Chapter Two #2
How agreeable, I wondered, frowning. Just how familiar with one another had they become?
God knows she was a beautiful lass, so it didn’t surprise me she would have caught Gustav's eye, but had he caught hers, too? Whether I would admit it or not, the thought of them together didn’t sit well at all.
And while it didn't feel right agreeing to my father’s request, given I couldn’t stomach him passing, I’d be damned if I would let Gustav have her.
“I will marry Astrid if something happens to you, Da,” I said, however begrudgingly. “You have my word.”
“Verra good,” he murmured and drifted off.
Rather than linger and ask Astrid the numerous questions simmering in my mind about her and Gustav, I left without a backward glance. I knew if I stayed, the conversation might very well reveal just how jealous I was. Jealous when I had never felt such an emotion regarding a woman.
Yet as I lay awake later that night, it lingered in my mind and heart, writhing beneath the surface.
A weakness, to be sure. Vulnerability of which I was unfamiliar.
I had defeated many in battle over the years and defended my homeland, but this felt undefendable.
Beyond my control. Had she looked at Gustav as she sometimes looked at me?
With heat in her gaze? Did her breath catch when he stepped too close? Did her cheeks grow rosy?
Finally giving up on sleep, I rose as the sun hit the horizon and made my way down to the dining hall to break my fast, pleased to find my good friend and fellow warrior, Stewart, had returned from handling some unsavory business for Father.
“Welcome home, my friend.” I sat across from him at one of the trestle tables, noting the exhaustion rimming his light brown eyes. “How fare things to the east?”
“’Tis good to be home,” he muttered, perking a dark blond eyebrow. “Need I say more about those two squabbling clans?”
“Nay, and you’ve my thanks for dealing with it for Da,” I said, knowing Stewart had likely spent the better part of his time trying to de-escalate the same old issues. In my opinion, the way clans fought with one another would become the Sassenach’s greatest strength one of these days.
I nodded thanks to a comely lass when she set bannock, porridge, and a cup of mead down in front of me, tossing Stewart a wink before she sauntered off.
“You do have a way with the lasses,” I muttered, digging into my food. The opposite sex had long admired Stewart, who was built much like me, and he enjoyed every minute of it.
“As would you if you didnae scowl so bloody much.”
Where once Stewart would have enjoyed the sight of a flirtatious woman walking away with a seductive sway to her hips, he didn't now. And I suspected it had everything to do with him secretly pining over a childhood friend of ours named Florie.
Stewart grinned and went on. “You frighten the poor lasses off. ‘Tis a wonder one or two of them have let you betwixt their thighs over the years.”
“’Tis easier for you to trust their motives than I, and well you know it,” I reminded.
“Aye, but not all lasses have their sights set on becoming wife to the future Mackay chieftain.” Stewart kept grinning.
“Some just want a roll in the hay.” He looked skyward and shook his head.
“But then, I suppose that risks a wee bastard running around in front of the upper crust Scotswoman you’ve long claimed would someday become your wife, though you’ve yet even to meet her.
” Knowing me well, indeed, the corner of his mouth shot up, and amusement twinkled in his gaze.
“One can only hope once you marry, she’s not envious of the wee Norse lass you cannae take your eyes off of. ”
“Och,” I muttered, biting into a piece of bannock, in no mood to discuss the woman who had kept me up all night. “She’s pleasing to look upon and no more.”
“She’s far more, and we both know it,” Stewart teased. “She’s—”
“Marrying Father,” I interrupted, in case he hadn't heard yet. It seemed not because the humor faded from his eyes, and his brow furrowed.
“I dinnae ken.” He frowned and shook his head. “Why would he do such a thing?”
Knowing I could trust him to keep quiet, I filled him in on most of what he had missed over the past week, including how ill Father was, keeping my voice down so no one would overhear us. There was no need to concern our clan just yet.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed under his breath, as troubled by all of it as I was. While harboring a wounded Norseman with a bounty on his head was bad enough, he thought of Lachlann like a father, so news of his declining health cut deep. “And what of Astrid if your da doesnae make it?”
“It doesnae matter because he willnae be dying.” I would not let him. No matter what it took, he would stay alive by the sheer force of my will. I refused to consider any other course.
“Yet if he does?” he persisted, being realistic despite his love for my father, focusing on Astrid’s fate if my father did not make it.
“She cannae be left without protection, Declan, and you know it.” As charmed with Astrid as everyone else, he shook his head.
“Not with the growing unrest since the battle.
‘Twill soon become dangerous for her, especially given her pedigree.”
After considering how much I should tell him, I finally sighed and confessed what I had agreed to last night. “I promised him that I would marry her if something were to happen to him.”
His eyebrows swept up. “You? Truly?”
“Aye, but ‘twill nae happen.” I nodded firmly, refusing to think any other way. “Da’s strong. He will pull through this.”
“Aye,” Stewart agreed softly, yet his gaze remained troubled. “We can only pray.” He eyed me and shook his head. “’Tis hard to believe you would have agreed to such a thing. She’s a bonnie lass desired by many, including yourself and dinnae say otherwise, yet still…”
There was no need to go on. I understood his unspoken words. The risks my father, then quite possibly me, were taking. Yet I had promised my father, so that was that. It was done.
Sipping some mead, I considered my friend, curious.
“What do you know of Laird Gustav MacGreggor these days?” I wondered. “I hear he and Astrid became acquainted last winter whilst I was away.”
“Did they then?” he said absently, popping the last of his bread into his mouth.
When I narrowed my eyes at him that he best go on, he swallowed his food and sighed.
“From what I saw, the two got on rather well, and he frequented these parts more than usual.” He shrugged.
“Naturally, he claimed it was to visit Lachlann, but he spent ample time with her too, and I cannae say I much blamed him.” He shot me a pointed look. “Any more than you can.”
“And you chose not to tell me this?” I exclaimed, before I could stop myself, unable to keep from frowning when yet again I should not be bothered by such.
“Why would I?” he replied dryly. “Given you dislike the Norse so much and had your sights set on marrying a proper Scotswoman?” He shook his head.
“And the way you two bicker? ‘Twould be a wonder if you ever found peace together, so why would I mention another man spending time with her before you two even met? Seems rather pointless.”
“Yet ‘tis not,” I said darkly. “When you know how much Gustav dislikes the Norse.”
“Just like you,” he reminded. “Yet here you are willing to marry her, and whilst you claim ‘tis only happening because your father requested it of you, I’ve seen the way you look at her. The way you care for her despite her nationality.”
“And does Gustav look at her that way?” I asked, watching my friend closely, lest he not give me the truth.
“He does,” he confirmed, sighing, giving me the unvarnished truth, along with another pointed look. “More than that, he spoke often with her without bickering. Even laughed with her.”
“All behaviors that can mask true intentions,” I said, uneasy.
It had been years since I last saw Gustav, so I could not speak to the man he was today.
Had years of battling the Norse hardened him even more like it had me?
Battling the Sassenach? Because marrying a Norsewoman was almost as bad as marrying an Englishwoman.
I was about to go on, but, unfortunately, one of the king’s messengers arrived with the last news I wanted to hear right now.