Fourteen

A collective gasp rose from the MacKenzies as Fraser’s words echoed throughout the hall. Everything inside Darach turned to ice. His blood. His breath. His heart.

“Aye,” Fraser sneered. “She’s mine. Bound to me by King and the holy church. Witnessed by her uncle. You will return her as my rightful property or face sanctions from the Crown and the church.”

A burning rage rose within Darach, melting the ice inside—his Caitlin, forced to marry this loathsome creature by a man who should have protected her. “That is how Frasers treat their new brides? By beating them and tying them o’er a horse? Tell me, do you force them to the marriage bed too? Or just rape them on the cold forest floor!”

He wanted to leap from his chair and smash his fists into Fraser, MacInnes too, but a strong hand settled on his shoulder. Lachlan. Darach breathed deeply, forced down his fury.

Caitlin was not going back. No matter what had happened or who claimed her, she was his. He would send Fraser and MacInnes home, follow with his army, and kill them in a fair battle. The King’s man too, if he stood in his way.

“She’s my wife. It willna be rape,” Fraser said.

Bile rose in Darach’s throat at the notion of any woman having to endure such abuse. Then Fraser’s meaning sank in. He’d said “willna.”

He closed his eyes as relief rose like bubbles in his veins. There hadn’t been time for Fraser to touch Caitlin before Darach had saved her—she had said as much. The marriage vows had not been sealed. Still, he needed to tread carefully.

The King’s man, Anderson, looked at Fraser. “Is she a maid, then?”

Fraser bristled and raised his chin. “’Tis not your concern.”

“You made it my concern when you involved me in this dispute. Is she a maid?”

Fraser scowled. “Not for long.”

The Lowlander’s brow crinkled and he looked at Darach, then back to Fraser. “I doona think Laird MacKenzie will release her to you long enough to complete the act. Your marriage is in jeopardy of being annulled, Laird Fraser.”

“I have signed contracts. I paid for her in salt and gold.” He nodded to MacInnes. “Show them.”

MacInnes glanced apologetically at Darach, then looked through his sporran, dithering first with the clasp, then the contents. After a moment, Fraser snatched the leather pouch from him and lifted sheets of parchment into the air.

“By law, she belongs to me!”

Darach signaled to Oslow, who stepped off the dais and reached for the marriage contract.

Fraser held it to his chest. “You canna have it.”

Darach rolled his eyes. “Then give it to the King’s man. Or doona you trust him either?”

Fraser passed it to Anderson. As he read it, his eyebrows lifted. “She must be a winsome lass. ’Tis much to give for a wife with little in return.” He glanced at Darach. “Maybe I could meet her? She can tell me in her own words what happened.”

“Nay!” Fraser and MacInnes said together.

“The lass is a bit addled and can be disagreeable,” MacInnes added. “She’s bonny, but she canna keep a thought straight in her head.”

“On the contrary,” Lachlan said, “I find her exceedingly bright. As for being bonny, ’tis true, once the bruises faded and the poison left her body.”

The MacKenzies around the great hall voiced their agreement.

Anderson looked curiously at Lachlan. “Your name, sir?”

“Lachlan MacKay, laird of Clan MacKay.”

“My foster brother. We were raised together by Laird MacLeod. Mayhap you’ve heard of him? Or my other foster brothers, the lairds MacLean, MacKinnon, and MacAlister?” Darach gazed at the three men before him. “You shall meet them soon enough.”

Anderson nodded. “I look forward to it.”

“You think to flaunt your alliances here?” Fraser asked scornfully. “Know that I have the backing of the King and the church. None are more powerful than them. Caitlin is by law a Fraser and will bear me a son.” He grabbed the parchment from Anderson and shook it at Darach. “’Tis contracted.”

“Then we shall break the contract. Goods may have been exchanged, but you havnae bedded your bride, Fraser. The contract is incomplete and the marriage invalid.”

“That isna for you to decide. ’Tis for her uncle to decide, and I doona think MacInnes will want to return the goods I gave him.”

All eyes turned to Caitlin’s uncle. He wrung his hands and shifted his feet. “Well now, ’tis my duty to protect my clan, and my people were in need. The gold and salt from Fraser has already been used.”

Darach schooled his features and showed just the right amount of compassion. Underneath, he felt naught but disgust. The treasure was most likely locked in MacInnes’s keep. His clan would never see any of it.

By rights, it should have been the bride’s family that paid a tocher to the groom. For Fraser to pay for his bride was unusual and, in Darach’s mind, immoral. “So you canna return the…payment.”

