Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (49 page)

“Ye will be sent to a convent, and yer sister Fallon will marry Fingal.” Her mother gasped at Niall’s announcement.

Gillian saw exactly where this was going. “And if Fallon doesn’t consent, he will marry Ailsa. Shall we save some time here? What if we all refuse?”

“His grace hopes ye will not be so difficult,” said the captain of the king’s guard. His clipped tone suggested he was becoming angry. “However, a marriage to ye or one of yer sisters is little more than a formality. He has already acknowledged Fingal MacIan’s legitimacy as Malcolm MacLennan’s son and heir. Regardless of what ye and yer sister’s choose, his grace has named Fingal laird of Clan MacLennan.”

The MacLennans in the room erupted with shocked exclamations varying from approval to disgust. Gillian, however, did not react, although it was a struggle to remain calm. Just as Eadoin had instructed, she tried to appear as if icy water ran through her veins. Surely this couldn’t be happening. She could have accepted almost anything from the king, but how could she accept this? How could she marry Fingal MacIan? She had an option. Nay, it wasn’t really an option. She truly didn’t wish to enter a convent either. Even if she did, she felt sure her mother would be all too happy for Fallon to marry Fingal. The end result would be the same—he would be laird of Clan MacLennan. She needed time to think and she couldn’t do that in the middle of this uproar.

Banging her fists on the table she yelled, “Silence!” Perhaps her forcefulness shocked those present, but the room fell instantly quiet. In a calmer tone she added, “I would like to discuss this with my advisors.”

Niall shook his head. “My lady, there is nothing to discuss. Ye need only decide whether ye will marry Fingal or enter a convent. This is yer decision—not one for the MacLennan elders.”

“Nevertheless, Laird MacIan, I will not give ye an answer until I have considered the matter. My servants will see to yer comfort while I do so.” She rose to leave.

Fingal had remained quiet until then, but now he stepped forward. “Nay, Lady Gillian. Perhaps ye didn’t fully understand the king’s message. Ye are no longer the leader of this clan. I am. Ye have a decision to make that is solely yers and it must be made today. The king has ordered that the wedding take place immediately.”

“Immediately? That isn’t possible. The banns must be posted, and even so Lent has started. Weddings can’t be performed during Lent.”

“My lady, at the king’s request the bishop has waived the posting of the banns and given us a special dispensation to marry during Lent. The wedding, if there is to be one, will take place today. But, my lady, before anything more is said, I wish to speak with ye alone. Please join me in the solar.” Fingal held his hand out to her.

Gillian’s mother rushed to the center of the room. “Nay, Gillian, ye mustn’t be alone with him.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain. “I will go with ye.”

Gillian clenched her jaw. She wanted to speak with her advisors, but her mother tended to be overbearing and Gillian didn’t want to deal with her now.

Frankly, she was relieved when Fingal replied, “I said I would speak with her alone and I meant it.” At that moment, Fingal, the man whom Gillian had once thought of as genial and good natured, looked every inch an angry Highland warrior.

“It isn’t proper,
Laird
.” The sneer in Lana’s voice clearly told the room what she thought of the king’s directive.

“Lana, like it or not, I am yer laird. Ye will not instruct me in what is or isn’t proper. Gillian will decide whether she will marry me today or enter a convent. This decision dictates the course of the rest of both our lives. I will not have anyone forcing their will on her. Furthermore, her reputation will not suffer, nor will either outcome be affected by a private conversation with her laird.”

That pronouncement successfully silenced Lana and Gillian was certain no one else would challenge him or attempt to prevent this private meeting. In fairness, she couldn’t deny he was right. By royal command, Fingal was Laird MacLennan regardless of whether she chose to marry him or not. She believed that Fallon was not capable yet of fulfilling the role of Lady MacLennan but in time she could learn. Therefore the two people most affected by Gillian’s decision today were Fingal and herself. She walked around the table, toward the tower stairs with her head held high, feeling every eye in the room follow her.

