Читать книгу Yield to the Highlander - Terri Brisbin - Страница 10

Chapter Two

‘What do you think of this, Aidan?’

He’d long ago given the report of the results of his latest assignment to those here, so Aidan’s thoughts had drifted from whatever was the matter at hand to the lush figure of the woman he desired most. Glancing around at the clan elders and his father’s other counsellors, he had no intention of revealing his thoughts, though if he stood now the matter would be quite clear to everyone there.

Aidan tried to remember what the discussion had been when he caught Rurik’s eye. His father’s most loyal friend and the leader of all his warriors gave him a knowing wink. Also his godfather, Rurik knew of Aidan’s love of the fairer sex and Aidan had sought his advice several times when asking his father would have been too difficult or embarrassing. Rurik took it in his stride and, apparently, kept his eye on Aidan’s activities. Finally remembering the last topic, he looked at his father.

‘I think you should gather the newer soldiers together in one place and let some of the experienced commanders train them,’ he said, hoping his suggestion sounded like a reasonable one.

His father raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Tempted to say something, anything, to break the silence, he knew better than that. Connor MacLerie would consider his words and weigh the merits and disadvantages of any plan, whether his first-born son’s or his most trusted advisor’s. Aidan watched as his father met the gazes of one after another of his counsellors and then turned back and spoke to him again.

‘And who should I assign to this task?’ he asked.

Aidan rose then and went to fill his cup before speaking. Several names came to mind—all experienced, capable warriors—and he offered them. ‘Black Rob. Iain. Calum,’ he said.

‘Micheil,’ Rurik offered. ‘And we will need one more to work with the number of new soldiers we have, Connor.’

‘Gowan.’ The name escaped Aidan’s mouth before he truly thought it through, but it was right for so many reasons that he repeated it. ‘Gowan should be there.’

Aidan held his breath, waiting for his father’s decision. This task would take several weeks, if not almost two months, and it would keep Gowan far enough away that he could not interfere with Aidan’s plans for Catriona. It would give him uninterrupted weeks to follow her, weaken any resistance or hesitation she might have and seduce her and make her his. A smile threatened, one which would be hard to explain, so he took a deep swallow of his wine instead.

‘Rurik, what think you of Aidan’s choices?’ his father asked.

Rurik crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. A good sign or bad, Rurik gave no sign of his opinion for several moments. Then, with a nod, he confirmed them.

‘Give the orders and make the arrangements,’ his father said, putting down his cup and nodding to several of the men there.

Aidan held his breath, not daring to believe his luck in this. Within a day, two at the most, Gowan would be gone from Lairig Dubh and he could pursue the fair and lovely Catriona without interference. He watched as the men left and his father remained with Duncan and Rurik. A discussion about several upcoming visits by various noblemen in Scotland who wanted to be in the good graces of the Earl of Douran. It was nothing new for his father or for him—people who valued them only for their name, their connections or the power and influence they wielded.

A short time passed and Aidan listened without interest to who was coming or going, caring not as long as Gowan was gone from Lairig Dubh. Then his father nodded at his closest advisors and they left.

‘Send for Jocelyn, Rurik,’ he called out as the men walked to the steps leading down from this tower chamber.

Aidan took a deep swallow from his cup, now puzzled over what was to come. His father alone would not be of concern, but calling his mother here meant trouble was coming his way. They passed the minute or so of time waiting for her arrival in silence with Aidan fighting the urge to ask the reason. Soon, he could hear his mother’s footsteps approaching the top of the stairs and he rose to greet her.

Being forced to marry the Beast of the Highlands to save her family had brought Jocelyn MacCallum to Lairig Dubh. Capturing the heart of a man most thought did not have one had turned that marriage into a long and happy one. No matter whatever else happened, Aidan knew his father loved his mother with every bit of his heart and soul. It was there every time one glanced at the other, through good times and contentious ones.

Not that he ever expected to find such a thing as they’d found—he was more practical than that. But he did understand that his parents’ marriage and relationship was not the customary one in this time or place.

‘So, why did you summon Mother?’ he finally asked, wanting some kind of hint about the probably discussion ahead.

His father put his cup down and stood, walking over to the door, awaiting his mother’s arrival there.

‘To discuss your upcoming marriage.’

* * *

Connor watched his son as he spoke of the reason they waited for Jocelyn to arrive. It could not be a surprise to him, for the boy had reached marriageable age a few years ago. Any delay in finalising arrangements had been Connor’s weakness when faced with the pleas from his beloved wife to delay. So many of their kin had been married off recently, including their own daughter, that Connor gave in to Jocelyn’s request. Many offers and expressions of interest had been coming in since Aidan had reached ten years of age. A few bold noblemen had offered even sooner.

But it was time for his eldest and heir to marry and begin to take up more responsibility within the clan and to become an integral part of overseeing the MacLerie estates, businesses and armies. Watching as he slept his way through a never-ending, never-slowing stream of women, Connor knew his son was not going to slow down or take on more responsibility unless he married.

And mayhap not even then.

