Page 4 of Bound to a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #2)

CHAPTER FOUR

“ L aird MacLachlan, welcome tae Castle Macfie.”

“Thank ye fer havin’ me, Laird Macfie.”

Maddox climbed off his horse and handed the reins to a stableboy who led his mount to the stables on the far side of the yard. He turned to Laird Macfie, sizing him up as they gripped each other’s forearms in the warrior’s shake. The man’s dark hair fell to his shoulders and his deep blue eyes were hard and probing. He wasn’t a man who missed much. The grin on the man’s thin, bloodless lips looked stiff and unnatural, telling Maddox he wasn’t a man who smiled often.

“Thank ye fer makin’ the journey tae Colonsay,” Macfie went on. “Come in. Let’s get ye out of the cold. We’ll get some food and wine in ye and we’ll talk.”

“That sounds lovely. I appreciate yer hospitality,” Maddox replied.

“Seems we’ve got much tae celebrate taegather, ye and me.”

Maddox said nothing but gave the Laird a nod as they turned and walked into the castle together. A servant appeared to take his damp cloak from him. Macfie led him down a long corridor and into the main receiving hall. It was brightly lit and warm and as they made their way to the long table, servants were laying out a feast. Far more than seemed necessary for just the two of them. Nonetheless, Maddox surveyed the spread and inhaled the rich, delicious aromas and felt his stomach grumble.

“Sit, sit,” Macfie said. “Let’s drink and dine.”

He offered Macfie a smile as he sat down at the table. A serving girl poured them both a cup of mulled wine and they toasted each other before tucking into their meal. Maddox ate ravenously, dipping his bread and roast chicken and mutton into the thick, rich gravy.

“I trust the trip up from town wasnae tae bad?” Macfie asked.

“’Twas long and cold, but fine.”

Despite the sky being gray and heavy, Maddox had gotten on the road at first light that morning. A fine drizzle continued to fall upon the land, but the storm had broken, and he wanted to get his meeting with Laird Macfie over with as soon as possible. He still wasn’t sure how he was going to talk the man out of sealing the pact through marriage, but he was determined to find a way. Marriage was not what he wanted. The dark-haired woman he’d kissed in the common room the night before had further proved that to him.

Maddox had made the entire journey from the small port town to Castle Macfie regretting the fact that he’d failed to get the name of the woman he’d kissed. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind the entire ride. It wasn’t just the kiss or feeling her soft, warm body. There was just something about her that stirred something deep within him. Something primal. Something Maddox had never felt before. It left him confused but also intrigued.

As they finished up their meal, the servants came and cleared the table. Maddox was stuffed, his hunger sated. He sat back and took a sip of his wine, dreading the conversation that was about to be had now that the meal was over. Laird Macfie sat forward.

“So?” he said. “Shall we get tae business then?’

“Aye. About that?—”

Macfie turned his head and called over his shoulder. “Bring her in.”

A door at the rear of the hall opened and a young girl walked in. With long dark hair that hung loose about her shoulders and the same azure-colored eyes as her father, the girl was young and petite. Her skin was fair, her cheeks flushed, and she would not meet Maddox’s gaze. He couldn’t blame her. Being paraded around like a show pony at auction had to be humiliating. The girl was pretty, perhaps even beautiful, but the thing that stood out to him most was that she was, in fact, a girl. He would have been surprised if she’d seen fifteen summers yet.

“Laird MacLachlan, this is me daughter, Cecilia,” Macfie said. “Girl, come closer. Let Laird MacLachlan have a good look at ye.”

Her gaze remained on the floor and her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but she obeyed her father and stepped closer to the table. Her father made a circular motion with his finger.

“Turn around,” Macfie commanded. “Give the man a good look at what he’s buyin’.”

Although Maddox was no stranger to political arrangements and alliances made through marriage, the very notion of buying and selling people for personal gain, as Macfie had so callously referred to it, turned his stomach. He wasn’t the most cultured or genteel man in the world, but he certainly had more decorum than to say something so foul to his own daughter.

“Cecilia, why dinnae ye go and sit next tae Laird MacLachlan?—”

“’Tis all right,” Maddox cut him off. “I wonder if we might have a word in private?”

Macfie’s face darkened with an expression of irritation, his lips pressed together tightly, and his eyes narrowed. But he nodded to his daughter.

“Give us a minute alone, daughter,” he said brusquely.

Cecilia looked from her father to Maddox, her face quivering with fear as if she’d done something wrong, as if she lived under the constant threat of punishment. Maddox felt awful for her.

“’Twas nice tae meet ye, lass,” he said. “Ye’re a lovely girl.”

“Thank ye, Laird MacLachlan.”

“Please, call me Maddox.”

“I think it best if she refers tae ye by yer proper title,” Macfie said. “The girl needs tae remember her manners as well as her place.”

