Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

A brute, a savage, a… a beast!

None of these words were enough to describe Laird MacDonald. The indifference with which he and his men had treated her was shocking to Enya; never before had she been treated so dismissively, the other party ignoring her entirely and even going as far as to be angered by her presence. Laird MacDonald had clearly not realized who she was, but that was no excuse. Was this how he treated those he considered beneath him, she wondered? Was this how he acted around servants?

Enya would not stand for it. Thora could not possibly be forced to wed a man like Laird MacDonald and spend the rest of her life under his cruel gaze and tyrannical ways, and so now she was more determined than ever to ruin any chance of this wedding taking place. She was Thora’s only hope and Enya wouldn’t let down her sister when she needed her the most.

As long as I have a say, this weddin’ willnae happen.

As Enya walked through the corridors of MacDonald Castle being guided to the chambers prepared for her—or rather for Thora—by a young maid who had been hastily procured by the laird’s right-hand man, she looked around, taking in the details of what would be her home for the foreseeable future. MacDonald Castle seemed just as unpleasant as the man to whom it belonged, though Enya didn’t know whether that was because of the miserable weather that had left her soaked and dripping rainwater on the stone floors, her own bias, or simply the fact that it was, indeed, cold and austere. The grey stone of the walls and the floor now seemed impossibly dark, illuminated by nothing other than the torches that burned at short intervals. The few decorations—an old armor, standing sentinel by a door Enya passed, a few faded portraits—gave the place no warmth but instead cast long shadows on their surroundings that moved with every flicker of the flames. Save for the howling of the wind and the relentless drumming of the rain that still battered the castle, there were no other sounds around Enya, as though the castle was emptier than it had seemed at first.

I wonder if the men made it safely.

She had had to leave all the guards save for one behind at the port, so they could bring all their belongings to the castle when the weather improved a little. The one who had accompanied her had been stopped by Laird MacDonald’s guards at the gate and though she had been allowed to continue, under the assumption that as a woman, she posed no threat, but she didn’t know what had happened to him. In her brief conversation with the laird’s closest advisor, Archibald MacCallum, he had assured her he would make sure all her men were safe and had comfortable lodgings for their stay.

Archibald could prove useful, Enya thought. He was certainly much more pleasant than Laird MacDonald.

“These will be yer chambers, me lady,” said the young woman as she opened a door to Enya’s left, into a large room with a sitting area, decorated in rich reds and greens. Beyond it was another, smaller room, one which housed a bed carved in dark wood. The mattress looked so inviting that Enya had half a mind to simply collapse on top of it and sleep the rest of the evening away, but soaked as she was, she supposed she needed a warm bath first. “They belonged tae the late Lady MacDonald. Are they tae yer likin’?”

Brushing her fingers over the surface of a side table and finding it pristine, Enya looked at the maid and smiled. “They are lovely,” she said, though she was certain the mere thought of her occupying the chambers that belonged to his mother would surely anger Laird MacDonald to no end. Let him rage, Enya thought. It would only make her plan easier.

“Food will be brought tae ye shortly,” said the maid with a curtsy as she backed out of the room hesitantly, as though she was waiting for Enya to request something else before she was gone. “An’ a bath. Mr. MacCallum says yer presence isnae required today at dinner.”

Even if it was, it isnae as though I would attend!

“Thank ye,” Enya said as the woman left, closing the door gently behind her. With a sigh, Enya walked over to the fire that burned in the fireplace, freshly-lit and warm, letting the heat seep into her freezing bones. All the travelling and the storm had left her shivering and exhausted, and the way she had been received by Laird MacDonald hadn’t helped at all.

It was only moments later that there was a knock on her door and no fewer than six maids walked in carrying the tub, the pitchers of water, and a tray of food and drink, placing it gingerly on a table in the sitting area. As the maids busies themselves with the bath preparations, Enya sidled up to the girl who had brought her the food, trying to sound as casual as she could while she picked at a bannock.

She only needed to get her talking, and then everyone else would join in, she knew.

“This is such a lovely place,” she said, perching on the edge of the couch. “I am certain it will be even lovelier once the weather clears.”

“Och aye,” said the girl. With surprise, Enya noticed all of them seemed healthy, robust, showing no signs of weakness or illness. She had expected the servants to be Laird MacDonald’s worst-suffering victims, but none of them seemed like they were being mistreated. “All o’ Jura is a lovely place, me lady. I’m sure Laird MacDonald will be happy tae show ye the entire isle once the weather permits it.”

This is it. I can ask her about Laird MacDonald.

“I hope he will,” Enya said in the most excited tone she could muster, though she hoped for her own sanity that such a thing would never happen. She couldn’t imagine being alone with the man for longer than a few minutes. “I was wonderin’… what he is like? I wish tae make a good impression on him an’ I would be embarrassed if I did somethin’ that would displease him.”

