FLAME ACROSS THE HIGHLANDS (10 page)

"He is every bit as brave." Ian warily handed the broadsword back to its owner, wondering what to expect next, “And has always been most loyal.”

“Bravery. Loyalty. Good qualities in a mon.  So, let us begin with this
peace
your kinsman proposes." He looked toward the door and nodded again.  The soldiers who had been waiting there vanished and a small-boned, tawny-haired girl entered with three glasses of ale. "One of my daughters," Lachlan MacQuarie said  in answer to Ian's unasked question.  "Oriana is her name."

The girl nodded politely as she placed the goblet in Ian's hand. He eyed her with interest
, wondering if she was the one who had been chosen to be Robbie’s bride, though nothing had been said verbally. She was fragile looking, pretty, and obviously shy, seemingly a fit bride for Robbie, though very young.

“She’s very pretty.”

"Aye, all my daughters are bonnie lassies.  All four."  With a flick of his wrist he sent her from the room in a swish of skirts. “But no sons, which brings us to the matter that's been weighing on my mind."   He stared deep into the depths of the tankard as if to find a solution there.  "I hae no sons.  My only hope of carrying out my line is through grandsons."  The thick fingers clenched and unclenched  the wooden armrests.  "I'll put it to ye bluntly. One of the terms of the marriage contract is that Robbie Campbell take on the MacQuarie name and that any children of the union will take same."

Ian bolted up from his chair. He was incredulous.  "Robbie
Campbell take on the
MacQuarie
name?"

"That's what I said."  His fingers curled into aggressive fists as he raised his hand. "
It is not an unusual request in this instance.”

Ian paced up and down the chamber in agitation. No, it wasn’t unusual. He knew that what the Marquarie was requesting had been done before. But surely
Duncan would never agree. A Campbell to take upon himself his enemies’ name, to sire children that would belong to a hated clan? Be tanist to The MacQuarie! Ian slammed his fist into the palm of his hand to vent his tortured anger. He wanted to scream out
no
to decry it as an outrage, but fought to retain his composure. “The name MacQuarie is poison to our tongue,” he breathed.

“As is
Campbell to mine. Still, it is a thing I ask. I will not agree to a marriage wi’out it.” Lachlan MacQuarie sat upright in his chair with all the regal bearing of a king. the stubborn tilt to his jaw gave proof of his determination.

“Agree, mon. Agree!” Aulay was adamant as he buzzed in Ian’s ear. “Wi’ Robbie a Macquarie, the way will be open for ye to claim the chiefship when
Duncan dies.”

That much was true, but that was not the reason Ian finally agreed to the terms.
Duncan had been adamant about this joining of clans. He had revealed to Ian the importance he placed on this marriage. If it was that necessary, then he would do the agile diplomatic dance and pay the piper later. “Agreed. But as per Duncan’s request, the lassie must live among the Campbell kin, at the Campbell stronghold until the firstborn child is of age to be named tanist.”

Lachlan MacQuarie nodded. “It is agreed as first spoken.”
The usual haggling followed, and the cleric sent in to draw up the contract.  It specified the bride's dowry, several rich acres of pastureland between the two strongholds.  Land made fertile with the blood of both clans.  If Robbie Campbell died, his bride would inherit one third of everything he owned.  Lachlan in turn asked for several head of catttle, three loads of oats,and some hunting dogs to match the ones he already owned.

A further stipulation was enacted which forbade any future heirs from granting land to foreigners. The English dogs, as
Lachlan called them. It was specifically forbidden that any form of feudalism be enacted, for the MacQuarie was against it and fought to protect his people. The two systems had existed side by side albeit at serious odds with each other. Under the Celtic patriarchal system the land belonged to the tribe, but feudalism meant that the land passed into the possession of the king, to be parceled out according to his whim or necessity. If the reason for this sudden show of friendship was to wrest his land away, Lachlan thought, he would insure its protection by written word.

“The terms are acceptable,” Ian said, affixing his mark.

"All is agreed."  Lachlan MacQuarie's frown had vanished, to be replaced by the grimace of a smile.  "The banns will be posted on the next three successive Sundays.  In the meantime relax enjoy yer stay. Tonight there will be  a celebration.  Feasting.  Dancing.  Drinking."
              "I will look forward to such hospitality."  Indeed he would, Ian thought.  It would be a perfect time to woo his flame-haired kelpie and that was exactly what he had planned. And who could say. Perhaps when this was all over he would find a way to take her back to the Campbell hall with him.

Chapter Nine

Like a flash of lightning Brianna fairly flew up the circular stone staircase, taking the steps two at a time in her hurry to prepare for the night's feasting. As she passed her father's chambers she couldn't resist pausing, however, putting her ear briefly to the door. In disappointment at hearing no voices beyond, she continued up to the second floor bed chamber she shared with her sister.  Once inside, she plundered her large wooden trunk  and pulled several items of clothing from the pegs  on the wall, determining to find just the right garments to wear tonight.  Indeed, she would clothe herself with as much care as if she were going into battle. Perhaps in a way she was, she mused.

