Page 12 of Bride Takes a Charmer
“Before you object, I bid you to listen. With the armies of Scotland, I mean to take the lands Haakon holds to the north. I wish to extend our lands to the very shores. ’Twill take many men and arms to secure those lands. To do so, I thought it best to unite some of the border clans with those in the northern regions. So I have, therefore, betrothed ye.”
It was as if he’d been hit with a mace. He had no words to say, and for a moment, he thought, his heart had stopped beating. Finally, he was able to suck in a breath but the silence in the chamber was palpable. Shaw tried not to frown at the king but he knew his bewilderment and displeasure sat on his face. “Sire, I am taken aback by your—”
“Hear me, Shaw, I want only your happiness. The women whom I have selected as the brides will surely gain your approval. Now there are other incentives to your agreement…” Alexander lifted his cup and drank. He continued until he drained his cup again and swiped the sleeve of his tunic across his red-haired beard.
The mention of brides indicated that there were others he intended to betroth. Shaw decided to remain silent and waitfor the king to finish his explanation before he’d make his objections.
“There are four brides in all. With you, the lairds of Buchanan, MacKendrick, and Cameron clans will be afforded the opportunity to claim the women you will wed. There will be a match where you will fight in hand-to-hand combat. The winner will have the first choice of bride. Along with marrying the bonny woman you fight for, you will also forgo paying the tithe on your land for one year. The incentives are plentiful, Shaw, and all I require is your hand in marriage and the use of your soldiers when we call you to arms against Norway.”
Shaw’s head spun with the king’s demand. He had considered the king’s desire to stretch their lands to the north and west, but now it became apparent that they’d do so soon. However, the last thing he expected was to be betrothed by his sovereign. “Sire, I do not know what to say to this…”
“You cannot refuse me.” Alexander pushed his barely drunk cup toward him. “Raise your cup and we shall toast to your happiness and future.” The king poured more ale into his cup, lifted it, and waited for him to do the same.
Shaw raised his cup. “I am displeased to have to marry, Sire. The rest I fully agree to comply with. Surely, there is no need to wed me to a lass when ye have my sworn fealty. Have I not professed my oath, my dutiful pledge, and loyalty to ye?”
“I think, my comrade, that it will not matter when you hear the name of one of the brides.”
He scrunched his eyes because it mattered not who was offered as a bride. Shaw remained unwed, and until he was ready to marry, he had sworn not to offer for a woman’s hand. After his heart was crushed, the pain of giving his heart again instigated his unwillingness to subject himself to such torment unless it was absolutely necessary. But now it seemed he would be unable to offer for any bride, because the choice had been made for him.At the same time, he reasoned, he wouldn’t have to give her his heart. It wasn’t what he’d wanted but now it didn’t appear to matter. “And that is?”
“Lady Sorsha d’Avranches…ah, Chattan.”
Shaw drew his brows together at hearing Lady Chattan’s name. She was married to his cousin, Rodick, and as far as he knew, she wasn’t available. “She is married, Sire, and although—”
“She is newly widowed and is available for marriage.”
At the last moment, Shaw was able to hide the shock of his king’s announcement. His cousin Rodick was dead? So that was why Geoff had called him to the Chattan lands.
As dismayed as he was to hear of his cousin’s death, he couldn’t help but be gladdened that Lady Chattan was now available to wed another. He’d never forgotten her or her soft brown gaze, or the fact that she was the sweetest lass he’d ever encountered. He’d fallen in love at the sight of her. When she became betrothed to his cousin, his heart was all but defeated and full of envy. And his blood turned cold when she was forced to marry his cousin.
“How…how did Rodick die?”
Alexander shrugged slightly. “I know not how, but he is dead and the lady needs the protection of a strong Scotsman. Better yet, a Highlander and a warrior. I trust you wouldn’t be displeased if such an arrangement came to pass. I recall you being enamored with the lass.”
“I was, Sire.” Shaw was completely astounded by his king’s news. If he could marry Sorsha, he’d be more than pleased.
“Now, I remind you, Shaw, that you must win her hand in the combat. Once you have won a bout you may choose your bride. I will have you speak your agreement to our covenant.”
Shaw wasn’t worried in the least about the brawls. He wouldn’t allow anyone to marry Sorsha but him, he’d see to it.“Of course, Sire, you have my agreement. I will gladly supply ye with soldiers when ye decide to advance on Haakon’s lands. I shall reap the tithe which will aid my clan well for the coming planting season. And I heartedly accept the hand of a maiden as my bride if for no other reason than…because it pleases ye.”
Alexander rose. He took his arm to seal their pact. “You only agree because it pleases you, not me. But no matter, this eve we shall have a feast where you can once again witness Lady Sorsha’s beauty.”
“I look forward to it, Sire.” Shaw followed the king to the door and bowed to him before taking his leave.
When he exited, the king shut his door. Shaw stood in the hallway, tense and overtaken by his conversation with Alexander. He stumbled forward through the passageways and made his way to the outside of the castle. His steps hastened when he passed through the gates. On the lane of Edinburgh’s village, past the dimly lit shops and homes, he continued onward until he reached the tavern where he suspected Walen had spent his time.
Almost everything inside the tavern was made from pine wood and the scent of it mixed with the stale odor of ale and the body odor of its patrons. It hit him akin to a smack in the face when he crossed the threshold. The tavernkeeper, in conversation with someone, made no acknowledgement of his presence. There were few inside the almost empty building at that time of day. Most men had made their way home for their nightly meals.
Shaw was numb and a little shocked by his exchange with the king and his change in circumstances. He found Walen sitting with his feet resting on a bench that flanked the table. His comrade grinned as he approached. When he reached him, Shaw slid onto the opposite bench, snatched a cup from the center of the table, and held it out for Walen to pour him some ale.
“Ye look like ye could use a wee drink. How did your meeting go with the king? What news did he impart?” Walen poured ale into his cup and set the pitcher in the center of the table.
Shaw didn’t know how to answer that and muttered, “I am getting married.”
Walen bellowed a laugh and practically fell off the bench. “Ye jest, Laird, ye do. Although I find ye humorous, ye have to be telling a wanker.” His comrade swiped at the tears of laughter that came to his eyes.
“I assure ye, I do not jest. If I win the hand of Lady Sorsha, though, I vow I will not be displeased at all. Do ye remember her?”
His friend ceased his laughter, grabbed his arm, and shook it. “Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order. Of course, I remember the lass. She is the reason for your surly disposition over the past years. Shall we drink to the bride then? Our clan could use a bonny lass for its lady. ’Tis time ye begot heirs and I’m sure your mamo will be chuffed to hear this news. When is the unfortunate day?”