Chapter 2
“S
he bested ye quicker than ony enemy haes dane afore. Haes th’ great Aleck th‘ warrior finally met his match?”
Aleck Campbell, laird to Clan Campbell, wiped the rain out of his eyes before glaring at his second-in-command. “She bested th’ both of us.”
Malcolm grinned as he picked up his stride, falling back in step with his laird. “Ah wid lik’ tae ken wha she is an’ how come she is choosing highway robbery as her current choice.”
He didn’t care. The lass had taken every bit of gifts he had been able to put together and now he would be walking into a marriage with nothing to give to the clan that he would be marrying into.
He was going to get a dowry as it was always done, but the wedding would benefit him more than it would the Mcphersons.
He did not want to show up empty handed but now it was too late.
After three miserable days of traveling in the rain to get to his destination, Aleck wanted nothing more than a warm bed and dry clothes.
Neither of which he had gotten.
Instead, the warrior had found himself tied to a tree, bested by a lass wearing breeks. His brother Duncan would roll in the reeds from laughter if he knew what his brother had suffered from.
Now the dawn was breaking, allowing Aleck to see the keep in the distance.
Surrounded by a stone wall, the keep itself sat on a hill, with the huts dotting the grassy plain.
Aleck could see no planted fields, no sign that the clan was prospering, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that was why his lass had taken the wagon.
The huts they passed were dismal, with collapsing roofs and no sign of life within them.
It was nothing like his clan and his keep. From what he had been told, Clan McPherson had been a force back in generations past, nearly rivaling his own family clan. Both clans had fought against each other before his birth, the lands too ripe to pass on.
Long ago, the clans had forged a truce of sorts between them, both too strong to be bested. Though now, Aleck could take this land in a matter of hours and he doubted the people would fight back.
It was sad.
“How do they live like this?” Malcolm muttered as they passed, his eyes alert to any sort of danger that lurked in the shadows of the huts.
“They don’t hae a choice,” Aleck replied tightly, glad that his wagon had been taken.
As laird of his own keep, he knew that it was his responsibility to care for his clan.
He ensured they had food to eat, fields to plow, and a warm bed to sleep in at night.
He had toiled endlessly in patching roofs and plowing fields himself for if a clan was not cared for by their laird, then the laird could not expect the clan to trust him, to serve him.
The Campbell clan had struggled for many years after his da was cut down by an attacking clan, his ma dragged out into the courtyard and suffered unspeakable horrors until she died.
It had been his Uncle Fergus that had helped pick up the pieces after the attacks were over, saving both Aleck and his brothers’ lives.
The clan had been able to fight back and drive out the enemy, but the damage had been done, and his brother Lachlan had been thrust into power at fourteen.
For years Aleck had helped his brother call together the remaining clan members, their uncle standing in as proxy until Lachlan had reached an age to start gaining respect. Together they had rebuilt the keep that had once been their home, righting all the wrongs that had been done by that attack.
And then they had hunted the enemy down, taking their vengeance on those that had killed their parents. One by one the brothers had fought together, taking over clans and territories that had been wronged by the same enemy, until there was no one left.
It had been the last battle that Lachlan had met his demise, the blow coming as a sudden surprise to them both.
Aleck had held his brother in his arms as the life had drained out of the young laird, the battle raging on around them.
Grief-stricken, Aleck had carried his brother’s body back home and given him the funeral worthy of a laird, Duncan so sullen that he was unable to speak to Aleck.
Aleck knew what he was thinking—that he had caused Lachlan’s death somehow, much like he had caused their da’s death all those years ago. After all, Aleck was Lachlan’s second-in-command, responsible for protecting the laird against all enemies.
He blamed himself for both deaths every single day...
But with Lachlan’s death, Aleck was thrust into power. He was now laird over a grieving clan. Uncle Fergus had been there, suggesting that Aleck do what Lachlan had failed to do as laird.
He needed a wife and an heir. Aleck had balked at the idea, but his uncle was adamant that while the Campbells were great warriors, the bloodline did need to continue, and since his brother had not brought about an heir, Aleck had to.
Which was why he was here, standing before a massive wooden gate with nothing more than the clothes on his back and his da’s claymore strapped to his back.
“Who goes there?” one of the guards on top of the wall called out, his arrow pointed at Aleck. It reminded him of the lass that had taken the gifts.
“Aleck of Clan Campbell,” Aleck called back, leaving his hands at his side to show that he was not a threat. “Yer laird is expecting me.”
After a few minutes, the gates creaked open and they were admitted to a courtyard that reeked of rotting food and piss. A tall man strode out of the keep the moment they walked into the gate, his stride exuding power. “Campbell.”
“Mcpherson,” Aleck replied, inclining his head.
The laird eyed Aleck, a grin spreading over his lips. “Ye both look like drowned rats. Come, I hae food and ale.”
“My thanks,” Aleck said, following the laird inside.
The smell was no better inside, the dirty reeds on the floor emitting a putrid smell with every step.
