Chapter 1 #3
Erik snorted. That was up to them, and as laird, nothing he wanted to interfere with.
He turned his attention back to the looming threat.
“I’d wager ’tis true Domhnall’s stirring up trouble, as he likes to do,” Erik mused.
“But to what purpose? And how long will it take him to make his motives clear?”
“Ye havena heard from him?”
“Nay. He has moved without consulting the local chiefs in the past. He may be doing so again. The timing couldna be worse.”
“For the Western clans? Or just for ye?”
“Both. All of us. Aye, ’tisna the best time for me to leave Ross for Rose, even without Domhnall stirring up trouble.
” Erik didn’t want to delay his plan to sail across the Moray Firth to Rose.
He intended to meet and marry the lass he’d wanted since he saw her in Inverness, but the growing set of problems gave him pause.
“If the Rose answered yer proposal in the affirmative, perhaps ye needna hurry to her side.”
Erik slapped an open hand on the table top, rocking his empty cup, irritation spiking. “He hasna answered my request at all.”
“What? Ye hadna told me that.”
“I’ve heard naught. No’ to meet to discuss a betrothal, nor to accept or reject my betrothal offer itself. So, I must go soon if I hope to make the lass mine.”
“And if Donas’ supporters decide to take advantage of yer absence? There will be trouble here.”
“I ken I havena had time to solidly establish myself as laird with the agitators, so I dare no’ leave for too long.
But the council of elders supports me, and the men of the clan—most of them—confirmed me as chief after Donas was killed despite Silas’ attempted takeover.
So naught should happen that ye and the men loyal to me canna handle. ”
“I appreciate yer confidence in me. And them. Still—”
“Aye, I hear ye. If trouble breaks out, I’d be bringing a bride back into internal warfare rather than a clan I control and am working to strengthen.
” He needed a wife to make himself appear more settled, and eliminate some of the discord against him.
“Even more troublesome, since Rose is allied with Munro, the elders want me to look elsewhere for a bride. I think they’re still smarting from the last round of bride stealing. ”
“Aye, since it gave us a black eye with three other allied clans.”
“And that makes me more determined to win Fiona Rose. Allying with Rose would mend the rift with Munro and bring Clan Brodie into the mix as well. To my way of thinking, ’tis a rare opportunity, and one I dinna intend to miss.”
Fiona woke to early morning sunlight. The camp around them was stirring, and the voices she heard were continuing to debate the best course of action.
That had consumed discussions around a campfire last evening.
Many believed the so-called invasion had ended with the destruction of the bridge.
Others were not so certain. And others maintained there could have been no invasion if the fire-starters were cut off on the other side of the river by the very blaze they set.
By the time the camp settled for the night, most had decided a good night’s rest would make a decision to stay or go easier in the morning.
She’d seen her companions settled, wrapped warm and safe in plaids and heavy cloaks.
She sat with her back against a wagon wheel, wrapped in her own cloak for warmth, thinking about the day’s events and what caused them.
But, based on the rumors and speculation they’d heard in passing, she could only come up with theories, not answers.
If not for the current panic, they would have no need to go on to Rose.
She hoped the new day would bring clarity and a clear path to follow.
Finally, Fiona allowed herself to fall asleep.
The scent of smoke shocked her awake. Fire! At first she thought she was still in Inverness, with the town burning around her, but quickly recalled where she was and realized the smoke had to be from a campfire. Someone was making breakfast.
Relieved, she tried to lift her head from where her chin had fallen to her chest. She couldn’t, and groaned, then pushed her head upright with two hands and leaned it against the wooden wheel at her back.
She breathed through the discomfort until the tightness eased, then forced herself to her feet.
A bundle that was Lia lay under the wagon.
Fiona didn’t see Hamish, but he was responsible for tending their horse, and she expected he had moved it down to the nearby burn to drink and to fetch some water.
If they left soon, they might reach Rose before sundown.
She reached under the wagon to Lia to wake her.
Lia greeted Fiona as soon as her eyes opened. “Time to go?”
“Aye, soon.”
Lia rolled out from under the wagon and stood slowly, as if she was closer to Arabella’s advanced age before she died than Fiona’s twenty winters. “I’m stiff as a board,” she complained.
