Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A layne woke early after a restless night. The blanket Darren had given her had served as something of a cushion, but the floor was still far from comfortable, and her many layers of clothing had made her feel far too warm.

There was no sign of Darren in the bedroom. Apparently he’d been serious about not sleeping in the same room. On the one hand, she was relieved. On the other, she was faintly disappointed. She’d thought he might make more effort to win her over. At the very least, she’d thought he would eventually take the bed. Sleeping on the floor was, after all, undignified for a laird.

It was irritating, to have him behave so properly. It was difficult to find excuses to be angry with him, when he was so… she couldn’t call him weak, but he wasn’t treating her with the callousness she expected from the man who’d imprisoned her brother.

Speaking of her brother - she needed to have Darren write the letter that would confirm their marriage to the king. That letter was essential to ensuring her brother’s freedom. The knowledge that she needed Darren to agree to write it made her mouth twist in distaste. To secure his cooperation, she might need to be polite, even somewhat friendly with him. The idea made her stomach feel queasy.

She didn’t hear any stirring from the other room, so she decided to go to the window. If nothing else, she could see if there was a way to escape once her brother was free. She opened the shutters and opened the room to the clear morning air.

Moments later, she stepped back, her face pale and her hand shaking, her breath coming in sharp, panting gasps. She quickly shut the window and moved to lean against the wall, shivering.

She’d known that MacLean Keep was on a plateau, situated on a higher position to be able to keep better watch over the village nearby, and the firth beyond it. She hadn’t realized that the laird’s chambers were in the back of the keep, at the back edge of the plateau. Below the window, a cliff dropped off in a steep and ragged descent.

She’d always hated heights. Ever since she was a child and had nearly fallen from the battlements due to a careless gesture from her father. She could tolerate being on a horse, but that was about the limit. Seeing the rocky ground so far below made her nearly nauseous with fear.

There was no reason for Darren MacLean to know about her fear. Nonetheless, he’d inadvertently managed to trap her quite neatly. As long as she was forced to share his chambers, her escape routes were limited. And with him sleeping in the front room, they were virtually non-existent.

Alayne swallowed hard to calm her breathing, then went to prepare for the day. Fright or not, she had things she needed to attend to, not the least of which wasmaking sure her despised husband sent the letter that would secure her brother his freedom.

She felt a slight satisfaction at the knowledge that Darren MacLean would be responsible for freeing the man he’d imprisoned, without even knowing he’d done so until it was too late.

Alayne had just finished dressing when she heard the sounds of movement and muffled swearing from the other room. She went to the door and opened it to find Darren buckling his belt into place, his boots already on. He glanced up as she entered. “Good. Ye’re awake. I’ve business tae attend tae, but I wanted tae speak tae ye afore I left.”

A slight sense of unease went through her. “And what would ye be wanting tae discuss with me?”

“A letter I received last night.”

Alayne recalled the missive his second-in-command had brought to the banquet. She’d assumed it was some sort of official correspondence, but given it no more thought. “Are ye saying it concerns me?”

“Aye, though I ken ye’d rather it didnae.” He set the missive on the table close to the fireplace. “’Tis a royal message, tae say that a royal courier will be coming tae verify the wedding has been performed and consummated. We’re expected tae provide our wedding sheet as proof.”

A cold spike of mingled anger and fear shot through her. “Wedding sheet?”

“Aye. Ye can read it fer yerself. But ‘tis what’s expected, so ye’ll have tae decide what ye want tae dae about fulfilling the king’s demand. If ye dinnae stop being difficult, who kens what might happen. The king might even choose tae annul the marriage and punish us both fer noncompliance.”

His eyes were inscrutable as he gazed at her. “I’ll leave ye tae think over the situation. In the meantime, if ye’ll excuse me, I’ve other concerns tae deal with this morning.” He gave her a stiff nod and left before she could gather her wits enough to respond.

Alayne reached out and picked up the letter. She opened it, half-hoping the whole thing was just a crude joke, or an attempt to pressure her into yielding to him. Unfortunately, the letter was all too real, and the seal was one she recognized as genuine.

Her plan of having Darren write a letter was meaningless. The king demanded greater proof. She should have expected it, but the thought of consummating the marriage, even to secure Donall’s freedom, made her stomach roil even worse than the sight of the drop beneath the bedroom window. She certainly had no desire to eat breakfast after reading that letter.

She wanted to see Donall freed as soon as possible, but how was she to go about it, when the king demanded the one action she simply could not bear to commit?

“She’s determined tae be as difficult as possible.” Darren blocked a swipe of Adrian’s sword, and returned with a thrust of his own. “Doesnae matter what I dae, or how I try tae be kind tae her, or accommodate her fears and anger, she fights me.”

“And ye said the king’s sending a special messenger tae verify the marriage?” Adrian blocked in turn, and the two broke free of the clinch and began to circle, looking for an opening. “When?”

“Dinnae ken, precisely. The weather likely delayed them on the road, but how far behind the message they are, there’s nae way tae ken. It could be taeday, taemorrow, or any time within the next seven-day.” Darren unleashed his frustration in a flurry of blows that Adrian just barely fended off.

