Chapter 4

"Ye wait there, Alex Bain!"

Alex stopped, his heartbeat picking up speed as he turned to face his future bride. She was approaching like a thundercloud, rage reverberating in every step.

He knew he should feel anger at being commanded in such a way. Yet he found himself intrigued by her. She was not afraid of him, not as many others were. He found her confidence spellbinding.

"Ye cannae tell me we're getting married within the week and walk away in the same breath," she hissed, clearly mindful of the many ears only a few feet away. "Me people deserve to ken the truth of what has happened here today. Ye won the tournament, ye must be declared the winner."

Her eyes bored into him as she approached, her head barely high enough to reach his elbow. Despite the strong desire he felt to leave this hostile place, he had to admit that she was right.

He had arrived as a whirlwind; he could not depart as a breeze. When they married, the assembled crowd would become his people. He may be reluctant to face their judgment for a second time, but he was aware that he should do his duty as their future laird.

Duty—he was becoming tired of the word already.

"Very well, lass. Ye lead the way," he replied quietly, waiting for her to precede him.

Isobel tutted under her breath, as though that had been obvious, and walked ahead of him toward the tents, Alex following close behind.

Whatever this marriage will be, it willnae be a hardship walking behind that comely figure for the rest of me life.

They stepped into the clearing, the crowds parting hurriedly as a hush fell over them, every eye fixed on them as they stood together in the center.

Alex looked around him at the many expectant faces with a sense of unease.

He had followed his captain for years, never feeling the desire for leadership, preferring to observe and advise rather than choose the next course. He was not too proud to admit that the lairdship, and all that came with it, held little appeal to him.

He considered how things would have been if his older brother had survived to become the rightful Laird. Though Alex's memories of him were hazy, he remembered him as level-headed and calm in their youth. He felt the familiar bitterness and anger at what his father's actions had taken from him.

He looked down at Isobel. Her eyes were trained on the crowds, her lips pressed together into a hard line. She glanced up at him, perhaps feeling his gaze—she did not openly scowl at him, but it was a close-run thing. He realized at that moment how much he admired her already—this was no laird's wife, she was a fighter through and through.

He looked back at the center of the clearing, fixing his gaze on the adjudicator, who was walking toward them, his expression wary and grave.

Isobel approached him hurriedly, and he bent his head toward her as they exchanged a few words. The adjudicator's eyes flicked continually to Alex as Isobel spoke, and then across to Laird MacRoss, growing wider and wider with each passing moment.

As the discussion ended, Isobel walked back toward Alex, looking as though she were walking to her execution rather than to her future groom.

"Who is he?" Alex asked softly, looking at the adjudicator with suspicion.

"Angus Robertson. He is the head of the council of Clan Clyde and the adjudicator of the games. He will announce the winner."

Alex could see many faces in the crowd who were glaring at him with quiet hatred.

He felt as though he should be on his guard, his left hand flexing toward his sword. But his train of thought was halted as he felt slim, cold fingers slide into his palm. After a second's pause, her fingers tightened around his hand in a vice-like grip, stronger than anything he would have expected from one so small.

"If ye embarrass me, I will fire an arrow at yer back as ye ride out of me lands," she whispered angrily.

Alex gently squeezed her hand, feeling the size difference as his hand engulfed hers completely.

They watched Angus step up to the crowd, his face pale and mottled with sweat as he cleared his throat.

"Alex Bain, the Laird of Clan Rothach, is victorious!" he boomed. "As is dictated by the rules of this tournament, he claims the hand of Isobel Knox. From this day forward, Clan Clyde and Clan Rothach will work together, securing our future as one people."

Angus's voice, unlike his expression, was strong and commanding. As his words rang out, Isobel raised their joined hands above her head in a show of solidarity.

After an infinitesimal pause, the crowd began to cheer. It was tentative at best, a smattering of applause coupled with many confused expressions. But it seemed, for now at least, Alex would not be murdered where he stood.

Isobel lowered their hands and withdrew hers as though she had been scalded. He felt the loss instantly, missing the heat of her palm in his. Then he shook himself impatiently—this was a marriage of convenience, nothing more.

Angus returned to stand before them. The discomfort was evident in every line of his body as he formally bowed to Alex, murmuring his congratulations, before scurrying back to the councilmen without so much as a backward glance.

Alex turned to Isobel, aware of the many eyes on them. "I shall see ye at Castle Rothclyde."

He gave a low bow, which Isobel returned. Then he stood to his full height, looking down at her, keen to see any sign of her reaction to what had been decided that day.

Isobel was entirely still, her expression all polite indifference, giving nothing away.

He turned to Gavin, and they took their leave.

They left the grounds of the tournament with dozens of eyes boring holes into their backs. Alex felt trepidation swirl through him at the speed with which his life had changed that day—whether for better or worse, only time would tell.

"Home," he grunted at his men as they approached their horses and mounted them hastily.

There was no telling what retribution may lie in his future. He had forced himself into the lairdship of Clan Clyde, and he couldn't afford to take any chances or let his guard down, even for a moment.

