Page 1 of Bride takes a Scot (Highland Vows & Vengeance #1)

Castle Dungeons

Edinburgh, Scotland

March 1260

C lanks from iron bars, shouts from the prisoners, and pleas for help from the dying alerted Declan MacKendrick that the warden was making his rounds. For nearly three months, he’d been imprisoned in Edinburgh’s dreadful dungeons for the murder of his former father-in-law, clan leader, Alan Campbell, but it was a crime he hadn’t committed. During that time, he became accustomed to the stench of rotten food, and death, and God only knew what else existed in the dungeons beneath Edinburgh’s impenetrable fortress.

He awaited the opportunity to profess his innocence, but no one came to retrieve him for his sentencing. Declan expected the chancellor’s curia to tell him what the court had decided. He knew well enough that getting a fair trial was laughable and that his fate would probably be death by hanging. The sentence would be his cross to bear because murder was a heinous crime punishable by death. If someone wanted to imprison you or end your life, all they had to do was make an accusation. Bent sheriffs ruled lawless areas of Scotland and subjected anyone, even lairds, to their unlawful will. One of his enemies must have paid handsomely to have him detained. Yet he could think of no enemy or situation that would warrant such provocation besides the Campbells, whose laird he’d been accused of murdering.

Footsteps came closer and reverberated in the small corridor. The warder stopped before his cell and motioned to the other men standing behind him. “Bring him.”

The rattle and clinking of keys and creak of the door as it opened echoed off the long narrow hallway. Noise from the guards caused the other inmates to shake their chains and they shouted blasphemous words when they passed. Declan wanted to cover his ears as the noise jarred him but when they stopped outside his cell door, he shrank back against the wall.

He didn’t move when the men entered and approached. Given barely enough food to sustain him, and even less water, he’d weakened and couldn’t stand on his own. The jailers unlocked his fetters at his wrists and ankles and tossed them aside to land with a clank on the damp stone floor. They reached for him and forced him to stand, but his knees buckled, and he pitched forward. The men grabbed his arms and practically dragged him from the cell.

“The king wishes to see you,” the warder said. To his underlings, he clipped, “He is not to be harmed. Have a care because the king commanded that he not be injured.”

Why the king had sent for him perplexed Declan. Perhaps he wanted to hand down his sentence himself. Declan tensed at that. Would his life be ended on this day? If that was so, he had no regrets. His maker knew the truth. He lived with a wee bit of piety, and although his sins were many, he had not committed outright murder. If only he could convince Chancellor Inverkeithing of his innocence, he could save his neck from the noose. Yet he had no proof to sway justice to his favor.

Thoughts of his family entered his mind. Anguish filled him that he wouldn’t see his young son again, his siblings whom he practically raised, and his clan. Declan prayed his clan wouldn’t mourn him long or be in chaos after learning of his death. But he relied on good men to keep order whenever he was away from his lands. Anse, his cousin, and commander-in-arms, would ensure all maintained order. His most seasoned soldiers, Trevor, Slone, and Lorcan, would see that the men protected their lands and clan. Silas, his stepbrother, would most likely be elected to lead the clan upon his death. That appeased him somewhat and reassured him that his clan was in good hands.

Corridors of stone walls and walkways led to the upper floors of the castle, where King Alexander made his residence. Although the young king still had two years before he reached his majority, he ruled over much of the kingdom with the aid of advisors. At a large wooden door that showed its age with cracking and discoloration, the warder knocked and waited. Someone shouted to enter, and he opened the door and motioned to his men to amble forward. The warder’s men held tightly to his arms and dragged him forward, into the king’s private domain.

A page holding a flagon stood at the end of a scarred wooden table flanked by more chairs similar to the one he’d been directed to sit in. At each place was an empty goblet, just waiting to be filled by that page, who stood staring at Declan with wide, rapidly blinking blue eyes.

Declan imagined he probably looked dirty and disheveled, and very much like the murderer he was accused of being. He wondered what would happen if he spoke to the lad and then decided not to in case he spooked him even more. Instead, he let his gaze travel around the room, taking in the faded tapestries lining the walls, the large hearth with its smoking embers, and the side table holding parchments, ink, and quills.

As he sat in wait for Alexander, he eyed a plain goblet that sat before him and wished it was full as a deep thirst taunted him. But he wouldn’t be so forward to ask the page to fill it and risk possibly irking the king even more.

Declan took a deep breath to settle himself. What he wouldn’t do to see his beloved Highlands again. He missed its frigid climate, barren stretches of land and hills, pristine lochs, and forests of towering pines. Most of all, he’d missed the fresh air and the solitary cottage he’d stolen away to when he needed a wee bit of respite from his needful clan. He didn’t have time to ruminate further because the king himself entered the room.

