Chapter 2
Erik Ross approached the Rose keep with six men at his back, uncertain whether he would be met with hospitality or with drawn blades.
He could have traveled with dozens of Ross warriors, save that given his mission, a show of force was the last thing he needed.
Or so he hoped. But as the new Ross laird, his caution was warranted.
It would be irresponsible not to take precautions, and he was never irresponsible. Except when it came to Fiona Rose.
Because of Fiona, when Donas Ross still ruled the clan, Erik had been ready to defy his laird’s order to wed the captive Muireall Munro.
Donas would have seen that as an act of betrayal.
Instead, with Donas’ death, Erik had been acclaimed the new chief of his fractured clan.
He intended to put an end to the disruption and dismay Donas and his wife, Silas, had caused while in charge, but the task was proving more difficult than he’d hoped.
And because of Fiona, one of his first acts as laird had been to send a betrothal proposal to Rose, asking for Fiona’s hand as part of a peace treaty between their clans.
The agreement would tie Ross with Rose, and with the Munro and Brodie clans as well.
Since he hadn’t received a response, he’d sailed here to make his demand in person.
On the largest Ross birlinn, he’d brought six trusted men and eight horses—one for each man and one for his prospective bride.
“Do ye think they mean to deny ye?”
Erik’s man Finn asked the very question keeping Erik’s gut tight and his jaw clenched as they looked ahead at the fortress built of stone and timbers overlooking the Moray Firth.
He wished Tormod was here, rather than acting as chief in his stead back at Rose.
He trusted his tanist’s advice above all others, and suspected he would need Tormod’s steady influence in the coming days.
Would Rose dare deny Ross? Surely James Rose was wise enough to see the value of an alliance, one that would benefit Rose as well as its other allies, Brodie and Munro. Absent other outside interference, they could cement a peace that might last for a generation. Perhaps longer.
Even if Fiona opposed the match, the Rose should approve it.
So why had Erik’s missive gone unanswered?
“We’ll ken in a few minutes,” Erik replied. “Let’s go.” He kicked his mount into motion and rode up the hill to the Rose gates.
“Laird Ross to see Laird Rose,” his man called out when a guard peered down at them.
“Laird Ro—.”
The man gulped, prompting Erik to hide a grin, then disappeared. The Ross reputation preceded them.
Erik could hear voices in the bailey on the other side of the closed gates, but not clearly enough to understand what they were saying.
No matter. He traded a glance with his man, then gazed up again at the guard posts on either side as the voices fell silent.
No sign of anyone. His men shifted behind him in their saddles, but he didn’t turn until he heard the slide of a sword from a scabbard.
“Draw that blade any farther and I’ll cut off the hand that holds it,” he barked, turning to frown at the man. Several others had hands on weapons but hadn’t yet drawn them. “Leave it. Now!”
The man nodded and let the sword drop back into the leather protecting it.
“No weapons unless they attack first. We’re no’ here for that.” Still glaring at his men, Erik turned back to the gate in time to see an older man appear at the guard post.
“Ye are Erik Ross?”
“I am. Ye are James Rose?”
“I am. What is yer business here?”
“What’s my—” Erik frowned. “Ye didna receive the missive I sent ye? My man said he handed it to one of yers. Days ago.”
“I’ve seen naught from ye, lad.”
Lad? Was that any way to address a fellow laird? Erik reined in his exasperation. It would do him no good here. “That explains yer lack of an answer. I’ve an important matter to discuss with ye, if ye’ll allow it.”
“What matter?”
“A betrothal.”
Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Erik wished he could read the Rose laird’s mind.
His eyes had widened, but he leaned against the crenellation at his side, his casual air making Erik fear he’d received many such, or had lied about reading Erik’s and was playing some game, looking for advantage.
“Ye and two of yer men. The rest remain outside my gates.”
“For now,” Erik answered, refusing to concede too easily.
“Aye, well, that will depend on what ye have to say.”
“Fair enough,” Erik agreed, and nodded to Finn and Neill to accompany him. “I’m no’ here to cause trouble.” He turned back to his men. “The rest of ye set up camp in the glen,” he added as one of the gates began to swing open.
“Laird,” someone objected.
“Do as I say,” he ordered, turned forward in his saddle and rode into Rose.
