Chapter 10
Darina’s words had deeply affected Fergus. There was no way for him to pretend otherwise, try as he might.
He did not want to believe that his father would be able to compel him to do anything horrible to Darina during her stay with them. No, during her imprisonment. He refused to allow himself to think of her as some sort of guest in their home since she had been taken against her will.
Fergus had seen his father do—and order others to do—terrible things in the name of his clan’s survival.
He had seen to it that enemy combatants were beaten or otherwise brutalized during interrogations regarding Laird Cawley’s plans.
He’d had men starved for weeks until they agreed to talk, and he’d had them hanged, beheaded, or drawn and quartered when they had refused to comply.
They had been gruesome spectacles to behold, but Laird Oliver had always forced Fergus to bear witness to them, along with his other siblings. He’d never allowed any of them to turn away, even for a moment. He’d even seemed to take a perverse glee from the discomfort it brought them.
“I force ye tae watch such atrocities,” he would tell them after, “so that the sight of it may harden ye. It may seem harsh tae ye, or cruel, or even unnecessary, but it is a crucible meant tae strengthen ye. In time, ye will see the wisdom of it, and ye will thank me fer it, I promise ye.”
Well, plenty of time had passed, and Fergus still saw no reason for having been treated that way.
It did not make him feel stronger or more fit to lead.
It only left deep wounds in his soul, seeing human beings treated so shamefully.
He’d expected that he would become inured to their suffering eventually, but that had never happened.
Even so, Fergus had always been able to reassure himself that his father was only showing zeal in guarding and protecting—and, when necessary, avenging—his own people.
For Fergus his father was a good man in the face of what others might call evidence to the contrary.
He was a hard man, certainly, and no stranger to using violent or extreme tactics to get what he wanted.
His heart, though, was in the right place.
That was what Fergus had felt before.
Before Laird Oliver had commanded him to commit a crime that went against every instinct of Fergus’ basic human decency. Before he had ordered Fergus to victimize a girl who’d never raised a hand against the McDougal clan or done anything to cause them harm other than being born into her family.
The lines of Laird Oliver’s morality had been drastically redrawn. Was that justifiable, given the horrors of the war that had decimated their clan? Perhaps.
Did it mean those lines could be crossed even further if Laird Oliver felt it suited him to do so?
Fergus desperately wanted to tell himself that the answer was no. But he could not do so with any conviction, and the thought of harming Darina was more than he could bear.
He would have recoiled at the notion of hurting any woman since such behavior was considered brutish and dishonorable. But there was far more to it than that. That final question she’d asked about the night at the stables had settled in the pit of his stomach like a cold and heavy stone.
He’d been wrestling with that question himself, and he was fairly certain that she could sense that. She could sense his feelings, though he found it ridiculous since he’d only known her for two days—and even then, only spoken with her briefly.
He knew that he’d never met a woman who’d had such an effect on him before.
Was it how beautiful her face was? The bounty of her hips and bosom, the kindness in her eyes, her wit and gentleness in the way she conversed with him?
All of these things, perhaps, along with qualities that were far more difficult for him to define.
And if his father ordered him to sever her fingers to be sent back to her family, as she had suggested? Or an ear, or one of those lovely blue eyes? Would he have the strength to say no, the conviction to resist his father’s will?
Would he, when he’d never done such a thing before in all of his twenty-five years as the laird’s son?
He could come up with no satisfactory answer for himself.
Instead, all his mind could conjure up was images from his childhood of his father beating him severely whenever Fergus had done something the man disapproved of even slightly.
The sounds of his father shouting at him, cursing him, calling him names, telling Fergus that he would never be good enough to assume leadership of the clan.
The truth of it was that in his own mind and heart, Fergus was still that young boy, powerless and helpless against his father’s wrath.
Again, Fergus had spent the years since convincing himself that Oliver had only been so hard on him to make a better man of him that what made him frightening also made him a good parent, one who wanted to see his son grow into a man worthy of the title.
He’d told himself that the beatings and beratings had been well-deserved, that even as a child, he should have known better, behaved more appropriately, intuited the right things to do more keenly.
He had assured himself that Oliver was right in his own way.
Still, it was difficult now for Fergus to escape the ironclad conclusion that he was entrusting this girl to the care of a fiercely temperamental man.
Not to mention a desperate one.
The keep loomed ahead of them, its grim and gray towers rising from the horizon as ominous as Fergus’ own troubled thoughts.
As soon as the McDougal guardsmen spotted them, the gate swung open, permitting Fergus to ride into the courtyard. Within moments, Laird Oliver and his advisors were there to greet them.
“My boy, ye have done it!” Oliver crowed. “Ye have succeeded admirably and delivered unto us the answer tae our prayers: a way tae finally end this war!”
“If ye truly believe that capturin’ me will cause my father tae surrender,” Darina growled, “ye are very much mistaken!”
