Page 21 of Bride of the Mad Laird (Sparks and Tartans #12)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

L yra kept her gaze on Tòrr’s features. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. It seemed what he had to say was making him uneasy.

This could only mean one possibility. As she’d feared, the Council, cowed by MacDougall’s wrath, had chosen to give her up to their enemy. She held her breath, her hands curling into fists, fear curdling her belly.

“The Council has decided ye willnae be turned over tae MacDougall, but ye will remain under the protection of Castle Dùn Ara. I will write yer clan taemorrow tae tell them ye are safe here at me castle and tae ask fer their army tae help us and our allies tae protect ye against MacDougall.”

The relief surged through her like the turning of the tide.

I am saved.

She turned a beaming smile to Tòrr, anticipating he would share her jubilation. Yet he did not smile, but stood there fidgeting, flexing his hands, his feet tapping.

There was more! He had not told her everything.

Her smile faded. “What is it ye’ve nae told me? I can see it in yer face, there’s more tae come.”

His hesitation was driving her insane. A million thoughts raced through her head. What more could there possibly be? What was to be asked of her? Was she to be sent back to the Priory?

He nodded. “Aye. There’s more.”

“Then tell me,” she said, her patience snapping.

His broad chest heaved as he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“The Council took the view that MacDougall was pursuing ye because it was his plan tae marry ye and seize the MacInnes lands.”

She narrowed her green eyes, looking at him with suspicion. “Aye. We’ve long kent this was so. ‘Twas nay secret. What of it?”

He continued with the same halting speech, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin in trepidation of what was to come.

“They saw that if he were tae wed ye and in doing so, take the MacInnes lands as his own, this would only tighten his hold on Western Scotland. He would become even more powerful. A threat tae all the clans in the west and the islands.”

“Aye, but...?” She puzzled. Why in all the saints, was he going over this again?

“So... it was decided that it would be in all our interests if ye were tae wed me...”

Her mind reeled, surely she had misheard. “Wed ye?”

“Aye, lass. It was decided that the best way to keep ye safe was fer ye... and meself... tae marry.”

She gritted her teeth as the truth slowly dawned. “And the MacKinnons would then have a rightful claim tae the lands belonging tae me Clan.”

As she said the words something rose inside her. An altogether strange mixture of sadness and loss right alongside fury and a righteous sense of indignation. It left her feeling as she’d been hollowed out, gutted like a fish.

“So I would nae be free? I would merely be exchanging me servitude from one master tae another. Tae be bound fer life tae a man who merely wishes ownership of me and me lands.”

Tòrr stepped forward, raising his arms as if to embrace her. “Nay lass. ‘Tis nay so...” he trailed off, leaving her convinced that she spoke the truth of the matter.

She thrust his hands away and lifted her head high. “I’ll nae be treated as a pawn in a game of politics and power. I will nay wed tae make yer clan wealthy at the expense of meself and me people and tae increase the MacKinnons’ power.”

Tòrr stood before her shaking his head, seemingly lost for words, and she felt hot tears brewing behind her eyes.

“Please leave me.” She would never permit him to see the pain she experienced at his words.

He seemed frozen to the spot.

“Go.” If he stood there another moment with that sad-eyed expression on his handsome features she would surely break. “Now.”

At last, he turned and made his way to the door. About to lift the latch he rounded on her. “I’m sorry that this decision has caused ye distress me lady.”

With that, he opened the door and was gone before she could berate him further.

She could never tell him that she’d come to care for him and that being bound to him by an edict of his Council could only ensure he turned away from her and found himself as desperate for freedom as she was.

They would be nothing more than two birds, caged to meet the needs of others, that would, in time, wish to tear each other apart.

She fastened her cloak of angry words about her, they were her protection against the growing feelings of tenderness toward Tòrr and the confusion of wanting his touches and kisses, that left her tossing and damp beneath her covers at night.

Finally, flinging herself on the plush pillows of her bed, she allowed the tears she’d been holding onto forever came pouring out. All the loneliness, the fear and the fanciful notions that she’d embraced after speaking with Eilidh about love and kindness had been dashed by Tòrr’s words.

