Chapter Four
There he was.
Conner MacGavin.
He was not at all what Mariote expected. He was neither horrid to look upon, nor was he devilishly handsome. Straight dark hair rolled over the collar of his fur cloak. His nose looked to have been broken at least once, but it did not make him unappealing. Of course, he was nowhere near as handsome as Willem, or even Lachlan, for that matter. But then again, what man was?
By the time she made her way to the stream, the sun had crept its way up, long enough to say hello, before hiding behind dark, heavy clouds. The promise of more snow hung in the air. Mariote hoped they would be able to get to Inverness ahead of the storm.
Crouched and hidden behind a patch of bramble bushes, Mariote watched him for a time. He was pacing back and forth, mumbling words she could not hear well enough to make out. Aye, he looked as nervous as a rabbit who had just spotted a hawk in the sky. Quashing the urge to giggle, she waited a little while longer before making her presence known.
He loves ye, she kept telling herself. More than life or breath itself. How many times had he written those words to her over the past months? Too many to count. It stood to reason he would be nervous, for together, they were about to embark on a life-long journey.
Then why didn’t she feel happier about it? Why did her heart not pound against her breast with excited anticipation? Why did her palms not sweat or her fingers tremble? Why did her lips not ache to feel his pressed against her own?
Wasn’t that how she should feel?
Her mother, bless her, had always been quite honest as it pertained to matters of the heart, on loving and joining with a man, and knowing the difference between lust and love.
But her mother had been blessed by falling in love with Alysander. Deeply, madly, and passionately in love with him. So much so that she would refuse to allow any arranged marriages for any of her daughters. Nay, they would all marry for love or not marry at all. Mariote suspected Alysander agreed with the last part at least.
However, Mariote’s circumstances were different. She was growing long in the tooth and impatient waiting for Willem to come to his senses. Reckoning she could live to be a hundred-years-old before the foolish man ever noticed her, let alone fell in love with her, she had made the decision to accept Conner’s proposal. Mayhap, someday she could love Conner as much as she loved Willem. Did that not happen frequently with arranged marriages? Two people thrown together for whatever reason, sometimes, often times, fell deeply in love with one another.
Mariote considered this to be an arranged marriage of her own making. Alysander refused to find her someone, and with Willem not realizing she would be the best thing ever to happen to him, she’d taken it upon herself to find a suitable husband.
And Conner was suitable enough.
If his letters were any indication as to what kind of man he was, then he was generous to a fault, patient, loyal, and a romantic at heart. Someday, he would be chief of his clan, therefore she need not worry that he could not take care of her.
With her mind made up, she stood, brushed the frozen leaves from her skirts, grabbed her satchel, and stepped forward. “Conner?” she said, her voice breathy and nervous.
He spun to look at her, his eyes as wide as trenchers. He smiled broadly, frozen in place for a long moment. “Mariote,” he finally managed to reply.
They paused near the stream for a long moment, just looking at one another. Mariote could not help but smile at him, for he looked sincerely and genuinely glad to see her.
“Did ye bring the horse?”
A horse?
After months of correspondence, of letters filled with naught but pretty words expressing his true heart and feelings, the first thing he asked was about a horse?
“Nay,” she replied, feeling more than just a bit dejected. “’Twas impossible to get one without bein’ seen,” she told him.
They stood a good fifteen feet apart. Even still, she could see anger flash behind his dark eyes. Feeling she ought to explain further, she said, “I had to be careful, lest I be seen. As it was, I had to sneak out through a hidden door in the wall.” ’Twas a full out lie. But she had promised Alysander and her mother long ago that she would never breathe a word about the secret tunnels. She had broken enough trusts this night. She’d not expose her family to any future risk.
“Did ye bring coin?” he asked, looking concerned as his eyes darted around the clearing.
Coin? “I have a few sillers,” she admitted, a sense of dread starting to form in the pit of her stomach. “Why?”
“We will need to purchase a horse,” he said, staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I too, could not get away on horseback. Me da has been watching me like a hawk these past days. He also cut off me allowance. I think he believed the threat of poverty would get me to change me mind about marrying Jean.”
Confusion set in. “Jean?” she asked. “I thought her name was Claire?”
“Whose name?”
Rolling her eyes, she said, “The woman yer da wants ye to marry. I thought you wrote that her name was Claire.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Jesu!” He exclaimed. “I fear yer beauty is makin’ me a bit addlepated. I do no’ think I can remember me own name right now, so glad am I to see ye.”
Mayhap he was just as nervous as she. Mayhap it hadn’t been anger she saw in his eyes, but disappointment. For now, she would give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Come,” he said, holding out an arm. “Let us away this place before anyone realizes ye be missin’.”
Reluctantly, she grabbed her satchel and went to him. He did not take her hand, but instead, placed a palm on her shoulder. “I will no’ rest easy until we are off yer da’s lands,” he admitted.
