Page 28 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

T he journey would take a total of two days, so long as Arthur could keep their pace fairly consistent. Olivia didn’t seem against riding for long periods of time, and Arthur took full advantage of that, stopping only to water the horses or partake in a quick bite to eat.

If anything, his selkie seemed to thoroughly enjoy passing by the scenery at such a quick pace; wide swatches of sandy beaches began to dip back into the sea, forcing the pair up the cliffsides that grew more and more sheer with each passing hour.

Eventually, the coast all but vanished beneath the trees, and those trees soon broke out into expansive moorlands filled with rolling hills racing to climb the highest into the sky.

A different sort of chill filled the air, one that tasted fresher and far more crisp than the familiar salt and humidity of the sea, and Arthur took note of Olivia’s shivering form.

“Did ye sleep yer way throughout wintertime, lass?” he teased. “I daenae think I’ve ever seen a highlander so poorly made fer the cold.”

Olivia shot him a playful scowl, snapping her reins as she raced ahead of him, Maesie and the pup close on her heel.

Bellowing laughter escaped Arthur’s chest as he urged òr on as well, and the afternoon was spent trying to win the unspoken race between the pair.

It came to an end once the moon’s sliver appeared in the darkened sky, both breathless and bantering as to who had been the proper victor.

Eventually, a proper fire was built and pushed the nighttime aside, Maesie and the pup happily chewing away on the bones and meat scraps of whatever beast Arthur had found running around the moors.

He gave the skewer a quick turn, watching Olivia as she worked to strip leaves off of a few handfuls of heather flowers she’d managed to locate.

“Ye really do ken yer way around the wilds,” he marveled softly.

“Och, nay,” Olivia chuckled lightly, setting the stems aside and sprinkling the leaves and petals into a small, bubbling pop set into the coals.

“I daenae think I would last very long on wild teas.” Her soft smile flickered against the firelight, hand tucking her own blazing hair behind her ears as she glanced around the campsite, as if seeking for conversation.

“So…me maither seems to have taken a shine to ye.”

“Aye,” Arthur agreed. “We…talked a bit last night, before she came into ye room.”

Olivia nodded, grasping a strand of hair once more before braiding it unconsciously.

Arthur desperately wanted to offer his services, but things still felt off between them.

There wasn’t much chance to converse while riding, but now, with the quiet of the night crowding around them…

it was impossible not to think back on it.

“She thinks I’ll be quite the husband,” Arthur continued. “Promising not to leave ye a widow, an’ all.”

Olivia visibly grimaced.

“I understand why ye insisted we dinnae fib,” Arthur chuckled awkwardly. “The way yer maither looked at me–’twas like I offered her paradise itself!”

“You did, in a way,” Olivia said softly, fingers still weaving her hair. “Maither’s always been worried fer me future, but especially now with me braither an’ faither gone. She wants me protected once she’s gone, and…” her voice trailed away, waving a hand in Arthur’s general direction.

Arthur let out a quick breath. “I’m sorry, selkie.”

“Nay, let’s–” Olivia’s breath hitched, braid abandoned as she shook her head. “Let’s leave the subject in the past. I daenae wish to appear upset when I meet yer companions.”

Fair enough.

“It’s…Laird and Lady Marsden, aye?”

Arthur nodded, pulling the meat from the fire and testing the skin lightly. “Rose is who the celebration is for.”

“Wee Rosie, yes!” Olivia grinned, giving her pot of steeping heather a quick stir. “Flora’s gone on and on about her–aye, Arthur, she sounds like such a sweet lass.”

“She is,” Arthur agreed. “A bit of a spitfire, though. Daenae be tricked by her gentle gaze; she uses it to get what she wants out of adults.”

“Ooh, I’d give her whatever she wanted regardless,” Olivia giggled. “It has been a long time since I saw one her age; ’twill be a nice change of pace.”

Arthur began to strip bits of meat for their meal, offering Olivia a portion as he let the nagging thought in the back of his mind come out. “Did ye nae leave yer keep often, Olivia? Ye seem well-versed in some aspects o’survival an’ combat, but in other areas…”

“I seem completely lacking?” Another chuckle came from Olivia, though it sounded more lifeless than before.