And, to make it worse, he seemed to care little that they were to be married for no better reason than to please his Council. If only he’d been able to console her with even a small word to let her know he understood her despair. Instead, he stood there as stoic as the savage laird she’d glimpsed, a man with a heart of stone.

The tears turned into great heart-wrenching sobs that threatened self-pity and a loss of her wits altogether.

With her head on the tear-washed pillow she soothed herself to sleep. She would escape. And neither the Laird Alexander MacDougall, or the Laird Tòrr MacKinnon would stop her.

* * *

Cursing himself for a blundering fool, Tòrr walked the few paces to his chamber. Of course the lass was furious. He should have thought of that possibility before he spoke. He already knew that the idea of a convenient marriage for the sake of the ownership of clan lands was abhorrent to her. She’d said so often enough. But he’d been too much of a dolt to have not fully understood it could apply just as readily to his proposal as it did to that of MacDougall.

He settled in front of the fire, his thoughts ranging across every possibility. He had three weeks in which to court the lady and convince her that marrying him would not be the hell on earth she may suppose it to be.

And what of his own heart. He assessed the things he was certain of. First, her beauty left him breathless. If he was honest with himself, the idea of marriage and taking Lyra to his bed was uppermost in his mind. The time they’d spent together he’d learned a little about her. First she’d been imperious and unbending, but as their travels wore on he’d come to see her in a different light.

Surely, she was impulsive and impetuous – her attempt to escape had shown him that in no uncertain terms. But along with that, she was passionate and determined, not a gentle submissive creature but brave and courageous, someone who would always challenge and hold him to account.

She would be a wife he could turn to for strength and support when there were difficult decisions to make. She was proud and defiant, yet compassionate and clever.

His heart lifted. For him, the marriage held no sense of dread. In time she would come to feel as he did.

A sharp tap on his door had him on his feet as Edmund walked in carrying what was left of the whisky and a platter with bannocks and cheese.

“Thought ye might dae with some refreshments.” Edmund placed the platter on the small table and seated himself by the fire. “Have ye spoken tae the Lady Lyra yet about the Council’s decision?”

Tòrr wrinkled his nose. “Seems I’m nay more appealing as a husband than our dear friend Laird Alexander.”

Edmund chuckled. “And ye were expecting the lass tae fall at yer feet and thank ye fer saving her from one arranged marriage by offering another?”

“Aye, lad. Fool that I am, I anticipated her gratitude, nae her disgust.”

“So, I take it, there is much courtship tae be done before the wedding.”

“If there is tae be a wedding.” Tòrr added, remaining on his feet, leaning on the mantel before the fire. “I havenae intention of forcing the lass tae me bidding. I’m nae a beast like MacDougall.”

“I ken neither ye nor meself have been ones fer spending time on courtly manners, but this may be what ye require.”

“What dae ye suggest?”

“Why nay a ceilidh tae celebrate yer betrothal? There’s been precious little amusement at Dùn Ara since ye took the lairdship. Our last few days of levity were when yer sweet sister and the Laird of the MacNeils came tae visit.”

Tòrr took advantage of the carafe of whisky and the two glasses on the mantel and poured them each a splash.

“I like that idea. Since me faither’s death, me days have been burdened with the business of the lairdship and repairing the damage he inflicted on our relationships within the clan.”

It had proved difficult and there was still mending to do.

“At first, half the chiefs would nae deign tae meet wi’ me. Tempers had been sorely tested by me faither’s cruelty and his lack of care fer our people.”

“And the meeting we’ve just ended has shown how ye’ve succeeded in bringing the Clan together. Ye’ve earned their respect.”

“A ceilidh it is then.” Tòrr chuckled, his head filled with thoughts of taking Lyra’s hand and leading her in a wild dance. “Once I’ve spoken again wi’ Lady Lyra, we’ll ask Claray tae set things in motion. Make sure the invitations go out tae all the bonniest lassies and the finest lads. We’ll have a ceilidh that will open the lass’s stony heart.”

Tòrr turned back to the fire, relishing the thought of winning Lyra’s favor.

