Page 50 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
“Still…I’d like that, Arthur,” Olivia said. “I’d like that quite a bit.”
Arthur liked it, too. More than he’d ever let on.
It was only a half a day more when Olivia first spotted Marsden keep. Secured at the bottommost part of a valley, the path itself required a slow and steady approach, ensuring the horses and dogs (especially Rosie’s new pup) didn’t simply lose their fitting and tumble down into the ravine. “I would think placing the keep so low wouldnae be strategic,” Olivia mused aloud.
Arthur looked pleasantly surprised at her observation. “Aye, they are a bit open to assault. But it willnae matter if yer walls are thick and the ceiling’s closed off. And,” he added with a slight smirk. “‘Tis a rather brilliant ruse, luring yer enemy into thinkin’ they have the advantage.”
Olivia’s brow furrowed slightly, but before she could ask, Arthur waved a hand towards one of the rockier outcrops above them. Just barely, she could make out the flat edge of a wall’s corner, tilting her head as she made out what looked to be a lone lookout tower. Though, if Arthur hadn’t pointed it out to her, she would’ve never spotted it against the valley’s backdrop.
“Add in a number o’pathways only kenned to the Marsdens,” Arthur continued. “And ye got yerself a terrifying group o’warriors to deal with.”
He was right. Simply trying to navigate the uneven terrain of the valley’s edge was difficult enough without worrying about one’s aim with a bow, but to try and cart any trebuchet sounded like a nightmare. Adding on what had to be a good deal of secretoutposts tucked away in the cliff side, with pathways only known to its residence…?
“I think I’d sooner surrender,” Olivia shuddered.
“‘Twouldnae be easy to take his keep,” Arthur mused. “But, aye; I much prefer having Duncan as an ally meself.”
Eventually the pair managed to safely reach the bottom, a murky moat flowing around the keep and emptying out into an expansive river that ribboned throughout the moorlands.
Arthur slowed his steed’s pace to a canter, hooves clopping across a stonebuilt bridgeway before pausing at a massive drop between them. Ahead, a large drawbridge closed off the remainder of the keep, with a few shifting forms walking the length of the walls above them.
“Who stands before Marsden Keep?” A warrior yelled below.
“‘Tis the Laird o’clan MacDonnell,” Arthur shouted back, accompanied by Maesie’s barking. A long pause hung in the air, soon filled by the creaking of mechanics as the drawbridge was lowered. Arthur slowed his pace even further, ensuring he stayed ahead and kept Olivia out of any potential danger. They eventually reached the checkpoint, another pair of warriors giving them a once-over before nodding their approval and opening the innermost gate.
Every inch of space was decorated in the clan’s colors, from waving banners to streaming cloth woven between the chimneys of homes and businesses alike. Folks scurried about with a skip in their step, their conversations filled with talk of little Rosie’s up-and-coming ceilidh. But they all stopped when Arthur passed by, offering a bow of respect and polite greetings to the Laird of MacDonnell. If Olivia hadn’t known, she would have assumed Arthur was, in fact, the laird of this keep as well.
Finally, they reached the backmost part of the keep, with another smaller moat cutting around its castle. A much smaller drawbridge was already lowered, and Olivia could just make out a man and woman waiting near the front. He was just as tall as Arthur was, sporting a head of curling dark hair with a number of shoulder-length braids woven together and decorated with an eclectic number of beads and metals.
And she was–well, the only word that could properly describe the woman was, ‘motherly’. Voluptuous hips, chestnut hair pulled up and out of her face, and an expression she often found her own mother wearing. She bounced a small bundle in her arms, and as Arthur helped her dismount, Olivia caught sight of a perfectly angelic face, half-asleep and sporting wisps of similarly-dark hair.
“Ye set us in a bit of a scramble, Arthur,” the man remarked, pulling him in for a sturdy handshake.
“I like to keep the laird o’ Marsden on his toes,” Arthur replied. He then glanced towards the woman, expression warmingconsiderably as he eyed the bundled babe. “Thank ye for inviting us again, Lady Marsden.”
“Och, Arthur,” the woman chuckled lightly. “Ye ken it’ll always be, ‘Alison’ fer ye.” She shifted her arms slightly, hazel eyes catching sight of Olivia at last. “Aye, and this must be the betrothed ye casually dropped on us in yer letters?”
Olivia’s face flushed slightly. “O-Olivia, my lady. Thank ye fer hosting us so unexpectedly.”
Alison beamed brightly, immediately crossing to Olivia’s side as she led her across the bridge. “Now, ye follow me inside and we’ll get ye settled in. I’m sure our lads have much to discuss, and we dinnae want to be trapped while they talk about such dull topics.”
Olivia glanced over her shoulder, noting the playfully wounded expression on Alison’s husband’s face. Arthur offered a slight nod her way, whistling sharply as Maesie and the pup trailed behind.
“Ye really brought Rosie her own deerhound?” Laird Marsden asked.
“Ye never said I shouldnae,” Arthur pointed out.
“Ye ken Rosie’ll sniff the wee bestie out in seconds,” Alison laughed. “Ye daenae want to be there for that?”
Arthur shook his head, though Olivia noted a hint of disappointment in his tone. “Nay, ye’re right; Duncan an’ I have matters to discuss, an’ they cannae be delayed. Go on, ye two. We’ll find ye when we’re finished.”
As Olivia stepped down the bridge, Duncan gave a nod of approval. “She’s quite a lovely lass, old friend.”
“Aye,” Arthur agreed. “That she is.”
“A bit shy, though,” Duncan remarked off-handedly. “Is that why her clanfolk ran her out so easily?”
A spark of anger lit up Arthur’s chest, but he forced himself to breathe, instead. “It’s nae that simple.”
