarrass both our families.
" She pressed herself against him in a way that was distinctly improper.
"But why would ye want to refuse? I'm bonnie, and I can give ye strong, healthy sons.
We could even couple tonight if ye need convincing – we are all but married already. "
Cormac took her by the wrists and firmly set her away from him. He frowned, wondering why she was so eager to wed, and so quick to fall into bed with him. Something did not sit right.
"No amount of swiving will convince me to marry ye," he said. "I want a wife I choose for myself, not one chosen behind my back by scheming parents!"
Annag's beautiful face twisted with anger. "Ye'll regret this. My father has influence with King David. If ye embarrass me by refusing this match, ye'll be sorry."
"Then I shall have to learn to live with the regret," Cormac replied, and turned back toward the Keep.
***
CORMAC SOUGHT OUT HIS father immediately, intending to put a stop to this once and for all.
If his father refused to listen, he would seek audience with the king and insist the betrothal be nullified.
He had not consented, and taking a wife in haste would put his missions in jeopardy.
In a decade of service to the royal house, Cormac had never once pressed the king for a personal favor. But he would press one now.
He burst into the Great Hall to find his father deep in conversation with Laird Ruthven at the long table, both men smiling as they shook hands.
"Father," Cormac said, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "A word. Now."
His father looked up, startled by his tone. "Son, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong is that ye've apparently betrothed me to that woman without my knowledge or consent," he replied, cutting a glance at Laird Ruthven. "I never agreed to this marriage, and I never will. Whatever documents ye've signed mean nothing without my consent."
Laird Ruthven rose to his feet, his face reddening. "The betrothal is legally binding. If ye refuse, ye'll pay a substantial penalty."
"Then I'll pay it," Cormac said. "I dinnae care."
"Cormac," his father said, standing as well. "Be reasonable. Ye dinnae have that kind of coin, and think about the alliance—"
"I dinnae give a damn about the alliance! How could ye do this? How could ye promise me to someone without even asking?"