He felt Gavin beside him, his passive expression never changing, always following orders, quietly keeping his thoughts to himself. Alex half hoped he would voice some of them—he could do with a fight to clear the tension from his muscles.

Alex glanced back at him, but Gavin didn't meet his gaze. He had been strongly opposed to the match from the start and must have been hoping they would come away with arrows in their backs, instead of being tied irrevocably to Clan Clyde.

Alex kicked the flanks of his horse as all three of them rode away toward Rothach lands, the wind picking up, the smell of a storm on the breeze. He glanced up at the sky, where skulking black clouds had crept onto the horizon. It would break before the sun set. If you saw clouds like that at sea, you'd be in for a rough night.

"Ye trust the lass?" Gavin finally asked, breaking his silence as he rode up beside him. His voice was tight with tension.

Alex smirked. "I'll be a groom in a week. Will ye nae congratulate me?"

"She could change her mind," Gavin said grimly. "Everyone in that place wanted us dead. Ye cannae believe she'll go through with this."

Alex shook his head. "Clan Clyde is in nay position to fight. They may have powerful allies, but the Knox lass kens she cannae start a war. To deny me would be folly. She asked for this, I'm givin' her what she wanted."

Gavin shook his head. "I dinnae like it."

"Ye never like anythin'," Alex replied good-naturedly. "Ye never once followed an order I gave ye on deck without fighting me on it first. Pipe down, lad."

Gavin chuckled. Alex had called him ‘lad' for all the years they had known one another, despite Gavin being three years older.

His man-at-arms shrugged a shoulder as he shifted on the back of his mare. "On yer head be it, Alex Bain. Dinnae say I didnae warn ye when she slits yer throat in the night."

"I'm lookin' forward to her givin' it a try."

Gavin cackled as they spurred their horses forward into a canter. The dark clouds were gathering overhead, and it wouldn't be long before the heavens opened up.

As they galloped through the gates of his father's castle, Alex felt calm run through him, just the same as when he had set foot here for the first time.

His father had been a madman, and he may have disowned his youngest son for no good reason, but Alex felt at home here in a way he couldn't explain.

On the day they had arrived, Alex had looked out over the Rothach lands. He had felt as though a book that had long been closed in his mind had opened its pages once more. Instantly, the memories of running toward the tree line over the brow of a hill as a child resurfaced in his mind. After years of never feeling like he belonged anywhere, this place had settled something in his soul.

As he dismounted, he barked an order to a waiting servant to gather the council. Gavin gave him a long look, and Alex glowered at him.

"The wedding will go ahead," he snapped.

"And if it doesnae? Ye'll look like a fool. Suppose she sends an army to kill us all in our beds."

"What army is that?" Alex asked skeptically.

"Perhaps her sisters will come and do it for her."

Alex stopped mid-stride as he moved to head toward the council chambers. He turned slowly, looking at Gavin's smug expression.

"How many sisters?" he asked warily.

"Ah, now ye're scared, aye. I would be too. Three, or so I'm told. A formidable bunch, the Knox sisters. One of them is a witch, and the others are just as feisty as Isobel."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "I doubt that."

"Put ye in yer place, did she nae?" Gavin asked, keeping his voice low as they continued into the castle, walking down the dark, oak-paneled corridors.

"I'll tame her," Alex said confidently.

His man-at-arms just shook his head.

Inwardly, Alex felt uneasiness spread through him at his own words. He may need to uphold the image of a strong laird to his men, but the idea of ‘taming' Isobel didn't sit well with him.

She was so wild and alive. Some part of him hated the idea that she would lose her spark because of what he had forced her to do. She may have arranged the tournament, but he had given her no choice but to take him as a husband.

He pushed open the chamber doors with rather more force than was necessary. Lionel Campbell, the leader of the Rothach council—and as close to a walking corpse as Alex had ever seen—gave a yelp as the doors banged against the walls behind them.

Alex walked confidently into the room, just as he had done on the day he had arrived. Every man there feared him. He knew he would need to earn their trust eventually, but, for now, he needed them to be afraid of him. He needed them to agree to his terms.

"I have found a bride," he announced, his voice echoing loudly off the high stone walls of the chamber.

The men in the room glanced at one another uncertainly, and, after a short pause, Lionel stood up, his hand resting heavily on the table as he staggered to his feet.

"That is good news, indeed."

And well it might be, they had been hounding him for weeks to take a wife.

"And who is yer bride, M'Laird?"

"Isobel Knox," Alex replied quickly. "She has been ruling Clan Clyde in Laird MacRoss's stead for some months, and, as a result, our union will bring both clans together. Since they have nay laird of their own, I will rule both clans from Castle Rothach."

He stopped as he remembered the name Isobel had chosen for their new home.

"Castle Rothclyde, as it will now be called," he corrected. "This marks a new beginning, following the years of tyranny that our people have faced under me faither's rule."

