Chapter 18

Arran and Scarlett rode through the forest until they reached the Patch Hills. By the time they arrived, the green hills were bathed in golden sunlight.

Scarlett felt guilty for delaying them and couldn't quite figure out why she was frustrated by Arran, in the first place.

He was right, they are beautiful…

Just beyond the Patch Hills lay the clan burial grounds. The kirkyard was circled by large, gnarled oak trees, and she wondered how close they would actually get to it this morning.

As if reading her mind, Arran called out over Morag's steady hoofbeats, "We willnae go inside. I just wanted to show ye. We'll go up, and I'll let ye see where me parents are resting."

Och Saints, his parents… He's showing me his parents' graves…

In all of her arguing and time wasting, she had not realized that he was showing her the kirkyard to reveal his parents' eternal resting spots.

"Yer—yer parents… Aye," she stammered out, trying to recover from the blow, and feeling the sting of embarrassment creep over her.

"Aye," he uttered with finality.

If this is a ruse, why is he showing me his parents' graves?

Again sensing her hesitation, Arran addressed her unspoken question. "The council will be asking about this. If ye have seen it, if ye ken where it is, and if ye have spoken with them. As a test of yer commitment to Clan McLaren."

"Of course," Scarlett said reverently.

"They willnae be the only ones askin'. Be prepared to discuss this with the Shepherds later this morning, and eventually Niamh."

"Aye."

"We will stay only for a short while, and then we will go meet yer faither up over there." Arran pointed in the opposite direction of the kirkyard.

We're doing quite a bit this morning…

"There's nae a lot of time for this, so we'll go down now, and then we'll have to urge the horses into a brisk canter or even a full gallop if we're to make it without delay."

After explaining each of the names engraved on the large headstones throughout the kirkyard, Arran led them back up the far hill.

There was a sense of carefree bliss to him as he rode Morag. The strength of his legs was on show as he came out of the saddle briefly to offset his weight on the incline. Scarlett admired the way his sweat-damp shirt stuck to his back and arms ever so slightly, making it seem almost too tight for his broad shoulders. She noticed a genuine smile spread across his face as he bent down and stroked Morag's mane before Sorcha caught up to them.

He really is the most handsome man I have ever seen…

"Ready?" he asked, his look of hardened determination masking his joy.

A challenge. They were about to race.

"Aye, ready!" Scarlett declared loudly, and she smirked as they both urged their horses forward.

* * *

Arran had invited Mack out on a ride that morning to show him how the McLaren lands are situated. The Patch Hills were ideal for gathering intelligence and war posturing, and the McLaren lands were heavily used during the five-year war. It was one of the reasons why Clan McLaren was low on funds—they basically funded the entire war.

As he led Scarlett to the meeting spot, the earlier conversation about an alliance that he had with Mack replayed in Arran's mind. The flashback as vivid as the actual conversation?—

Mack Paton had leaned his elbows on the desk in the study. "So, ye are courting me daughter now, Arran," he had said.

"Aye, with yer blessing."

"Ye mentioned the handfasting and ceilidh occurring pretty shortly after the feast?"

"We can discuss that later if ye wish."

"I do, for her maither."

"Of course, and now shall we discuss the alliance?" Arran had suggested and pulled out a map of the McLaren lands from the bottom drawer of his desk.

They had both looked over the map that was laid out between them as the music down in the great hall drifted up the stone staircases.

This ruse will end up benefiting me the most. At the end of it, I'll still have these alliances. Ach! I need to sort out Scarlett's true match afterward…

"Would this be a full alliance then?" Mack had asked and pointed to the center of the map.

"Aye, of course."

"And as a full alliance, ye would nae only swear military support, but also economic and infrastructure support. Right?" Mack had confirmed more than asked.

"Aye. Here are the trade routes I propose. The infrastructure projects would only take effect during wartime, as I mentioned earlier this week."

"Which resources from Clan O'Neill are ye interested in?"

"Textiles, Mack. What ye are best at producing is what we need the most."

