The Ranger (Highland Guard #3)(86)

Bàs roimh Gèill. Death before Surrender. Part of the Highland Guard creed. But it was damned unfortunate that it had given Lorn something to sink his teeth into.

That thin line Arthur was treading had just become narrower.

He shrugged noncommittally. “Then perhaps it was not him?”

Lorn’s gaze landed back on his daughter. Anna’s eyes darted to him before she answered. “I can’t be sure, Father. It was very dark. I only saw his face clearly for an instant, and I haven’t seen him in years.”

Arthur felt his chest tighten. She was trying to protect him. Had Lorn realized it as well?

Dugald had grown impatient. “Was there something you needed from me, my lord?”

In other words, why the hell was he here? A question Arthur was interested in as well.

“I’m getting to that.”

Lorn was tapping his fingers again, and Arthur had visions of taking his war hammer and putting an end to the annoyance.

“I’m not sure whether you were aware of the purpose of the journey north to Ross,” he said to Dugald. “It was to renew discussions of a betrothal between my daughter and Sir Hugh Ross, in the hopes that an alliance between us would encourage the earl to send troops to aid in the war against Bruce. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite go as planned.”

Dugald shot Arthur a sideways glare. “It didn’t?”

“Nay.” Lorn’s gaze fell back on him. “It seems Sir Hugh became aware that my daughter’s affections lay elsewhere. Do you have any knowledge of this, Sir Arthur?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see Anna pale, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

What the hell had she told him?

He gritted his teeth together, feeling backed into a corner with little room to maneuver. “Aye.”

“I thought you might,” Lorn said.

The flash of anger in his gaze told Arthur that he’d probably guessed some of what had happened. He waited tensely, bracing himself for what was to come. The noose drew tighter.

Lorn turned back to Dugald. His brother’s reason for being here had become clear. “With all that has happened, I would like to propose a different alliance. One that would solidify the bond between our families and show my gratitude to Sir Arthur for the service he has done my son, as well as see to my daughter’s happiness.”

Every bone in his body tensed as he waited for what was to come. He wondered if she’d had something to do with this, but Anna’s wide eyes showed her surprise when her father said, “I should like to propose a betrothal between Sir Arthur and my daughter.”

Dugald choked. “A betrothal?”

Lorn’s mouth thinned in a straight line. “I believe that’s what I said. We can work out the terms later, but be assured that my daughter’s tocher is more than generous. It includes a certain castle that I believe might be of interest to you.”

Both Arthur and his brother went completely still. It was Dugald who finally spit out, “Innis Chonnel?”

A devious smile played upon Lorn’s mouth. “Aye.”

Arthur couldn’t believe it. The Campbell stronghold on Loch Awe that had been stolen from his clan years ago, returned for marrying the woman he wanted more than any other. A true devil’s bargain.

For a moment he hesitated, more tempted than he wanted to admit. Switching sides in this war was far too common.

But he couldn’t do it. Even if he could get past allying himself with the man who killed his father, too many people were counting on him. Neil, King Robert, MacLeod and the other members of the Highland Guard. Nor could he ignore his conscience. He believed in what they were doing.

The return of the castle to the Campbells—even to a younger son—was enough to convince Dugald. He turned to Arthur. “I have no objection. Arthur …?”

All eyes turned to him, but he was conscious of only two sets: those of Anna, who watched him with her heart in hers, and Lorn, who watched him with his suspicions in his.

Even if he had no intention of going through with it, Arthur knew he had to agree in order to defray any suspicion. This betrothal was a test of his loyalty. It was just as much about Anna’s happiness as it was about proving his allegiance.

His conscience warred with his duty, but it was a short battle. He had no choice. The stakes were too high. He couldn’t think about how much she was going to hate him when she found out the truth.

“I would be honored to have Lady Anna as my wife.”

Perhaps the worst part was that he actually meant it.

Nineteen

Anna had everything she wanted. Then why was she so miserable?

It was a week after her father’s surprise betrothal announcement in his solar. Once she’d gotten over the shock, she’d been elated. To marry the man she loved ... Nothing could have made her happier—except maybe news that Bruce had decided the crown really didn’t belong to him and had disappeared in the Western Isles as he’d done before. But that dream had yet to come true.

While she’d been overjoyed, Arthur had looked as if he’d swallowed a fistful of nails.

In the days since, he’d been unfailingly polite. Attentive at meals and the few times their paths crossed during the day. He’d even allowed Squire to follow him around without complaint.

On the surface he was the perfect fiancé. But that was the problem: it was all on the surface. His formality—his increasing distance—dimmed the happiness inside her to a flicker. Every “Did you have a pleasant day today, Lady Anna?” or “Would you like another cup of wine, Lady Anna?” put a tiny fissure in her heart.