Conveniently Wed to the Laird
Autore
Jeanine Englert
Letto da
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Capitoli
27
Chapter One
‘Is that all of it, then?’ asked Ewan Stewart, Laird of Glenhaven, staring out of the carriage window and summoning the last thread of his patience. This brief holiday to Edinburgh to aid his sister in her wedding preparations had become anything but. He’d be lucky to be home by week’s end. The sun was high in the early afternoon sky.
‘I’ve only one last errand to the milliner’s shop, brother.’ Brenna patted his hand as if he were but a child and not her older brother and laird of the clan. ‘You insisted on joining me on this journey. I could have been escorted by your men instead.’
He scoffed and moved away from the window and deeper into the plush squabs. ‘Aye. You could have, but after being attack by mercenaries during your unchaperoned carriage ride through Loch Linnhe last fall, your fiancé and I agreed this was necessary to ensure your safety. We cannot risk losing you again.’
‘Brother, none of that was my fault or yours. No one could have foreseen such events,’ she complained.
He lifted his brow at her.
‘Not even you,’ she said.
‘I am not as certain. Father should have suspected such foul play from Mr Winters due to the man’s eagerness to secure a match with you. We will be far more vigilant about who moves within our inner ranks from now on.’
Knowing whom to trust in the Highlands was not as easy as it used to be. After Brenna’s brush with death at the hands of brigands trying to destroy their clan from within last winter, her fiancé Garrick and Ewan had vowed to keep close watch over her. Neither of them could bear another loss. The last year had been rife with them.
‘As you wish. Perhaps you could turn your attentions to finding a bride, brother, rather than my affairs. There seem many eligible ladies about.’ She smiled innocently.
Ewan frowned at her well-placed barb. He was less than eager to find a wife after almost sacrificing everything to be with a woman who cast him aside like a worn-down horseshoe when a better prospect came along. After his experience with Emogene, he no longer trusted his judgement about women or love, and his sister knew it. ‘I hope all of the hats are too small for your head,’ he said, mirroring the same feigned sweetness in his reply as she had in her own.
‘You shall not snare a bride with a forked tongue like that.’ She waited for the carriage to come to a rocking stop, her face softening in concern as she studied him. ‘Do try to enjoy what remains of our visit if you can. You have been so dour as of late, and who knows when we shall return.’ She pressed a light kiss to his cheek. The door opened, and their driver assisted her exit onto the bustling streets of Edinburgh.
He muttered a response and watched her enter the milliner’s shop. Resting back against the seat, he sighed. At least the trip had not been an entire waste of time. He had met with a few businesses regarding investments for the clan yesterday after they had arrived. He had also called on the solicitor earlier this morn during Brenna’s dress fitting to apprise himself of the pending taxes and the clan’s current financial situation. While the clan was in good standing for now, changes would have to be made for it to remain that way.
Changes some would oppose. There were more than a few leaders within the clan who would be rankled by his suggestions to bring the mining and farming techniques up to modern standards. But he also knew that if things didn’t change, tradition would put a stranglehold on their growth and advancement. They’d be overpowered and absorbed by other clans or worse, the British. He’d need to earn their trust. They held great power and sway over the village. Without their support, Ewan had a slim chance of making the changes that would help their clan survive. The problem was that they didn’t trust him, and they had good reason not to.
Ewan had almost brought the clan to its knees years ago when he’d gone against his father’s orders and courted Emogene despite the arranged marriage set up with the Robertson clan prior to Ewan’s birth. By not marrying the laird’s daughter, Ewan had severed the Stewarts’ alliance and fractured his relationship with his father: all for love, for her. And then Emogene had tossed him aside as if he were rubbish to secret herself away and marry a Sutherland. She’d left him for a man with more power and larger purse strings.
And even though they never married, the damage had already been done, and the alliance between the Stewarts and the Robertsons fractured to bits. His face heated with the shame he still felt over what he’d done. He’d not be that foolish over a woman ever again.