“Nay, but maybe something can be worked out. I see you care for the lass, but I canna allow you to keep her without benefit of marriage and a wee boon to Clan MacInnes. Of course, if I’m wrong…” MacInnes glanced significantly at Fraser.

“She’s already married, you traitorous blackguard! We were joined by a priest. I have completed my side of the bargain, and by law, you must complete yours. Give me your niece!”

MacInnes snarled back, “I doona have her. Stay calm, Fraser.”

“There’s naught to work out! You will demand her return and hand her over to me. Elsewise, you breach the contract.”

Anderson stepped forward. “Aye, he’s right. Caitlin rightfully belongs to Fraser. Lest the wedding ceremony was invalid—then, MacInnes must return the goods, terminating the contract, and Caitlin reverts to her uncle.” He gazed at Darach. “’Tis time. Please bring the lass. I must speak to her.”

* * *

Caitlin sat on the middle of her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, hands dug into her hair. It had been at least an hour. She’d spent a third of that time pacing, another third trying to convince the guards at the door to let her out—to no avail, as Oslow had the key and wasn’t there—and the last third raging at her circumstances until she was spent.

Now she watched the door, waiting to hear the verdict.

If she’d been braver, she’d have fashioned a rope from the bedsheets and climbed out the window, but it was a long drop down and she’d never been good with heights. Besides, she’d promised Darach she would never again leave without telling him.

A knock sounded, and Lachlan called her name. She rushed over and removed the bar to open the door.

Lachlan’s smile faded when he saw her. “What have you been doing to yourself, lass?”

Caitlin wiped her hand across her cheeks and down her hair. It felt a tangled mess. “What do you mean?”

“You look like a madwoman. We want you to look safe and happy, not like you’ve been locked in a dungeon.” He took her elbow and led her into the bedchamber. “Do you have a brush?”

Caitlin picked it up from her washstand, her hand trembling. He took the brush and worked the bristles through the tangles in her hair. “You have naught to worry about, love. Darach will refuse to let you go, and your uncle will return to his clan satisfied. He’s already received Fraser’s gold.”

“What about Fraser?” she asked.

“What about him? The MacKenzies and the Frasers have been at war for eight years. Naught will change.” He put the brush down, then wet a linen cloth in a basin of water and gently wiped her face. “Doona let them see how frightened you are. They doona deserve your tears.”

“I doona cry for them. I cry for Darach, for you, for Fergus—all the MacKenzies. For the kittens, Cloud, and the dogs. I ne’er want to lose any of you.”

Lachlan put the linen down and pulled her to his chest. “They couldnae separate you from Darach with a whole herd of horses. Or me, for that matter.”

“Or us, lass.”

Caitlin looked up to see her guards standing in the doorway. She knew all three, had supped, ridden, and laughed with them. Dredging up a smile, she said, “Thank you, but I fear I’ve put you all in terrible danger.”

“From Fraser?” one of them asked with a snort. “He’s a wee ablach, that one. He couldnae find his arse with his sword.”

Laughter bubbled up from her throat despite the severity of her situation. “And my uncle?”

“That one would have no trouble finding his arse, lass. ’Tis the size of the pink sow. I’m glad you doona take after him.”

“Och, but I do. My bottom is soft as churned butter.” Four pairs of eyes dropped to her backside. Blood scorched her cheeks, and she cursed her tongue for speaking so inanely.

Lachlan grinned. “That’s better. Now you resemble a sweet, young woman, rather than a loon. When you’re downstairs, faced with Fraser and your uncle, think not on their wicked words but their misshapen backsides. ’Tis the last thing you will see of them before Darach kicks them off his land.”

Giggling, she took his arm, and they walked to the door. “I doona think Darach would be happy to know I think on Fraser’s bottom.”

“For certain. I can scarce wait to tell him.”

Caitlin laughed, but she quickly sobered as they approached the top of the stairs. Slowing, she bit her lip. “Does he know?”

“That you’re married to Fraser? Of course.”

“’Twas not a real marriage. I didn’t want it, and it was ne’er consummated.”

“Aye, he knows. We’ll get you out of it, lass. We just have to prove the ceremony was invalid.”

When they reached the hall, everyone but Darach turned toward her. She hesitated, stomach roiling. Lachlan tightened his grip on her elbow and ushered her toward the dais.

Hati and Skoll stayed intent on the enemy before them.

“Caitlin,” her uncle bellowed. “Come down here.”

“Nay,” Darach said. “She stays where she is. She is an honored guest in my keep.”