Oliver laughed nastily as a pair of guards came forward. “I expected ye tae insist upon such a thing! But ye see, havin’ ye taken from yer home and brought here was only the first step of my plan, lass, I assure ye.”
Fergus frowned. “What do ye mean? I thought we were going tae ransom her in exchange fer peace.”
“Nae precisely,” Oliver replied, “but in a manner of speakin’. Fergus, I intend fer this woman tae be married tae ye at once.”
Fergus’ jaw dropped. “What?”
“Certainly!” The laird clapped his hands, rubbing them together eagerly.
“It’s the perfect scheme, dinnae ye see?
She will be yer bride, she will bear yer child, and thus, hostilities between the two clans will have tae cease.
Cawley will nae risk any harm coming tae his precious daughter or his grandchild!
Our bloodlines will come together, and we shall be allies whether he wishes it or nae! ”
“Are ye some sort of madman, Laird Oliver?” Darina cried out. “Have ye taken leave of yer senses entirely? Ye must ken that such a preposterous scheme will never succeed!”
“We shall see,” he retorted.
“We shall nae,” she countered, “fer I will never consent tae marry yer son, dae ye hear? Nothin’ in the world could possibly make me agree tae that, nae even under threat of death!”
“Aye, well, it is easy enough fer people tae shrug off the notion of death or other such torments,” Oliver replied with a smirk, “especially pampered noblewomen who have never been forced tae endure any true hardship in their lives. When faced with it firsthand, however, it has been my experience that they often tend tae change their tunes.” He turned to the guards.
“Take her tae the dungeon and introduce her tae the rats. Perhaps when she’s seen how hungry they can be, she will reconsider. ”
The guards stepped forward and seized her, dragging her into the keep.
“Father, what is all this?” Fergus inquired in disbelief. “This was yer plan all along? Tae have her marry me? Why on Earth did ye choose tae keep that from me?”
Oliver snickered. “Ye already seemed tae find my scheme objectionable enough. I believed that confidin’ in ye beyond its initial steps would cause ye tae voice yer displeasure even further, and frankly, I had neither the time nor the inclination tae hear it.
Nae when there is so much at stake fer our clan, and time is of the essence. ”
“Aye, both of those statements are true enough!” Fergus sputtered. “When the Wallaces figure out what ye have done, they will attack us head-on! They will nae wait fer fear of this mad scheme comin’ tae fruition!”
“If I have goaded them intae a full-scale attack, so be it,” the laird answered with a nasty grin.
“In that case, Laird Cawley will nae be thinkin’ clearly, makin’ him a far easier enemy tae face.
Indeed, he might even attempt tae ride against us personally…
in which case, we will have a better chance than ever of killin’ him at last. And if none of this comes tae pass?
If they are more circumspect in their response?
So much the better, fer it will allow us time enough tae make her the mother of yer child. ”
“Ye seem tae have forgotten one key element of this entire matter, Father,” Fergus pointed out. “She will nae agree to marry me. She has nae reason tae.”
“She might have reason enough after a night or two in the dungeons! They have broken the resolve of enough Wallaces before her, haven’t they?”
“She could catch her death from the dampness in that terrible place,” his son protested, “or get some dreadful disease from the bites of those filthy rats! We cannae keep her down there, surely!”
“We can, and we will, until she agrees tae our demands!”
“And what if she does nae?” Fergus persisted.
Oliver bared his teeth in a scowl. “In the end, whether she does or nae matters little. As I see it, her consent is nae required fer this union tae take place.”
Fergus’s ears were ringing with shock. “Do ye mean tae tell me that ye would have me violate this woman’s honor on yer behalf? I cannae! I will nae! This has gone much too far!”
The blow struck Fergus’ ear—a cuff, as one might deliver unto a disobedient child.
Still, it surprised Fergus, who had not been hit by his father in several years.
Suddenly, he felt as though he had been once more reduced to a scrawny little lad confronted by the towering ire of his ill-tempered father.
“This will go precisely as far as I wish it tae, boy,” Oliver snarled.
“I am yer laird, I am yer father, and only I ken what is best fer ye and fer our clan. Ye would do well tae remember that and tae challenge me nay further. By God, here I offer ye a wife who is pleasin’ tae the eye, an alliance that will someday make yer job as laird all the easier, a peace that is bound tae bring lastin’ prosperity tae our people…
And ye bray and mewl aboot the honor of some Wallace whelp?
Leave my sight at once, and from now on, do as ye are told without question or complaint! ”
“Aye, Father,” Fergus answered softly, his eyes downcast.
Oliver turned on his heel and left, still flanked by his advisors. From the expressions on their faces, they did not seem overly happy with the second part of Oliver’s plan either, but they knew better than to challenge him.
And if even they would not rein him in, then what chance did Fergus have?