of Douran, it began, using their formal titles first. Father and Mother, next.
And then the words disappeared.
How could she explain the private misery behind the very public death of her husband of only two months? The MacGregor’s death had been kept quiet for now until his heir, his younger brother, was approved by the clan elders as chief. Her purpose in this marriage—to bind their clans and to produce an heir for the MacGregor—was a failure. Though, even as an innocent young woman coming to this marriage, she understood that things were not as they should have been between her and Iain MacGregor.
The parchment in her hand moved in the current of the warm air created by the heat of the candles and reminded her that this task also went unfinished. Sitting at the table, she lifted the quill, dabbed the ink so it would not splatter and forced the words on to the page that would both embarrass and humiliate her in her parents’ and clan’s eyes.
I find myself in need of your counsel concerning the situation of my position here in Iain MacGregor’s household and family. As his widow, though with no hope of producing an heir, I know …
What did she know? She had married him under a contract negotiated by her uncle and signed by her father. Her dower portion was protected for her use and she had been given the choice of remaining here as part of her husband’s clan or to return to her own. Her uncle had made certain to protect her in the contract, but giving her such a choice made things more difficult than if she’d been simply told what to do.
If she remained, there would be another marriage arranged for her, to a suitable eligible man, to keep the bonds between the clans strong. If she returned home, there would be another marriage, but also she would face the disappointment of her family in her failure. And with no way to explain and with no one to speak candidly about it, what could she say? Lilidh dipped the quill again to freshen the ink and placed the tip of it on the parchment.
She was being a silly ninny. Her parents loved her and would accept her back, explanation or not. Her mother was the only one to whom she could speak on personal matters. As she had before her marriage, even if that conversation did not explain what had happened or, as it was, not happened between a husband and wife. Looking off at the flame of the candle, she took and released a deep breath, and did the only sensible thing she could: she asked leave to come home.
I find little reason to remain here and would ask your permission to return to Lairig Dubh as soon as an escort can be arranged. I would seek your counsel on other important personal matters, but I hesitate to put them in this letter.
Father, please send word if this is your pleasure.
Mother, please keep me in your prayers and ask the Almighty to watch over me during this trying time.
It was short, but to the point, and there truly was little else to say in her missive. Sanding it, Lilidh allowed the ink to dry and then folded the letter, sealing it with the ring her father had given her on the anniversary of her birth a year before. She would send it off on the morrow with one of the MacLerie servants who had accompanied her here. Hopefully, within a fortnight, she would have an answer from her parents and know what her future held for her.
But how could she explain that though she was a bride and a widow, she’d never been a wife?
Jocelyn MacCallum, wife to Connor MacLerie, held the parchment before her and read it once more. The sadness in her daughter’s words was clear to her. Lilidh, her eldest daughter, was never anything but confident and self-assured. But the words, nay, the tone of this latest letter, told her that Lilidh was lost.
‘You will give her permission?’ she asked her husband as he climbed from their bed and walked to where she sat. As she glanced up, her mother’s heart grew heavy in her chest. Lilidh was far away and all Jocelyn wanted to do was to take her in her arms and soothe away the pain that was so evident in her words.
‘I am discussing it with Duncan and the other elders,’ Connor replied quietly as he lifted the parchment and placed it back on the table. ‘The MacGregors have kept Iain’s death quiet until his heir is in place. With tensions so high and war with their rival clan the MacKenzies in the air, they do not wish to open themselves to attack. But, for this night, there is nothing to be done, Jocelyn. Come back to bed.’ He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers, tugging her to stand.
She allowed her husband to wrap her in his arms, much as she wanted to do to Lilidh, but Jocelyn realised quickly that his aim had little to do with comforting a lost child. She caught her breath as he lifted her in his strong arms and carried her back to their bed. She understood that her husband’s need for her as well as his attempts to distract her from her sadness and taking too much interest in clan decisions brought on his intimate attentions. She’d allow it, later, for those same reasons.
For now, she asked her last question once more, not content to let the men make this critical decision without her counsel.
‘Will you bring her home?’ She watched as many emotions crossed her husband’s face, but the final one that settled was acceptance. As she knew it would.
‘Aye. I was simply waiting on her word.’
She leaned into him and kissed his mouth. ‘Did you send her word yet?’ He pulled her close, surrounding her with his strength and his love. Kissing her forehead, he rested his chin on her head.
‘The message to the MacGregor will go out on the morrow. She should be home in a sennight.’
‘And the implications?’ she asked. This marriage arrangement had been between clans and chiefs and not simply between a man and woman. And it had been part of their, the fathers’ and the mothers’, wager to find the best match for their children. Since this involved her daughter, Jocelyn had been left out of most discussions, except for the private ones she’d had with Connor. Ones that always seemed to end up with them in bed!
‘You know the implications. No questions have been raised to me about her involvement in Iain’s death, so the MacGregors must be at peace with how it happened. Her dowry will be returned to us and any future marriages will be at my discretion.’
Those were the words she wanted to hear. Lilidh would return home to her family and her future happiness would again be in her father’s hands, along with the counsel of his closest relatives and advisers … and her.
But since Jocelyn had thought this marriage a good one, she could little complain about Connor’s choice. Whatever had happened—between Iain and Lilidh and to cause his death—had ended any chance that it could prove out.
Comforting done, Connor lifted his head and touched their mouths together. In only moments, the passion between them flared and Jocelyn savoured it. This is what she’d hoped Lilidh would find in her marriage. Even though older and married before, Iain had seemed a kind soul and appeared to worship Lilidh. Their betrothal and marriage showed promise and Jocelyn had no doubt that she would soon have grandchildren from the match.
Now, Iain was dead and Lilidh returning home.
She would get to the real reasons and to the true situation once she had Lilidh back and they could speak plainly. Her letter asked for such counsel, almost begged for it, and she would help her daughter in any way she could.
But, for now, her husband demanded her attentions and when the Beast of the Highlands called to his mate, she always answered.
Always.
Robert