Falling in step beside her, Fingal and Gillian climbed the stairs together in silence. When they reached the dark, cold solar, Fingal walked to the hearth, stoked the fire to life, and lit several candles as if it were his solar.
It is his solar now, Gillian, ye eejit
.

“Come sit with me by the fire, Gillian, we have things to discuss.”

“I don’t want to sit with ye by the fire.”

He chuckled. “I expect ye don’t, but ye are about to make a much bigger decision regarding me, and ye have to start somewhere.”

She sighed resignedly and took the chair opposite him.

He smiled. “That’s better.”

Fingal considered her for a moment. He had visited Brathanead last nearly two years ago. He had been accompanying Niall and his new wife, Katherine, home to Duncurra when Katherine fell desperately ill. Fingal had been charged with taking care of Tomas while Katherine recovered. Outgoing and talkative, Tomas chatted with anyone who would listen and Gillian not only listened but was as charmed by the lad as Fingal was himself. She managed to find a small wooden sword for Tomas to play with.

He remembered her as being tall and gangly but time had a way of smoothing out awkwardness. Now Gillian was...the word “lovely” didn’t quite do her justice. She was stately and poised. Thick brown hair reached her waist. Although slim, she was well curved in the right places. No longer gangly, she moved with a fluid grace that suggested supple strength.
This lass does not belong in a convent
. She didn’t fidget or blush under his perusal but met his gaze with gold flecked brown eyes which, at the moment, glittered with anger. He wasn’t particularly pleased himself, yet they had no choice but to reach an agreement. He smiled as he remembered how she had ordered silence in the hall and everyone complied. At the tender age of nine and ten, she was already a woman to be reckoned with.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Do ye find this amusing?”

“Nay, lass. Nothing about this situation is amusing. I was just remembering my last visit here. Ye gave me a wooden sword for young Tomas. That was very kind of ye. It is still his favorite toy. He has slain many imaginary wild beasties with it.”

At the mention of Tomas’ name, she too smiled for a moment. The smile transformed her countenance, her brown eyes sparkling warmly.
Stunning
. Yes, now that word does her justice.

“He was a sweet lad. We heard that Laird MacIan accepted him as a foster-son. Laird MacLennan didn’t approve, but I was very pleased. Is he well?”

Fingal grinned. “Aye. He’s happy and loved at Duncurra.”

“That is good to hear.” Her face grew serious again. “Still, I doubt ye brought me up here to chat about Tomas.”

“Nay, my lady, I didn’t.” He thought a moment before choosing his next words. “It is obvious that neither one of us wants this marriage.”

Her spine stiffened. She clenched her jaw for a moment, an icy chill returning to her eyes. “Ye are right. I don’t want to marry ye. I shouldn’t have to marry ye. Yer brother was responsible for Laird MacLennan’s death and yer mother killed my father. Ye do not belong here and the king had no right to make ye our laird.”

“Ah, lass, he had every right. He is the king and words such as those, if uttered in the presence of the wrong people, namely the king’s guardsmen below stairs, will get ye arrested.”

“Why do ye care whether I am sent to Edinburgh or a convent? They are both prisons of one sort or another. Ye’ve arranged this rather nicely. I have two sisters, marriage to either of whom would legitimize yer spurious claim.”

“Gillian, that will be the last time ye accuse me of having any hand in this. I had nothing to do with the king’s decision. Laird MacLennan may have sired me, but he was never my father and I had absolutely no desire to lead his clan. He conspired with my mother and together they betrayed the man who I will always consider my brother. Had Malcolm not done that, he might still be sleeping in his own warm bed this frosty night and so would many MacLennan men, not to mention a few MacIan men who were slain that day. As to yer father’s death, I am deeply sorry for yer loss. My mother was more cruel and self-centered than ye can possibly imagine. The only person she ever loved was herself. I was not there, but if I could have stayed her hand, I would have. Yer father was a good man.”

She thrust her chin out in a defiant gesture, but her eyes held only grief. “Aye he was.”

“Gillian, we can’t change the past, nor can we defy the king. Ye must never suggest publically that ye disagree with his direct order. Doing so will not simply land ye in prison, it would likely result in yer head parting company with yer shoulders. Do ye understand me?”

