Highlander Enchanted(26)

“Mayhap ye werena careful.”

“I was. I always am.”

“Cade, if this is true, if yer magic chooses a woman ye canna marry …”

“Why can I not marry her?” Cade growled. “Am I not laird?”

“But ye doona know if she is lying. If she has no claim to the MacCosse lands, and ye marry her, we make an enemy of the MacDonald’s and we have no land.”

Cade heard the sense in his cousin’s words, along with the consideration. It was not unheard of for the magic in their blood to choose mates; it happened at times, and often those chosen to enter their secret world were not seillie at all. His father had been one of them, a warrior chosen by his mother to protect the gentle seillie.

“I will send someone to court to verify her claim,” he said with reluctance.

“This is wise. Ye canna act if ye doona ken.”

“I canna make sense of this,” he said in frustration. His eyes scanned the hunkered down MacDonald’s clan members entering the walls of his keep. “I didna expect so many.”

“Laird MacDonald brought enough people for a wedding.”

Cade suspected the same. This encounter was supposed to be about hammering out the contract, to include setting a date. There were entirely too many people in attendance for this to be anything other than a wedding.

Rarely indecisive, Cade was having a difficult time determining how to stall the aging Laird MacDonald, despite intuitively knowing Lady Isabel would never agree to wed the man she blamed for her brother’s death. She was in danger from Richard and had witnessed his magic. By his honor, she should not leave, even if she refused his proposal.

He ignored the tiny whisper reminding him his confusion lay not in what Lady Isabel would decide but because he did not understand his magic’s insistence she had to stay.

The more time he spent with Lord Richard, however, the more he believed the English noble would return with an army to claim her, if Cade held her captive. Lord Richard was perhaps the most resolute man Cade had ever met.

As for what to tell Laird MacDonald, Cade was torn between the duty to his kin and the magic that wanted Isabel by his side.

He soon lost count of how many MacDonald’s passed through his gate. The number of women and children was unsettling, and they were escorted by no more than four warriors.

“I think something is amiss,” he said to Niall.

Niall frowned as he took a closer look at the people flooding into the bailey. “Yea. And they arrived with a small escort.”

“The MacDonald’s are no’ known for warring. He sent all his warriors to the Holy Lands.”

“A laird that wealthy has his enemies. We ‘ave none, because we ‘ave nothing for them to want,” Niall said wisely.

“This isna a good sign.”

“No. ‘Tis not.”

A boxy wagon rolled through the gates close to the end of the procession. Cade openly scowled, protected from anyone’s sight by the thick sheet of rain. The wagon bore the woman he was supposed to become hand-fasted to this very day. He had never met her, only heard tales of her sharp tongue. It was said she was laird of the MacDonald’s, not her father.

“Can we no’ determine if yer English lass tells the truth?” Niall asked. “T’be first in line to claim the MacCosse land is t’be favored by the king. She is wealthy?”

“She is the sole heir t’her father’s wealth. Yea, she be wealthy if she is t’be believed, which I am not convinced yet.”

“And Saxony’s sister.” These words were more hushed. “I ken we dinna do him wrong, and his mind left him, but oft, I think of him.”

“I do as well,” Cade said. “I wouldna left ye in that dungeon. I shouldna left him.”

“Ye had no choice and yea, ye’d leave me, because I wouldna let ye all die for me,” Niall said firmly. “He was taken by madness. Ye nigh destroyed yer mind t’help him.”

Cade was quiet, aware of the efforts they had all made to help the English noble named Saxony. His magic had helped at first, led the madman from his madness back to the world. But even it ceased to work after a length of time, and they had been forced to leave him or risk all their lives.

He had debated revealing the truth to Isabel last night. He had seen none of the madness in her, only sorrow and anger, emotions he understood too well after seeing so many deaths in the Holy Lands.

If he had to wed, he would prefer a wife as beautiful and gently spirited as Isabel, assuming she was not a pretender or lying to him or worst of all, a danger to his clan.

“Bid Father Adam to hasten with the other writs. We need to know what they say. I canna ken fer certain if she is truthful about her wealth.” Cade said and nudged his cousin.

Niall obeyed.

Cade waited in the rain until the last of the procession was safely within the bailey before ordering the gates closed and trailing the nobles of the party into the Great Hall. Warmth and light chased away the dreary cold from outdoors, and he handed off his cloak to a waiting servant before striding forward to greet the elderly Laird MacDonald. Tall and stooped, the aging patriarch peered up at Cade with sharp blue eyes.

“Laird Cade,” he said with a smile and held out his knobby hand.

Cade dipped his head to kiss the knuckles of the old man. “Laird Hugh. You brought many witnesses for our contract.”