Alexander strode into the chamber a moment later and approached the table where he waited. The page hastened to fill Alexander’s goblet, which sat next to a stack of parchments on the tabletop. The tall king reached his place at the table with a quick stride, and as he sat, he pressed back the wavy reddish locks of his hair and then rubbed his eyes. Alexander appeared as weary as Declan felt. The page moved to stand by the king’s chair and waited for his master’s direction, but Alexander shooed the lad away. Declan was astounded when the king reached across the table and handed him the goblet.

“Drink, you must be thirsty.”

Declan’s hand shook as he held the goblet to his mouth. He didn’t want to appear weakened to his king, but his health had deteriorated in the last month. The ale tasted sour, so he only took a few small sips, enough to wet his throat. With nothing in his stomach, he was sure he’d retch if he swallowed a gulp like he wanted.

“MacKendrick,” Alexander said and leaned to grab a stack of missives from the table behind his chair. He tossed them onto the table in front of him and they spread across the wood. “These are proclamations from your clansmen and women declaring your innocence and demanding your release. Their pleas arrive daily. I’m inclined to believe them, but I must hear from your mouth that you did not murder Allan Campbell.”

“I did not murder him.” Declan’s voice rasped from disuse. “He was my wife’s father. Why would I kill him?”

The king nodded. “I know not how you came to be in the dungeon or who accused you of his murder, but you will not return. When I heard you resided there, I disbelieved what you were accused of because I know you to be an honorable man. I am aware of your troubles with the Campbells, but I find it hard to believe you would murder your dead wife’s father. This matter is closed as far as I’m concerned.”

That was a great relief, and Declan let the tenseness of his shoulders ebb. He had many questions, but it was best he allowed the king to speak and not cause his affront by being too forward.

“Your freedom, though, will come at a cost.”

Declan should have known the king would demand recompense. He considered what the man wanted in return for his freedom, what had happened in recent months, and how his aid might benefit his sovereign. But he hadn’t been privy to political matters since being behind bars, and what wealth he had he wasn’t about to share with the king unless he had no other recourse.

“I am innocent, and of course, Sire, I wouldst gladly repay ye for your benevolence. Ye have only to state your need.” He waited for the king’s demand.

Alexander stood and rounded his table, striding to the window casement with his hands clasped behind his back. He peered out where Declan could see the castle grounds that butted the courtyard, and the two large turrets flanked the gatehouse before turning back to him. The king appeared apprehensive. Whatever Alexander wanted certainly caused his uneasiness.

“As you know, I am not on good terms with the Highland clans. I mean to change that, and so I would like you to marry a woman from the south. It has long been my hope to unite our lands and marriage will afford me to bring my people together.”

Bollocks, Declan thought, there it was, the price of his freedom. Alexander had no care about the unity of his people. There was something greater that he hoped to achieve. Declan wasn’t dim-witted and could almost smell the pile of cosh Alexander was dishing out. He suspected Alexander hoped to infuse his army with Highlanders and Lowlanders.

But it mattered not to him because Declan was loyal to Scotland, and if his king needed additional men with swords, he certainly had the wherewithal to supply him with such. He would be free and if the king needed him to marry a woman from the southern region as well as the use of his army, he wouldn’t gainsay him.

“Do ye have a specific lady in mind, Sire?”

Alexander turned from the window and smiled at his acquiescence. Declan noted the widening of his lips behind his reddish, straggly beard. “You are not the only groom. There are four women who I mean to betroth.”

Declan grunted. “Do I get to choose from these lassies? Who are the other grooms?”

“Lairds Cameron, Buchanan, and MacKintosh.”

He shifted forward on his chair and scowled. His discord showed on his face because he couldn’t hide his outrage at hearing the names of the other clans involved in Alexander’s ploy. Though he wasn’t on good terms with those clans, neighbors whose lands butted his, they weren’t particularly rivals either. At least the king hadn’t included the Campbells, his most hated enemy of late. The Campbells had befriended many clans in the Highlands, but Declan was unaware of any alliance with the Camerons, Buchanans, or MacKintoshs.

“Before you balk at being in their company, MacKendrick, you should know that I have asked those lairds because they, like you, are unmarried. They also have fierce armies, which I will call upon when needed. King Haakon cares more about Norway’s piety than he does about keeping his lands. If he cares not for them, then those lands are there for the taking. I want to stretch my kingdom as far north and west as I can. With the Highland clans’ aid, I mean to do just that.”

His suspicions came to fruition because the king wanted something more from him than to unite his subjects. He wanted his army, but Alexander would need skilled soldiers if he intended to go against Haakon and his invincible fleets. Haakon’s fleets ruled the northern and westerly waterways which probably caused Alexander’s grief.