There were whispers among the women, their small group cooing and giggling, certainly imagining a great love story between her and the laird. It would be even better if everyone was convinced Enya wanted to impress him, as then no one would suspect her real motives.

“Well, he doesnae speak much,” said one of the other girls, who was helping prepare the bath. “He is usually alone, or with Mr. MacCallum an’ Mr. MacThomas.”

Enya didn’t know who Mr. MacThomas was, but she assumed it was the other man who had been there with the laird, the one who had seemed amused by the situation.

“What is he like?” Enya asked, since the maids didn’t seem too eager to give her much more than this. “Is he… is he nice?”

Enya watched carefully as the maids glanced at each other in silence. Though they didn't speak, they were clearly communicating among each other through their gazes, having a conversation Enya couldn’t decipher. She couldn’t help but think it was a bad sign; whatever it was they didn’t want to tell her couldn’t possibly be good.

“He’s fair, me lady,” said another of the maids. “An’ noble.”

A diplomatic answer.

Though the woman didn’t confirm Laird MacDonald was nice, she didn’t claim he wasn’t either. And even if they had, it wouldn’t have changed Enya’s plan. From the very moment she had stepped foot on the boat, she had decided she would do anything in her power to make Laird MacDonald hate her.

“He is rather… particular about certain things,” said another girl as she warmed one of the jugs of water in the fireplace. “

“Particular?” Enya asked, the odd choice of words catching her interest. “How so?”

“Well, he is very meticulous, me lady,” said the woman. “He wants everythin’ tae be in its place an’ if we move somethin’, well, he doesnae like it.”

This could be helpful, Enya thought as she watched the girls work, a few of them speaking quietly to the one who had given her this valuable information, no doubt to berate her for sharing too much with the laird’s betrothed. The last thing they would want would be to make him appear undesirable in any way, but Enya was grateful even for this little crumb of insight into the laird’s character.

He must despise messes. Well, he willnae like what I will dae tae his study, then.

A plan began to form in Enya’s mind then, one that quickly took root. Leaning back with a satisfied smile on her lips, she nibbled on her bannock, waiting impatiently for the moment she could execute it.

The next morning brought with it more rain, but at least the worst of the storm seemed to have passed. Soon, snow would cap the hills and the trees around the castle, and Enya was certain the place would look magical dressed in white. She was less interested in the scenery, though, and more interested in putting her plan in motion.

Waking up early that morning, Enya dressed and broke her fast, rushing through her plate so she could then visit the laird’s study. It took her a while to find the place, as she had to ask several guards to give her directions, but in the end, she stood in front of Laird MacDonald’s door, taking a deep breath as she knocked.

“Come in,” a gruff voice called from the other side of the door and Enya opened it to find not only Laird MacDonald there, but also Archibald and the other man she had met the previous night; the one Archibald had called Duncan.

“Miss MacLeod,” said Archibald before Laird MacDonald had even looked up from his papers, as he stood from his seat and offered Enya a bow. Behind him, the laird finally looked up, meeting Enya’s gaze, and much to her surprise he, too, stood and bowed to her. “Please, come in. Did ye find yer chambers adequate?”

“Och aye, I was very comfortable,” said Enya as she took a few more steps into the room, her eyes finding the other man to whom she hadn’t been introduced yet. With a curtsy, she said, “Thora MacLeod. It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, Mr.—”

“MacThomas. Duncan MacThomas,” said the man as he pushed himself off the wall where he had been leaning, confirming Enya’s suspicions that he was the one the maids had been talking about. Like his companions, his was broad-shouldered and stocky, though he wasn’t quite as tall as Laird MacDonald or Archibald, who seemed to tower over him. He was the most rugged of the three, his face and hands marred by scars, but at the same time there was a boyish charm about him, a quirk of the mouth when he smiled, a twinkle in his eyes that made him look a little younger than his years.

In fact, out of the three of them, Enya would have thought Archibald the more refined of the three, a little leaner, with a patrician profile and a gentle manner that spoke of a noble upbringing.

Laird MacDonald, on the other hand, could have been a common—if handsome—soldier, with his tousled dark hair and the jagged scar that ran from his left brow all the way to his cheek. He looked like a man forged for battle, from the sharpness of his nose and jaw to his large hands, the skin calloused by years of training with a sword.

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss MacLeod,” said Duncan with a smile. “It was about time we had a breath of fresh air in this castle. Life becomes incredibly dull when one spends most o’ one’s time surrounded by men who converse exclusively about diplomacy and war.”

Despite herself, Enya smiled, intrigued by this man. From the corner of her eye, she saw Archibald roll his as though unimpressed by his friend’s comments.

