Page 21 of The Rise of the Highland King (The Last Celtic King #1)

THE ENEMY’S ARRIVAL

"I think that’s him!" Catriona gasped, as she sprang to her feet and rushed to the window of the great hall. Mara made no move to follow her. She saw no reason to. Any moment she could savor without his presence, she would gladly take it.

It had been barely a day since she had heard the news that she was to marry the Fraser man, and she was still doing her best to make sense of it in any way she could. But now? Now, she supposed, she had no choice but to contend with the truth of what lay ahead of her.

Catriona glanced around from the window, which overlooked the entrance to the keep’s walls. A large gate stood at the top of the defensive hill where the Fraser Keep was stationed, looking down over the village of Tomich and Cannich below.

"I wonder how long it’s been since a MacLeod was allowed in these parts," she muttered to herself, her eyes wide as she pondered the question.

"Well, I suppose we’ll have to get used to it," Mara muttered. Catriona frowned, making her way quickly to her cousin’s side and putting an arm around her.

"Ye’ll be alright," she assured her. "I know you well, Mara Fraser. And I know that you’d never let a man change the person you are."

Mara managed a small smile. She was grateful for the encouragement from her cousin, but at the same time, it didn’t mean much. Catriona’s support was kind, but it wouldn’t change a thing of what was to come.

Alec MacLeod was travelling across from their Keep to meet with her for the first time today, and to finalize the details of the wedding with her father. And Catriona was right, there was something of profound unease that came with a MacLeod stepping foot on Fraser lands. As though all of their ancestors were stirring in their graves, right then and there, and making the annoyance known. She could not blame them. What would they have thought, if they knew that she was to marry one of them, no less?

Callum entered the room, and shot a look towards his sister, clearly less than impressed with her indolence in the face of meeting her husband for the first time.

"Get up!" he told her, rushing to her side and guiding her to her feet. "This is the man you’re to marry. You need tae look as though you’re pleased to meet him!"

"And what if I’m not?" she shot back, daring her brother to argue with her. He pressed his lips together, clearly not interested in a debate, but before he could shoot back something smart, the doors to the main hall opened, and there he was.

Her breath hitched in her throat when she laid eyes on him for the first time. She was not sure why, but she had imagined an older man—some grizzled warrior, fresh from the fight, perhaps still spattered with the blood of the very members of the Fraser clan he had killed. But Alec looked to be just a few years older than her. He stood tall, taller than anyone else in the room, with a weft of tartan over one shoulder and tucked into the brass buckle of the belt wrapped around his waist. His hair was dark and slightly wavy, reaching down to just below his ears, but his eyes were even darker—they looked to be nearly black, from where she stood now, as they scanned the room and took in all that was going on around her.

And then, they rested on her. She swallowed hard as he made his way towards her, and he paused before her, looking her up and down.

"Ye’re Mara?"

His words were short, sharp, to the point. She nodded, bowing her head slightly.

"Aye, I am."

He nodded.

"And you’re to be my wife," he remarked, his deep voice slowing slightly, as though he was growing used to the idea. There was a quiet confidence in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. His voice was strong, but not loud, his shoulders strong, his chest puffed. Though he should have rightly been afraid, stepping on enemy territory like this before the alliance was confirmed, he seemed completely sure of himself. She noticed, all at once, that his hand was resting lightly on the hilt of his sword—she supposed he had no reason to fear what happened here, if he was able to fight himself out of any danger that might have presented itself.

"I suppose I am," she replied, through gritted teeth. Even admitting it here, somehow, felt wrong, as though she should have denied him on the spot, as though this were some kind of test that she had failed. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a smirk that sent a shock of irritation through her system. Who was he, to walk into their Keep, and stand there smirking like an errant lad?

"I must admit," he remarked, chuckling slightly, "I expected more of a fight from a Fraser."

Her eyes widened.

"And what do you mean by that?" she demanded, planting her hands on her hips, her voice rising before she could stop herself. He shrugged, not shifting an inch, even as she drew herself up to her full height.

