Chapter 3
“M
arried.”
Lachlan’s four closest friends and guards gaped at him from the armory.
The wide stone tower was sparse in everything but weapons.
Along the wall, swords, axes, crossbows, and dirks hung from the floor up to the nine-foot ceiling.
Four cannons stood side-by-side as polished as the day that they were made.
The armory was close to the blacksmith and he checked on the weapons daily to make sure that they were sharp and clean.
Lachlan was spoiling for a little activity to help ease some of the tension in his chest. Sloane’s reaction to marrying him confounded him.
Shock and then decided resignation. It shouldn’t have surprised him.
Quite a few women married out of duty, so she had to know that at some point, she would be wed to a stranger, but her quiet submission bothered him.
He couldn’t help but wonder what was simmering just below the surface.
Blaine was the unhappiest. Lachlan had already spoken to him at length about wedding his sister, Kenzy. “I am sorry,” Lachlan told his friend quietly. “I want ye to know that I didna plan this.”
The large Highlander nodded shortly. “Aye. Clan politics can be brutal. I will speak to Kenzy about this. She will understand, and we will find another suitable match.”
“Thank ye.” At least that was something off his plate.
His parents both thought he was making a mistake getting so involved with the Fenton family.
Even Freya seemed upset which he didn’t understand.
She had feelings for the man that she would wed, he was certain of it, and yet she’d stomped off in a temper when he’d tried to talk with her about it.
“I am not sure the Fenton woman is all there,” Adair mused. “I tried to speak to her that first night and she looked at me and turned bright red. All I did was greet her.”
Doug snorted as he twirled one of the pikes casually. “I saw her slipping back to her chambers and she was pale as a ghost. I feared she was not more than a figment of my imagination”
Haunting the keep. Lachlan mulled the notion over thinking that the phrase wasn’t quite right.
Sloane didn’t seem like she was haunting anything except his dreams, but she was obviously used to being on her own.
Maggie had told him that she’d lost her mother as a child, but after that, there was almost no mention or sighting of Sloane.
“Consider yerself lucky,” Blaine muttered. “I said hello to her and she peppered me with questions on the history of the MacFarlane seal. When I tried to sneak away, she started in on our colors. I wasted an hour trapped with her in the hall.”
An interesting woman indeed. She acted as if she were two different people.
One quiet and submissive and the other bold and inquisitive.
It was strange that Errol had kept such a beauty hidden away rather than flaunting her among the clans.
She had the kind of face that men would beg to marry.
He could have used her while they were working on the original treaty between Fenton and Brisbane.
Errol could have kept his little slice of the land and Gair could have married into the family.
“She seems fragile, but she is also untrained,” Lachlan admitted. “I will ask that ye four make her feel welcome. Adair, I am hoping that yer wife will be friendly with her. According to Freya, Sloane is not used to company, but I willna have my wife hole up in the keep like a prisoner.”
Adair shrugged. “I will say something to her, but Elspeth has a mind of her own. Bloody stubborn woman.”
A smile tugged at Lachlan’s lips. He knew that Elspeth’s strong will was one of the reasons that Adair was so crazy about her.
“I have spoken to Father Shaw. He is displeased about performing a marriage ceremony so soon after burying Quinn, but I have convinced him to do so without adding any additional unpleasant commentary.” Father Shaw had a reputation for being overly opinionated about the Highland warrior lifestyle.
Lachlan had to resort to threats to make sure that Shaw didn’t include any of those unpleasant commentaries about Quinn.
A pained expression crossed Adair’s face. “When Elspeth refused to wed me despite yer father’s decree, Shaw nearly walked out right then and there. He then accused me of catting around before he finished the ceremony. Needless to say, my wedding night was a cold affair after that.”
Laughter rippled through the group. Jamie, the youngest of them, reached up and pulled one of the swords off the wall. “Doug, I see ye have a hankering to smack some wood around and I need a challenge after so easily taking down our Highland allies. Care for a little swordplay?”
Grinning, Doug replaced the pike and grabbed his own sword. “Aye, but it will be a shame to scar that pretty face before the Laird’s wedding.”
