Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (12 page)

Chapter Eight

Jamie entered in time to see Caitrin leave the hall on the MacGregor’s arm. Fletcher remained at table, watching them go. The slight frown marring his face gave Jamie hope. So he did care about his daughter. At least he hoped that was the sentiment behind Fletcher’s expression.

Jamie had looked for just this sort of opportunity to speak to Fletcher without the scrutiny of his daughter or Alasdair MacGregor. The fact that he seemed to be concerned about her welfare at the moment might make this conversation all the more productive. “Good day, Fletcher.”

“What? Oh, Lathan. Good day.”

Jamie debated asking permission, but didn’t want to be refused, so he simply depended on Fletcher’s good manners and sat. “Did I see Caitrin leaving with the MacGregor a moment ago? How is the negotiation going?” In for a penny, in for a pound.

Fletcher surprised him by sighing and dropping the bit of bread in his hand onto his pewter trencher. “It seemed to be going well until my daughter arrived. Now? I canna be certain. Perhaps that,” he said, nodding at the door, “will be the beginning of a resolution.”

Jamie schooled his features to calmness even while his belly turned over. He should be satisfied for Caitrin to make a powerful match, but his gut had other ideas. Fletcher’s frown had been a sign of concern about making the match rather than Caitrin’s well-being. She said he wouldn’t listen to her. Would he listen to Jamie? “Perhaps. And if it isna?”

“I raised my daughter to be dutiful as well as decorative, Lathan. She’s well aware of my wishes.”

Fletcher had every right to demand her obedience, but it still stuck in Jamie’s craw he would force Caitrin to marry against her wishes. He fought to keep his tone level. He did not want Fletcher to sense the challenge behind his words. Not yet. “Are ye aware of hers?”

“Hers are of little importance, when all is said and done. She will adjust, as she did when she fostered with yer clan.”

As much as it grated, he could understand Fletcher’s sentiments. Marriages were arranged every day in the Highlands. The Lowlands, too. Fletcher did not demand anything out of the ordinary from his daughter. The difference was it mattered to Jamie. Her happiness. And his own. That was a dangerous path to head down. One he had no business walking. But it beckoned, nonetheless.

He forced himself to relax, leaned back in his chair, and nodded. “’Tis plain this match is important to ye, given yer request for Lathan support.” Did he dare probe or would it be too obvious? It was worth the attempt. “What do ye hope to gain from MacGregor?”

Fletcher could either answer or damn him for his effrontery, but Jamie rather thought he owed Lathan an answer for its trouble—for Jamie’s trouble in making the trip. And, though he dared not mention it to Fletcher, for the old wounds seeing Caitrin again had reopened. The old needs.

Silence reigned for several moments until Jamie began to despair. Then Fletcher cleared his throat and met his gaze. “Are ye asking me as the Lathan envoy or as a man with his eye on my daughter?”

Jamie tensed, but Fletcher continued before he could frame a reply.

“Nay, dinna waste yer breath. I suppose ye deserve an answer. And as much as I value the alliance I have with Lathan…the care yer clan gave my daughter after her mother’s passing, we are bound by clan ties to MacGregor.” He waved a hand, encompassing the entire hall. “Those have weakened dangerously over the last four years. MacGregor believes we stinted in providing men and arms to him, as well as to the King.” Fletcher paused then continued more quietly. “He’s right, and in hindsight, perhaps the sacrifice of the men and arms that would have been lost at Flodden, my life and those of the rest of my men, would have been worth it. Aye, we lost Fletchers along with King James, but MacGregor lost more. ’Twas my decision to withhold Fletcher from that fool’s errand. And since, my people have suffered for it in MacGregor’s regard.”

“So ye lean on Lathan rather than displaying a large group of yer men as escort for Caitrin?”

“Ye have the right of it. No’ only for appearances, but to remind MacGregor we have other allies.”

“Wise. Wise, indeed,” Jamie commented, warming to the man, despite their conflicting views on the best future for Caitrin. Yet there were risks in Fletcher’s strategy, and now he’d involved Lathan in his difficulty with MacGregor. Jamie would have to tread carefully, indeed. Had Toran known—or suspected—how this would develop?

“Yet in order to smooth things over with MacGregor,” Fletcher continued, “I must make the most important sacrifice of all. Caitrin.”

