Chapter Four

Castle Campbell

Clackmannanshire, Scotland

Three Months Later

“Maisie, ’tis nae good for ye to sit here every day staring at the spot where Da died.”

Maisie twisted on the bench where she’d been lost in memories of her father and glanced over her shoulder to see her brother Brody approaching. “I was nae staring at the spot where he hanged himself,” she replied, though as she faced forward once more, that’s exactly where her gaze went.

When she’d found him, his body had been swaying ever so slightly back and forth in the wind. Every muscle in her body tensed as if she had just discovered him again and was trying to get him off the rope. He’d been much too heavy, and she was too weak and too short to even have a hope. Eliza had come into the courtyard looking for Maisie, and her younger sister had screamed and screamed until Maisie thought her head would explode with the inhuman screeching, so she’d slapped Eliza when she would not stop. Her palm tingled now with the memory of her hand connecting with Eliza’s face.

Lisette had heard the commotion from the kitchen and had come running, apron still on from preparing the noonday meal. She had a spoon in hand because, as head of the kitchens, it was her responsibility to teach new lasses how to cook, and she’d been showing someone how to make the laird’s favorite dish—minced pie.

Maisie felt the familiar brush of Lisette’s shoulder as they’d stood together under that tree and had frantically tried to release her father’s body while Eliza had blubbered at their feet. Lisette had cried out over and over again, Laird Campbell, Laird Campbell . Guards had come, her brother directly on their heels, and cut down her father. Their father. Theirs . He’d been Brody’s father, too, and Eliza’s, after all.

“Maisie?”

She blinked at Brody. He looked concerned and shockingly older. In the few years since their father had died and Brody had been laird of the clan, he’d aged greatly. He had lines on his forehead and around his eyes, and his hair, which had once been a dark brown like hers, was now peppered with silver streaks.

“Did ye gain more land from the Stewarts?” she asked. The question had become the norm for when her brother returned from battle.

Brody shook his head. “Nae today.”

“Why nae?” she demanded, her anger at Laird Stewart suggesting loudly at court that Brody had to have been complicit with their father’s treason never seemed to relent.

Maisie understood Laird Stewart and his sister harbored anger against the entire Campbell clan. She would, too, if she were them. Their home had been attacked, their parents killed, and each of them had been ferreted away for protection for many years far from their home. And Maisie’s da, as much as it pained her to admit it, had been partially to blame for the attack. Her da had not only signed a treaty with the Lord of the Isles and the King of England to steal the Scottish throne, but he had aided the Lord of the Isles in attacking the Stewart stronghold.

She thought about when her father’s treason had come to light, and it still made her nauseated. She’d been so ashamed of and disappointed in her da, but he was her father. She could not hate him, and he had said he’d done it to protect his family because the Lord of the Isles had threatened to destroy him and his family if he didn’t aid him.

After the King of England had revealed all three years earlier, the Scottish king had seemed to lean toward leniency, but then the long-lost Ross Stewart had resurfaced and argued that their da should pay accordingly—a life for a life—and the king had relented.

When news had reached Castle Campbell, their da had taken his life. He’d persuaded the king’s guards assigned to watch him to give him a spell before taking him to the king’s court to pray in the courtyard outside. Given he’d have to get past one of the guards to leave the courtyard, they’d allowed it. He’d not wanted to escape. He had wanted to kill himself, and he had—by hanging himself. She blamed Ross Stewart for that. The king had been considering imprisonment for her father, and though that would have been awful, at least he would have been alive, but Ross Stewart had argued against imprisonment and convinced the King it had to be a death sentence.

And then the laird’s sister, Sorcha, had returned as well, and refused to wed Brody as dictated by the long-standing betrothal between them. Maisie could understand not wanting to wed a man she did not know, especially the son of the man partly responsible for their predicament, but none of it was Brody’s fault. Given this, the Stewarts should have honored the clause in the betrothal stating that if it was broken, Brody would still receive the land that was Sorcha Stewart’s dowry. It seemed to her that the Stewarts would not stop until Maisie’s family was destroyed, even though she nor her siblings were responsible for what had happened to them.

“Maisie?”

She blinked, shocked that she’d slipped so far into her thoughts. This spot did that to her, though, if she was in a melancholy mood, and today, she was. She looked at Brody. “I’m sorry. Did ye say why ye did nae gain any more land?”

“Stewart raised the flag and called for negotiations right after the battle commenced, so I ordered the men to stand down.”

“What did he want?” she asked, aware she sounded snippy.

“An agreement between the two of us that women and children are to be avoided at all costs during any battles that may arise between us.”

Maisie snorted. “’Tis a trick!” she hissed. “We’ll abide by it, and then he’ll slaughter us all!”

