Page 21 of Surrender to the Highlander (The MacLerie Clan #2)

T he day had dawned clear, unlike so many lately, so Margriet begged leave to walk on the shore. She was not exactly a prisoner, but she not did have the freedom to come and go as she pleased. Her betrothed husband sent directions for her care and made it clear to the men and women left in charge of her the price for failure if anything happened to her.

She threw her cloak over her shoulders and walked to the ruins of the old church at the end of her father’s estate. The winds blew strong but not too cold yet, and she enjoyed the bite of it. When she reached the piles of rocks, for that was all that was left now of the circular church dedicated nearly two centuries ago to Saint Nicholas, she sat and let the sun beat down on her.

Her maid Brynja had been replaced by an older woman who did not like to walk and who began complaining within minutes of leaving the house. Margriet ignored her as long as possible because her walks were one of the few pleasures left now that her life had fallen apart. Oh, she did not downplay her part in her own failures, but she wondered if this was her penance or if it had not yet begun. On thinking about that question and about the real Thorfinn, who was only now showing himself to her, she thought it had not yet started.

Finally when the woman’s nagging ruined the beautiful day, Margriet turned and headed back to the house. She paused to watch some boats pass by close to shore. Seeing them now always made her wonder about Rurik.

She could not—nay, indeed, did not—blame him for the way things worked out. He’d been honest with her about his dreams and his need for the things his father offered him. And when the question was put to him, when he could have done more good by lying, he told the truth. He chose everything he’d wanted in his entire life over love.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she watched as the larger ship sailed on past the docks and a smaller one turned to maneuver into place there. It seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d arrived here to return to her father’s home, hoping to find compassion and the truth. Oh, she’d found the truth, but it was not what she had hoped for.

She did not matter.

Not to her father, who exiled her for ten years and then abandoned her when she caused his honor a blow.

Not to her betrothed, who only wanted the obscenely large dowry that Erengisl was providing to soothe the insult to his honor.

And not to the man she foolishly fell in love with.

That hurt the most, in spite of knowing he’d warned her of the choice he would make, and in spite of knowing that she’d damaged his pride and betrayed his trust, several times in just the short time since they’d met.

She sighed then, a signal to Aslief to begin complaining about her dawdling again. She turned and followed the path back to the house, knowing that one long day would lead to another and another, and nothing could change the situation.

She did not matter to the only man who mattered to her.

Margriet entered the house to find that visitors had arrived. Thorfinn and his men sat at her father’s table, drinking ale…and waiting for her. Confused by Magnus’s presence with them, she was just about to greet him when they stood and left, taking every servant with them. Then only she and Thorfinn remained and Margriet feared her penance had only just begun.

Rurik rode as though the devil was on his trail, when he knew that the devil he sought was already ahead of him. The message had been left while he’d been out seeing to his father’s business and now Thorfinn and his men had a two-hour advantage over him. Sven, Donald and Leathen rode with him, silent, all remembering the servant girl’s body and thinking of Margriet’s fate if they did not reach her in time.

No one complained. No one slowed their pace or asked to stop. No one voiced the fear that ate at their guts as they rode. Finally as the sun reached its highest point in the sky, they reached the hills beyond which lay Gunnar’s estates and Margriet.

With only a hand signal, they followed Rurik’s orders, dismounted and followed him on foot, leaving the horses hobbled in the field. They crawled the final hundred or so yards so they would not be seen. The house was surrounded by more guards than they expected and they were seriously outnumbered.

While they hurriedly planned their attack, a scream rang out…one they each recognized from when she’d fallen in the river on their journey there. Any hope of surprising those on guard fell at the sound of her terror.

With swords and daggers drawn, Rurik screamed out his own cry and led the men to the house.

“I will not stand here and let you murder my child, Thorfinn.”

Margriet wiped the blood that streamed down her face with the back of her hand and positioned herself now with her back to the wall. At least that way, she could see him coming at her.

He’d sent everyone out, except his man Sigurd, and then he’d tried to batter her down. She’d fought back, though not enough to keep him from bloodying her nose and mouth and landing a powerful blow on her back. He could have ended it much faster with a blade or sword, but he seemed to enjoy delivering the pain with his hands…and his feet. She’d dodged two kicks aimed at the babe in her belly before blocking herself behind the long table.

“I did not ask you to, Margriet. Truly I like the challenge of catching you before I beat it out of you.”

“Holy Mother of God!” she cried, still not believing that he was so evil as to do that. “Why?” she cried. “Why?”

When he grabbed hold of the table between them and shoved it aside, she knew he was. She still brandished the leg of a chair he’d thrown at her as she ran and hoped it would be strong enough to defend herself with. Margriet swung it as he approached, but he waited and grabbed it from her hands as it swung by him.

“I do not need that bastard at all and, now that your dowry is in my coffers, I need you less.”

She had no place to run now. He grabbed by the hair and dragged her to him. He raised his fist, but Magnus came running in. “Magnus! Help me!” she screamed to him.

“My lord, he is here.”

My lord? He called Thorfinn “lord” now? She struggled in his arms, trying to tear herself from him but she was lost against his superior strength.

“Sigurd, go and greet my brother,” he ordered. “I will finish here.” The brute bowed then to Thorfinn and left, heading, she knew, to kill Rurik.

“You will not get away with this, Thorfinn,” she said. “The servants know. Someone will tell my father. Or yours.”

He dragged her out away from the wall and tossed her on the floor. She tried to crawl to the door, but he feinted with kicks that kept her where he wanted her. “Did you not hear the warnings about the outlaws lately seen near the coast? They have been attacking some of the outlying cottages,” he said with a smile. “I did warn your father to assign extra men, but he did not heed my warning.”

