Chapter 1

1

" R epeat that." Murdoch Nairn, Laird of Clan Lochlann, folded his arms and stared blankly at the council member who'd just spoken. "I'm sure I dinnae hear ye correctly."

"And I am sure ye heard me perfectly well, me laird." Keenan Rourke, one of the council Elders, spoke up. "Ye need a wife and heirs. Therefore, tis the council's decision that ye must marry or step down as laird and pass title to another who is willin' and able to provide a continuation of his line."

Me uncle or cousin, ye mean, never mind that Arthur is past his prime for fathering a bairn, and Gordon is even less inclined to marriage than I am.

"Ye have to see the necessity, Murdoch. The clan cannae be too long without an heir to secure its future. A leaderless clan will fall into chaos," his uncle Arthur admonished.

Murdoch snorted bitterly. "Aye, because securin' a marriage and sirin' an heir worked splendidly last time I attempted it. Of course I should be willin' to jump into that again."

A chorus of voices flooded the room, and every councilman seemed to have something to say. Murdoch let it go on until he grew tired of the din and slammed his fist on the table. The council fell silent at once. "Enough of this! Ye ken why it wouldnae ever work to try to secure me a bride. Stop askin' me for things that cannae happen."

"Tis nae true. Yer father signed an agreement to promise ye a bride of the Knox family of Clan Clyde." Senior Elder Devon Malloy nodded his head encouragingly.

Murdoch laughed derisively. "Again with yer tales? Ye ken as well as I that Faither would nae have done such a thing, especially since me first wife wasnae a Knox, but from another clan entirely. Faither said naught about another betrothal."

Devon raised his chin and stood from his seat. "I ken well enough he never told ye, but I accompanied him to Clyde Castle, where the agreement was signed. You were to be betrothed and wed to Nora Knox after yer return from yer duties in the field. Yer faither would have told ye after ye came home, save that circumstances changed. As ye know, Laird Clyde was killed and nae others of his line were able to inherit the title. It couldnae go to a cadet line either, as the previous laird had four daughters, all of whom could wed and have their husbands claim the lairdship."

Murdoch frowned as Devon continued. "The clan was without a laird, and yer faither dinnae want ye to be saddled with such a burden. That was why he encouraged yer match to yer first wife and kept his silence on the matter. Nay one from Clan Clyde has come forward to dispute the matter, thus none of us ever challenged Laird Lochlann decision. But the old contract still stands, and there's nothin' in it that says yer first marriage would make the contract invalid. Or prevent ye from demandin' a new one to honor in place of the old."

Murdoch felt a headache building in his temples. The worst part of it was that the story was plausible. He knew his father had intended to negotiate for peace and a possible alliance with Laird Clyde. It wouldn't take much for those negotiations to also include a betrothal, if Laird Clyde had unmarried daughters and no sons.

Murdoch had heard rumors of the laird's death, involving a dispute with one of his neighboring lairds over a marriage to one of his cousins, but he did not know the details, and with his own problems, he had never cared to find out.

He took a deep breath and forced his voice into a more reasonable tone than the growl he wanted to release. "Even if the contract is true and valid, ye ken I'll nae force a lass to wed me."

"Certain sure, there's nae any lass who would deserve to be saddled with ye." Murdoch was certain Michael Dover, another elder from his father's council, hadn't meant for his words to reach Murdoch's ears. His disrespect vexed Murdoch, who had no intention of letting the words pass.

He rose from his seat and stalked around the council chamber, noticing how every man braced himself in his chair and avoided his eyes. Michael paled as Murdoch stopped beside his chair and looked down at him with a deceptively pleasant expression.

"Given what ye think of me, Dover, perchance ye will wed me to yer daughter, and spare me the trouble of seeking another? I ken she's the biddable sort." And as plain as a fence post, which is why she's nae wed yet.

Dover gulped, his mouth opening and closing several times, but no words came forth. Murdoch smiled coldly at him. "As I thought."

He turned on his heel and started back toward his seat, then hesitated. There wasn't likely to be anything else important said at the meeting. Why should he stay and subject himself to more insults or ultimatums?

He had a headache, and a powerful need for something stronger than beer or mead to ease the tension that was coiling his muscles into knots in his back and shoulders. A drink in the silence and privacy of his study sounded like a grand idea.

He was nearly at the door when Keenen spoke again. "It doesnae matter what the circumstances of the agreement were. If it still exists, and the lass is still among the living, it must be honored. As the laird of this clan, ye'll see it done, and done within the season, or we'll be asking for ye to step down."

Murdoch stopped a moment, anger boiling under his skin at the latest demand. Worse, he knew that it was backed by the council as a whole, and there was more than one man on that council who would be willing to take the matter all the way to the Highlands Gathering of Lairds, if not further, should he choose to ignore them.

Still… "Enough of this. I'll hear nay more demands from ye about a bride, marriage, bairns or anythin' else. This meetin' is over, and I will decide when the next is to be held, and whether yer demands are even possible to meet." Ignoring the usual meeting protocols, Murdoch left before any of them could protest and slammed the door behind him.

