Highland Troth (Highland Talents Book 3) (9 page)

“What did ye do before ye came to help me?”

“I help one of the other ladies, but she has several of us to care for her, so the steward sent me to ye.”

After the warm bath, the glide of the comb through Caitrin’s hair was almost mesmerizing, but it didn’t keep her from noticing bruises on Nan’s arms. “What did ye do to gain those?”

“Ach, I can be so foolish. I tried to move one of milady’s chests. It was too heavy for me and left these marks.”

The slight tingle on her skin told Caitrin Nan had lied, but why. Had someone hurt her? And was it any of her business? She’d barely arrived. If the maid didn’t complain, she had no reason to pry. Instead, she watched as the lass pinned up her hair. She wasn’t used to such luxury, or to such luxurious treatment. She resolved to enjoy it while she remained here, come what may.

That thought stopped her. While she remained here? Had she decided before she even met the man to refuse the match? Because of Jamie? Her father would never tolerate such rebellion. Jamie would not go against her father’s wishes. Nor could she, not without a very good reason he would accept. Nay, it was too soon to be thinking such things.

****

“Lathan. Welcome.”

Alasdair MacGregor stood as Jamie entered the solar.

“MacGregor.” Jamie took a moment to assess the man before him as he moved to the seat MacGregor indicated. Jamie had seen enough in his travels around Scotland, during his time studying at St. Andrews, and as emissary for his laird, to know the MacGregor keep befitted a wealthy and powerful clan. Thinking back to the Alasdair MacGregor he’d known in school, the reason for some of the lad’s arrogance became clear. True, he’d not been the heir at the time, but the disastrous Scottish defeat at Flodden had changed the course of many lives—those it did not end abruptly.

Alasdair had been a year ahead of Jamie in his studies, so they hadn’t spent much lesson time together, though they got on well whenever their paths crossed. Some of the townfolk resented the presence of the St. Andrews students who, for the most part, were sons of Scottish nobles required by the king to study language, mathematics, and Scottish law. So outside of their studies, students usually spent time together at sport, sailing, hunting, and of course, frequenting the local pubs. That last, Jamie suddenly recalled, Alasdair had excelled at.

The man who stood before Jamie looked older. It remained to be seen whether he had also gained wisdom.

MacGregor gestured toward the window and the keep beyond it. “Well met,” he said, resuming his seat.

Well met here, Jamie supposed he meant, as opposed to their old haunts. Was that intended as a boast? “Indeed,” he answered, keeping his tone neutral.

“What of ye? My steward tells me ye are the Lathan emissary.”

“Aye,” Jamie answered, proffering the letter Toran had written for the MacGregor. “Much has changed since our time at St. Andrews.”

MacGregor took the missive and nodded, then set it aside in favor of fingering the handle of a small, thin-bladed knife that Jamie supposed he used to open correspondence. But any blade, used properly, could be a weapon. Jamie steeled himself to pay close attention.

“Would that we could go back to those simpler days, eh?”

Jamie shrugged. “What we studied didna seem so simple at the time.”

A rueful quirk of Alasdair’s lips signaled his agreement. “’Tis well we were schooled, as things turned out. Aye, much has changed.” He shifted forward in his seat and set the knife aside. “Tell me, then, ye just spent the journey in my future betrothed’s company. What is yer impression of the lass?”

His sudden eagerness for information about Caitrin put Jamie on guard. What difference would his opinion make in the MacGregor’s assessment of his prospective bride? He smiled, not wanting hesitation to indicate reservation or indecision on his part, but he knew he had to choose his words carefully.

“Caitrin Fletcher has grown into a lovely young woman,” he told the laird before him, choosing the most obvious course for the moment.

“Fletcher told me she spent several years at the Lathan keep after her mother died.”

“She did, poor lass.”

“And ye were acquainted with her during that time?”

“Aye, of course. Lathan children spend a great deal of time together, either in studies or training.” Or play. Jamie bit his tongue on that phrase, not sure what it would imply to the man before him. Had Caitrin told her father how close she had been to him and Toran? Had Fletcher said something to MacGregor? They’d been children, and little more than children, by the time she left, but one never knew how such friendship would be interpreted.

The MacGregor leaned back in his chair and leveled a stare at Jamie. “Fletcher tells me she is a most capable chatelaine, well-practiced in the womanly arts of running a keep.”