His war leader evaded, then stepped back, ceding his place to Daemon. The laird of MacMillan Clan met Darren’s attack effortlessly, and put him back on the defensive. “Surely at least sharing a bedchamber is a start.”

“Couldnae tell ye. She refused the bed, and I couldnae sleep there with her on the floor. She’d have cause tae take offense in that case, so she wound up sleepin’ on the floor by the bed, and I slept by the fire in the front room.” Darren grunted as he parried a strike that almost clipped his side.

“Ye’re joking. Ye slept on the floor?” Bard raised an eyebrow.

“What else was I tae dae? Couldnae sleep in another room.”

“Why nae? The messenger wouldnae need tae ken.” Ryan asked.

“Wouldnae put it past him tae ask, and I cannae lie. I dinnae like falsehoods.” Darren scowled, and ceded his own place to let Bard spar with Daemon. His own mood was too dark for sparring. He was likely to strike too hard, or too recklessly when he was in such a mood.

“Ye could try flowers. Special privileges. Take her on a ride. What sort o’ things does she like?”

Darren winced. “I dinnae ken. I only ken her faither kept her sequestered much o’ her life. And that she’s close tae her braither, and loyal tae clan and kinfolk. Little enough, and ye can imagine she’s nae likely tae tell me aught any time soon.”

“Och, that makes it more difficult.” Ryan grimaced in sympathy. “I suppose telling the king’s man she wasnae a maiden when ye bedded her is out o’ the question. Or saying she didnae bleed? Or that ye couldnae bed her because she’s in her moon cycle?”

“The first I’ll nae be saying because ‘tis nae only a falsehood, but it would shame her. The second he’s nae likely tae believe. And as fer the third, he’d likely make us prove that as well.”

Adrian snorted. “I dinnae see why ye’d fret about shaming her. Serve the wench right, after the display she put on at the wedding yesterday.”

“Doesnae mean I have tae sink tae her level, any more than I have tae follow the bad examples o’ me parents. Ye should ken as well as I why I’d nae want tae become entangled in such things, Adrian.”

He didn’t mean to bring up painful reminders, but Adrian was one of the few who knew the whole reason behind his determination not to circulate unfounded stories or lies, especially about his spouse.

Lies and deception had been what had led to his mother’s death, and very nearly his younger brother’s as well. Those same deceptions and poor decisions had cost Adrian his father, when Darren’s father, Cathal, discovered he’d been cuckolded by his wife and brother.

Adrian was his cousin, as far as both of them knew, but he might have been Darren’s half-brother in different circumstances. Or if his mother had decided to enjoy infidelity earlier in her marriage to Cathal MacLean.

Whatever might have been, her lies and indiscretions had led to the darkest period of Darren’s life, and caused Adrian grief as well. He’d sworn to himself, after her passing, that he’d never be that type of man. He might have tricked his brothers into admitting their feelings for the women they’d eventually married, but that was the extent of his deceitful machinations. The idea of lying for his own gain made his stomach churn.

Daemon switched with Ryan, and made his way to Darren’s side. Darren studied the other laird. Daemon was the only one of them aside from himself who was married, and he had been married for some months.

More than that, Darren recalled that Daemon and Lyla had apparently argued at her sister’s wedding, and been virtual strangers before that. And yet, somehow, they’d managed to develop a loving relationship between them.

“Whatever ye’re thinkin’ ye may as well ask.” Daemon gave him a cool look, and Darren realized he’d been staring rudely at the man while lost in thought.

“Rumor has it that ye and yer wife didnae start on the best o’ terms.” He ventured the statement, curious to see how the other man would respond.

“Nae so bad as yer braither Marcus and Lyla’s sister, if one believes the whispers, but aye. We didnae see eye-tae-eye in the beginning.”

“How did ye get past the strife between ye?”

“Speakin’ tae each other honestly, mainly. She said what was on her mind, and I spoke me own. ‘Twas nae always pretty, but it worked. And listen tae what she says and how she says it. Sometimes, anger is a mask fer another emotion - and usually is one that’s important tae understand yer partner.”

Darren could think of many times he’d used irritation to mask his own feelings. Keegan was the same, while Marcus had tried escaping to the bottom of a bottle to avoid his own problems. Still, there was one crucial difference. “Ye and yer wife werenae mortal enemies and members o’ rival clans when ye were wed.”

Daemon certainly hadn’t been involved in the murder of his wife’s father, or seen her brother put in jail.

“True enough, and I’ll own it makes it more difficult fer ye, but in the end, the lass is still human. Be patient, and ye’ll sort it out.”

“Would I could but there’s still the messenger tae be concerned with. I cannae go against the king’s command, but I willnae force the lass.”

“Then ye’ll have tae seek another answer, or pray the man delays long enough fer yer wife tae warm toward ye.”

Darren switched back into the sparring circle, but his mind was wandering in circles of its own.

Seek another answer, or pray the messenger was delayed until Alayne accepted him. Both seemed equally difficult outcomes to bring about.

Och, the way things are going right now, it might be that getting the marriage annulled and the pair o’ us tossed in cells beside her braither is the best solution I can hope fer. Morrigan’s crows take Donall and his faither both, fer putting us in this position.