If Declan’s freedom wasn’t in jeopardy, he would have scoffed aloud at the man and told him to find another milksop to do his bidding. It was enough that he paid a handsome levy to the king for his vast lands, but now he wanted his soldiers to fight for his gain as well. Being far north, he and his brethren could easily give their fealty to Haakon, the king of Norway, or they could give it to Alexander. Declan gave his loyalty to Scotland’s sovereignty because he would rather serve a demanding king than an absent one.

“Your scowl tells me you’re in disagreement, but before you say nay, I would tell you that there are other important incentives to consider. You will wed a woman from the border, and shall offer your army when in need, and in return, I shall forgo the tithe on your lands for one year.”

The inducement of Alexander’s offer raised his brows because the king practically offered a fortune in the dispensation of tax for his acquiescence. Of course, he wasn’t about to turn Alexander down, regardless. Gaining his freedom and the opportunity to wreak vengeance on his enemy was enough to gain his favor. It mattered not who the king insisted he marry, nor that he wanted his army to fight for his causes. But the exemption of paying the tithe was of great interest. With more coins in his coffers, he’d be able to use them to secure his clan and enrich his farmers, something which greatly mattered to him. Clan MacKendrick’s future was looking brighter by the minute.

“There is one further benefit to your accord.”

He shifted back in the chair and focused on the king’s face. Alexander appeared sincere in his offer and so Declan decided to give him his full attention. “Aye, Sire, and that is?”

“I am aware of the rivalries in the north and that you often fight amongst yourselves. You are not on friendly terms with the Camerons, Buchanans, or MacKintoshs, I take it?”

“We are not on friendly terms, nay, but we are not warring at the moment.”

The king chuckled. “Aye? You’re all a bunch of misbehaved bairns—aye, like children—there in the north fighting amongst yourselves over a mile here and a mile there of land. Fortunately, you are all far enough away and I rarely have to contend with your squabbles.”

“We do appreciate a good fracas once in a while.” Declan almost smiled at the king’s banter.

“I have decided to hold a hand-to-hand battle without weapons. This shall settle the matter of the first choice of bride. I will select the matches. The winner of each match will choose his bride until all the lassies are selected.”

Declan wanted to bellow with laughter. The king wanted entertainment, and he used his ploy to bring him a show of their strength. Yet Declan was in no condition to fight anyone, though perhaps in three months or possibly more, he would regain enough vigor to be effective enough. He wasn’t about to lose to his fellow Highlanders, but he wouldn’t say so to his overlord.

“I understand you have been kept in the dungeon for months and are in no condition for such a melee,” Alexander said as if reading his thoughts. He returned to his chair but didn’t sit.

“Aye, without a trial,” Declan said with angst.

“I cannot speak to that, MacKendrick, because I only just found out that you were there. This matter must be settled at the soonest because I am leaving after the weddings and am taking my wife to see her family in England.”

“Ye are traveling to England, Sire?”

Alexander scowled as if he wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of visiting England. Declan suspected that had more to do with Alexander’s relatives, the King of England himself, Henry, Queen Margaret’s father.

“Aye, my wife wishes to have our bairn there amongst her family and I promised I would take her for a visit. Be warned, MacKendrick, always follow through on your promises to your wife. For if you do not, it will make for a hellish life, especially when your wife’s father is a damned king.”

Declan resisted chuckling at Alexander’s disgruntlement. He’d heard there had been discord between Alexander and his wife, which appeared to have been settled since he was taking her to England for a visit with her family.

“I shall remember that, Sire, and will follow your advice.”

Alexander leaned on the edge of his chair and nodded. “You’ll need a wee bit of time and so I will allow you a month to heal and to settle your clan matters. You will return here on the first of April, and we shall have the battle, the wedding, and your signed accord. You may bring family with you if you wish, for it is your wedding and a time for joyous celebration.” The king chuckled under his breath, albeit sarcastically.

His hanging was sounding better with each passing moment, but Declan wasn’t about to declare that to Alexander. “Ye have my accord, Sire.” That wasn’t much time, but Declan would have to make do.

“Good…Good. Then I shall have you taken to a chamber where you can bathe, eat, and rest before your journey home on the morrow.”

“My thanks, Sire.”

Alexander raised an auburn eyebrow and Declan thought he might have winked at him. He shook his head and disbelieved the king was being amiable because it was well known that Alexander was temperamental and had an unpleasant nature. Though he was young, he handled the country’s parliamentary lords and gained many of their respect. Yet he hadn’t won over the clans of the Highlands yet.

“I should tell you, MacKendrick, before you leave…You won’t be disappointed with the ladies I have selected as the brides. I have found the bonniest women in Scotland, and I bid you to remember that when the time comes to take your vows. You’ll have a hard decision to make, choosing one of the brides.”