The great hall was warmed by a large fireplace, the warmth of the fire starting to thaw Aleck’s frozen fingers.
The two men moved in front of the fire and it wasn’t long before mugs of ale were pressed into their hands.
Aleck drank deeply, not caring that the ale had a sour taste to it. While he would have preferred his clan’s ale, the drink still warmed his insides, doing the same as any other ale would. “I expected you last night,” Mcpherson stated, as he joined them by the fire.
“We wur robbed,” Malcolm replied before Aleck could. “All the gifts I was bringing you wis taken. I come empty handed, but not in order to disrespect you.”
Mcpherson swore savagely. “I swear on my da’s guid name that I will hae that robber’s head on a pike!”
Aleck held his tongue, wondering if the laird knew that his highway robber was a lass. “I will send replacements for yer sister’s hand.”
Mcpherson sighed heavily. “As weel ye shuid. Mah sister cuid hae any hand in bonnie Scotland, but I’m givin’ her tae ye.”
Malcolm frowned, but Aleck silenced him with a look, already wanting to be done with this place and this laird. “Why do you want this alliance again? Why do we deserve this-” he tried very hard to be polite “generosity?”
Mcpherson smirked. Alecks words had done their trick. “Because, who wouldn’t wantae be pairt of th’ warrior Campbell clan?”
Aleck drained the mug and handed it to the laird as Malcolm cleared his throat. “If ye wull show us our quarters. We wid lik’ tae rest afore meetin our freish lassie.”
After washing the mud and travel from his body and catching a few hours’ sleep, Aleck made his way down to the great hall, where servants were scurrying about laying out the noon meal.
He noted that none of them made eye contact with him as he approached the table, where the laird was seated in his chair, a mug of ale in his hand.
“Come,” he said, waving a hand at the nearby chair. “Join me for a meal.”
Aleck seated himself, eyeing the other man across the table. “This is ma brother,” the laird stated, waving his hand at the man already deep in his cups. “Oor sisters will be done shortly.”
Resting his legs before him, Aleck gave the two men a long look. When Uncle Fergus had declared the Mcpherson clan had three women that were of marriageable age, Aleck had decided that he did not wish to be paraded from clan to clan attempting to find a wife.
All he was interested in a wife for was to bear him an heir. She didn’t even have to be a bonnie one.
His thoughts raced back to earlier, when the lass had held him up with nothing more than a bow and arrow. Now that would be a lass he would enjoy bedding. Her fiery spirit would keep him interested and he imagined that the bow was not the only weapon she could wield.
“There they are!” Mcpherson called out, banging on the table. Aleck watched as two young girls approached, their eyes downcast as they hurried over. It was clear to him that they did not want to displease the laird as they slid into their chairs, neither casting a look in his direction.
“Where is yer sister?” Mcpherson bellowed a moment later. “Where is Fennella?”
Both girls flinched and Aleck had to bite the side of his mouth to keep from telling him to lower his voice. He hoped that neither of these girls were his potential brides. They were scared of their own shadow.
Which could only mean that Fennella was his bride-to-be.
Now Aleck was curious. Why wasn’t Fennella here? Was she like her sisters, meek and scared of their brother?
Or was she something else altogether?
Mcpherson swore and knocked his platter onto the floor, food spilling out onto the dirty reeds. “She tries me at every turn, embarrasses me!”
Both sisters flinched again and Aleck pressed his lips tightly together. He had no sisters, but they should not be scared of their brother in such a manner. Was Fennella the only sister willing to try the laird’s patience, or had he done something to her to keep her from coming?
Aleck started to feel his anger rise, wishing for his claymore so that he could threaten the laird properly. While he needed no weapon save his fists, this dobber needed to feel fear, and Aleck was finding himself wanting to be the one to deliver it.
“I’m here.”
Aleck turned to see a woman hurrying to the table, her hands busy with plaiting her dark red hair, reminding him of the deep colors the sun turned before it sank below the horizon.
He imagined that it was a sight to behold in the sunshine.
She was also taller than her sisters, her worn gown clinging to curves that were meant for a man to hold.
Even under the plain gown, he could see the gentle swell of her breasts, the way her hips flared out from her waist before tapering into her long legs under her skirts.
Aleck felt a jerk under his kilt as she approached, their eyes colliding the moment she reached her brother’s side. A pair of mossy green eyes stared back at him and Aleck swallowed hard, the searing gaze shooting through his body like a bolt of lightning from the sky.
She reared back in surprise but quickly recovered, taking the empty chair next to him. He hid his grin, knowing exactly why she was surprised. “I overslept,” she offered up, her gaze staring at her plate before her and not meeting his gaze or anyone else’s at the table.
While she was attempting to be meek and mild, Aleck could see her struggle to keep her composure, the way her hands were balled in her lap.
No, Fennella was not like her sisters at all. Not only was she lovely, but he could see the fight in her.
Suddenly, being married to someone like her didn’t seem as bad as it had when he had first thought of the idea.