"The russet
under tunic," she decided aloud and a dun-colored arasaid striped with a rainbow of colors, the one Glenna had woven for her on the large loom in the ladies’ hall.  The large gold broach with a simple chain around her neck.  Carefully she laid the items on the large bed that stood in the middle of the room. Perhaps a wreath of wild flowers in her hair for the occasion. 

She thought how Glenna would be amused to see her take such time in choosing her garments, she
who was usually haphazard in her dress, taking little care what she wore.  Well, it is to make Father proud of me before the Campbell, she determined, defending herself.  It was to make the MacQuaries proud and for no other reason.

A small packet of flowers and herbs that Glenna always used in her bath taunted her now.  Oh, she knew what the Lowlanders  and those of the royal Scottish court said about the Highlanders and Islanders.  That they were uncouth barbarians who smelled of horses, hay and worse.  The King of Scotland, that upstart Robert de Brus, prided himself on being of French descent, affected their manner, speech and culture while reducing the true Celtic Scots to virtual slavery.  Why, he even bore a Frenchified name.
He called the true Scots
bruti
and contained them in the hills as much as possible.  He seemed to forget there were those "bruti" who had helped him secure his throne, including those bearing the MacQuarie name. And no doubt her betrothed, this Campbell, was much the same. Well, she would show him! 

Brianna had always scoffed at Glenna's frivolity before
, but now but had second thoughts. Since it was the third day of the week, it was the women's turn to bathe. In truth, perhaps she would feel much better once she had the warm cocoon of water surrounding her.  It would relax her and give her time to think things out, to get used to the idea of having a husband.   So thinking, she grabbed  an old woolen tartan and made her way to the bath house.

Pushing open the thick wooden portal,
Brianna was grateful to see that all of the six large wooden tubs  that studded the rush strewn floor were empty.   She would have the seldom granted opportunity of privacy.  A well for washing or drinking water was available at the central drawing point, thus she busied herself with procuring a plentiful supply, filling the buckets and heating the water in the large iron pots that were perched over an open fire.  Struggling under the heavy burden of the large cauldrons, she nonetheless managed to carry them to one of the tubs, completing the job of filling her bath.  Turning around, lifting the skirts of her under tunic  up to her knees in preparation of disrobing, she  heard the door creak.  The sudden unwelcome feeling that someone was staring at her crept over her. Whirling around she was startled to find herself face to face with
him
again.

"What a welcome surprise," he said pleasantly, shutting the door behind him.  "It seems I'm always finding you perched by water. That must mean you
are
a kelpie."

"I'm no such thing and I
'm tired of ye taunting me wi' it," she snapped, holding the tartan protectively up to her bosom to hide the outline of her breasts beneath the thin linen. 

The soft
, orange yellow glow of flickering torchlight illuminated the room and gave her a clear view of his manly form. He was naked to the waist, wearing only a breacan. Her eyes took in his broad shoulders, muscled arms and the thick wisp of dark hair covering his chest.  "And just what are ye doing here anyway?  'Tis the women's turn to bathe."

"It is?"  Ian had felt so grimy and dirty
from the journey that the very first thing upon his mind, after his meeting with Lachlan MacQuarie, had been a bath.  "How was I to know? "

Brianna concede
d the point.   "Ye wouldna..." He was a guest  to her father's hall, he would have no way of knowing their particular customs. "But...."   From the corner of her eye she took in every detail of his appearance.  This time he wore no trews, and she noted his legs were finely shaped and muscled.  He was not knobby of knees like some of the men, nor were his legs battle scarred. As he took a step forward, she backed away and looked towards the door.  The only way out was to go past him, and this she did not want to do.  She wanted to maintain as great a distance as possible between them.

In the silence
that pervaded the room  each one conscious of the other but somehow afraid to move or speak.  Brianna was aware of him in every nerve, pore and bone in her body.              

"Ah, lassie, I do not blame you for being apprehensive after
the way I acted at the lake."

"Ye were a bold rogue and well ye know it."  Haughtily she pointed
her nose towards the ceiling.

"Aye, I was a bold buffoon, but I promise, lass, I will not ravish you."  He grinned, his strong  teeth a glow of white in the torch light, contrasting shar
ply to the bronze of his face.

Ravish her?  By his tone he was making light of their encounter, angering her anew.  She did not like his mocking, his teasing manner.  Her volatile temper started to boil as furious
ly as the water in the pots.

"Indeed ye shan't."  Picking up a large wooden stool stood beside the tub
, she wielded it like a weapon, threatening him if he made a move.

"Woe......lassie!  I thought there was to be peace between the Campbells and MacQuaries."  He held up his hands, palm up in a gesture of surrender.  "I apologize for my
boldness at the lake but I was ‘struck’ by your beauty.  I do not need to be struck again."  A wide grin etched across his face.  "If I acted in a manner to alarm you, I am truly sorry. But isn't it time to call a truce?"

"A truce....?" Why was it she always felt compelled to fight with him and yet at the same time longed for.......  By all the saints
, he unnerved her most definitely, confused her with contradicting emotions.  Even so, she put down the stool.  It wouldn't do for her father to find her future husband lying senseless on the bath house floor.