“Aye, well…Faither wanted to ensure the MacCulloh’s future was secure.

I needed to remain safe, familiar wit business o’the keep.

Foraging, archery–I had to beg to learn those things.

” She nodded slightly, ladling the freshly-brewed heather tea into travel mugs and handing one to Arthur.

“Yer wee selkie tended to stay in the shallows. Seeing the coast, the moorlands–’tis all brand new to me.

Maesie still startles me at times,” she added, grinning sheepishly.

Arthur considered her words carefully, realizing just how much danger the poor woman was in that first night he’d found her.

If their paths hadn’t crossed, would she have gotten completely lost?

Would she have starved? And, God forbid someone with ill-intent had discovered her…

? “When this is all over, did ye maybe…” he paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“I mean, Nathan said we had quite a few spare pups this breeding season. If ye like Maesie so much–I mean, I could show ye how to keep yer own hound trained properly.”

Olivia’s eyes immediately lit up at the proposal. “Ye really mean it?”

Arthur nodded curtly. “Ye’ll still be within me territory once we part ways. That makes ye me responsibility, and I ensure me kinfolk are safe.”

Olivia’s smile softened, and she stared down at her steaming cup of tea. “That’s nay an excuse to simply visit after our ‘betrothal’ is finished…is it?”

Maybe it was. A little bit.

“Still…I’d like that, Arthur,” Olivia said. “I’d like that quite a bit.”

Arthur liked it, too. More than he’d ever let on.

It was only a half a day more when Olivia first spotted Marsden keep.

Secured at the bottommost part of a valley, the path itself required a slow and steady approach, ensuring the horses and dogs (especially Rosie’s new pup) didn’t simply lose their fitting and tumble down into the ravine.

“I would think placing the keep so low wouldnae be strategic,” Olivia mused aloud.

Arthur looked pleasantly surprised at her observation. “Aye, they are a bit open to assault. But it willnae matter if yer walls are thick and the ceiling’s closed off. And,” he added with a slight smirk. “‘Tis a rather brilliant ruse, luring yer enemy into thinkin’ they have the advantage.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed slightly, but before she could ask, Arthur waved a hand towards one of the rockier outcrops above them.

Just barely, she could make out the flat edge of a wall’s corner, tilting her head as she made out what looked to be a lone lookout tower.

Though, if Arthur hadn’t pointed it out to her, she would’ve never spotted it against the valley’s backdrop.

“Add in a number o’pathways only kenned to the Marsdens,” Arthur continued. “And ye got yerself a terrifying group o’warriors to deal with.”

He was right. Simply trying to navigate the uneven terrain of the valley’s edge was difficult enough without worrying about one’s aim with a bow, but to try and cart any trebuchet sounded like a nightmare.

Adding on what had to be a good deal of secret outposts tucked away in the cliff side, with pathways only known to its residence… ?

“I think I’d sooner surrender,” Olivia shuddered.

“‘Twouldnae be easy to take his keep,” Arthur mused. “But, aye; I much prefer having Duncan as an ally meself.”

Eventually the pair managed to safely reach the bottom, a murky moat flowing around the keep and emptying out into an expansive river that ribboned throughout the moorlands.

Arthur slowed his steed’s pace to a canter, hooves clopping across a stonebuilt bridgeway before pausing at a massive drop between them. Ahead, a large drawbridge closed off the remainder of the keep, with a few shifting forms walking the length of the walls above them.

“Who stands before Marsden Keep?” A warrior yelled below.

“‘Tis the Laird o’clan MacDonnell,” Arthur shouted back, accompanied by Maesie’s barking.

A long pause hung in the air, soon filled by the creaking of mechanics as the drawbridge was lowered.

Arthur slowed his pace even further, ensuring he stayed ahead and kept Olivia out of any potential danger.

They eventually reached the checkpoint, another pair of warriors giving them a once-over before nodding their approval and opening the innermost gate.

Every inch of space was decorated in the clan’s colors, from waving banners to streaming cloth woven between the chimneys of homes and businesses alike.

Folks scurried about with a skip in their step, their conversations filled with talk of little Rosie’s up-and-coming ceilidh.

But they all stopped when Arthur passed by, offering a bow of respect and polite greetings to the Laird of MacDonnell.