So, he could not, they could not, ignore it any longer. His son needed to settle down and focus his attentions on clan matters instead of those of the flesh only. Asking for Aidan’s suggestions on which men were best to send on the training mission was one way. Connor had already made his choices, but giving his son a chance to give his opinion had been his way of testing Aidan’s knowledge and wisdom.

Connor turned and watched as his wife reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the chamber door, smiling at their eldest as she caught sight of him there. Then her gaze met his own and the warmth of her love shot through him. As it always did.

‘So, have you told him yet?’ she asked as she passed Aidan and came to stand before him. Her tone of voice was even, but that did not fool him for a moment—she was still not accepting that this was the time for their son to marry.

‘I awaited your arrival, love.’

Aidan glanced from him to his mother. His son should be accustomed to the endearments that crept in when they were alone, but from his expression, he seemed surprised by it.

‘And you have what to tell me?’ his son asked.

‘Based on our preliminary discussions, there are three prospective marriages.’

‘Our?’ Aidan asked. Connor would have laughed at how his son mirrored his own posture—arms crossed over his chest, feet planted in a warrior’s stance—if he had not worn his mother’s stubborn expression on his face.

‘The clan elders, Duncan, Rurik. Your mother,’ Connor replied, nodding to Jocelyn, ‘who would not be kept out of any talks that involved your future bride.’

‘And? Who are the three women?’ he asked.

‘The first is Margaret Sinclair of Caithness,’ Jocelyn explained.

‘The earl’s grandniece?’ Aidan asked.

Rurik’s father was Earl of Orkney, whose claim was through a marriage that had not resulted in a legitimate heir to inherit the title. Well, there had been a son, Rurik’s half-brother, but his unlamented death some years ago ended their father’s ability to keep the earldom in the family. The Sinclair family would be next in line once Erengisl Sunesson passed. And a marriage between Aidan and Margaret would link the MacLeries to one of the most powerful families of the north. ‘Aye.’

‘And the second?’

Connor met Jocelyn’s puzzled gaze. Aidan’s disinterest in his choices for a wife was stronger than either of them had expected. He nodded at her to continue as he watched their son’s reactions.

‘Alys MacKenzie,’ Jocelyn said. With the MacLeries’ recent ties to the Mathesons and their powerful Highland allies, the MacKenzies, it made sense to consider a direct link with them.

‘Nay,’ Aidan said, shaking his head. ‘Not a MacKenzie.’

Jocelyn threw a glance in his direction, both of them surprised by his opposition at the mere mention of the lass.

‘’Tis early in negotiations, Aidan. Let all three names stand for now.’ Connor nodded to Jocelyn to announce the third name.

‘And Elizabeth Maxwell is the last.’ Elizabeth was the eldest daughter of the Border lord and their family had strong ties to the Berkeley family in England. A good way to extend the MacLerie reach into the other kingdom.

Silence filled the room and Aidan’s expression remained blank. Uninterested? Resigned? Which one Connor knew not. Then their son let out a long sigh and nodded.

‘So how do you plan to do this? Will I have any say in the matter?’ he asked them.

‘Your mother has convinced me that, since all three are acceptable matches to us, you should have the final choice.’ Connor walked to Jocelyn’s side. ‘Each of the three have been invited to visit Lairig Dubh, so that you might meet them and take measure of whether they suit you.’

‘When will these visits begin?’

‘I am not certain. After we attend your uncle’s wedding, I think.’ His uncle Athdar had claimed Rurik’s daughter when she boldly hid away in his keep last winter. Handfasted when he discovered her, for honour’s sake, the church wedding would solemnify the joining that was already proving fruitful.

Aidan felt the tension leave his body. He had some time yet. No matter that he knew it was his duty to marry, and marry well, for the best interests of his kith and kin, he really had not wanted to do it yet. He was enjoying his life and a wife married for alliances and treaties would make it difficult to pursue his own pleasures. And he’d become accustomed to doing what, and who, he wished.

But in this moment, Aidan gave an honest appraisal of his opposition to seeking a wife now. It was the same reason he wanted no MacKenzie on that list of brides—and her name was Catriona MacKenzie. Finding her at the well was a lucky chance, but he wanted time, and the opportunity, to discover what lay beneath that smile and behind those eyes. He wanted time, undistracted by the demands of his family, to seduce her.

‘After the wedding, then,’ he said, looking from his father to his mother. Aidan tried not to look too hopeful as he waited for his parents to decide.

‘I will have Duncan begin approaching the families now,’ his father declared, staring at him as though trying to search his thoughts. ‘The roads are clear now all across the land.’

Aidan let out the breath he did not realise he’d been holding. ‘If there’s nothing else?’

His father nodded. Aidan walked to his mother and kissed her cheek. As was her custom, and in disregard for his age, she ran her fingers through his hair and touched his face as she had when he was a wee bairn. ‘Will you be at supper?’

‘Aye, I will be there,’ he said.

With nothing else to say and other tasks to see finished this day, Aidan strode from their chambers and returned to where his friends trained in the yard. His body hummed with restlessness now and he needed to work it out. Since he would not approach Catriona until her husband left, that left the other physical release of a good fight.

Aidan laughed aloud as he reached the yard and called out his challenges. With the way his blood burned for her, it would be a long afternoon in the training yard.