There was much Maddox wanted to say but he bit his words off, not wanting to cause a scene in front of the girl. She was distressed enough. Cecilia gave him a friendly, if a bit stiff, smile and a graceful curtsy before turning and practically sprinting from the room, slamming the chamber door behind her.

She hadn’t said a word and had been nothing but a proper lady, but Maddox could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of marrying him. He’d seen it in her eyes. However, she was willing to do her duty to her family. Maddox understood all too well that notion, but that didn’t stop him from feeling terrible for the girl.

“Well?” Macfie asked. “What dae ye think? She’s a beauty, isnae she?”

“Aye. She’s a very pretty girl,” Maddox agreed. “But that’s the problem, Laird Macfie. She’s but a girl. How many summers has she seen? Fourteen? Fifteen?”

“She’s just seen her fifteenth year. Cecilia is in her prime child bearin’ years.”

Maddox shuddered. At thirty-one years himself, he was twice her age, and he did not fancy the idea of taking a child bride. But it was a delicate line to walk because he had no desire to offend Laird Macfie by refusing him outright. He took another drink of wine and cleared his throat.

“Me second wife was fifteen when we married,” Macfie said. “Unfortunately, fer me, she’s barren and unable tae bear me a child, or so it seems. But me own daughter willnae have that problem. She’ll bear ye many heirs.”

“As I said, she’s a lovely girl,” Maddox said. “But I wonder if there’s a way we can seal our alliance without a marriage. We both benefit?—”

Macfie waved his hand irritably, cutting him off. “Nay. A marriage bonds clans taegether in ways a simple word doesnae. Makes those bonds tight.”

“Are ye questionin’ me word, Laird Macfie?”

“Nay. From all I’ve learned, ye’re a good, honorable man who always holds true to yer word.”

“Then take me at me word that I’ll hold up me end?—”

“What is it? Is me Cecilia nae good enough fer ye, Laird MacLachlan?”

Macfie’s face darkened with offense and anger. The man was bristling and looked ready to start throwing haymakers. His pride and ego were pushing him toward the edge and Maddox knew if he didn’t bring the temperature down, one of them was going to do something they would both come to regret.

“’Tis nae that, Burchard. As I keep sayin’, she’s lovely and will make a fine wife one day,” he said. “But I’m nae lookin’ tae get married. If there’s some other way we?—”

“Absolutely nae. The only proper way tae seal a pact is through marriage.”

“Laird Macfie?—”

“Ye’re dangerously close tae offendin’ me, Laird MacLachlan. It sounds like ye’re sayin’ me daughter isnae good enough fer ye.”

“’Tis nae what I’m sayin’. I’ve told ye that. I just dinnae want tae be married,” he replied. “Nor dae I want tae marry a child.”

The man balled his hands into fists as he glowered at Maddox, looking ready to jump across the table and throttle him. The tension in the air around them rose, and Maddox’s body grew taut as he prepared to defend himself. Before things got out of hand though, Macfie forced his hands open and let out a deep breath, making himself relax.

“Ye’ve had a long journey tae get here and ye must be tired,” he said, his voice still tight. “I’ll have ye seen tae yer chambers and we can talk again on the morrow.”

“Laird Macfie?—”

“We’ll speak on this on the morrow.”

Before Maddox could say anything further, Macfie got to his feet and walked out of the hall, slamming the chamber door behind him. Maddox drained the last of his wine and sighed. It seemed that if he wanted the coin that could secure the future of his people, he was going to have to marry after all. Macfie was intractable.

“Sacrifice,” he muttered as Adair’s words echoed through his mind. “Bleedin’ sacrifice.”

Maddox got to his feet and picked up his cup of wine. He wasn’t ready yet to go to bed and was relishing the silence of the chamber. He sipped his wine as he walked around, studying the difference pieces of art Macfie had filled his hall with. There were a number of statues of people Maddox didn’t know. He assumed they were Macfie’s ancestors.

As he circled the room, he studied the various portraits that had been commissioned and hung on the walls. Likely more of Macfie’s kin. Draining the last of his wine, he was just about to turn away and head for his bedchamber when a painting caught his attention. Stepping closer to the painting, Maddox felt a yawning chasm open in his belly. Macfie he recognized instantly. He was rendered a little more handsome than he was in reality, but it was clearly him. And the young girl was Cecilia—he recognized her from that night and from the sketches that had been sent when Macfie first proposed the alliance they were negotiating.

But his gaze stopped on the third figure in the portrait. As he focused on the woman, his eyes widened and that chasm in his gut opened wider, threatening to swallow him whole. She had fair skin and long, rich hair the color of warm chocolate. But it was the eyes that had Maddox’s heart fluttering in his breast. Even in the painting, he recognized them instantly. It was the woman from the inn. The woman he’d kissed. He’d neglected to get her name then, but he certainly knew it now. The Lady Macfie, Burchard’s wife.

“Bleedin’ hell,” he muttered.