A wave of uneasiness washed over her. He was not behaving at all like she would expect him to, nor as she had hoped. When she’d thought about this moment, she envisioned him drawing her into his arms and stealing a kiss, so glad would he be that she was finally with him.
Nay, she convinced herself. He was simply being honorable. He’d not take advantage of her. Knowing him as she thought she did, he was going to wait until they were duly wed before stealing kisses.
Lachlan and Willem were lying on their stomachs some thirty feet away, well hidden behind a row of thick evergreens. As they watched and listened, their confusion grew. There was no joyful reunion between the two young people who were supposedly in love. No kisses, no warm embrace. One would think that, at the very least, they’d hug one another.
What bothered Lachlan most was that the young man was unarmed. No good warrior would leave his own bed without his sword. But this lad? Lachlan couldn’t even see a sgian dubh hidden in his belt.
And no horse? No coin? The fool clearly had not thought the entire thing through.
As much as Lachlan was tempted to burst through the bushes and drag Mariote back to the keep, his good sense told him to wait. Mayhap this was an attempt at a kidnapping, for sure as hell it was not two people in love attempting an elopement. Who knew how many men were lying in wait.
His blood boiled as he watched and listened. No matter what was afoot here, he would take great pleasure in gutting the man who had convinced Mariote to leave her home like a thief in the dead of night. The man’s lack of horse and coin proved he did not have the good sense God gave a goat. And he most assuredly did not have Mariote’s health or wellbeing at heart.
Were it he who had perchance won her heart, he would have gone to her father and asked for her hand, as any good man would have done. If by ill luck her father had refused, he would have waited and proven himself worthy of the girl’s hand. Then, and only then, would he have considered running away with her. And if it had come to that? He most assuredly would have been better prepared.
He and Willem watched in silence, waiting until the couple had left and were out of earshot.
Looking to Willem, he said, “That is no’ Conner MacGavin.”
“I ken that,” Willem whispered, “but who the bloody hell is he?” Slowly he got to his feet. “And why is he pretending to be Conner?”
Lachlan shook his head as headed for the horses. “I do no’ ken,” he said. “But I intend to find out.”
Willem stopped him from gaining his horse with a hand on his shoulder. “I think it best we wait.”
“Wait fer what?” Lachlan asked, his brow furrowed into a hard line.
“If this be a way to kidnap her, there might be more MacGavins lyin’ in wait,” Willem explained. “Mayhap far too many fer us to take care of on our own.”
Lachlan thought long and hard before asking, “What do ye suggest we do? Stand idly by and watch her be taken?”
Willem frowned and shook his head. “Nay, I be sayin’ we find out if the lad be alone or if he has company. If we find he is alone, then we will act. But if there be dozens of MacGavins with him, we risk not only losin’ our own heads, but Mariote’s as well.”
While Lachlan knew Willem’s idea made a good deal of sense, he still wasn’t fond of the idea. In the end, he had to agree. “But at the first sign of trouble, we will kill the bloody bastard.”
Willem chuckled his agreement. “Aye, we will kill the bloody bastard.”
They decided to keep to the forest, walking their horses so as not to be seen. “He was wearing the MacGavin plaid,” Willem said as he grabbed the reins to his steed.
“But that does no’ mean he is a MacGavin,” Lachlan said.
They remained quiet and well-hidden in the forest, carefully watching Mariote walk away with the stranger.
Lachlan knew she was in danger. The only question was, what kind? Was this a ploy to get her as far away from their lands as possible in order to kidnap her? Or was there something far more sinister at play? Either way, it made him angry to think Mariote was foolish enough to fall prey to such tactics.
“Ye ken her better than I,” Willem said. “Are ye certain she never mentioned Conner MacGavin?”
“I told ye, no!” Lachlan shook his head, befuddled.
The Mariote he knew was a logical, practical lass. She never wiled away the hours daydreaming about romance, husbands, kisses, or the making of bairns. Were they not as close as two people could be without being married or related by blood? Had he not shared every secret with her? Every dream?
Nay, he had not shared everything. There were some secrets—all of which revolved around her—that he’d kept as closely guarded as the king’s jewels. Either ’twas cowardice or the fact that Willem was like a brother to him that kept him quiet about any feelings he might have toward Mariote. She loved Willem, plain and simple.
Even if Lachlan believed her love was misplaced. He knew Willem better than anyone. His friend was not the marrying kind, and that was something Mariote wanted: marriage, a family of her own.
All at once, clarity dawned as bright as the morning sun in summer. Mariote had grown tired of waiting for the love of her life to ask for her hand. ’Twas the only reason she would accept a proposal from the first man who asked. Above all things, she wanted a husband and children of her own.
Bloody hell.