After Edmund had departed, he sat thoughtfully. He knew what he must do if Lyra was to grant him the opportunity to prove himself worthy. He sucked in a determined breath. He had to stand aside and allow her to make a choice. And whatever she decided, he would abide by it.But in the meantime he would write the letter, letting Clan MacInnes know that Lyra was with him and safe, although at risk of being kidnapped by MacDougall. He would ask for their help if there were to be a war and he would also ask for her hand in marriage. Whatever her decision was, it would be something to deal with later on. For now, the most important thing was to get the ball rolling.

* * *

The next morning, after breaking his fast with Edmund in the hall, he caught Claray as she went about her business and asked her to request the Lady Lyra’s presence in the solar, where he wished to converse with her.

Once Claray had bustled off he retired to the colorful room. Not knowing what Lyra’s reaction would be when she was asked to meet with him, he could only suspect it would be defiant. No doubt, she’d be even more steadfast in her opposition than she had been the night before.

He’d taken care to wash and groom his hair, to don a clean shirt, to polish his boots, meticulously pleat his kilt, and see to it that the maid brushed every last scrap of mud from his jacket.

He hoped that standing neat and tidy before her she might be fooled into perceiving him as a gentleman instead of a mad man.

It was a long wait before she flounced into the solar, but he’d expected that. He guessed she’d be at pains not to rush to obey his summons. He smiled to himself. This meeting with her promised to be interesting.

“Sit, lass,” he indicated the chair beside him at the fire.

Without meeting his gaze she took her seat. But, instead of making herself comfortable, she perched precariously on the very edge of the chair as if to let him know she’d be on her feet in a flash if he offended her.

He took his time before speaking, not wishing her to think he was about to upbraid her for her harsh words to him last night.

He spoke in a soft voice. “I trust ye are well, me lady?”

She grunted. “Aye. But nae thanks tae yer Council’s decision.”

Her rebuff made it all the easier for him to broach the unwelcome subject.

“I understand that ye are nae happy with what resulted from our meeting.”

She huffed at that, without responding.

“As ye have told me, ye wish fer naught but tae return tae yer lands.”

She nodded. “That has been what I’ve wished from the first day I set eyes on ye.”

He nodded. “I apologize that hasnae been possible yet, btu it is fer yer safety” He dipped his head.

She sighed but settled into a somewhat more comfortable position on her chair.

“D’ye still believe ye can make yer escape from Dùn Ara and find yer way, alone, tae Morvern as ye tried tae dae a few nights past?

Her chin went up and a look of pure defiance flashed in her emerald eyes.

“I will make me escape, Laird Tòrr. I will evade both ye and the MacDougall and make me way across the Sound of Mull tae the mainland and me Castle Kinlochaline.”

She said these words with pride and Tòrr’s heart went out to her. He could not and would not force this lass to remain with him against her will, no matter how much it pained him.

He rose to stand by the mantelpiece, meeting the challenge in her gaze.

“I understand that yer heart is nay at Dùn Ara. I also ken that ye wish naught but tae be wi’ yer clan.”

He waited two heartbeats before he saw her reluctant nod.

“I am willing tae escort ye back tae Morvern if that is yer wish.”

She gasped and opened her mouth to speak, but he went on.

“I will sail ye tae the mainland meself in one of me strongest birlinns and make sure ye are well guarded on the way. It is certain MacDougall will attempt tae seize ye, but we will fight fer ye and dae our best tae deliver ye intae the safekeeping of the Clan MacInnes.”

He watched as her eyes clouded. First with confusion, then doubt, disbelief, and open fear. She shook her head as if clearing her thoughts.

“I am most grateful Laird Tòrr. Ye have recognized what I desire most strongly.”

He shrugged, aware that her words sliced a tiny piece from his heart. Had I really been so foolish as to believe she desired me more than her wish to return to her home?

“ If that is truly yer wish, I shall begin the arrangements fer the journey.”

For a few long moments she kept her gaze on the leaping flames, their silence only broken by a log shifting in the fire. He held his breath, dreading her response, but knowing he had no other choice but to offer her freedom. The lass was not his prisoner whatever she may consider herself to be.

She looked up, shaking her head. “This is sudden... I’d nae considered... I beg ye, give me time tae answer.”

He breathed again.

“The banns fer our marriage are tae be published on Sunday. If ye wish tae accept me offer tae escort ye back tae Morvern, I will tell the priest nae tae proceed. I would like ye tae present me wi’ yer decision before that day.”