“On that, I canna offer an opinion.” Years ago, Jamie had mastered the art of schooling his expression, which served him in good stead as the change of subject eased some of the tension from his jaw. “Caitrin prepared for the journey before our arrival. I had nay cause to linger at Fletcher.”

“And ye renewed yer acquaintance on the way here?”

That was no question. Jamie’s hackles rose, though after a moment, he realized MacGregor’s tone had not betrayed any anger. “What are ye asking?” Surely, Uilleam’s suspicions had not been reported to the MacGregor already. They’d only just arrived. The steward had shown Jamie and the others to their chambers then informed him the the laird would see him immediately.

MacGregor cocked a speculative eyebrow and drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair. But is tone remained unaccusing. “Only that I ken little about the lass except what Fletcher has related to me. I canna count his opinion of his only daughter unbiased. To his eyes, she is the most extraordinary and beautiful creature in Scotland.”

Jamie had to laugh at that, not just to acknowledge the truth of it, but to relieve his sudden tension. “Of course. But ye will soon meet the goddess in question and form yer own opinion. I think it better for ye both to allow ye to make up yer own minds.” At MacGregor’s frown, he felt compelled to add, “But I’m confident ye will be pleased.”

MacGregor stood. Jamie took that for the signal it was and got to his feet.

“Very well. I understand yer reasons. I recall ye were sensible as a lad at St. Andrews, and I see that hasna changed. I will contain my impatient curiosity for the next hour or two.”

Jamie nodded. Before he could speak to take his leave, someone knocked at the door.

“Come.” MacGregor’s brusque tone told Jamie he little liked the interruption.

Fletcher entered and nodded to both men. “MacGregor. Lathan.”

He seemed unsurprised to find them together, though Jamie doubted Fletcher knew of their shared history.

“My daughter is resting from her journey and preparing to meet ye.”

MacGregor nodded. “I’ll greet her before the evening meal, as we discussed. Privately. Bring her here.”

“Aye, MacGregor, I will.” Fletcher nodded to Jamie. “I’ll leave ye to it, then.”

“The Lathan emissary was just leaving,” MacGregor announced. “I’ve work to do before meeting my future betrothed. Ye will sit with me at table, of course.” The comment was directed at Jamie, not at Fletcher, whom, Jamie suspected, already enjoyed that honor.

“I’ll look forward to it.” Jamie took his cue and walked to the door with Fletcher. As they exited the solar, he glanced back. The expression on MacGregor’s face did not reassure him. Something coldly speculative glinted in his eyes.

Chapter Six

She couldn’t put off the introduction much longer. Nan had finished arranging her hair. Sighing, Caitrin stood, smoothed her skirt, and reached for the baubles she’d chosen to wear. Just in time. As she finished with the last clasp, a knock sounded at the door, and Nan admitted her father into the sitting room. Caitrin went to greet him as the young maid slipped inside the bed chamber. Caitrin supposed she would eavesdrop while giving the appearance of allowing them to speak in private.

“Caitrin, lass. Are ye rested?”

“Aye. I’m pleased to be here and off the back of a horse.”

“Glad I am to hear ye say that. I believe the MacGregor is almost ready to sign the betrothal agreement. All he lacks is to meet ye and be charmed by yer wit and beauty.”

Her pulse kicked up. Nerves, of course. She had reason to be nervous, with all her father’s aspirations sitting on her shoulders. And Jamie present to witness the betrothal on behalf of the Lathan. She nearly frowned, but schooled her features. No sense alerting her father she had doubts about the match. Not yet.

“Thank ye, da. But surely it isna time for dinner?”

“Nay, but soon. The MacGregor asked to meet ye in his study. Let’s talk a moment before we go down to him.”

Her heart leapt to her throat. On the one hand, she would get to meet the man in private, where she might get a better sense of who he was without the confusion of other people in the room. On the other hand, the importance of that meeting continued to weigh on her mind. And, too, had Will relayed his suspicions to her father about her and Jamie?

“Ye ken how important this match is to Fletcher.”

She heard something strange in his voice. Hesitation? Now that he’d spent several days with the MacGregor, did he have doubts?

“I do.” Caitrin straightened her spine. “Ye have mentioned it a time or two.”