“So ye do care.” Though Jamie found little solace in that if Fletcher persisted in his plans for Caitrin’s betrothal.

Instead of rearing up in anger, Fletcher slumped, defeated. “Of course I do. She’s my daughter, my only reminder of her mother. But she must do her duty for her clan, as must we all.”

Jamie nodded sagely, at a loss for an argument, since duty was also the reason he sat with Fletcher at this moment.

“Which is why ye are here. I hope I can count on yer assistance in getting this betrothal agreement signed. MacGregor seems well disposed toward the idea, and I hope the encounter going on now will convince him. But if no’, yer endorsement, speaking for Lathan, may persuade him.”

He’d walked into this with his eyes open, Jamie berated himself, hoping to sound out Fletcher. Instead, Fletcher cornered him into agreeing to something he’d learned he did not want to do. Though his duty was clear. Toran had sent him here to secure Caitrin’s betrothal as well as Alasdair’s signature on the treaty. Damn. “I dinna think ye’ll need my interference,” he finally said. “Caitrin is a lovely lass, and the MacGregor will surely want her to wife.”

“Nonetheless, this is precisely the reason I requested the Lathan provide escort. In matters such as these, another laird’s approval carries weight. Ye stand for the Lathan while ye remain here. I require ye to do as yer laird surely bid ye, despite any feelings ye may harbor for my daughter. She is the daughter of a laird and is destined to be the wife of a laird. She will never be yers.”

Jamie’s eyebrows drew together as Fletcher remonstrated him, but he knew better than to interrupt. Finally, Fletcher wound down and Jamie stood. “I will, of course, do as my laird Lathan bid me. Ye can rest assured of that. Now, if ye will excuse me, I must prepare for a meeting with the MacGregor.” Fletcher inclined his head and Jamie took his leave. Pompous ass. Jamie had actually started to like the man, but his lecture grated. Or was that Jamie’s conscience gnawing at him? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t escape the fact that Toran sent him here to secure Caitrin’s future. On the other hand, a betrothal did not have to include the expected groom. Cheered by that thought, Jamie went on his way.

****

The steward arrived at Caitrin’s chamber after the midday meal with the dowager Lady MacGregor’s polite summons. Caitrin knew better than to refuse, though she wasn’t certain she was ready to meet Alasdair’s mother, who, she’d been told, had just returned to the keep from a visit away. The steward led her along unfamiliar hallways to the door of the ladies’ solar, where he paused. A handsome woman close in appearance to her father’s age rose from her place in the circle of chairs occupied by several other ladies and came to greet them.

“Ah, ye must be Caitrin Fletcher.” She took Caitrin’s hands and looked her over. “Lovely, ye are, my dear. I am Madeleine MacGregor, of course, Alasdair’s mother.”

“Thank ye,” Caitrin said, remembering her manners despite the cold sweat that popped out on her back at seeing the meeting she thought would be private, would be very public, indeed. At least, Alasdair’s mother seemed charming, much as her son had been this morning. “I’m pleased to meet ye.”

“And we are, to meet ye. Ah, a moment, dear,” she said, released Caitrin’s hands and turned to the steward. “Thank ye for finding her so quickly. That will be all.” The man bowed silently and departed in haste, clearly uncomfortable in the midst of so many women. Caitrin smiled behind her hand. No doubt, he was well practiced at making his escape as quickly as he could whenever his duty brought him here.

“Poor man,” Madeleine said, chuckling, as she steered Caitrin to a thickly padded upholstered chair in a sunny spot. “I usually detain him longer just to watch him squirm, but today, I’d rather focus on ye.”

Caitrin swallowed as she took a seat. Did she mean to make Caitrin squirm? That did not bode well for her acceptance here.

The dowager Lady MacGregor, Madeleine, had to be her first conquest. She had ruled the keep for years and could help or hurt Caitrin in a thousand ways. Caitrin gave her a tentative smile. Relief rolled through her like the warmth from a draught of whisky when Madeleine smiled back. Finally, the tension eased out of the room and conversations started among the other women.

“We are pleased to have ye join us,” Madeleine announced with a nod to Caitrin in a voice that quelled the other exchanges. “There must be much ye wish to learn about MacGregor and the keep. We will assist ye, should ye marry my son.”