He'd said he would decide whether to meet Council's demands, but Murdoch knew they weren't going to give him a choice, unless he could prove that the first contract no longer existed. There was always the option of finding it and burning the parchment, but Laird Clyde, whoever he was, would likely have a copy as well.

Besides, he might be a temperamental bastard, but he wasn't so dishonorable as to do such a thing. If the contract was still among his father's papers, he'd find it. When that transpired, he could worry about honoring it.

On his return to his office, Murdoch immediately poured himself three fingers of scotch and drained half of it in one long swallow. It didn't do much for his headache, or his irritation, but it did ease the aching of his throat, and the smooth heat of it eased some of the tension from his back.

With his initial thirst quenched, Murdoch sighed and went to the cabinet that held his father's old papers, which he hadn't yet managed to sort through. He opened the first drawer and began his search.

He was halfway through the second drawer, becoming more frustrated by the moment, when the door opened and his cousin Wilma wandered in, only to pause at the sight of him. "Oh, cousin. I dinnae think ye'd be here. Can I look through yer shelves? There's a botany book I'm searchin' for."

Murdoch grunted in response, knowing she'd do as she pleased, regardless of what he said. Wilma took that as his permission and made her way to the bookshelves and began scanning through them, although Murdoch knew she was watching him with interest. He was not surprised when she gave up halfway through the second shelf and turned to him. "Ye're in a foul mood, and I cannae remember the last time I saw ye going through those old papers. Did somethin' happen?"

"Aye, it did." Murdoch scowled as he pushed aside yet another pile of faded documents and dragged the next set in front of him. "Council's demandin' I wed, or they'll force me to step down. Elder Malloy swore in the meeting that Faither arranged a match with the laird of the Clyde clan, and the council said I've to honor it, or be removed from me position."

Wilma's jaw dropped. "Ye cannae be serious! Surely me faither…"

"Yer faither's in agreement with the rest of them. Says a laird must do his duty, including providing heirs for the continuation of his line."

The dismay and outrage on Wilma's face made him feel a little better, even if he knew there was nothing his cousin could do to aid him. "That's foolish! Ye've already sired an heir in Finn, and even if ye hadnae, ye've years of life left, plenty of time to find a wife if ye want. And if ye daenae, I'll be finding a husband someday, and there's Gordon too."

Her tone softened as she stepped forward to put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I cannae believe they're tryin' to force ye into this and threatening to take the title, when ye've done so much to help our clan prosper."

"Apparently what I've done is nae enough, so far as the Elders are concerned. A laird is apparently nae a laird without a wife and wee ones." Murdoch grimaced and set aside the stack to reach for another. "If they take the matter to the Highland Gathering or the court, I cannae be sure of winnin' the argument."

Wilma returned to the bookshelves, though she continued to ponder as she did so. "Can ye nae just seduce a lass and wed her?"

"Has to be a lass of proper station. With me reputation, nay lass will want me, and nay father, brother, or cousin would consent to give his female relative to me in wedlock."

Wilma gave him a fierce look. "I daenae ken what ye mean by that."

"Ye ken as well as I what happened to me first wife. And ye ken the rumors that have been driftin' through the clan since. Nay woman would risk it." The words grated like sandpaper in his throat, but he'd long grown used to the knowledge that no one would ever listen to his side of the story. No one, save his cousin.

Wilma opened her mouth, and Murdoch shook his head. "Daenae argue. We both ken that what people think and what truly is are rarely the same. Leave it be."

Wilma frowned but turned back to the bookshelf. Her brow furrowed in thought. "Ye said Malloy was going on about an old contract? If ye prove it doesnae exist, does that mean they'll have to relent?"

"Like as nae, they'd find some other way to…och, and now I've found it, the devil take me luck." Murdoch swore in mingled disbelief and annoyance.

There, under his hand, was a document clearly titled ‘Contract of Alliance by way of Marriage Between Two Clans'.

He read it quickly, his mood worsening with every word. Rourke had told the truth. His father had indeed signed a contract for him to be wed to a Lady Knox of Clan Clyde, as part of an alliance to be formed between them.

Further reading told him the lady's given name was Nora, and that the terms of the agreement stated all children would be heirs and daughters of Clan Lochlann.

Murdoch scarcely heard Wilma's soft, triumphant exclamation a moment later. "Found it!" He barely registered her soft touch on his shoulder, or her murmured "I wish ye luck in yer quest, cousin."

The door clicked shut behind her a moment later, and Murdoch sat back in his chair with a thump. He had a sudden, almost overwhelming, desire to trade the glass of scotch he'd poured himself for the rest of the bottle. Had he not been in a position that required full use of his wits, he might have given in to that desire.

The document was real. There was a woman out there, a woman he'd never met, who was his betrothed.

Murdoch picked up the paper again, studying the name written in the faded ink. "Nora Knox…"

I daenae ken ye, Miss Knox, but I hope ye're a strong lass, for ye're me only hope of keepin' the peace. In the words of the old bard… ‘somethin' wicked this way comes'...and ye'll be the makin' or the breakin' of me clan's fortune.