“Aye. But if ye didn’t want this, why is the king forcing it on ye?”

“A clan without strong leadership can become a dangerous liability. Internal strife often creates an enticing target to outsiders. For the time being, there is a fragile peace in the Highlands and the king doesn’t wish to upset that.”

“The only threat we have is from the MacIans,” Gillian insisted.

“Nay, lass. Niall has no desire to lay claim to any of the MacLennan lands. However, he does not want anyone else to either. Stabilizing the MacLennans is in his best interests.”

“Why must we marry to do that? Ye said the king has already named ye laird. I won’t oppose it. Why must I go to a convent if I don’t wish to marry ye?”

“Were ye in the hall when the king’s order was announced? Did ye not hear the opposition?”

“Aye, but if I renounce the clan leadership what can they do?”

“Sadly, Gillian, if I do not marry ye or one of yer sisters, any of ye can become a standard around which those who oppose my leadership will gather. Essentially, as long as ye have a valid claim that isn’t exercised ye enable division within the clan. The king cannot allow that. As laird, I cannot allow that.”

“I don’t want to marry ye.”

Fingal sighed. He didn’t want to send this strong, beautiful woman to a convent, but he had no choice. “Then ye have made yer decision? Ye choose the religious life?”

She looked away. “Nay, I don’t want that either.”

“Lass, it is one or the other.”

“Ye don’t understand. I don’t love ye. In fact, I hate the very sight of ye. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of hell being married to ye would be.”

Would marriage to him truly be a hell for her? As much as he understood her resentment, hearing her say that stung and he couldn’t stop himself from snapping back. “Although ye have a lovely way with words, lass, at the moment I am not particularly fond of ye either. Perhaps it would be best if ye took the holy vows. Maybe one of yer sisters has a sweeter disposition.”

She glared at him. “This is my home. I don’t want to leave my family, my people.”

Fingal’s frustration was rising. “Honestly, I didn’t want to leave my family either but I had no choice in it. Ye at least have an option, regardless of how unappealing ye find the alternatives.”

“Can it be a marriage in name only?”

“A marriage in name only?”

Gillian clearly missed the underlying anger in his question. “Aye. We could be married to satisfy the king, but not live as a married couple. I mean, ye could have the laird’s chamber of course. I would stay elsewhere.”

Fingal’s voice was deadly calm. “I see. Ye wouldn’t share my bed.”

“Aye. That would work. Ye could seek yer comfort elsewhere.”

“Let me make sure I understand. We would marry, but ye would live yer life and I would live mine,
seeking my comfort elsewhere
. And what about ye, Gillian? Would ye
seek yer comfort elsewhere?
”

Perhaps Gillian finally heard the menace in his voice. “I-I-I only meant to say, I w-w-wouldn’t stand in yer way. I-I-I wouldn’t be unfaithful. It would be no different than a convent, only I could stay at home.”

“Nay, Gillian, it would be very different from a convent. Do ye believe that I could live under the same roof with ye, as yer husband and laird of this clan, while parading a stream of lovers in front of ye? Even if ye believe that I am completely without honor, do ye think yer clan would stand for it?”

She paled. “L-L-Laird MacLennan took lovers. It was commonly known.”

“Aye and while he had been a widower for many years, sadly I am sitting here and we are in this position because he wasn’t faithful to his wife. Nay, Gillian, I won’t do that and neither will I live as a monk within the bond of marriage. If ye wish to live chastely, then ye will need to accept the religious life.”

Gillian’s eyes flashed with anger. “Ye would force yerself on a woman who hates ye?”

“I would hope if the woman in question holds only hate for me, and sees no possibility for affection, she would not choose to marry me.”

“This is my clan. I don’t want to leave them!”