Lachlan positioned her next to Darach. She would have been glad to see him except for his stony expression—what she could see of it, anyway. He must be furious with her. Why hadn’t she explained the situation to him when she had the chance?

“Darach,” she whispered.

“Not now, lass.”

Aye, he was mad. There was an edge to his voice that was only there when he was trying to stay calm. She’d come to recognize it during the weeks she’d been with him.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she looked at the men before her. Fraser and her uncle frowned, while a third man with ginger-colored hair appraised her curiously. It made her want to stick out her tongue.

Instead, she smiled.

He inhaled audibly, and his eyes widened. Beside her, Lachlan snorted. Darach drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Caitlin, this is Birk Anderson, a representative of the King. He has some questions for you.”

“Tell them we are married, wife.” Fraser looked even more repellent than she remembered, and she couldn’t help shuddering.

“’Tis untrue. The marriage was not consummated, and it can be annulled. Father Lundie and Edina said so.”

Darach turned to her. “You spoke to the priest and Edina about this but not to me?”

Despite his glare, she was relieved he’d finally looked at her—but also a wee bit flummoxed. “Well, I had to confess, now, didn’t I? It’s been years since I reconciled my sins. And Edina only mentioned it when she…when she… Well, ’twas a private conversation.” Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she remembered Edina chastising her for being intimate with Darach.

He stared at her a moment, nostrils flaring, then returned his gaze to Fraser. Caitlin felt dismissed, and her ire rose. She was the one who’d been drugged, beaten, and forced to marry a demon of a man. And now they haggled over her like a bag of oats.

“I willna go back. You canna make me. Father Lundie says I am a free person and can make my own choice on whom to marry.”

“Caitlin, hush…please,” Darach said, raising his hand to gently squeeze her forearm.

Her uncle glowered at her. “Aye, she’ll hush, or I’ll pull her tongue from her mouth.”

The warriors lining the walls bristled, some shouted out in harsh tones. Lachlan stepped forward angrily.

With deadly calm, Darach drew a vicious-looking dirk from within his sleeve. Sunlight from high above danced along the metal as he slowly played with the blade. “My goodwill only goes so far, MacInnes. Doona speak to her in such a manner. You are her uncle. You should shield her from harm, not cause it.”

Caitlin’s throat tightened with emotion. No one had ever defended her from her uncle before. All those years in his keep, he’d controlled her with threats and deprivation, and his clan had allowed it.

But not here. The MacKenzies protected her. Darach and Lachlan protected her.

With sudden clarity, she knew she was safe—surrounded by a clan who had claimed her, who were willing to shed blood for her.

She felt humbled, and a wave of thankfulness surged through her. She looked at her tormentors—her disgusting, feeble uncle and her pathetic, revolting “husband” who had to buy a wife. Then she gazed at Darach, his brawny shoulders, arms, and chest a testament to his strength, his shrewd gaze gleaming with intelligence, his posture one of power and control.

Relief and happiness bloomed in her chest, and she suddenly wanted to stick out her tongue again. This time at her uncle and Fraser. Instead, she just smiled.

Fraser watched her, his eyes gleaming like a rabid wolf’s. The madness there made her smile fade. He would use trickery to kill the people she loved.

“Caitlin, tell Master Anderson how you came to live with your uncle,” Darach said. “How he…saved you from the fire that killed your parents. ’Tis a story that deserves telling.”

She saw a glance pass between him and the King’s man. Why would they want to know about the fire? It had naught to do with her marriage.

“’Tis not necessary,” her uncle protested.

“On the contrary. She wouldnae be here if not for you. For that, you have my thanks.”

The gratitude toward her uncle grated, even if it was for saving her life. The only reason he’d even fed her was so she’d be healthy enough to wed a man of his choosing. Fraser hadn’t been the first prospective groom to look her over, but he’d certainly been the worst.

She sifted through her memories, trying to contain the grief that always rose when she thought about her parents’ death. “I ne’er met my uncle ’til I was sixteen. I grew up on a farm with my mother and da west of MacInnes land and didn’t know my father had given up the lairdship to marry my mother. The night my uncle arrived, a terrible fire broke out in our cottage as we slept. My parents were killed in the flames. I would have died too, but my uncle saved me. Afterward, he took me to his keep. ’Twas a terrible time.”

Anderson turned to MacInnes. “Do you know how the fire started?”

Her uncle shifted his stance and clasped his hands around his belly. “Maybe an untended candle or a spark from the hearth. The lass was verra excited and could have knocked something o’er.”

