Page 26 of The Laird’s Unwanted Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #5)

O n the third day of preparations, Gerald found himself inspecting the upper walls of the main gate when the lookout sounded the horn for incoming targets.

He was quick to grab a nearby longbow and position himself along the edge, pulling the string back as he waited for the spotter’s go-ahead signal.

“Bold of ye to attack head-on, Carswell,” he growled, a plume of foggy breath escaping his lips. Finally, the unease that had permeated his castle would be put to rest with one, well-placed shot.

Distance didn’t mean much in the wintry north, as the sheer white landscape would cause any oncoming rider to stand out amidst the horizon.

Even now, Gerald could follow what looked to be a small band of horses making their way from the south, his arm remaining stiff as he kept the longbow trained at the forward rider.

Then, when he could finally make out the proper shape of the stranger’s horse, he fired a warning shot, an arrow burying in the snow mere feet away. As expected, the beast snorted in slight panic, rearing back and away from the perceived threat.

Unexpectedly, a chorus of howls sounded soon after, with what looked to be a dozen or so hounds of war suddenly appearing from the back lines.

Gerald immediately relaxed his hold on the bowstring, his feet starting for the staircase as he hurried down to the main gate.

“Hold yer fire! It’s nae Carswell who approaches. ”

His men quickly obeyed, lowering their weapons as the rider drew closer.

Of course, it wasn’t Carswell. The man could barely control his own warriors, let alone train deerhounds to such an extensive degree.

Gerald only knew of one clan whose prowess for hounds matched the sight below, and as he waved a hand to his men to raise the gates, Laird MacDonnell himself came through, riding on the back of a powerful-looking palomino.

“Gerald, ye bampot! Ye lookin’ to take me other eye?” Laird MacDonnell’s scolding was somewhat ruined by the smirk drawn across his face.

“Ye’d finally be symmetrical, I suppose,” Gerald mused, his own stoic look breaking as the Laird offered his arm forward.

He embraced it tightly, finally offering a slight grin of his own at Laird MacDonnell’s cheery expression.

“Welcome back to MacLiddel, Arthur. Though yer timing’s absolutely awful.

I’m preparin’ to take on Carswell in a matter of days. ”

Arthur let out a low whistle, pulling his arm back as he ran a hand through his hair. “What will ye do to tick them off? Breathe too loudly in front of him?”

Truly, that might as well have been the reason. A silver-dappled horse soon joined the pair, a woman bundled in a heavy cloak sliding off her saddle. She pushed her hood back to reveal a head of auburn curls, tumbling well past her shoulders like bundles of silk ribbons.

“Arthur!” She had her own bow strung against her back, her hand already moving to free it and take aim. Gerald couldn’t help but be impressed at the sight. It wasn’t often that he met such aggression from a woman.

“It’s all right, selkie,” Arthur assured the woman, who gave a rather cross glare Gerald’s way.

“The Laird’s expecting enemies, nae friends.

Besides,” he added with a wink—though, with the eyepatch, it read more as him simply blinking—“Gerald couldnae hit the broad side of a stag. Awful aim, this one.”

“Says the one missin’ half his vision,” Gerald replied matter-of-factly.

Arthur’s laughter was boisterous, far more so than Gerald had heard in quite some time. Selkie didn’t seem quite as tickled, though her frown was now a mix of apology and concern. “Ah, right. Gerald, it’s me betrothed, Olivia MacLarsen, only daughter of the late Laird MacCulloh.”

A sour taste welled in the back of Gerald’s throat at the name.

MacCulloh had been the last clan to have allied themselves with Marcus, though perhaps manipulated was a more proper term.

It was his turn to scrutinize Olivia, and it was obvious she could see how dark his demeanor had suddenly become.

“I willnae ask ye to forgive me clan’s foolishness, nor do I expect ye to trust a woman whose people sided with the late Laird MacGunn.

” Olivia bowed her head low, offering a curtsy and a sincere note of remorse in her tone.

“But, I do ask ye trust me husband, as it will be his hand that will lead me people to a brighter future. I cannae erase our sins, but I do hope ye and I will find a common ground to work on, for the sake of the Highland’s future. ”

Gerald found himself genuinely taken aback. He blew out a breath, watching it condense against the frigid cold air, before clearing his throat loudly. “I daenae blame ye for the actions of yer people, Lady MacDonnell. It would be hypocritical of me to abash Arthur for his choice of wife.”

Arthur’s once-tense smile relaxed considerably. “Speakin’ of wives, Olivia’s been nonstop about meetin’ the new Lady of MacLiddel. Though, to be fair,” he added smugly. “She’s been giddy to see the snow of the north for herself.”

“Daenae make it sound like I’ve never seen snow before!” Olivia squealed, shoving her husband hard in the chest. “It doesnae fall as heavily as it did within MacCulloh’s old territory.”

Arthur’s laughter rang out once more as he gathered his begrudging wife into a hug, quietly teasing her further as her frown slipped into a smile of her own.

Gerald almost couldn’t believe this was the same laird who stood as his opposition not years ago.