Fingal sighed, his irritation fading. As bold and strong as she appeared, Gillian was still a very young woman facing an incredibly difficult and, frankly, unfair decision. “Gillian, I know ye are in a terrible position. I know ye love yer clan and ye believe ye have good reasons to hate me. Please set yer anger aside for a moment and listen.” Her mouth was set in a grim line, but she nodded. “I have known ye for years and while I wasn’t here as much as Niall was, I wasn’t a stranger either. Is that fair?”

“Aye.”

“Have I ever done anything that scared or hurt ye?”

“Nay.”

“Have ye ever heard stories whispered about me?” Gillian raised her eyebrows, causing him to grin. “I mean stories about my evil nature?”

Her lips fluttered briefly, giving him an all too fleeting hint of her smile. “Nay. There were surely enough whispers about ye, but no one ever accused ye of being unkind.”

“Did yer laird or yer da ever say a word against me?”

“Nay.”

“Based on the reaction in the hall, clearly some of the clan’s elders support the king’s decision to name me laird.”

“Aye, there are several who have mentioned it before.”

“And the ones who didn’t? Have any of them ever accused me of being cruel or unreasonable?”

“Nay.”

“Then there are only two reasons that ye have to hate me. One is because my brother defended himself against an attack by yer late laird. Although I know it is hard to accept, Gillian, it is the way of things. Malcolm chose that course, not Niall.” Gillian said nothing, but didn’t argue so Fingal continued. “I understand the other reason is much harder to resolve. My mother did a terrible thing and I am truly sorry for yer loss. But the fact remains, as much as we might wish to, we cannot change the past. We can only come to terms with it. It doesn’t have to dictate our future.”

Gillian looked down. Her chin quivered ever so slightly. For the first time since he had arrived, Fingal caught a glimpse of the scared lass that hid behind the resilient, poised front she presented. Dear God he hated this. He hated compelling her to do something she found so repugnant and he silently cursed the king for forcing both of them into it. “Perhaps there is a middle ground, lass.”

“I don’t see one. Ye have made yerself clear, Laird. Either I marry ye and live as yer wife or I enter the convent.”

“What if we give ourselves a bit of time? Perhaps if ye get to know me better, ye will not find being married to me so distasteful.”

“Ye said the king wanted us married immediately.”

“Aye, that’s true. However, I am willing to give ye a bit of time within the marriage. Mind ye, I don’t think the king would approve, so ye can’t reveal this to anyone. We must share a bed and we must appear to be living as a married couple. However, I promise not to force myself on ye. I will wait until ye are ready—until ye ask me to.”

“Share yer bed without...without...”

“Aye, until ye are ready.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “What if I’m never ready? Ye said ye wouldn’t live like a monk within marriage.”

“And I won’t, at least not forever. But I am willing to give ye—”

“A year?”

A year? Is she daft?
“Nay, Gillian, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?” Her brown eyes stared in challenge.

Why not, indeed.
What would he do if the year passed and she still refused him? Would he force her then? He knew he wouldn’t, but once they were married, there was no going back. Perhaps he could seek an annulment, but not if they appeared to live as husband and wife. Surely he could win her consent within the year. For the love of all that’s holy they would be sharing a bed. “Gillian, I don’t think it is reasonable to set a limit. I am willing to give ye whatever time ye need. Truthfully, I could never force an unwilling lass. But by the same token, ye can’t enter this marriage expecting that ye will never truly be my wife. If ye think ye will always hate me, do us both a kindness and enter the religious life.”

~ * ~

Did she really hate him? Would she ever be able to get past everything that had happened? He asked her not to agree to the marriage if she thought she would always hate him.
What does it matter?
What better revenge could there be than to marry a man who agreed never to force himself on her and then always refuse him?
Once we’re married, what can he do?
He would never hurt her, Gillian thought confidently. Then she realized, that was perfectly true. Aside from everything else, she firmly believed he would never hurt her. She couldn’t deny that he had always seemed to be a good man.

How then could she marry him? She firmly believed she would never get past who he was and what his family had done.
If ye think ye will always hate me, do us both a kindness and enter the religious life
. She could not ignore the truth of his words. Living the rest of her life married to someone she hated would be torturous for both of them.
Do us both a kindness
. Painfully, her choice became clear.