Gavin cleared his throat. It was a gentle reminder to Alex that he was talking too much, not allowing anyone to voice their objections. He grimaced by way of reply, his shoulders tensing up.

On the ship, he had given orders that were passed down from the captain, and then the men would carry them out. There had been no need for questions. Diplomacy was not something Alex enjoyed as part of his new life as a laird.

"Questions!" he barked, glaring at them all with disdain.

"Congratulations, M'Laird," Lionel began carefully. "But Rothach—I mean, Rothclyde Castle is in need of a great deal of repair." His gray eyes never left Alex's face. "Only part of it is still habitable. Are ye sure it is wise to choose it as yer new home?"

Many eyes around the table glanced to the far corner of the room, where a make-shift wall had been constructed within the council chambers.

Alex had not been lying to Isobel when he told her his first act as laird had been to stop a war. His father had been so fixated on an old feud with his neighboring clan that he had almost destroyed their home before Alex had put a stop to it.

The day he had returned, Alex had found Clan Rothach in disarray, the castle almost demolished and his people scattered to the winds. He had worked through the night for many days to broker a deal with the neighboring laird to bring peace, but there was still much work to be done.

Alex nodded at Lionel. "We cannae remain here. Rothclyde Castle is nay more a ruin than this castle has become, and a fresh start is what we need."

He leaned heavily on the table, watching the two men nearest him lean back slightly away from him.

"I must reside somewhere in the center of both clans, and Isobel has agreed. We will shore up the defenses as soon as we can, and in the meantime, Isobel and some of her maids and servants will be moved to the castle to begin overseeing the work." He looked around the room again. "Anythin' else?"

There were several wary glances, but everyone fell silent.

"As many of ye ken," Alex continued, "the men I brought with me havenae settled in our villages." He refrained from using the word ‘pirate,' but every man in the room knew to whom he was referring. "Isobel has agreed that they can relocate to Clyde lands. We will begin moving them at first light."

He was in no mood to delay. There would be protests from his men at yet more disruption, but his crew had been mercilessly outcast from the moment they had set foot on dry land.

Alex had not been treated as disrespectfully. He was the Laird, after all. But he was not na?ve enough to believe that he was safe. People did his bidding because he was powerful, but he knew that many of the men in this room alone wanted him dead.

Men of their ilk were used to biding their time and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. He had many enemies, and he had taken to sleeping with a dirk beneath his pillow.

"Very well, M'Laird," Lionel conceded, his voice quiet and reverent in the small room. "We will have word sent to yer people and ensure all is prepared for yer arrival."

"Then that's settled," Alex said. "Ensure that the servants in the castle are aware that they will be relocating to Rothclyde Castle in the next few days. Their duties will remain as they are, but they will work for me and me new bride in their new home."

He had no desire to preserve his father's legacy—let it die with him.

"Isobel and I will lead both our clans from Rothclyde Castle, splitting our duties between the two and working with each council to straighten out any concerns from either side."

Gavin shifted his weight beside him. Alex knew this was very far from how he had been on the ship.

Alex Bain, the pirate, didn't compromise, didn't ask, and he certainly didn't listen to protests. That had not been his place. He had done as he was told for too many years to count. But he was going to start afresh, burying every part of who he had been on that ship for good.

At the end of the room, Rory Darrow rose from his chair. He had been a member of Alex's crew, a good and loyal man who had saved his life on two separate occasions, and had followed him unflinchingly ever since the captain had died.

"I agree that the pirates should move to Clan Clyde, Cap'n—M'Laird," he said haltingly. "But what if the new clan scorns them too? What if they leave Rothach only to face more hatred and rejection? We have nay guarantees it will be any easier there."

Alex knew very well that Rory had no friends among the Rothach council. He had agreed to join it as a representative of their pirate brethren, but no members of the council had turned to look at Rory or seemed interested in his opinions at all.

"I hear ye, Rory, but we have nay other choice. I believe they will be safer in Clan Clyde, and I can take up any issues they have with me bride. We will ensure our people, all our people, are safe. Nay matter where they come from."

"And how do ye plan to win yer people's trust, when ye are moving further away from them?" Lionel's voice rang out across the table.

Alex pinned the man's wrinkled face with a stare. His expression was resolute, his stance sure and strong. Well, well, Alex had been wrong when he had assumed the old man was on his side.

"Ye have been telling me for weeks to find a bride, have ye nae? Marriage brings security if nae trust," he said simply. "I ken that I will have to earn me people's respect, and yers, before I am accepted here."

He sighed. "Merging with Clan Clyde will bring strength to our people, and I must rule them both equally. We lose nothin' by trying to start afresh." He straightened to his full height, frowning down at them all. "Many of ye wish it were me braither standing here, nae some heathen from the sea. But me braither is dead, and me and me new bride are all ye have."

He waited, but no other comment was forthcoming.

"What say ye?" he cried as many eyes around the room met his.

All the men rose from their seats, a single word resonating through the air as they replied as one.

"Aye, M'Laird."