Page 11 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
“Nay other word.” Alex nodded.
Lydia held out her hand, and Hector immediately trotted over for more attention. The big dog seemed to sense something was happening, for he woofed softly and leaned into her. Lydia stroked her new protector’s fur. “Thank ye, Alex.”
She swallowed a lump in her throat. She knew her belongings were packed and ready, and Alex’s chosen man-at-arms would be waiting to ride as her escort. There was little point in delaying further. Yet, now that it was time to leave, she couldn’t help feeling sorrow and a desperate longing to stay.
She fought back looming tears as she looked back to Isobel’s husband. She’d fought so fiercely for this; she could not retreat now. “Take care of me sister for me.”
“I will.” He hugged her briefly. “Come and say farewell then, and we’d best get ye on the road so ye can make Lochlann Castle afore dark.”
She nodded and followed him back to the main doors that led from the castle proper to the courtyard. Isobel was already waiting for her beside the carriage that held her belongings. “Did ye talk sense into her?”
Alex shook his head. “Ye ken well enough that there’s nay talkin' sense into any one of ye when ye’re set. But I gave her an extra form of protection, and we can hope tis enough.”
Isobel’s expression crumpled with sorrow, but she only sighed. “I dinnae think ye’d succeed, but I hoped…” She shook her head. “Well, there’s nay help for it.” She stepped awkwardly forward and wrapped her arms around Lydia as best she could. “If ye’re set on this, I cannae stop ye. However, ye’d best write.”
Lydia hugged her sister in turn. “I will.”
“Mark me words. Every day. If I daenae see a messenger a day, then I’ll be coming after ye. Bairn or nay bairn, if I think ye’re in trouble, I’ll be there, and I’ll shoot the blackguard in the most painful place I can think of.” Her lips thinned with worry and irritation. “I ought to in any case; he’d nae be concerned with marriage and heirs if I put an arrow through that part of him. It’d serve him right for coming here and acting so high-handed.”
Despite the ache in her heart, Lydia couldn’t help but laugh. “I love ye too, sister. I promise I’ll write.” She kissed Isobel’s cheek, then stepped back and quickly made her way to the carriage.
“Come Hector.” The big dog jumped up beside her, and Lydia nodded to the man-at-arms, who clicked his tongue and sent the horses forward.
A moment later they’d passed through the gates of Clyde Castle and out onto the road. Lydia held Hector tightly and refused to look back, knowing her resolve might fail her if she did so. Her eyes stung with tears, but she resolutely blinked them away.
It was time to see what she could make of the world and discover whether Laird Lochlann was everything or nothing like he was reputed to be.
7
“Just to be sure I understand ye, Murdoch Nairn…ye rode into the woman’s home, invaded her presence without permission and essentially threatened her into agreein’ to wed ye?” Murdoch winced at Wilma’s scathing recitation.
He’d gathered his family to tell them that Lydia would be arriving, and to explain the terms of their agreement; the first and third of those terms, at least. The second was no one’s business save his own.
He hadn’t expected that his younger cousin would decide to give him a tongue lashing. Wilma might be the youngest of the family and the only lass, but she had no trouble speaking her mind, particularly when something upset her. And there was no doubt she was quite displeased by his actions.
“I need a wife. I daenae want to risk refusal.”
“Och, and so ye went about the matter in the way least likely to appeal to any lass with any sense of self-worth or loyalty to her kin. Well done, me Laird.” Wilma’s tone was caustic and sarcastic and Murdoch’s face reddened in spite of himself.
Wilma continued before he could get a word in for his own defense. “Ye may need a wife, Murdoch, but that was nay reason to behave like a barbarian, or an uncivilized lout.”
“The Council…”
“The council be hanged. Ye’re already givin’ the lass a month to get to ken what sort of man ye are. Ye could have started with that, ye bampot, instead of having her suggest it as a condition of fulfillin’ the contract. As it is, ye will be fair lucky if one month is enough for her to get over her resentment at being treated so vulgarly. Especially in front of a sister who, by yer account, is both protective and in a delicate condition.”
Murdoch felt his cheeks burn again in a rare moment of embarrassment. He’d been angry about the council’s ultimatum and had been determined to deal with it as quickly as possible, but Wilma was right.
He hadn’t handled the negotiation in a manner befitting a laird, or even a proper gentleman. Instead, he’d let his own temper, wounded pride, and distaste for the situation do the talking for him.
“Good. Ye ken ye’ve been a fool. Ye’ve that much sense, at least.” Wilma nodded in satisfaction. “The least ye can do is meet thelass when she arrives, and make sure she’s as comfortable as possible.”
Murdoch scowled. “I was planning to let her have the laird’s rooms, and I’ll take over the spouse’s or heir’s quarters.” He ignored the look of surprise on Gordon’s face, and the faintly disapproving look his uncle offered him.
“Tis a good start.” Wilma said. “Have someone fetch me when she’s close. We’ll greet her together, as a family. Tis nae much, but it may make her look more kindly toward ye.” She paused. “Ye did tell her ye have a son, did ye nae?”
He hadn’t told Lydia much of anything, especially after she’d revealed that she’d already heard the rumors regarding his late wife, but she did remark to him during their negotiations that she knew he had an heir through his prior marriage. Murdoch was silent.
Wilma sighed. “Och, ye’re a great boor, that ye are, cousin. Ye may be a good laird, but ye’re hopeless when it comes to courtin’ a lass.”
