The Groom Wore Plaid: Highland Weddings (22 page)

Surprise gave way to tiredness. “I will not marry
ye, Owen. But I won’t embarrass ye by talking about it with my brother—at least not in public.”

Owen gritted his teeth. “He’s the one man who’ll understand the stubbornness I have to put up with.”

“He’s used to stubbornness, because he’s full of it himself. I’ll be curious to see if his relationship with our mother is improving. Unlike him, I ken what it’s like to feel powerless against a chief, against a father, against a strong, violent man. My mother suffered for many years. Hugh can’t truly understand that. My prayers were answered when my mother and Hugh reconciled, but there’s still a wariness there. Speaking of mothers,” she added, changing the topic, “
yours
was not happy about our marriage. Such a shame ye’ll still have to marry a McCallum, though it won’t be me.”

“These last weeks with your family will surely change her mind about
you
,” he said pointedly.

“We’ll see,” she said. “Oh, look, they’re much closer!”

And she broke away from Owen and headed down the stairs. She knew he followed her to the courtyard, but she didn’t wait for him, just hurried across the mud, holding her skirts to her ankles. Someone had spread straw across the courtyard, covering the worst of the mud, and she appreciated that. She passed beneath the dark of the gatehouse and crossed the stone bridge over the moat, just as the McCallum party reached the far side. Maggie waved excitedly and walked between the horses ridden by her brother Hugh and his
new wife, Riona. Riona bent to briefly clasp her hand, and the sun touched her golden hair like a halo. She looked . . . radiant. The tender way Maggie’s warrior brother regarded his wife had Maggie blinking back tears. Their happiness was all that she’d hoped for Hugh, considering he’d been pledged to a different bride since childhood.

But then he’d kidnapped the wrong bride, and had fallen deeply in love. That love had started Maggie on this journey to save her clan. She’d accepted Owen’s expedient offer of marriage, and before she’d experienced the newest dream, had even told herself she’d find a way to be happy without love. She’d always assumed she couldn’t truly let herself love a man, because she’d need to keep secret her dreams and that would be a betrayal of trust.

Yet . . . Owen knew her every secret, and though he didn’t believe in her gifts, he didn’t treat her as a pariah. He even wanted to marry her regardless. Oh, it was for their clans, she knew, but . . . he was making her rethink all her assumptions about marriage. She felt a pang of loss, knowing she’d never be able to explore that relationship with him—not if she wanted him to live.

She was relieved to pull herself out of such thoughts by looking at the excited expression on her ten-year-old brother’s face. Brendan’s mother had died birthing him, and he’d never known the identity of his true father until recently. Having been raised by his grandmother
, he’d never left the vicinity of Larig Castle. Now he looked in wonder upon the Duff stronghold.

“Maggie!” he called. “There’s a moat!”

She laughed. “And there are fish and frogs and lots of things ye’d like.”

“Those are little boy games. I’m going to see the training yard.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sure ye’ll enjoy that, too.” But she hid a smile as she watched him look down over the bridge at the water with eagerness.

Next came her cousins, Dorothy and Helen, waving to her from the center of the traveling party. They looked upon Castle Kinlochard with wonder and excitement. They were sisters, Dorothy a redhead and Helen a reddish blond, and it was the amusement of the clan at how different they were from each other. Dorothy was forthright and passionate about her opinion, whereas Helen was demure and ladylike in her pursuits. Surely one of them would appeal to Owen.

Her own mother wore a tremulous, worried smile, as if she had lived in fear for Maggie. Maggie gave her a reassuring smile in return, but she wasn’t so sure she’d convinced her mother. Theirs was an unusual relationship. The two women loved and understood each other, for both good and bad. Her mother was there to comfort and listen, had never disregarded her dreams, even when Maggie was a child. She’d kept Maggie’s secrets, and in return, Maggie had tried to comfort her over the mistakes that had
driven Hugh away. Lady McCallum had known that her husband abused young women and been powerless against him, except to remove her children from his influence. It had taken years for Hugh to learn to forgive her for not confirming to the world that a serving girl’s bastard child was her husband’s and not Hugh’s. Lady McCallum had been terrified of her husband, damaged, unable to stand against him. Maggie had sympathized and found herself hovering between Hugh and Lady McCallum for much of her life, soothing both sides, trying to encourage a healing of their bond. Hugh’s wife, Riona, had helped bring that about, and Maggie would always be grateful.