“Even if ye manage to land a blow, doona think it will help ye with the ladies.” Jamie winked. “I have been told my face was carved by angels. I doona think a nick will change that.”
Rolling his eyes, Lachlan grabbed his own weapon. “Men. Time to see if ye are all boast.”
Two hours later and dripping with sweat, Lachlan banished his men to patrol before they bathed as punishment for losing to him before heading to the creek to bathe before dinner. To his surprise, when he got there, he found that he wasn’t alone.
Sloane, fully clothed in a thin gray dress, removed her shoes, picked up her skirts and cautiously stepped in the water. She gasped suddenly and grinned. Captivated by the first genuine smile he’d seen from her, Lachlan was rooted to the spot.
His betrothed was in no danger. If she waded to the deepest part, the creek would be no higher than her knees and the small current was hardly enough to knock her down. Slowly, she moved a little further in the water and began to giggle.
It was as if she’d never been in the water before.
If he were a gentleman at all, he would call out to her and let her know that she wasn’t alone.
Instead, he moved back into the tree line and watched.
The golden hues of the setting sun bathed her skin in an orange glow and as she stood in the middle of the creek, she closed her eyes and turned her face toward the sun.
A strange peace settled over her face and a hunger grew inside of him.
She could be no more beautiful than the goddesses of his ancestors and tomorrow, she would belong to him.
The curves of her body which became more and more apparent as the water splashed up and dampened her dress were that of a woman and yet, her face was as open as a child.
There was an innocence about her that he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Realizing that he was invading what seemed like a private moment, he backed deeper into the woods and moved to another part of the creek. Alone, he stripped and stepped into the water and although it was ice-cold, it did nothing to ease the flame of desire inside of him.
There was a green and gold dress displayed on the bed in Sloane’s room.
With a scandalously low-cut bodice and intricate lace and beadwork, it was the prettiest dress Sloane had ever laid eyes on.
Closing the door behind her, Sloane stared at it.
Since she had not packed with a wedding in mind, she was worried about having an appropriate dress for the ceremony.
She didn’t want to let the Fenton people down by not representing them well, but apparently, someone had already thought of that.
Moving closer to the bed, she leaned down and fingered the fabric. It was smooth and flowed through her fingers. She’d never felt such a soft fabric before. It felt like something created by magic.
“Do ye like it?”
Scared, Sloane whirled around and saw Freya hiding in the corner.
Lachlan’s sister smiled. “I didna mean to scare ye, but I wanted to see yer expression when ye saw the dress. Ye are hard to read, though.”
“’Tis beautiful,” Sloane admitted. “Is it yers? I doona think that I should accept it. It must have cost a small fortune.”
Freya moved forward and smoothed her hand over the dress.
“’Tis mine. My mother made it for me last year when I was to marry, but my betrothed showed his true face at the last minute and my father refused to honor the agreement.
The man was exiled from the clan for laying a hand on me.
The dress is beautiful, but it doesna hold good memories for me.
I think it will be lovely on ye. Ye are curvier than me, so I let out the bosom a little last night.
If ye want to try it on, I can make some quick adjustments before this afternoon. ”
“Ye know needlework?” Sloane asked quickly when she reached for the tie on her dress. Used to dressing and undressing on her own, she made quick but awkward work of it as she stripped to her shift and stepped into the new dress.
“Aye? Ye doona?” Freya asked as she stepped forward to help. “Consider yerself lucky. As a child, I despised it. My mother thought I would never pick it up. It wasna that I didna have the talent. It was that I couldna stand my teacher. The woman was overbearing.”
Sloane felt like Freya was opening up to her, but she had no similar stories to share with her.
“I doona like the idea of overbearing teachers, but I envy yer talents. Everything that I know, I learned on my own.” There were days when she wouldn’t have eaten if the servants hadn’t taken a liking to her.
When they were busy, she learned to cook for herself.
There were weeks when she didn’t see her father’s face and if she even mentioned wanting to do something, he laughed at her.
So, Sloane read. She wandered aimlessly around the village and the keep. She dreamed. And she entertained herself with the tasks meant for the servants. Otherwise, she feared that she would go crazy in her isolation.