Mack had leaned back in his chair and thought about the proposal as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. "I'm a practical man, Arran. I'll need to see these with me own eyes. See the defense posture needed to maintain access to these routes between our lands and such."

"Aye, we'll go after the Games. Let's meet at the Overlook the following morning. We'll have enough time to make it out and back before me next engagement."

Arran now led Scarlett to the Overlook. It overlooked the McLaren River Ford and offered a unique setting for the men to meet and discuss the alliance. It allowed for Arran an opportunity to showcase the importance of the Ford and his defense strategies. It would also give Scarlett a scenic view of the Patch Hills and surrounding countryside during the discussion.

"That's the Cairn," Arran said loudly over the sound of Morag's hoofbeats and pointed to a distant large stone monument that marked the start of his lands to the East.

"We'll travel along the shadow it casts past the Watchtower up to the

Overlook." He pointed across the horizon toward the tallest hill and looked at Scarlett to test her awareness.

She squinted her piercing blue eyes slightly, determined to beat him in this unspoken race they were participating in.

A competitive spirit—perhaps that's why she's always so feisty and ready to fight…

The meeting with Mack went as expected, and Scarlett played the dutiful daughter well. Arran could see that Mack was impressed to see her there with them, and it was clear that it was the right decision to bring Scarlett along.

On the ride back, Mack brought up their handfasting and ceilidh.

"Sienna wanted me to ask about the handfasting, as expected," he stated more than asked. Which seemed to be a characteristic trait of Laird O'Neill. Arran seamlessly picked up on it.

"Aye, the handfasting ceremony will be after the feast. Delayed for planning and preparation. Mrs. Cameron needs time to arrange everything, and I'm sure Lady O'Neill would want to contribute."

"Precisely, Arran. She already has ideas and wishes to discuss them with ye both," Mack confirmed.

Arran looked over at Scarlett, who was silently riding next to him, before answering her father.

What's going on inside that head of hers?

"An immediate handfasting poses a few obstacles, with these pending alliances we are all drafting, and I will need to finalize them before we hold the ceremony."

Mack considered Arran's rationale thoughtfully as the castle started to come into view. "Sure. So, for how long would ye prefer to delay?"

"I believe that only about a week's time would be needed to address them properly. Would that delay be palatable?" Arran continued looking at Scarlett, who could not be bothered to return his gaze.

I'll have to remember to ask her why she is acting this way later…

Scarlett remained silent as her father agreed heartily. "Aye, just over a week will give Sienna and me time to travel and return for the ceremony. I'll notify her when we return. We'll finalize our agreement before dinner?"

"Aye, Mack," Arran replied as he glanced again at Scarlett. She was scowling, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the conversation or the sun. "Lady Scarlett and I are set to meet Laird Irvine and his sister in the gardens. We'll leave ye here, Mack. Stables are just ahead."

He gestured ahead of them toward the small building with the thatched roof, and Mack urged his horse onward without another word.

"What's going on, Scarlett?" Arran asked quietly as he dismounted Morag and walked over to Sorcha to help Scarlett down.

"What do ye mean?"

"Can ye nae just be honest with me for once, without it turning into a fight, lass?"

"It felt like ye were talking about me, in front of me. Like me opinion didnae matter."

She has a solid point there. It was all being done for her and nae with her.

"Nothin' is set in stone, lass. Ye're right."

"It just makes me feel even more like chattel than usual, Arran."

"It's just a ruse, lass. Remember?"

"Aye, of course, I do."

"Would it be alright if I delay the ceilidh another week until I can get me affairs in order, then?"

"Of course. Though, I wish ye didnae have to. The less time for… interruptions… the better, ya ken?"

Arran smirked and nodded his head in agreement. "Och aye, I ken it well, lass."

"Thank ye," she said and then looked around, as if to ask what they were doing.

"Gardens with the Shepherds and Niamh." Arran pointed to the growing hedges just over her shoulder. "Are ye still up for a walk?"

He offered her his arm, and as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he rested his free hand on top of it.

"Are ye alright, lass?"

"Aye, I'm alright. Let's get this over with," she sighed and let him lead her into the gardens.