Ewan scoffed and turned the gold signet ring on his third finger. He’d not survive another misstep such as that, so making decisions about the clan exhausted and oft-times overwhelmed him. So many people he loved and cared about depended on him making sound decisions. Unfortunately, finances were but one of the clan’s many issues that Father should have warned him of before he died, but Ewan wasn’t terribly surprised by the omissions. Father wasn’t one for addressing any weaknesses, within himself or the clan, and abhorred the idea of lingering too long on any problems he couldn’t immediately glean a solution to. Being laird didn’t have quite the shine to it Ewan had expected, but he’d keep at it. Surely it would get easier, and finding his place in this world would as well.
He tugged at his cravat. Restless, he emerged from the carriage and stretched, scanning the busy streets. Perhaps Brenna was right about one thing: he should try to enjoy their visit. Who knew when they would have the time to travel to and from the city again? The Grassmarket was within sight down the hill, and he watched lads handing out penny broadsides shouting bawdy headlines and men peddling their wares of livestock, trinkets, and the occasional oddity in the warm early afternoon sun.
Ewan walked a few steps, studying the area teeming with life and excitement below, a far cry from the rather subdued Highland markets. He itched to explore the sights and soak up something new and interesting. But leaving Brenna was a risk. The lass attracted chaos like his other sister attracted order. And he attracted...well, he wasn’t quite sure yet. The three of them were quite an odd trio, but they were family. And he was bound by duty and his promise to his father to protect them at all costs.
‘You must keep the family together and this clan thriving after I am gone,’ Father had pleaded before his heart gave out. ‘Promise me.’
Like a fool, Ewan had agreed and made such a promise. Months later, he found the task daunting as his spirited sisters set out on their own pursuits. His sister Moira was with her husband, Laird Rory McKenna, in Oban, and soon Brenna would be wed to her fiancé, Laird Garrick MacLean, and reside in Loch Linnhe. That meant he would be all alone as Laird of Glenhaven, attempting to keep the Stewart clan and its legacy afloat. At almost eight and twenty, he knew he should take a wife, but the thought of choosing one woman to spend the rest of his days with made his chest tighten and his body shudder.
What if he chose wrong again like he had with Emogene? He was laird, and any mistakes he made in love or otherwise would cost him and his clan dearly. And with times as difficult as they were now, mistakes could end the Stewarts.
Forever.
He’d seen clans disappear from existence, as if they had walked into the Highland mist, never to return.
‘I can keep watch on her, my laird.’
Ewan shook off his melancholy and glanced up to the driving box of the carriage and then back at the milliner’s store. Brenna was never one to decide quickly upon anything, so he had some time. Perhaps some air and the renewed flow of blood through his limbs would restore his humour and distract him from his fears. ‘Aye, thank you, Aaron. I’ll just stretch my legs.’
His driver nodded to him, and Ewan rolled his neck. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his trews and settled into the feel of the cobblestones beneath his boots. The hard, firm, unrelenting pressure was a reminder that not all was lost. Not yet. The Stewarts were bedrock. As such, they would endure. As would he. The tension abated with each step as if the yoke of responsibility loosened, slipping away the farther he was from the carriage with its Stewart coat of arms. The June sun warmed his cheeks. The sights and smells of cooked meats, leather, and coal from the market swallowed him as he approached. A lad pressed a broadside into his hand, and Ewan gave him a penny.
Ewan scanned the sheet and frowned. A wife for sale? What a farce. One couldn’t buy a wife, not in Scotland, at least. And why would one want to? He shuddered. He tucked the sheet into his coat pocket and carried on his way. He’d take another minute to look about the wares and return to the carriage.
‘Wife for sale! One guinea!’ a man shouted.
Ewan turned. A small crowd formed around a stout older man as he yanked a young woman behind him. She wore a leather halter like one used for livestock, and her hands were bound in front of her. Ewan froze, shocked and angered by the sight of a woman being treated thus. He fisted his hands by his sides. Surely this was some ill-humoured jest.
She was a person, not a mule. If this was what happened at the Grassmarket, he’d missed nothing.
But on it continued. ‘I be ’er husband. She be foul-mouthed, prone to laziness, and disobedient, despite me best efforts to make her so. I’ll be pleased to be rid of ’er. Once ye purchase ’er, she is divorced from me and bound to ye by marriage. So, take heed with yer coin! Yer purchase is final. No returns for this lass.’ He released a bawdy laugh.