Rose came down the steps from the wall walk as Erik dismounted. His men stayed on their horses, anticipating trouble. Erik allowed it for the moment. He wanted a sense of Rose’s temperament before he gave up what little advantage his mounted men held inside the Rose gates.
Rose approached, nodded and offered a hand. Erik gripped his forearm. “’Tis good to meet ye,” he offered.
“Is it? What brings ye? Surely no’ a betrothal. Or a missing missive. What are ye after, Ross?”
“We’ve barely met and already ye doubt my word?” Erik didn’t dare appear weak before this man.
“Who of my people received it?”
“I was told it was given to a guard at yer gate to deliver it to ye. My man wasna invited inside yer walls.”
Rose frowned. “How long ago?”
“Ten days past.”
Rose’s frown deepened and he called over one of his men. “Find out who took a missive at the gate ten days ago,” he ordered, then turned back to Erik. “Ye waited for a reply that never came, so ye decided to come yerself.”
“As ye see.”
“Come inside and tell me what ye wrote.”
“’Tis simple enough, though the consequences are no’ so simple.” At Rose’s frown, Erik continued as they entered the keep. “I’m here to offer for Fiona Rose.”
Rose didn’t answer as they crossed the great hall to his solar. He gestured Erik to a chair by the hearth.
Erik looked around while Rose poured a cup of wine for them both from a bottle on a small table set away from the hearth.
This was a laird’s solar to be proud of.
Glazed windows admitted sunlight from the bailey.
Sturdy, well-used furnishings such as the chair he occupied provided a space to speak casually with only one or two others.
A large table served as the laird’s desk, a large chair serving as the laird’s seat while smaller ones on the opposite side made others working at it with him possible.
Someday, he would have a solar like this, Erik vowed. And the keep to go around it.
Rose handed Erik a cup, and he had a moment to enjoy the warmth from the crackling fire before Rose seated himself, raised his cup in a silent toast, and then spoke.
“She is betrothed,” Rose informed him, then took a sip.
Erik’s heart sank. Was he too late? If so, he would deeply regret not defying Donas and making this trip as soon as he left Inverness rather than waiting a year, but he would not give up.
“I met the lass more than a year ago in Inverness and havena been able to get her out of my thoughts a day since.”
Erik was smitten even before she passed near him.
As his gaze moved from the Rose to the cup in his hand, all he saw was her, deep in conversation with a ribbon merchant, then turning away, a satisfied smile on her lovely face after he handed her the items she wanted and pocketed fewer coins than he’d originally asked.
Clever, smart, a good negotiator, and beautiful, too.
She’d laughed at something she saw in the crowd.
The sound of it sent fingertip sensations of pleasure gliding down his spine and tightened his core.
He didn’t bother to see what amused her.
His gaze was locked on the way the wind played with her tawny hair, as she glanced his way and gave him a nod and a smile that kept him rooted where he stood until she disappeared into the crowd.
Why hadn’t he followed her? Because he’d been unable to move, to think, to chase her.
Instead, after a few breaths to steady himself, he approached the ribbon merchant and asked who she was.
The man had given her name, but refused to divulge where she lived.
Erik had asked others as he headed in the direction she’d gone, hoping to catch up to her, and gotten the same result.
She was well liked, it seemed, and well protected.
She’d disappeared, and he’d returned to Ross and being under Donas’ and Silas’ control.
“Or do ye mean never a night since?” Rose asked, with a sly grin that pulled Erik from his recollections. “’Twillna matter. She is spoken for, and since ’tis a good match for both our clans, I see no reason to change it.”
Frustrated, Erik took his first sip, barely noticing the taste as he realized he would have to use other arguments to convince the Rose to honor his suit. “So ye value Fiona?”
“Of course.”
Erik knew immediately he’d asked the wrong question, but the Rose’s reply didn’t give away whether he considered Erik’s question an insult, so he forged ahead.
“And is it a love match?”
“What? Nay, of course no’.” This time, Rose waved a hand as if waving away a daft idea.
So, a match arranged between clans with no consideration given to the wishes of the lad and lass involved.
As long as clan interests were not too tightly bound to this match, Erik knew how to make his case.
“Then allow me to give ye a better reason to wed her to me.” He took a sip while he waited to see if Rose would object.
When he nodded, Erik continued. “Yer allies, Brodie and Munro, support this opportunity for Ross and Rose to ally. ’Twill settle some…
trouble…that was permitted by our late chief. ”