The dreaded warrior of the coastline, the undisputed king of the hounds—hugging and gushing like a lad would toward his first sweetheart.

“Allow me to invite ye inside,” Gerald finally said, shaking his head to try to stop himself from staring at the pair.

“Wouldnae be a proper host if I let ye get ambushed. Oh,” he added as his guests followed after him.

“And so ye’re nae surprised, I sent a letter summoning Nathan to the keep.

Me wife has a wee sister with an unruly beast, and given yer reputation?—”

“Oh, nay, are ye tryin’ to steal me best hound master?” Arthur teased.

“Arthur, hush,” Olivia admonished, though she was smiling just as much as her husband was.

“Nay, Arthur; just prodding his mind so I can make a better one for meself,” Gerald replied with a smirk of his own.

The MacDonnells were quick to settle in their rooms, as Gerald outright refused to let them depart anytime soon.

With Carswell’s men lurking along the horizon, it made little sense to send his allies potentially headlong into danger.

And, though he’d never admit it aloud, Gerald was far more willing to accept Arthur’s help over Duncan’s or Hector’s.

Not because they were particularly close—once upon a time, the pair would have likely met on the battlefield and aimed to kill the other—but because, unlike the other two lairds, Arthur had no children to put at risk.

And, based on what he observed from his wife out on the training grounds, the new Lady of MacDonnell was an absolute crack shot with a bow.

“Whoa,” Mollie gasped, pulling on Aileen’s arm as she pointed frantically toward Olivia. “Leelee, did ye see that? It was amazing!”

Aileen offered a nod and a smile, clearly uncomfortable around their newest guest. Olivia seemed to quickly notice, as she sheathed her bow and started toward the pair with a welcoming grin.

“Archery is fine and all, but yer sister’s rather talented herself.

I’ve only seen a handful of well-mannered young lasses in me life, and I daresay ye’ve made that list easily. ”

The compliment sent a pink tinge across Aileen’s face, and she stumbled over her thanks while Olivia giggled good-naturedly.

Gerald watched the pair interact quietly on the sidelines, sensing Arthur approaching from behind.

“She’s quite the lass,” Gerald commented lightly.

“I daenae think there’s a man in me army who can shoot as well as she can. ”

“Aye, she’s a wild spirit, that one,” Arthur boasted. “Couldnae be any happier, much as she got on me nerves early on.” He set a reassuring hand against Gerald’s shoulder, adding with a short laugh, “I reckon Aileen must be similar, given ye agreed to marriage at all.”

Gerald didn’t offer a verbal reply. He felt Arthur’s grasp tighten around his shoulder, a somber tone entering his voice as he spoke next.

“Gerald … about Marcus …”

Gerald shook himself free of Arthur’s grasp, reaching for a practice blade while slipping his cloak off. This conversation had been difficult enough to have with Hector, and he’d only just begun to familiarize himself with Arthur.

Banter between them was one thing, but a wall still stood between the laird and Gerald’s personal life. “I’ve heard much about yer swordsmanship, though I never had the chance to see it for meself.”

Arthur hardly let the change in subject get to him.

Or, if it did, he wasn’t about to show it.

He stepped toward the sparring ring, grasping a sword of his own and unhooking his cloak as it crumpled to the snow-covered ground.

“Aye, I suppose we never got the chance to meet on the field, did we? Suppose now we can find out who would end who.”

“Feels a bit cheap, takin’ on a half-blinded man,” Gerald mused, only to raise his sword as Arthur’s suddenly came swinging forward. Metal clashed loudly as the men pulled away, an excitedly wild look crossing Laird MacDonnell’s eye as he shifted his grip along the hilt.

“This half-blind man is about to make an absolute fool out of ye,” he grinned.

“Oh! Gerald’s goin’ to fight again!” Mollie squealed, excitedly pulling on Aileen’s arm as she pulled her across the snow. “He’s goin’ to win, right, Leelee?”

Aileen looked like a deer caught in the hunter’s line of sight. She glanced between Gerald and Olivia, clearly struggling to uphold her honor as a hostess while also supporting her husband.

“I daenae ken, Mollie,” Olivia smirked, stepping up beside Aileen with a wicked look in her eye. “Arthur is quite talented in the art of swordplay.” She offered a wink at Aileen, and Gerald watched as his wife’s expression immediately brightened with determination.

“Perhaps, Lady MacDonnell, but me husband is fiercely loyal. And …” Her attention found his, her eyes warm and fully confident in the words she spoke. “And, it’s unfortunate ye daenae ken, but he made a promise to never disappoint Mollie. So, he simply willnae lose.”

“Aye!” Mollie agreed wholeheartedly. “He willnae lose!”

Arthur’s boisterous laughter pulled Gerald back to the fight at hand. “Well, I’ll have to see that for meself. Hope yer promise is stronger than me desire to win, Laird MacLiddel!”

“Let’s see if yer skills can back up that ego of yers,” Gerald retorted with a smirk of his own, chest ablaze with both Mollie and Aileen’s complete confidence in him.