"I’ve known yer clan to have a fair fight in you," he replied. "I did nae expect you to make it quite so…easy for me."

"Easy?" she exclaimed. "You think this is easy for me? You think fer a moment that I’d agree to this if it were not for the?—"

"Laird MacLeod," Catriona cut in, stepping forward swiftly. "You must be tired from yer journey. Perhaps I could show you to yer quarters, so you can rest and clean up before you meet with the Laird regarding the wedding."

"Aye, I suppose so," he replied. He spoke with a calm control that only served to make Mara even angrier. How could he be so calm, in the face of this? Did he think her nothing more than some simpering maiden he could twist to his needs and wants? He did not come here to impress her, or to prove himself to her as a potential match. No, he came here just to mock her, to taunt her, and she could feel the anger rising beyond her control deep inside of her as she stared him down.

"I’d like to spend a little more time with my husband-to-be," she replied, before he could walk from the room. He gazed at her, those dark, nearly black eyes, impenetrable. His hand still rested on the hilt of his sword, as though he was ready to swing it at any moment. A warrior down to his bones.

"I’m sure ye’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other once the wedding is secured," Callum cut in, plastering a smile over his face, though Mara knew him well enough to be able to see that it was nothing more than an act.

"So why no’ start now?" she demanded, her voice laced with irritation.

"Oh, I think I’ve already got the measure of you," Alec remarked, casually. Her gaze flicked to him again, and she could feel a heat blazing at her cheeks. She cursed herself for making it so obvious, the fury that she felt at that moment, the annoyance. She wished she could play her tone as cool as he did, but it was not the same for her as it was for him, and she was sure he knew that. He could not be ignorant to the fact that she had been forced into this, and that he would get to maintain his freedom and the values of his clan, while she would be forced to put all of that aside.

"Do you, aye?" she challenged him. "And what exactly do you make of me?"

That smirk again, that infuriating smirk. She took a step towards him, daring him to tell her what was on his mind. Between them, something crackled in the air, like the wick of a candle taking the flame.

"Mara," Callum growled, his voice low, warning.

"I suppose we can discuss it at length once the wedding is agreed upon, as yer brother said," he replied, nodding in Callum’s direction. Catriona was at his side, her hand on his elbow, already steering him towards the door.

"I’ll call for the kitchen to bring you up some food," she fussed over him. "And we’ll make sure the Laird knows you have arrived safely."

Their footsteps began to echo in the hallways beyond the main hall, and Mara glared after them. She had already not taken much to her husband, and the thought of having to entertain him even for the length of the rest of his visit was enough to make her feel sick. How could she expect to spend a life with him, if she could barely stand to be in the same room with the man for more than a few minutes?

"Mara," Callum muttered, as he strode over to the door of the great hall and pulled it shut, peering out first to make sure that they would not be overheard. "What dae you think ye’re doing?"

"What do you mean?" she fired back at him, angry. "I was here to greet my new husband. Is that not what you wanted?"

"Aye, but I wanted you to greet him with a little more kindness," he argued, as he made his way towards her. "You cannae speak to him as you would any other man. He’s to be yer husband?—"

"Aye, so does it matter how I talk to him?" she countered. "After all, the marriage has already been decided upon. It’s not as though anything I could say or do would change it. Better that he knows the kind of woman he is to be married to, is it not?"

Callum rubbed a hand over his face. For the first time, Mara thought he looked old. He had always been older than her, of course, but the weight of all that had been happening clearly sat heavy on his shoulders. Perhaps, despite how certain he had sounded before, he had his doubts about what he was asking her to do.

"You must be sweet to him," he urged her. "Be kind. Make sure he trusts you. This could be…"

He trailed off, shooting a glance around the room once more, as though there might have been spies ready to catch them out if he was not careful.