And then she saw Owen’s sister, Cat, and their mother, Lady Aberfoyle. Cat searched Maggie’s face as if she was desperate to know that all had gone well with their betrothal. Cat would be disappointed when Maggie and Owen separated. Maggie smiled at her, and Cat smiled in return. Apparently Maggie wasn’t all that successful in her reassurance, because Cat’s smile faded and she seemed to search the castle as if looking for her brother.

“Need a ride?” Hugh asked, and reached down for Maggie.

Smiling, she clasped his hand, and as he lifted, she found the stirrup with her foot and used it to turn and sit across his thighs.

As they approached the gatehouse, she saw Owen
standing on the far side, arms folded over his chest, his expression impassive. She had the urge to beg her brother to gallop away from here, before her heartache grew even worse.

“Are ye well?” Hugh asked with quiet concern.

Did he sense something? She didn’t want to worry him, so she gave him a bright smile. “I am. Everyone here has been kind. I’ve simply missed my family.”

He searched her gaze much as Cat had done, but then glanced up and saw Owen, so he said nothing. Maggie let her breath out quietly in relief. She would have to tell Hugh something soon, for he’d understand exactly what was going on when she threw Dorothy and Helen in Owen’s path. Or maybe Hugh already suspected her motives.

“So everyone will welcome McCallums to their Duff festival with no qualms?” Hugh asked dryly.

“I didn’t say that . . .” she admitted, thinking of Gregor.

“But you have felt safe here?” he demanded.

“Owen makes certain I am safe.” And that wasn’t a lie.

They left the darkness of the gatehouse and emerged into the gloomy overcast sky that hung over the castle, as if anticipating what was to come. Owen reached both hands up to her, and she leaned forward and let him take her waist and lower her to the ground. Again, he put his arm around her, reminding Hugh of his claim.

Her brother dismounted and reached to clasp Owen’s hand. “Aberfoyle.”

“McCallum,” Owen answered.

She wanted to roll her eyes. The two men had been on first-name basis before, but apparently the defensiveness hadn’t gone away.

Grooms came forward to take the horses as one by one the guests dismounted. Four clansmen had ridden along to guard the party on the journey, and Owen had ordered rooms in the barracks prepared for them. He and Maggie led the rest of the group up the stairs to the first floor great hall. At last Owen released her to go to his sister, whom he hugged fervently.

Cat smiled up at him, cupping his cheek. “You look good, Owen, bronzed by the sun. You’ve been out with your men, I see?”

“The competitions have continued,” Maggie said. “Your brother finally won one of them.”

Cat laughed. “Let me guess—target shooting.”

Owen gave nod. “You know me too well.”

Lady Aberfoyle came forward next, and Owen dutifully leaned down to kiss her cheek. As he did so, the countess studied Maggie. The disdain she’d originally offered Maggie seemed gone, so at least the visit to the McCallums had done some good. That would be a relief for Owen, whichever McCallum he married.

“Margaret!” her mother cried, throwing her arms about her daughter.

Maggie hugged her tightly back, and to her surprise, felt a sting of tears. It felt like ages since she’d had someone to confide in—Euphemia had briefly stood in for her mother, but since she’d been able to help so little, she hadn’t eased Maggie’s concerns. Her mother wouldn’t be able to either, but still . . .

As they parted, Maggie saw Brendan bow his head to Owen.

“Lord Aberfoyle, I like your castle,” Brendan said.

“Thank you,” Owen replied, smiling. “I hope you explore it as if it’s your own.”

“I may?” He shot a look at Maggie. “Oh, that’s right, my sister’ll be mistress here. I’ll be back.” And he ran outside.

Maggie gave Owen a grateful look.

“And who are our other guests?” Owen asked.

Maggie recognized the faintly sardonic tone of his voice as he regarded the lovely sisters. The two young women squealed as Maggie rushed forward to embrace them both at the same time.

“Oh, Maggie, ye were so kind to invite us,” Helen murmured, gazing around at the great hall with awe in her eyes. “Who would have thought we’d ever be dining in the Duff castle?”

Dorothy shook her head. “There’s been peace between our families for years, ye silly lass. ’Twas bound to happen.” And then she smiled at Maggie. “But truly, ye were gracious to think of us.”