“Mayhap,” Brody said, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Mayhap nae. But I will do my best to abide by it.”

“Ye are a good man, Brother.”

“The Stewart keeps accusing me loudly at court of knowing what da was doing. What if the king eventually believes him?”

Maisie put a reassuring hand on Brody’s arm. “The king would nae. Ye have served him faithfully, and they dunnae have any proof ye have ever been anything but loyal to him. Ye were but a lad at the time of the attack!” She and Brody were facing each other now, but he seemed to be looking through her. “Brother?” she said when he didn’t answer.

His gaze focused on her once more. “I was seventeen summers and with da at the time of the attack. It does nae matter to the Stewarts that I believed da and thought it was the Stewarts who were treasonous. Laird Stewart is loud in his insistence that I kenned the truth, and he has gained many allies who wish to see me fall because they dunnae like how powerful I’ve become. Also, his greatest ally, his sister’s new husband, has the king’s ear.”

“The king will nae put any stock in what a laird who barely kept his castle from crumbling afore he wed Sorcha Stewart says.”

“Mayhap nae,” Brody said before resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “I should have killed Ross Stewart.”

“Ye dunnae mean that,” Maisie said, touching her brother’s shoulder. She could no longer see his expression, but she imagined he was worried.

“We all live under the cloud of suspicion that Da’s actions cast upon us,” Brody said, not looking up.

She let out a sigh. He spoke the truth, but she was suddenly worried he might do something rash out of anger or desperation. “If ye were intent on betraying our king, ye would have done it in the eighteen years since the original attack.” She stared at the back of his head, expecting this bit of factual knowledge to get him to look up, but he kept his head down. Her thoughts drifted for a moment to her mother, who Brody looked so much like. Brody and she had been very close, probably closer than their mother had been to her or Eliza, but Maisie had understood it. Her parents had Brody first, then they’d had years of failed pregnancies until she had come along followed by Eliza. Brody had been her mother’s only child to dote on for years and years. “Brody,” she said, trying again. “Ye would nae do something foolish when it comes to Laird Stewart, aye?”

He looked up, ever so slowly. His eyes held worry. “Nay,” he said with a sigh. “It is always nay, and that is what makes my life so complicated.”

She wasn’t entirely sure she understood what he meant, but she was glad to hear him reassure her. “They are horrid people,” Maisie said, flinching at the harsh sound of her own voice. Lately, she’d been feeling maybe most people were horrid since she’d had that one moment of weakness three months prior at St. Benedict’s Abbey, where she’d been foolishly overcome with compassion for the two prisoners who’d tricked her into opening their cell. Her head suddenly ached as if it had only been that day that she’d been struck by a rock and left for dead instead of months before. She raised her hand to her now pounding temples.

Concern settled in the lines of Brody’s face. “Is it talk of the Stewarts?”

“Somewhat,” she said. “But ever since that woman Eppie struck me at St. Benedict’s Abbey, my head will start to ache when I get upset.”

“I should nae have ever asked ye to take that letter for me to Bernard at the abbey.”

“Nay!” she exclaimed. “Ye needed someone ye could trust completely to deliver it, and I was honored to do so,” she said. “I still feel the fool for believing them,” she grumbled, having told Brody about the prisoners.

“Dunnae feel a fool,” Brody said. “I told ye, Bernard said they were thieves that came to the abbey to steal the golden cross Da put there for the monks, and they killed one in the process, which is why Bernard was going to take their lives.”

Maisie nodded. “They were excellent weavers of lies. I believed Bernard had beaten the man.”

“Well, ye dunnae ken Bernard, but Da would nae have ever put faith in a man to guard the cross if he did nae have honor.”

“Aye, I ken. I just did nae think of that on that particular day.” Studying her brother, she realized he still had travel dust on him and that he must have come straight away to find her. “Is all well?” It wasn’t like her brother to come to see her straightaway when returning from battle. He was usually consumed with laird duties.

Brody nodded. “Aye, all is well. Aidan returned to the castle with me.”

“Why did ye nae tell me sooner?” she asked. She’d had an infatuation with Brody’s closest friend as a lass. He’d seemed like a grand warrior to her, and in the last few months, he’d taken notice of her as someone other than Brody’s younger sister.

“I did nae tell ye because I wanted to speak with ye about him for a moment, and I kenned the minute I told ye he was here, ye’d go running to him just as Eliza did.”

Maisie frowned. Eliza was seventeen summers to Maisie’s twenty, and her younger sister had developed an adoration for Aidan lately, much like Maisie’s had been when she was younger. Maisie understood it, but Aidan had done nothing to encourage it in Eliza, as he had not with Maisie, likely because he’d considered her too young. But now, Aidan did not seem to consider Maisie too young for him.