He was about to make what she thought would be the killing attack, when Magnus stepped from the shadows and came up behind him. Thorfinn never saw the blow and fell in a crumpled heap at her feet.

“Come, lady. I must get you out of here,” he said, reaching for her and trying to help her to her feet.

She found she could not stand on her own and it took several minutes before she stood. Just as he began guiding her to the door, Thorfinn came to and jumped up behind Magnus.

“I think not, Magnus,” he said in deadly quiet as he plunged his dagger into the man’s back.

Margriet watched in horror as Magnus sank to his knees before her, blood pouring from his wound onto the floor. “Forgive me, lady,” he begged. With his last bit of strength, Magnus waited until Thorfinn grabbed his shoulders to shove him out of the way and plunged his own dagger into Thorfinn’s chest. “Tell Rurik I served him at the last.”

Both men fell back and Margriet stayed hunched down on the floor. The sounds of fighting outside reached her, but she could not move. Curling up on the floor, she could feel herself slipping away when she heard a bloodcurdling scream.

Rurik was here and she knew she was safe now.

He sent for Gunnar once they’d fought their way in and found Margriet unconscious on the floor. His heart stopped in that moment when he saw the two men and all the blood, but she murmured a sound as he picked her up to take her away from this. Within a day, Gunnar arrived, put his house back to rights and arranged for Margriet’s care. Rurik discovered later that it had been her walk that saved her that day, for it was the delay he needed to catch up with Thorfinn.

And Magnus’s actions, as Margariet had related them, and his decision to turn against Thorfinn in those last moments, had contributed to her rescue.

The story that Thorfinn planned to use to cover her murder worked well for his own demise and Erengisl promised the other landowners along the coast that he would add additional guards to protect them from such marauders. If he suspected or guessed the real cause, he never spoke of it. Although it galled him that Thorfinn should be thought of as a hero for trying to defend his betrothed against an attack, Rurik could accept it since he was dead and would not be a threat to her again.

He spoke of the future to no one and did not burden Margriet with questions or declarations, but he knew what he had to do. After a month had passed and the documents for his marriage contract arrived to be signed, he went to see his father.

“I wondered when this would happen.”

“It has crossed my mind as well, Father.”

He walked to the window and looked across to the harbor. Fewer boats and ships now as autumn was preparing to give way to winter. Soon, the sea would be completely inhospitable to travelers. His father approached holding out a cup of wine.

“I would accept your good wishes, Rurik.”

“And I would give them, if I knew why.” He waited for his father to reveal the cause, but his father paused and met his gaze for a minute before speaking of the cause for celebration.

“Agnes will bear a child in the spring.”

Rurik smiled and held the cup up in a salute.

“I was not certain how you would take the news.”

How far they’d come in the last seven months, for now his father worried over his reactions instead of the other way round. How far they still had to go, he thought.

“I am pleased for both of you. Agnes must be happy?”

“Aye. This is her first child and she is worrying already over the smallest things.”

“There are many months to go and many more things to worry on,” he added. Now, with this news, mayhap his would not be so bad.

His father got the pitcher of wine and poured them both more. Sitting down again, Erengisl spoke first. “So, when do you leave?”

“How did you know?”

“I did not know, Rurik, I only suspected.” His father drank deeply and then put the cup down. “You have dragged your feet on approving each one of the provisions for your marriage contract. You have not built the house you talked about in Birsay. You have not set up your own council yet. All signs of someone not yet convinced of his place here.”

“I do not belong here, Father. In spite of your welcome and your offer, this is not my life.”

“Has she agreed to marry you?”

He paused, surprised by his father’s ability to discern what it had taken him months to realize. He’d done nothing in these months except mourn the missed opportunity to claim the woman he loved. It did not take him long to realize his mistake, but it was only recently that a solution was possible.

“I have not asked her yet. She will not see me.”

“Do you blame her?” His father watched him closely as he asked that question and even more closely as he waited for an answer.

“Nay. ’Twas my mistake that drove her into his grasp. But, I will not give up until she has forgiven me my stupidity.”

“So you will learn from your father’s mistakes then?”

Rurik looked at the man he never thought to call father again and remembered the question he’d challenged him with on his arrival. A question about the things Erengisl had done in the past and the question of whether he’d made the correct decision. “Do you admit it was a mistake?”

His father laughed as he met question with question. He smiled then and nodded. “You asked if losing her was worth all I gained. My answer to you is that love lost or given up is never worth what you gain in its stead.”

“Are you angry that I will upset all you put into place now?”

“Nay, Rurik. I am not that old yet and have many years yet to make arrangements. And with an heir on the way, there will be other sons to give my lands and wealth to.” His father then grew serious. “So, when do you leave?”

“I have some arrangements to work out and a bride to ask and then I hope to be back in Lairig Dubh before the winter sets in.” He could think of nothing he’d like more than spending the long, cold winter nights in his cottage, wrapped around Margriet. “If she’ll have me.”

His father stood and offered his hand. Rurik took hold of it and then pulled his father close.

“There will always be a place for you here, Rurik, if you decide you want to return.”

His throat tightened with unshed tears so he simply nodded and walked away. Just as he reached the door, his father added a comment.

“I would appreciate it, man to man, if you did not tell your mother I admitted that she was right.”

“Mother? Is she here?”

“Nay. But Margriet left for Scotland two weeks ago. Gunnar said she returned to the convent in Caithness.”

“And Mother?” he asked, dreading the answer he knew would come. “Please tell me it is not so. Tell me she is not the person who has been raising Margriet for all these years.”

His father cleared his throat and nodded. “She is known now to those at the convent as Reverend Mother Ingrid.”