I hope ye still believe that after the festival
, Maggie
thought. She turned, linked both her arms with her cousins, and presented them to Owen. “Lord Aberfoyle, may I present Dorothy and Helen McCallum, sisters to each other and cousins to me.” She cocked her head toward Dorothy. “’Tis our grandfathers who were first cousins, were they not?”

Dorothy nodded, and then said as an aside to Owen, “We might be distant cousins to the chief, but when Maggie was home, she made us feel close.”

Maggie felt a twinge of regret for being away so much and losing the close bond she’d once shared with her cousins. But with her father there, there was little else her mother could have done to keep her safe.

Owen bowed like the gentleman he was, and Helen’s face turned a becoming shade of pink as she blushed, though she said nothing. The sisters curtsied as if forgetting Maggie still held their arms, and she stumbled forward as they sank.

Hugh laughed aloud, and she shot him a sisterly frown, even as Riona elbowed him. Maggie had known the moment she met Riona that the woman was perfect for her brother. It had just taken some sacrifice on all their parts to make it happen.

A sacrifice Maggie couldn’t continue with, and her guilt threatened to swamp her. She reminded herself that she had other options, then gently pushed her cousins forward a step. “Owen, would ye show Dorothy and Helen to their room? I’ll guide the rest of my
family.” She grinned at Cat and Lady Aberfoyle. “You ladies already know your own way.”

To her surprise, Lady Aberfoyle went to Lady McCallum. “I promised to show you our home, Sheila. Come see what we’ve done.”

“I’ve been looking forward to it, Edith,” said Lady McCallum.

Maggie gaped as the two older women set off together, disappearing down a corridor. While Dorothy and Helen began discussing the tapestry as the two knowledgeable weavers they were, Maggie turned wide eyes on her brother, and Owen regarded his sister curiously.

Hugh spread his hands. “We don’t know how it happened, but they’ve become friends in but a sennight. When first they met, they eyed each other like rival cats about to hiss and claw.”

“Hugh,” Riona scolded mildly. “The women aren’t animals.”

“But Hugh’s right,” Cat conceded as if with regret. She glanced at her brother. “Owen, I spent the entire journey there reminding Mother that your happiness was more important than the hatred her parents had taught her, that a new day of peace was upon us. When we arrived, she was polite and distant with everyone until she met up with Lady McCallum. I don’t know what they sensed about each other—”

“A kindred spirit?” Riona interrupted with a smile.

Cat chuckled. “Perhaps that’s as good an explanation as any. They apparently hadn’t expected it and insisted on resisting for many days of sarcasm and biting comments.”

Hugh exhaled a deep sigh. “’Twas exhausting. I wanted to enjoy my new bride, not judge every dispute between two old—”

“Hugh!” Maggie said, glancing apologetically at Owen and Cat. “So how did they realize they could be friends?”

“You mean besides the reminder that their children would be marrying each other?” Cat said.

Cat smiled from Owen to Maggie with such hope that it was painful when it faltered as she stared deep into Maggie’s eyes.

“It was as simple as discovering they were both fond of embroidery,” Riona said. “Lady Aberfoyle saw what Lady McCallum was working on, and they stiffly began to discuss it.”

“For two entire days we had to listen to that at every meal,” Hugh said, shaking his head.

“It was better than their arguments,” Cat pointed out.

Maggie was relieved to see that Cat was comfortable with Hugh now. Cat had been worried about her cousin Riona’s captivity turning into a good marriage. Apparently her fears had gone.

“Let us allow our guests to refresh themselves before the meal,” Owen said.

“Dorothy, Helen!” Maggie called, ready to foist them off on Owen.

Owen lifted a hand and Mrs. Robertson smoothly glided forward as if a signal had been arranged. “Aye, my lord?”

“Please show Maggie’s cousins, the Mistresses McCallum, to their bedroom.” To the women, he said, “We hope you do not mind sharing one room. Many guests are expected for the festival, and every room will be full.”

“We don’t mind,” Dorothy said forthrightly. “After all, we assume Maggie brought us here to consider men for our husbands. The more guests there are, the luckier we might be.”

Maggie looked everywhere but into Owen’s knowing eyes. Hugh was regarding her suspiciously, too.

Helen blushed again. “Dorothy, ye’re far too free with your words. Lord Aberfoyle doesn’t care about such things.”