“What did ye want to talk to me about regarding Aidan?” Maisie asked, setting the thoughts of Eliza aside.

“Aidan asked me of yer dowry while we were away.”

Two warring emotions hit Maisie at once: excitement and disappointment. It was a strange combination. There was a part of her that was thrilled that Aidan had asked after her dowry, because it meant he was considering marrying her. She gasped. “Did Aidan ask to wed me?”

“Nae directly. We spoke of what he would gain if he did wed ye.”

She frowned at that, and Brody chuckled, then patted her shoulder. “Dunnae scowl. It’s perfectly normal for Aidan to inquire as to what he’d receive for wedding ye.”

“He’d receive me as a wife,” she said scowling, “and that should be enough.”

Brody shook his head. “Ye live in a fantasy world, Maisie. Aidan will be laird of Clan Buchannan when his da passes. That means it will be his responsibility to ensure the continued strength and safety of his clan. To do that, he needs to wed for a strong alliance and that includes wedding a lass whose clan has abundant, skilled warriors in case he ever needs to call on them for aid. The other part of a good alliance is increasing the clan wealth by acquiring land or coin, and ’tis especially good if the land that is acquired will give the clan a strategic foothold over other clans.”

“I dunnae need a lecture upon what makes a strong alliance,” she snapped.

“Apparently, ye do. Castle Keen is yer dowry. It’s a strategic castle that guards an important trade route. Aidan would have been remiss in his duties as future laird and foolish nae to inquire of what yer dowry would be.”

She could not help but feel hurt no matter what her brother said. “I wish to wed a man for love.”

“Why do ye think there kinnae be both?” Brody demanded. “Both love and good sense.”

“I suppose there can be both, but I kinnae help but feel as if mayhap Aidan would never offer for me if Castle Keen were nae my dowry.”

“Well, it is,” Brody said. “So why fash yerself over something ye dunnae need to? Do ye love him?”

“Ye just want me to say aye because joining our clans will be good for ye.”

“Aye, it will, but I also want ye happy. Do ye love him?”

“I think so. I—” It was embarrassing to admit this to her brother, but she feared Aidan might ask her to wed him when she saw him. “I think him verra handsome, smart, kind, and honorable. He always takes a special care to ensure I’m seen to, even afore himself. He does nae dismiss me when I talk, and he tells me of the politics he kens.”

“But?” Brody hitched an eyebrow at her.

“But,” she said, her cheeks heating, “I dunnae ken if we will have passion between us. We have nae even kissed. His courtship of me has been verra polite and controlled.”

“I should hope so! Ye are a lady. I’d kill him myself if I heard it had been otherwise.”

She smacked her brother in the arm and then nibbled on her lip, trying to think how to say what she wanted. “Mama and Papa had a fine marriage.” Brody nodded. “But Auntie Matilda and Uncle Frederick have a marriage of great passion.”

Brody made a noise of disgust from deep in his chest. “They fight all the time!”

“Because they are passionate,” Maisie countered.

“Ye’re confused, Maisie, and that’s understandable given Mama died when ye were but ten summers and Papa did nae wed again. Mama and Papa were deeply devoted. I am certain they had—” Brody cleared his throat “—passion. There is a simple solution to yer dilemma.”

“What?”

“If Aidan asks ye to wed him this day, allow him to kiss ye. If ye feel a stirring, then the passion will come.”

She nodded, relieved, and leaned in to give Brody a quick peck on the cheek. “Thank ye.”

“Ye’re welcome, Maisie. Now come along. Let’s go see Aidan.”

They walked in silence to the great hall, and Maisie’s thoughts tumbled one after the other. Would Aidan ask her to wed him? Would she feel passion when he kissed her? If she did not have the castle as her dowry, would he still have pursued her? Did it even matter? Should she simply accept this was how it was and not live in a fantasy as Brody said? She had no answers to any of these questions before Brody was opening the door to the great hall, and Eliza and Aidan turned to look their way.

“Maisie!” Aidan called out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’ve missed ye!”

Warmth filled her at Aidan’s greeting. She went to him and her sister and was immediately drawn into a hug by Aidan. He lifted her off her feet and shook her back and forth.

“Eliza says the two of ye missed me horribly,” Aidan said, setting her down.

“Of course we did,” she replied. “Nae any of us can weave an entertaining tale like ye.”

Aidan gave a mock bow, and when he straightened, his black hair covered his right eye.

Eliza scowled. “Did ye miss me, Aidan?” her sister demanded before Maisie could respond.

Aidan gave her an indulgent smile. “I already told ye I missed yer silly face.”