“Miss MacLeod, please take a seat,” said Laird MacDonald in a tone so gentle that at first Enya didn’t know who had spoken. For a brief moment, she stared at him in surprise, before she slowly made her way over to his desk to sit across from him—and then she saw it. Right there, next to all his important documents, was an inkwell filled to the brim with ink. “I wished tae apologize fer last night. It is nae excuse fer me behavior, but?—”

Enya hardly listened to anything Laird MacDonald said, too focused on her task as she swept her arm over the desk while sitting down, effectively spilling the ink all over the laird’s documents. Immediately, Laird MacDonald shot up from his seat with a cry, desperately grabbing whatever papers he could before they were soaked in the ink, as Archibald rushed to help him. Duncan’s inaction didn’t escape Enya’s notice, nor did the smirk that spread over his lips as he watched his two friends battle the ink with everything they could—their bare hands, their sleeves, scrap pieces of paper, all of it drenched in black.

“Och, I apologize, I am so clumsy sometimes,” she gave a false apology while trying her best not to laugh at the mess.

It didn’t take long for Laird MacDonald to give up, though, after salvaging what little he could. When he realized there was simply too much ink for him to save anything else, he took a deep, shaky breath and stared at Enya from under his brows, his grey eyes boring right through her.

“What ye have done?” he asked, his voice a growl so low she could barely hear him. “All these documents… ruined! Dae ye understand how much time ye have wasted me?”

When Enya did nothing but stare with false regret, Laird MacDonald slammed his palms on his desk, the wood creaking with the force of the blow. At the sudden sound, both Enya and Archibald jumped, startled, Enya’s fingers curling instinctively around the armrest of her chair.

“Dae ye have naething tae say?” Laird MacDonald demanded.

Enya hesitated for a moment. “Dinnae ye have copies, me laird,” she said then, this time entirely unapologetic.

“I have nae copies!” Laird MacDonald roared, losing all his composure within moments. “I only just wrote these!”

Enya had to fight back a smile at the sight of the man enraged like this, a vein pulsing in his forehead, his eyes almost bulging out of his skull with disbelief at her unapologetic manner. So far, her plan was going well. She simply had to infuriate him as much as possible. “’Tis good tae make some. Ye never ken what may happen.”

“Naething would have happened had ye been more careful,” said the laird.

“Cillian… ‘twas a mere accident,” said Archibald gently, placing a hand on Laird MacDonald’s shoulder. “I remember the plans. I’m sure ye remember them, too. We will simply write everythin’ down again an’—”

“Dinnae patronize me,” Laird MacDonald hissed as he turned his glare to Archibald. It was only then that Enya felt a pang of guilt, as not only was Archibald innocent in this, but he also seemed like a kind man. The last thing Enya wanted was to get him in trouble, but what other choice did she have? She had to make sure Laird MacDonald would hate her. “Look at the mess, Archibald! Look!”

“I am lookin’,” said Archibald with a weary sigh, a hand coming up to thread through his blonde hair. “I understand why ye’re upset but?—”

“Upset?” asked Laird MacDonald, his gaze turning almost murderous as he glared at Archibald. “Upset doesnae even begin tae describe what I am!”

Looking at Laird MacDonald, covered as he was from head to toe in ink, his face a deep shade of red as his fury bubbled out of him, Enya had to stifle a laugh. After his treatment of her the previous day, he deserved this and more, and Enya could only find amusement in his anger.

“Ye shouldnae be so angry, me laird,” said Enya calmly, almost foolishly, as she gave him an innocent smile. “It isnae good fer yer health an’ it doesnae become a man o’ yer rank.”

It was that which infuriated Laird MacDonald past any reason, and everyone in the room seemed to sense it. Archibald took a step forward and even Duncan stood a little straighter, his hawk-like gaze watching the two of them carefully.

“Miss MacLeod, perhaps it would be best if we left the laird in peace fer a while,” said Archibald, but Laird MacDonald was not as diplomatic in his response.

“Get out!” he roared, pointing at the door.

“But I wished tae speak with ye?—”

“I said get out!” he repeated. “An’ never come back in here. Ye’re nae welcome in this room!”

Though Archibald gave Enya an apologetic look, he didn’t dare speak another word, and neither did Duncan. It suited Enya just fine, though. She had already finished her task for the day, and she had angered the laird to the point of not only madness, but incredible rudeness, just as she had planned. With her goal achieved, she didn’t have to spend another moment in that room.

Standing, she gave the men a curtsy and once again, she acted as though she was entirely oblivious to the issue, as though she hadn’t heard a single thing Laird MacDonald had told her. “As ye wish, me laird. I will come back tae see ye later.”

With that, she left the room, closing the door behind her. Almost immediately, a crash echoed from the other side of the door, as if someone had thrown everything on the desk down to the floor.

It took Enya plenty of effort to muffle her giggles once more, but once she was a safe distance away, she laughed and laughed and laughed.