Fletcher cleared his throat, causing the hair on the back of her neck to lift. Her father might be many things, but hesitant was not one of them. Why was he stalling?

“The MacGregor seems disposed to the match, but much rides on ye, lass.”

“How so?”

“Ye must be...circumspect. Behave as a well-bred young woman should.”

The hair on Caitrin’s neck flattened. Her ire rose instead. “Do ye expect me to behave some other way?” Her irritation was only partially feigned. Though he claimed not to believe in her talent, she suspected he didn’t want her exposing any of the MacGregor’s lies.

“Nay, lass.” Fletcher shook his head, color creeping up his neck. “I merely wish to remind ye to be, ah, sensitive to the role ye must play in ensuring the MacGregor will wed ye.”

Her blood started a slow simmer. She fought to keep her expression serene. “I ken my place, Father. My worth to the clan.”

“Now, daughter. I didna mean it that way. I’m making a ruin of this. If ye want the truth of it, the MacGregor drives a hard bargain. He must be pleased with yer appearance as well as yer deportment. He has said he willna wed just for a pretty face - which ye have.” He raised a hand and went on, preventing her outraged interruption. “But a wife to him must be obedient and meek.” He sighed.

“No’ my strong suit, eh, Father?”

Fletcher shrugged. “It hasna been up to now. I urge ye to practice patience. Watch and wait. Give the man a chance.”

Caitrin echoed his heavy sigh. What choice did she have? “I will.”

“That’s all I ask, daughter.”

“All? Ye have never stopped after one demand before.”

“Aye. There is another matter.”

She tensed, knowing what was coming.

“The Lathan escort. I’m disappointed the Lathan dinna come. I understand the man he sent and ye were friends while ye fostered there. Ye will keep yer distance. There mustna be any hint of impropriety. Aye,” he said, holding his hand out again to forestall her denial. “Will expressed some concerns.”

Caitrin ground her teeth and muttered, “That traitorous dog.”

“But he also gave the Lathan credit for saving ye from yerself.”

That surprised her. She thought sure Will had been convinced of a tryst between Jamie and herself. “He did. Once when I slipped, and again when I strayed too near a wildcat’s den.”

“And had ye no’ been wandering the forest in the dark, ye wouldna encountered such danger. What if she’d harmed ye? Clawed yer face? Do ye think the MacGregor would accept a bride with her features so marred?”

So we’re back to that
. More the laird concerned the bride arrive undamaged, than the father concerned for the health and safety of his child. Caitrin pursed her lips, biting back the protest she wanted to make, aware that their privacy was illusory. Besides, it would do no good to antagonize her father now. She might need his support later, if the MacGregor did not suit her. Or if she did not suit the MacGregor. As much as Fletcher pinned hopes for the future of their people on this match, getting him to give it up would not be easy. She hoped, whatever happened, her father would stand by her.

On the other hand, she hoped Jamie would, too. Did the bond of their youth yet exist? It seemed so to her. But Jamie’s mind—and heart—were not so easily understood. Did his duty to Lathan, to Toran, rule him completely? If she needed him, would he support her?

At this moment, she could say only one thing. “I’ll do my best to win over the MacGregor, Father. I care for our people, too.”

“I ken ye do, lass. I’m merely fashed yer old friendship could sway ye away from yer duty to yer clan.” Fletcher lowered his voice, as though the words were hard for him to speak. “But I also want ye to be happy with the choice.”

She sighed. In his fumbling way, her father was sincere in his desire to please her. And he expected a marriage with MacGregor would do just that. MacGregor had wealth aplenty, and he would be considered a good match by any clan. But when push came to shove, she knew Fletcher had his eye on what the MacGregor could do for him. His daughter was, above all else, a means to an end.

****

Caitrin accepted her father’s escort as they made their way to the MacGregor’s study. She didn’t take his arm, but followed him down the stairs, then walked beside him. Though he appeared serene, the tic by his right eye told her he was nervous, too. If she touched him, his nerves might compound her own, a risk she dared not take, not with the stakes so high for this meeting. At the solar door, he paused and caught her gaze. “Ready, daughter?”

She inhaled and let the breath out slowly then nodded.

When Fletcher rapped at the door, a deep voice called, “Come in.” A dark-haired, muscular man, not unpleasing to the eye, rose from behind a large desk.