Maisie winced at his choice of words. She knew he didn’t want to encourage Eliza, but he should understand no young lass wanted to be told she had a silly face. When Eliza paled, Maisie said, “I am certain Aidan missed yer lovely singing voice.” She caught Aidan’s eye, hoping he’d understand. After a moment, a look of realization settled on his features and brightened his blue gaze.

“Aye, I did. I need to speak with Maisie a moment in the courtyard, but...”

Whatever else Aidan said was drowned out by a sudden roaring in Maisie’s ear, but before she knew what was happening, his palm was at her back and she was being led out of the great hall and into the empty courtyard. Aidan faced her and took her hands in his. She looked down at his long fingers curled around hers. This was the first time their bare skin had ever touched. She used to wonder what it would be like to have his attention on her as she’d watch him dance with other lasses in the great hall. He would take their hands or press his palm to the small of a lass’s back, and she’d wonder what it would feel like to have Aidan Buchannan touching her. And though he’d started courting her in the last few months, they had not touched. He’d never even taken her hand.

He had a warm hand, though his fingers were surprisingly slender and the skin surprisingly smooth for a warrior.

“Maisie, I have enjoyed our time courting, and I wish it had nae taken me so long to see ye had grown up and were nae simply Brody’s younger sister.”

She swallowed her nervousness. “Well, at least ye finally noticed.”

He laughed at that. “Aye... But ’tis time for me to take a wife.”

Her heart tripped in her chest.

“And I think ye’d make me a fine one.”

It was not the romantic declaration she’d imagined, but she kept Brody’s words in mind that Aidan could be sensible and still love her with a great passion.

“What say ye? Will ye agree to wed me?”

“Kiss me,” she blurted.

His eyebrows shot up, and surprise danced in his blue gaze. “Maisie, ye’re a proper lass.”

Her cheeks burned, but as her brother had been the one to suggest the test, she pressed onward. “Aye, well, even proper lasses wish to ken if there will be passion with their future husband.”

Aidan’s eyebrows arched higher, and then he grinned. “I vow to ye, ye’ll feel passion when I kiss ye.”

“Ye can give me all the vows ye wish, but until I’ve experienced it—”

His mouth came over hers, startling her with the immediacy, but then she relaxed into the kiss. His lips were warm and gentle, and her belly did flutter a bit, her stomach tightening. She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck to deepen the kiss, but he pulled back.

“Well?” he asked, staring down at her with his left eyebrow cocked.

“I think,” she said, feeling he’d ended the kiss too soon, but certainly, she could not demand to be kissed again, “that it seems a good start.”

“I told ye,” he replied, sounding cocksure. She was about to demand he kiss her again so her heart could race, her head spin, and her world tilt. But before she could open her mouth to say anything, the pounding of horse hooves coming over the bridge to the castle filled the silence of the night, and she and Aidan turned to see who approached.

Before the rider came into view, a horn blew from the parapet, and Maisie knew that three short blows followed by two long ones meant a messenger for the king approached. Tension filled her, given her conversation with her brother earlier, but there was no time for it to truly grip her as the rider came into sight with the king’s banner flying for all to see. Behind her, the familiar creak of the castle door joined the horse’s gallop, and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her brother and sister approached with her brother leading the charge. His face, lined with concern, revealed his worry.

They reached her and Aidan just as the king’s rider did. “Laird Campbell,” the man said, dismounting, “the king sent me here to deliver ye a missive.”

“I see,” Brody said. “Well, here ye stand afore me, so deliver it.”

Maisie frowned. It was unlike Brody to be rude, but, no doubt, he was concerned about what the king had to say.

The messenger handed over the missive and stood as her brother read it in silence. His face was turned down as he read, but when he looked up, the deep V of his drawn brows and his pinched lips did not bode well for good tidings from the king. “Ye may tell the king, I will, of course, heed his command.”

The king’s man nodded. “Then I’ll be off.”

They stood in tense silence until the messenger had mounted and ridden out of earshot, until Maisie could take it no more. “Well?” she demanded. “What did the missive say?”

“The king has called us to Court.”

“Us?” Eliza asked, her voice underscored with excitement.

Brody nodded. “Aye, myself and the two of ye,” he said, motioning between Maisie and Eliza.

“Then ye do nae have a fear of going to Court?” Maisie asked, thinking of her conversation with Brody in the courtyard. He shook his head, but his jaw tensed, and his fingers curled tightly around the missive, the parchment crackling under his grip. “The king demands an end to the warring between us and the Stewarts. He commands our presence at the castle to tell us how the peace will come about.”

Maisie trembled. “God save us all from the king’s demands,” she murmured.