The Devil in Plaid(16)

A murmur of unrest grew throughout the hall. Some of the villagers glared at him while others shed tears on behalf of their lady—as if marriage to him was some kind of death sentence. The protests began to grow louder.

“Spare yer daughter, my lord,” a man shouted from one of the trencher tables in the back of the room.

“We do not need them. We can fight the MacKenzie ourselves!” another voice cried out.

“Enough,” Gordon MacDonnell shouted, silencing his people. “I am yer laird.”

Then Jamie watched as Gordon turned and cupped his daughter’s cheek and leaned close. They whispered together. Jamie did not doubt she likely sought a bargain of her own, something she could squeeze from her beleaguered father—clothes, baubles, or other such frivolities.

But when she turned and faced Jamie, unshed tears shone in her gaze. For a moment, his conscience panged him, but then he remembered her haughty appraisal of his appearance. Their clans were under the threat of annihilation. The blood of his people smeared his skin. He hardened his heart against her emotion and stood his ground. “We leave for Castle Làidir at first light.”

His statement was met with wide eyes by both his betrothed and his soon-to-be father in-law.

“I would prefer if the ceremony happened here,” Gordon said quickly.

“I’m sure ye would,” Jamie replied, although he gave no quarter. “But we leave at dawn.”

Fiona’s hand snaked out, grabbing her father’s arm. She looked up at him with beseeching eyes.

Gordon patted her hand and appealed to Jamie again. “She will need more time to prepare. We ask for at least a fortnight.”

Jamie stepped forward. “The MacKenzie breathes down both our necks, and ye want to dally for a fortnight? Mayhap, ye want to post the banns so that he knows of our alliance and has time to forge a plan of his own.”

Father and daughter exchanged looks. Jamie could not deny their anguished expressions. He took a deep breath. They needed time to say goodbye, but he could only afford to give them another day.

“We leave the morrow after.”

Gordon’s face brightened. “That is generous of ye. There is much to plan. If ye will excuse my daughter?”

Jamie nodded curtly.

The lass’s eyes still shone bright with tears, but she held her head high as she hastened behind the screen, disappearing from view.

“Mathe,” Gordon called out, motioning to a serving lad. “Show Laird MacLeod to the chamber in the east wing.”

“There is no need,” Jamie interjected. “I will see to my own arrangements.”

The alliance would not be official until vows were spoken and their union consummated. Until that time, he would continue regarding Clan MacDonnell as his enemy, and he had no intention of bedding down with the enemy.

“Yer daughter, no doubt, intends to bring her trunks and servants. She is permitted two lady’s maids, but that is all.”

Gordon shook his head. “But there is no time to ready her maids and herself in a single day.”

“Lady Fiona will not be traveling with her servants or yer warriors. They can travel with the lady’s belongings when preparations are finished.”

“But…I do not—”

“My men and I will escort yer daughter,” Jamie explained. “Our alliance will be void if she is killed or taken by the MacKenzie during our journey. This is the only way I can be sure to protect her. We will not travel by road. Instruct her to wear appropriate clothing and be prepared to sleep out of doors. Allow me to speak plainly—it will be a hard journey.”





Chapter Eight


Fiona forced her feet to walk calmly around the screen. She stood there out of sight for several moments and listened while her father and her betrothed planned her future.

It will be a hard journey.

This Fiona did not doubt, although she felt in her heart Laird MacLeod spoke not just of their journey to his home, but of her life the moment she was bound to him.

When she heard her fierce betrothed leave the great hall, her resolve vanished. The emotions she had been suppressing rushed to the fore. Her hands flew to her face to smother the sob, barreling up her throat. She raced through the solar, then up the stairs. Tears blurred her vision, causing her to stumble twice on the narrow, circular steps.

She was heartsore and so very afraid that she could hardly draw breath. Her mind betrayed her, flashing with images of his cruel eyes and blood-streaked face. He was a monster—a massive, snarling monster.

And her new betrothed.

A fresh sob tore from her lips. Was it all real? Had the fearsome laird of the MacLeod walked through their gate and propositioned her father for her hand? And had her father truly given his consent? Or was it all a horrible nightmare, from which she might wake?

She knew the truth, of course as much as she wished she could wake up and have the horrible events of the past fortnight be nothing more than a dream.

Her betrothal to the MacLeod was as real as the danger she now knew she was in. Fury and fear pulsed through her. Still, she couldn’t blame her father. He took no joy in handing her over to the likes of Jamie MacLeod. He only did so to protect their clan.

But how had it come to this?

Not a month ago, she had looked forward to a fortunate match with Adam MacKenzie.

Her heart ached as Adam’s youthful eyes and soft smile filled her mind. He had been so gentle and kind. His body had not been made for heroics, but he never would have raised his hand against a soul; whereas, everything about Jamie spoke of hardness—from his fiery eyes to his brute strength. He was a man used to being obeyed. Story after story assailed her mind. Ever since she was a wee lass, she had heard of the cruelty of the Clan MacLeod. They beat their women and starved their children. They raided her lands, forcing her father’s hand to retaliate in kind. This is what she knew of the man who now held her wellbeing, her very life in his hands.