Should ye marry my son
? Suddenly Caitrin felt even more on trial than she had when she first spied the room full of women. She gathered her scattered wits and nodded. “Thank ye, Lady MacGregor.” She looked around the circle of faces, noting curiosity on some, skepticism on others. Time for some of Jamie’s diplomacy. Whether she remained here or not, she would do well to make what friends she could. “I will need all of ye to work with me, to teach me, everything I must learn about yer impressive keep. It will be my honor to care for the clan, its home, and its people, should the wedding take place.”

With their brute strength and weaponry, the men of the clan were dangerous, but the physical wounds they could inflict would not compare to the damage these women could do. Caitrin had to gain acceptance from as many of these ladies as she could. Most of them. All of them, if possible. She wasn’t sure she possessed that much charm. Or patience.

But her statement seemed to satisfy Madeleine, who took her seat and made the introductions, naming the other women as they settled themselves. Caitrin expected Madeleine to judge her prospective daughter-by-marriage, and to watch how the group responded to her, before deciding whether to help or hinder. But the smile seemed genuine, a good omen.

Then women started peppering her with questions. “Have ye seen our gardens?” “Have ye met the bairns?” “The priest?” “When will the banns be posted?”

Caitrin did her best to answer them, breathlessly fitting in a few questions of her own as her confidence in their acceptance grew.

They had lost men at Flodden, but not as many as some clans. Children were valued here, and there were a lot of them. The men took care of the fields and the herds as well as the fighting and the brawling. The women took care of the keep, the meals, the clothes, and anything else that made a keep a home.

Caitrin wondered if her wish for the lasses to learn archery would be well received by their mothers, much less her own prowess with a bow and arrow, not to mention a short sword and a dirk. Best not to reveal any of that yet. Finally, the women began to gossip among themselves, and Caitrin drew in a relieved breath. Her first meeting seemed to go well. Even Madeleine seemed satisfied. She spoke with a woman on her other side, and Caitrin suspected if she’d failed in some way, Madeleine would be watching her like a hawk. If she disapproved of Caitrin, surely there would still be tension in the room.

Caitrin bent to her stitchery, listening to the ladies around her with only half an ear. Now that she had a chance, she thought back to the morning and Alasdair’s odd behavior. Had he actually been trying to charm her? He’d been polite, if firm, in describing the duties he expected a wife to undertake. She didn’t have to like it, but he had not described anything unusual. Her hackles had gone up only when he asked about her time at Lathan. The question seemed innocent enough at the time, but as she had at their first meeting, she sensed something amiss about him, or about his purpose behind the question, that gave her a chill. Could a question be a lie?

The size and scope of the MacGregor library still astounded her. Unable to get the memory of the place out of her mind, she determined to find her way back there—alone. It would be wonderful to indulge her love of reading without Alasdair, or anyone else, looking over her shoulder.

MacGregor had settled himself in a comfortable chair and allowed her to explore. She’d happily pulled one book after another from the shelves and exclaimed over several. He’d been amused she would show such enthusiasm, and she supposed he would now consider her well and truly on the hook, ready to accept him on the promise of access to that library, if nothing else.

The thought of all those loaded shelves, all those books waiting to be read and studied, used in the classroom or for entertainment for years to come, made Caitrin smile over her embroidery. But books could be borrowed. A husband? Well, those got borrowed, too, granted. But not, she vowed, hers.

Unfortunately, she was getting the impression her prospective groom had already been well used. While most of the ladies were friendly enough, two were ignoring her and one, a blonde with a rounding belly she’d noticed frowning her way during yesterday’s evening meal, now glared daggers at her. Did she carry MacGregor’s child? Or simply resent a Fletcher as the future lady of the clan? Surely, this woman risked much by showing her disdain, but one bad apple...Caitrin sighed and looked away. Starting off on the wrong foot with these women would carry repercussions that would last for years.

“And who are those men who brought ye?” The pregnant blonde, Sorcha, finally spoke as Caitrin met her challenging gaze. “Aye, especially the tall one with the dark hair. Reddish, but very dark, it is.”

Jamie? Well, she should not have expected him to go unnoticed by women here. Caitrin had enough trouble keeping her eyes off of him. Staying out of his arms. She had no reason to think she’d be the only one he tempted. The only one longing for him. But would he indulge?

Nay, that was none of her business. He was her friend, not her betrothed. Only her friend, nothing more. She had to keep her distance from him, both for appearances’ sake, but also to prevent either one of them from acting on the attraction they felt for each other.