Ewan studied the pale, thin woman clad in dirty, worn clothes, her long hair falling loose from its light auburn plait and shielding part of her face like a veil. He wondered what would become of her. A flare of protectiveness flashed through him. Surely this wasn’t legal. He tugged the crumpled broadside from his pocket and scanned it. He balked.
According to this, it was. The single exchange of coin nullified the first union and verified the new marriage. He could scarcely imagine such a concept. Several men approached to gaze more closely at her, their interest evident in their stances and overt ogling. One tugged at her skirts, attempting to peek beneath, and she kicked the sot in the head. He staggered back and cursed at her.
Ewan scrubbed a hand through his hair, and his pulse picked up speed. This was someone’s daughter. Someone’s sister. But where were they? His gaze swept through the growing crowd that jeered and spat at her. It appeared there was no one to speak out on her behalf. She was alone. Defenceless.
Just like Moira.
He felt the familiar anguish and tightening in his chest with the memory of his eldest sister’s abuse at the hands of her first husband. Ewan’s awareness and rage sharpened to a fine point. If he’d known what was happening to her, he would have stopped it, but he’d not found out until it was too late. And he’d never forgive himself for that. But this? What about all these people? How could they merely watch this woman’s suffering and not intervene on her behalf?
‘Ye see ’er disobedience!’ the husband shouted as another keen buyer came too close and the woman elbowed the man in the gut. ‘I am eager to be rid of this bony, cold, ungrateful lass and find another, more willing woman to warm my bed. One guinea! Step right up and claim ’er if ye dare.’
‘I’ll take her for half that,’ a man called off in the distance. The crowd opened for him, and when Ewan saw the man’s face, he cursed.
Dallan MacGregor.
A cheat and a brute, among other things.
Ewan clenched his jaw. He’d known the bampot since childhood, and MacGregor had only become crueller with age. Rumours still abounded around his involvement in the death of a young woman at last year’s royal ball in Perth, even though he was never charged with the crime. There was a reason no father allowed his daughter to marry MacGregor, despite his coin. Perhaps that was why he was attempting to buy a wife now. Although Ewan couldn’t imagine she would survive long under the bastard’s care.
‘Any other bidders?’ the husband called to the crowd.
Silence answered.
Dallan grinned, grabbed the lass’s wrist, and yanked her to him. ‘Seems a bit thin to warm my bed, but I will make use of her. She will learn to obey me.’
She pushed him and tried to stomp on his foot. He grabbed her by the hair to subdue her, and she cried out in protest.
‘Kneel,’ he commanded, yanking on her hair again.
She whimpered and fell to her knees.
‘You see, we are already coming to an understanding.’ He laughed, fishing for coin in his pocket. A few other men in the crowd cheered him on.
Ewan’s heart thudded in his chest, and his ears buzzed. The lass would be dead by week’s end if MacGregor had his way with her, and who would know or care?
He would.
Ewan cursed aloud. He knew what he had to do. It was the lesser of two evils.
‘I’ll buy her for the full,’ he called out, his voice booming across the market.
Dallan stilled, and upon catching Ewan’s gaze through the crowd, he smirked. ‘Stewart,’ he said. He shoved the lass away. She stumbled and skidded to the ground from the force.
Ewan clenched his jaw. His gaze slid to the woman, who, although startled, seemed unhurt, and then back to Dallan. ‘I see you haven’t changed, MacGregor,’ he stated, squaring his shoulders upon approach.
‘Neither have you.’ Dallan spat at the ground and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Still as soft a heart as ever. Do you plan to save this whore as well as your dwindling clan from ruin now that your father is gone? Not likely. Enjoy your wench and your brief reign as laird. I’ll save my half a guinea.’ He laughed and sauntered off with two of his men in tow.
‘Bring her here,’ Ewan commanded, rage lacing his words. The crowd turned to him.
The lass’s eyes widened as her husband yanked her up from the ground. She clambered after him, holding the rope of the harness fitted to her torso as she was tugged along.
‘Unbind her hands and remove that ungodly harness from her. Now,’ Ewan ordered. ‘She is no animal.’
‘Ye might think differently after ye get her home.’ The man winked at him. ‘I’ll leave ’er be. Otherwise she’ll run.’