"Aye, a truce." He could not keep his eyes from the cleft between her breasts  that showed just slightly when she bent over, nor could he keep from watching the sway of her hips as she moved.  In a flickering glance he took in everything about her.  He'd been an impatient lout
, but this time all would be different. He would woo her with finese.

Truce indeed she thought.  It seemed the
Campbells always furthered themselves by marrying daughters of chieftains who owned lands.  This Campbell was no exception.  She must remember that  he was her enemy, at least for the moment.  Still she said, “Agreed!" struggling to appear poised.  She betrayed herself as she lowered her eyes from his gaze.

"Good....!"
Oh, how he wanted to kiss her, but he held himself back.

"Now, ye may leave....." 
She pressed her lips together tightly as she pointed toward the door.  If he thought there was going to be any dallying, just because he'd flattered her, she would let him know he was wrong.

"I'll leave, but first I
do want to soothe the ill-will between us.  It's still there despite your words"  His eyes focused on hers, his gaze intent as he walked the short distance that separated them.  "Let us have peace."

Brianna started to turn away but just at that moment he reached out and captured her hand.  Bending low over it, he pressed his warm mouth into the palm in a gesture he'd learned from  courtly knights who used such chivalry to charm a lady.   It always wor
ked, he thought with a  smile.

"Dunna ye ever think of anything but kissing?"  Her voice was a whisper.  His mouth seemed to sear her flesh, awakening that same flutter in her stomach she'd felt at the lake.  She found herself remembering the pressure of those w
arm knowing lips against hers. Though it was her hand he touched, her heart pulsated as rapidly as the wings of a trapped bird.

"You bring such thoughts to my mind"  Seeing that his words caused her to stiffen he added,
"I mean that as a compliment."

"Ha, I know yer kind.  Chasing after every woman ye meet.  Ye nearly said as much."  She tried to ignore the sensations running down her arm as he caressed each finger with his lips.  In a gesture of defiance she p
ulled her hand away.  "Enough!" Holding out her slim, long-fingered hand she looked at the calluses that marred her palm and fingers. What had he thought when he’d kissed her hand? Had he felt the same stirring she had? Or compared her hands unfavorably with the Lowlander women with softer hands.

"I'm a warrior not a poet.  I know not any words that will
make you see into my heart." The soft material of her tunic tightened across her firm breasts.  Ian fought against the urge to take her in his arms.  Tearing his gaze away he said merely, "All I can say is that you are the first woman who has affected me so strongly.  It's magic, lassie.  I know it and you know it too.  Don't let my foolishness break the spell."

"Spell?"  Her eyes widened in apprehension.  Indeed
, she had felt as if a power beyond herself was drawing her to him.

"You know very well what I mean, lassie.  Come, give me a  grin from your heart.  If there is to be peace between the
Campbells and MacQuaries how can we do any less between ourselves?"  There was a sincerity in his tone that soothed her, softened her resolve.  "I promise to behave myself if only you will grant me one smile."

"A smile and then ye will leave?"  She had to admit that he was a man who interested her, drew her.  He did stir a feeling deep inside, but more than that the union between them would bring peace to their clans.  How then could she let personal feelings gnaw at her and destroy any chance of contentment between them.  She couldn't, at least that's what she told herself.   If they were to be married it was time they got acquainted
, she thought.  Hostility would not get her very far.  "Agreed."   How could she refuse?   Slowly she curved her lips up, let down her defenses, and responded unguardedly to his natural charm. Certainly he had it aplenty.

"There.  More p
otent than a hundred words.  You are bonnie, lassie." He seemed to have banished the bold, aggressive behavior, showing her a more restrained side to his nature.  Perhaps he really was sorry, she thought.

Brianna capitulated to a feeling a strange, unexplained burst of happiness. The peace between them was fragile, but it was enough for the moment. They continued to talk for a few moments longer
as he touched briefly on his journey. The wavering torchlight danced on his strong cheekbones  and Brianna stared, fascinated at the way the flames played across his boldly carved nose and hard jaw line.  Just as she had first supposed, he would be a difficult man to best, but at least now she felt more comfortable in his presence.  It was a beginning.

"Now, I promised to leave and I will show you I am a man of my word."  Ian moved slowly toward the door, tempted to turn around and cast his better intentions aside
, but a promise was a promise.  Opening the portal he eyed her with regret.  "Good night, sweet Brianna. At least until I see you again." 

She followed him, gently but firmly pushing him with the weight of the door until he was outside the room. 
"Good night, Robbie Campbell."

Ian heard the door slam behind him, heard the grate of the bolt as she slid it in place.  
Robbie
Campbell she'd called him.  "No, wait.  I'm not......"  He tried to open the door but she had securely locked it.  It just wouldn't do for her to think he was the man spoken for.  It was no wonder she shunned him.  He didn't want her to think he was to marry someone else.  Banging on the thick wood,  he found it was  to no avail.  At last, throwing up his hands in resignation, he stalked away.  He'd soon let her know just who he was.  The matter would be straightened out at the first opportunity.