If Olivia hadn’t known, she would have assumed Arthur was, in fact, the laird of this keep as well.

Finally, they reached the backmost part of the keep, with another smaller moat cutting around its castle.

A much smaller drawbridge was already lowered, and Olivia could just make out a man and woman waiting near the front.

He was just as tall as Arthur was, sporting a head of curling dark hair with a number of shoulder-length braids woven together and decorated with an eclectic number of beads and metals.

And she was–well, the only word that could properly describe the woman was, ‘motherly’.

Voluptuous hips, chestnut hair pulled up and out of her face, and an expression she often found her own mother wearing.

She bounced a small bundle in her arms, and as Arthur helped her dismount, Olivia caught sight of a perfectly angelic face, half-asleep and sporting wisps of similarly-dark hair.

“Ye set us in a bit of a scramble, Arthur,” the man remarked, pulling him in for a sturdy handshake.

“I like to keep the laird o’ Marsden on his toes,” Arthur replied. He then glanced towards the woman, expression warming considerably as he eyed the bundled babe. “Thank ye for inviting us again, Lady Marsden.”

“Och, Arthur,” the woman chuckled lightly. “Ye ken it’ll always be, ‘Alison’ fer ye.” She shifted her arms slightly, hazel eyes catching sight of Olivia at last. “Aye, and this must be the betrothed ye casually dropped on us in yer letters?”

Olivia’s face flushed slightly. “O-Olivia, my lady. Thank ye fer hosting us so unexpectedly.”

Alison beamed brightly, immediately crossing to Olivia’s side as she led her across the bridge. “Now, ye follow me inside and we’ll get ye settled in. I’m sure our lads have much to discuss, and we dinnae want to be trapped while they talk about such dull topics.”

Olivia glanced over her shoulder, noting the playfully wounded expression on Alison’s husband’s face. Arthur offered a slight nod her way, whistling sharply as Maesie and the pup trailed behind.

“Ye really brought Rosie her own deerhound?” Laird Marsden asked.

“Ye never said I shouldnae,” Arthur pointed out.

“Ye ken Rosie’ll sniff the wee bestie out in seconds,” Alison laughed. “Ye daenae want to be there for that?”

Arthur shook his head, though Olivia noted a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Nay, ye’re right; Duncan an’ I have matters to discuss, an’ they cannae be delayed. Go on, ye two. We’ll find ye when we’re finished.”

As Olivia stepped down the bridge, Duncan gave a nod of approval. “She’s quite a lovely lass, old friend.”

“Aye,” Arthur agreed. “That she is.”

“A bit shy, though,” Duncan remarked off-handedly. “Is that why her clanfolk ran her out so easily?”

A spark of anger lit up Arthur’s chest, but he forced himself to breathe, instead. “It’s nae that simple.”

“War is never simple,” Duncan said softly. “But ye sound as if ye can manage one more step to ending it between the neighboring clans.”

“That’s the hope, anyway.” Arthur glanced around, brow furrowing slightly. “Are the others here, yet? Marcus, Hector–I ken Evander will be arrivin’ sometime on the last day, but-”

“Ye came earlier than expected,” Duncan pointed out. “’Tis only ye and meself right now.”

“’Twas necessary,” Arthur insisted. “The MacCulloh clan daenae see Olivia’s family as an authority anymore. Being the immediate neighbor-"

“Och, Arthur, I’m just windin’ ye up.” Duncan chuckled lightly–a rare sight, though seemingly more common now with Alison as his lady–and he slung an arm around his companion’s shoulders.

“Ye made the right call. Though, I would have thought ye would simply wipe the MacCulloh’s off the map. Be done with their nonsense.”

Arthur sighed lightly. “Aye; I wish it were that easy. But to quote a good friend, ‘war is never simple’.”

“Wise friend ye got there,” Duncan remarked. “Though, an even wiser friend wouldnae discuss such matters when his guest had just arrived. Come; we’ll get ye a mug and talk further over a plate. I’m sure the journey here was nae pleasant.”

Pleasant enough, given he had Olivia all to himself. Part of Arthur wished it had been a bit longer. “As ye command, Laird o’ Marsden Keep.”