Ewan scowled at him and shoved a guinea into the man’s open palm, even though he wished to punch him in the face instead.
‘Pleasure doin’ business with ye.’ The man grinned and pressed the guinea to his lips. ‘I shall celebrate my freedom this eve!’
Ewan shook his head in disgust as the man walked away. He faced the lass. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Nay,’ she answered, slowly lifting her gaze to him.
Her large amber eyes arrested his attention. He’d never seen such a shade before.
He cleared his throat. ‘Come with me,’ he told the woman. He turned and began the walk back to the carriage, his body vibrating with anger.
‘What shall you do with me, sir?’ the woman asked, walking a step behind him. He slowed his pace to ensure she didn’t drift far from him, his gaze sliding behind him at regular intervals. Dallan was not a man to lose at anything well, and Ewan wouldn’t allow the woman to be harmed further.
‘I’m not sure yet, but you’ll not stay here.’ He didn’t dare spare her another glance but kept a quick pace up the road to the carriage. He’d had enough of his brief visit to the Grassmarket. He’d had enough of a great deal of things.
A bell chimed ahead of them as Brenna emerged from the milliner’s shop door and handed off her parcels to Aaron. When she turned and saw their approach, she froze, her mouth falling open.
‘Aaron, get my sister inside,’ Ewan ordered as he reached the carriage. ‘I also need a larger blade than my sgian dubh. Now.’
‘Aye, my laird.’ His driver’s gaze landed upon the lass for a moment before flitting away. ‘Miss?’ He opened the door for Brenna, who still stood gobsmacked.
‘Brother, I leave you for one moment,’ she muttered, shading her eyes from the sun as her dark hair fluttered in the wind. ‘What has happened?’
‘In the carriage, Brenna. We are leaving,’ Ewan commanded.
‘Brother?’ she faltered, still staring upon the woman.
‘The carriage,’ he answered, the edge in his voice as sharp as any dirk. Her eyes widened at his harsh tone, and she clamped her mouth shut and did as he instructed.
Once she was safely within, Aaron retrieved a large dagger from beneath his driver’s seat and handed it to Ewan.
‘Your wrists,’ he stated, his tone harsher than he intended.
The woman hesitated and then lifted them to him, keeping her head down.
He took her left hand, then paused at the sight of the numerous scars along her knuckles and calluses on her fingers. His thumb skimmed the soft inside of her wrist as he severed the rope. Her tremble at his touch passed through his arm, and he let go.
The lass had been poorly treated. For how long, he didn’t know. Nor did it matter. That would end today.
‘Turn,’ he said, his voice softening. The last thing he wished to do was frighten her further.
She hesitated, turning slowly as if she half expected a shove or slap. He stared at the bindings of the worn leather harness criss-crossed along her back. How could a woman live such a life, and why? He shuddered to think how long she might have lived this way. He shook away the thought and brought himself back to the present.
He swallowed hard and slid his hand between the rope and her tattered walking dress, her body flinching at his touch. She possessed a small, muscular, thin frame, and he tugged the rope away from her body as gently as he could. The harness was so tight, he struggled to do so with care. Blast. He didn’t wish to harm her.
‘Go on,’ she murmured. ‘It doesn’t hurt. Not any more.’
His touch faltered at her words, and he held back the tyranny of curses bubbling up in his throat. What kind of a man...? He answered his own question. He knew exactly the type. Ewan severed the taunt harness bindings. When they fell away from her body, the woman sighed, her body sagging forward. He wished to beat her former husband senseless, but he needed to get out of here. Far from here before he did just that and brought shame and ruin to his clan. He was laird. He needed to focus on his clan and his family, not this stranger who was now in his care, or her brute of a husband. He stilled.
Now he was her husband.
Shock roiled through him. What had he done?
What he’d had to.
To do nothing would have haunted him the rest of his days. He only hoped this decision wouldn’t as well.
‘Step inside, miss,’ he said, gesturing at the still-open carriage door.
She nodded and stepped within, settling in neatly next to his sister.
Brenna looked at her and then to Ewan without a word, although her wide eyes held the thousand questions he knew she wished to ask.
‘Well, sister,’ he offered, as Aaron set the carriage in motion towards Glasgow. ‘You told me to find a bride, so I did.’