Fiona could sympathize. “We’ll be moving soon. Go down to the burn and tell Hamish we’re up and getting ready.”
Lia nodded and moved away. By the time Fiona returned from visiting deeper into the woods for some privacy, Hamish arrived, leading their horse, Lia walking at its side.
Fiona broke out the oatcakes she’d packed in clean linen squares. They made a poor breakfast, but were better than nothing. While they ate, she listened to the voices around them. The debate still raged, leaving her unsettled.
Clan Rose had been Fiona’s home until three years ago.
She would be welcomed, though she anticipated facing the Rose’s anger over both her inheritance and the fact that she’d stayed in Inverness after Arabella died.
He would have expected her to return home immediately to marry a lad she’d been betrothed to since she was three, and thereby secure an alliance with Clan MacBean.
Her inheritance meant freedom to choose the life she wanted to live.
Now that she had a home in Inverness—assuming she still did—she could support herself with her own skills added to what Arabella left her.
She would rather avoid marriage to a lad who’d never bothered to make the effort to visit Rose and meet her.
But if the house was truly gone, she would be treated like any other lass, subject to the whims of the clan laird, married off with no thought given to her wishes.
Her dreams. Escaping that fate might no longer be possible.
She stood, eyeing their borrowed horse. How quickly could she ride back to town to see if any of it remained—including her house?
Hamish stood, too. “Are ye ready to go?”
Fiona took a breath. “Aye, but which way? Back to town or on to Rose? Of all the tales we’ve heard, which do we believe?”
Hamish shrugged. “I talked to some of the other men earlier. They’re all continuing to crofts or other kin, and staying away from town for a while.”
“How long is a while?” Lia’s question hung in the air.
“Until we ken more,” Fiona answered reluctantly, knowing that was the right choice, but dreading it nonetheless. “Gather yer things. When ye are ready, we’ll go. Others will be traveling the same way, so we’ll have company for at least part of our journey.”
Finally, they headed northeast. As Fiona had predicted, others traveled along with them, giving Hamish and Lia people to talk to while Fiona struggled to accept what had happened.
Fiona had seen Arabella, a younger cousin to the current Rose laird’s grandfather, as a role model she could emulate.
Arabella had married a wealthy shipbuilder and merchant in Inverness, and after his death more than a decade ago, continued to live independently, in her own home, with a succession of servants, and finally with Lia, an orphan she took in after her mother, a maid to Arabella, died.
Only when age and illness became greater burdens did she appeal to her clan for help.
Rose sent Fiona to join her household and to see to her care.
Now, everything belonged to Fiona—including, as part of the responsibilities of her inheritance, fifteen-year-old Lia’s care and future.
Lia, as Arabella’s and now Fiona’s ward, would be considered a Rose.
Hamish would not—at least not right away.
How would he fit in? If he remained at Rose, she would feel the same responsibility for him as she did for Lia, unless she wed Hamish and left Rose with him.
He had left his family’s croft at fifteen to make a better life for himself in town.
Now seventeen, he boarded with one of the merchants he worked for, saving his own coins and hoping to buy into a business or start his own. That dream might be over.
Fiona’s course was clearer. She was a blood relative of the lairds of Rose, and a cousin to the current laird’s daughters.
And, she reminded herself with a grimace, tied to a MacBean she’d never seen, with an unwanted betrothal and future wedding hanging over her head.
But this visit, which she hoped would be brief, could be a pleasant reunion with friends.
She hadn’t seen Mary, Annie, or Cat in years.
It would be good to catch up with them while she waited to be able to return to Inverness, or to be married off to a stranger.
But if they couldn’t leave as quickly as she hoped, while she was here, what would she do?
Sitting in a ladies’ solar, gossiping, would bore her to tears.
Accustomed to being busy, she had used some of the training she’d received at Rose in anticipation of an important marriage to run Arabella’s household.
Perhaps she could relieve some of Mary’s burden of duties as chatelaine.
She liked to be organized, and she was a good negotiator at the market.
Surely that skill would be useful in running a keep of this size.
When the Rose keep came into sight late in the day, torches on the walls lit against the gloaming, Fiona wanted to cry with relief.
They’d made it. Their tired horse picked up its pace, sensing the journey was nearly over.
But Fiona wondered, for herself and for the others, what this new beginning would bring.