Caitlin gasped. “Doona say such a thing unless you know it’s true. I couldnae have killed my parents.”

Darach took her hand and rubbed her palm with his thumb. “Do you remember anything else? Any of the men behaving oddly or loitering in places they shouldn’t?”

“Are you implying my men started the fire?” MacInnes asked. “I assure you they had naught to do with it. They were the first to notice the flames and report it to me. I ran into the blaze to save the lass at great risk to myself.”

Darach let go of her. He looked relaxed, but Caitlin had the sense of a great, hunting cat readying itself to pounce. “How did you reach her? It must have been hard going—the heat, the smoke.”

“I knew where she slept. She’s a wee lass. I carried her out.”

“You thought to save her before your brother?”

“I called out to him but he didn’t respond. Afterward, I took the lass back with me and gave her a home.”

“You locked me in at night and put a guard on me during the day,” Caitlin said.

“I fed and clothed you.”

“One worn arisaid and two chemises. The food was even worse.”

“I tried to find her a decent husband, but as you can see, she’s verra disagreeable.”

She pointed at Fraser. “You call that decent?”

Fraser’s lips curled up in a snarl. “You’ll come to regret those words, wife.”

Darach flicked a finger, and Hati and Skoll lunged toward the men, hackles up.

With burning eyes, Fraser lunged back at them. Caitlin knew she witnessed madness.

Anderson kept one eye on the hounds, the other on her. “Had you met Fraser before the ceremony?”

“Twice. And twice I said I wouldnae marry him, or anyone else of my uncle’s choosing, but he made me do things by hurting one of the maids and some of the animals I cared for. I ran away, but they caught me. I was locked in my room after that.”

“The lass hasn’t a coherent thought in her head,” MacInnes said. “’Twas done for her own safety. And ’tis my right to discipline my servants and livestock.”

“Caitlin too?” Darach asked, eyes hooded.

“Aye, she is my property.”

A heavy silence fell, filled by her uncle’s wheezing and the dogs’ low growls. Shame flooded Caitlin, and she cast her gaze down. She knew the feeling was misplaced, but it wouldn’t leave her.

“Father Lundie,” Darach called out.

She glanced up to see the priest making his way toward the dais.

“It must be determined whether the ceremony between Caitlin and Fraser was valid in God’s eyes.”

“Of course it was valid!” said Fraser.

“Not if she was forced,” said Lachlan.

“I ne’er touched the lass,” MacInnes protested. “Ask the priest, Father MacIntyre. She was unmarred.”

Father Lundie stood with the other men now, and shook his head. “Father MacIntyre is strong in heart and mind, but he’s blind as a bat and nearly deaf. He shouldnae be performing a wedding ceremony.”

“Fraser hit me, I remember that,” Caitlin said. “Kicked me too.”

“’Twas after the ceremony, not before. She hadn’t been touched when she said her vows.” Fraser gave her that ugly, possessive stare.

Anderson’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean, lass? About remembering?”

“Well, some of it is blurry, but I remember being given a dress to change into and throwing it out the window. I was kept in my room and then… I doona rightly know. Naught is clear ’til I met the MacKenzies.”

“The herbs,” Darach said. “MacInnes admitted he gave Caitlin calming herbs. To…soothe her. She was not in her right mind when she stood before the priest.”

“’Twas not meant to harm her, only to make things easier,” her uncle said. “Now I know better. It willna happen again, especially if you marry the lass.”

Her mouth dropped open. Marry the lass? Is that what this was all about? Aye, she could see it. The MacKenzie land and wealth would have called to her uncle like a siren to a sailor.

Panic rose again and this time she couldn’t stop it. If Darach was forced to marry her, he would never forgive her, and then she had no hope of…well…marrying him.

She closed her eyes, knowing her logic made no sense. Then he answered, and her panic abated.

“You get ahead of yourself, MacInnes. We must settle the matter of Caitlin’s marriage to Fraser first.”

’Twas a game of words he played. Darach would never let himself be trapped in matrimony. He would make her uncle admit he drugged her and have the wedding to Fraser invalidated.

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

“The matter of the herbs is troubling,” Father Lundie said. “The vows are void if she knew not what she pledged.”

“I agree.” Anderson turned to Fraser and her uncle. “The contract is hereby negated. All goods paid to MacInnes must be returned, and, Fraser, your marriage to Caitlin MacInnes is annulled.”

“Over my dead body,” the Fraser laird spat out. His hands curled like claws.

Darach smiled. “That can be arranged.”