"This could be what?" she prompted him, leaning forward with interest. If there was some purpose behind this marriage beyond the alliance, beyond just selling her off as a trinket to seal a deal between the two clans, she would leap to take it.

"This could be a chance fer us to understand the inner workings of the MacLeod Keep," he explained, his voice lowering conspiratorially. Her eyes widened.

"But I thought—if we’re to be allies now, then there’s no need?—"

"Aye, and if all goes to plan, there will be no need for us to learn how they run their clan," he explained. "But we’ve been at war with them for the better part of a century now. There’s no reason to think that they would forget it as soon as the ring is on yer finger, and, with you in the Keep, ye’ll be able to make sure we’re abreast of anything they might be planning against us."

"Why did you not say any of this before?" she demanded, pushing him lightly in the shoulder. "I’d have been far more likely to agree if I knew there was some real reason behind it."

"No, you wouldnae," he replied, the whisper of a smile crossing his face. "But, anyway, after the wedding, I plan to station one of my men nearby, in the village of Cannich. Once a fortnight, ye’ll come down to the apothecary there, tell them that ye’re picking up some herbs for salves, make it sound as though you are doing them a favor and ye’ll meet with him to share any information you might have about what has been going on in the Keep."

Her heart leapt in her chest—this, this was exactly what she had been hoping for. A way for her to cling to the notion that she was doing something to help her family, a task for her to fulfill, as long as she was in the confines of the MacLeod Keep. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and suddenly, this marriage began to make sense in her mind.

"Aye, I can manage that," she agreed, her voice lightening at once.

"But ye’ll have to make certain that you keep Alec close," he warned her. "He cannae believe for a moment that you might betray him, or that you might use this information to help us…"

"What are you suggesting, dear brother?" she teased him lightly. "That I can not be enjoyable company if I so choose?"

He grinned.

"Aye, I believe you can be," he replied, reaching out to give her arm a squeeze. She felt another pang in her chest, as she thought about leaving him, leaving her family, everything she had known. But if it was for the good of the clan, she knew she could not do any different. They needed her. They needed her to keep watch on the MacLeods, and, as the wife of the MacLeod Laird, she would be well-poised to deliver any information they might have needed from her. It might not have been easy, to sugar her words enough to make this man trust her, but if it was what her family needed of her, then she would do it.

Before they could exchange another word, the doors to the main hall opened again, and her father entered, with Catriona following behind him, and there at her side, was Alec. Mara warmed her face into a large grin, hoping that she had not damaged her chances with him too much with their first interaction.

"My husband-to-be," she greeted him, adding a warmth to her tone that had not been there before. Her father looked on, a slight smile on his face, as she made her way towards Alec, dipping slightly into a curtsy to greet him. His gaze landed on her, and she could see the doubt in his eyes, he clearly did not buy her change of approach, but she knew it would just be a matter of time before he did. They were to be married, after all, they would have plenty of time alone together to make certain that he grew to trust her.

"Yer father and I have been discussing the location of the wedding," he explained to her, his voice even. "And it’s best it takes place at the MacLeod Keep. Since that’s where you’ll be living, after you marry me."

"Of course," she replied sweetly, smiling up at him as though she could hardly wait. "And how much longer must I hold off before I can call you my husband?"

"Just a few more days," he replied, an edge of suspicion to his voice. "This Sunday coming, we shall marry."

"What a joyous occasion it will be," Catriona chimed in, sharing a smile with Mara. She seemed relieved that her cousin had so completely changed her tune, though it was clear she could not parse why that might have been.

"It will be," Mara agreed, not taking her eyes from Alec. His gaze, so deep it was almost black, was unwavering as he looked back at her, unreadable.

"Aye," he agreed. "It will be."

And, with that, he turned to her father to talk, and Mara closed her eyes for a moment. Steeling herself for the battle which lay ahead would not be easy, but she would take each skirmish as it came. She would not let her brother, or her family as a whole down. She would do what needed to be done, for the good of her clan.

For better or for worse, her loyalties lay with them.