Chapter 7

7

" J ust 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 the lass 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."

Murdoch glared at her. "I've skill enough."

"In the bedchamber mayhap but winnin' a lass's heart beyond the bed it will take much more effort than that, cousin." Wilma smiled. "Tis good ye've meself around to help ye smooth things over. I'm lookin' forward to meeting this lass of yers."

She frowned. "Speakin' of which, if ye've been that much a fool, then I daenae think it will suffice to simply be at the doors meeting the lass when she arrives. Best ye ride out to meet her and escort her the rest of the way to the castle. It'll give ye a chance to talk."

Murdoch grimaced. He wasn't much in the mood for talking at the best of times. "I've duties to address."

"All of them can wait for a half-day, or even a full one, while ye start repairing the damage ye've done to yer betrothal with yer attitude and antics. That includes seein' to the lass's comfort when she arrives, which I can manage in yer stead. Tis the proper duty of the steward and the chatelaine anyway, and I hold the latter position til ye're wed."

She disappeared before he could say anything to rebut her plan. Murdoch groaned and sank defeatedly into the chair by his desk. He ignored his uncle and other cousin as they quietly took their leave.

Wilma was a good lass and had a good heart, despite her eccentricities and her fascination with magics, herblore and witchery. Even so, he found himself wondering which would cause more chaos in his household: Wilma and Lydia becoming fast friends, or if the two took an instant dislike to each other.

The weather was breezy and pleasant. Lydia quite enjoyed the ride toward Lochlann Castle, despite her trepidation over what would happen when she arrived. She didn't often go anywhere that wasn't the home of one of her sisters, and traveling outside the familiar borders made her feel energized.

The carriage made their journey slower than it would have been otherwise, but Lydia couldn't say she minded. It was as good an excuse as any to take her time and enjoy the journey.

The sun had just passed the noon zenith, and Lydia was contemplating a good place to stop and eat their midday meal, when her guard stiffened. "Me Lady…that man…"

Lydia followed his gaze. They'd encountered a few other travelers on the road, but the one approaching them now seemed to be doing so with more purpose than those who'd come before. He was also riding a horse that was far better quality than some farmer's beast of burden, and he wore the Lochlann tartan.

Mayhap tis a messenger, come to tell me that Laird Lochlann has changed his mind. I cannae say I'd be surprised nor disappointed.

Still, there was something faintly familiar about the man. Lydia frowned, looking more closely. The soft breeze that had been blowing intermittently all day chose that moment to send a playful gust over her shoulder, and the man's cloak hood blew away from his face. Lydia stiffened in surprise.

The rider was none other than Laird Lochlann himself.

She huffed, and Alex's man-at-arms turned to look at her. "Me Lady?"

"Tis Laird Lochlann. I daenae ken why he's here, but ye daenae need to stand guard, so long as he doesnae draw a blade on either one of us."

The guard nodded, and the two of them waited as the laird rode up to greet them.

"Miss Knox." Steely eyes turned to Lydia's man at arms. "And ye are?"

"He's me guard and escort, since ye dinnae send anyone to guide us."

"Nor did ye tell us ye were plannin' to return to Clyde Castle."

"I wasnae. Me decision was sudden."

That was intriguing. "And what prompted that, if I may ask?"

Laird Lochlann (Murdoch, if she was going to use his given name, which as his betrothed she should) ignored the question. "Have ye eaten?"

"Nae since we broke our fast, some hours ago."

He nodded. "There's a village less than half a candle-mark out o' the way, down that road." He pointed to the left hand fork of the branch in the road. "The tavern there is supposed to serve decent food. We can eat there."

"We could also eat the food me sister packed for me."

"Stopping at the tavern would also allow horses to be fed and watered, and affords ye a more pleasant opportunity to rest." Without another word, Murdoch turned his horse and started up the road.

"Me Lady?" There was a clear question in Gareth's voice.

"Ye may as well follow him." As tempting as it was to ignore Murdoch's suggestion and simply ride on, she didn't want to try her newly betrothed's temper too soon. Besides, a hot meal and a cool drink did sound nice, as did a proper chair instead of eating in the carriage or on the grass.

Gareth nodded, and the carriage lurched into motion. Lydia settled back into her seat, watching the tall figure riding in front of them with a mingled sense of curiosity and frustration.

It hadn't escaped her notice that Murdoch had very pointedly ignored her question. And that made her doubly curious as to what the answer was. Why had the laird of Clan Lochlann come out to meet her?