Possessed by the Highlander. Terri BrisbinЧитать онлайн книгу.
him leave before returning to her own duties that waited inside the cottage. Dinner, some mending and sewing, taking care of Ciara and more. The strength drained from her and she struggled to complete even the simplest of tasks. Ciara seemed to know she was out-of-sorts and did not press her for too many songs or stories before sliding under the blankets on her pallet and into the sleep of the innocent.
But sleep did not come to Marian.
She tossed and turned, feeling every bump in the pallet beneath her. Deep in her heart, grief and anger grew until she could no longer deny that it raged within. The only warning was the burning in her throat and eyes before the tears began pouring out. Marian tugged the end of the blanket up and held it against her mouth to capture any noise that might wake Ciara.
Once the grief was loosed, it would not go quietly back under control. The years of loneliness, the ongoing humiliation, the loss of family and friends broke through and she sobbed at the pain. The worst of it were the feelings that this stranger had caused, feelings that could never be part of her life. Desires and yearnings for a life of her own, buried these last five years, now tore free. For a husband and children.
Some minutes later, when the tempest calmed, Marian turned over and looked at the one thing that had made it all worthwhile. Ciara was the one joy in her life and made every moment of suffering and every lost possibility bearable. Reaching over to smooth her daughter’s hair away from her face, she knew she would bear this sorrow as well.
Iain nodded to the villager to come forward. Leaning over he listened to the man’s words and then sent him on his way with another nod. Turning to his steward, Iain grinned with the smile of the vindicated.
“So, his interest in my sister grows then,” he commented.
“Aye,” Struan answered. “Do you think ‘tis wise not to interfere?”
“The MacLerie’s man has done nothing that needs my intervention, Struan. At least not yet. And especially since not many know she is my sister.”
Struan bowed and moved away, leaving Iain alone. Glancing around the room at the others present, he realized that so much had changed since that terrible night five years before. His brothers had grown, he had inherited the clan leadership from his father and had instituted many changes that were beneficial to them. These negotiations were only one of them.
Still, the guilt that Marian carried the burden of his own actions had weighed on him lately. He’d allowed her to return, hoping that a solution would come to him about her future. None had until just these last days.
The Peacemaker’s interest in her was intriguing. He was not known to turn his attentions from his work while negotiating. He did not seek out the company of women while traveling on his laird’s business. So, the turning of his attentions to any woman was remarkable. That the woman was Iain’s own sister made it even more so.
Iain drank deeply from his cup and thought on the possibilities. A few hours later, as the fire in the hearth burned down to only embers and the chamber emptied around him, he still sat deep in thought.
Chapter Five
Duncan listened but could not believe the words he heard. The Robertson’s man had just relinquished his objections to a primary clause in their treaty and given in to Connor’s demands on several other issues as well. They’d made more progress in hours than they had in the days since their arrival there. And if there was a reason, Duncan could see it not.
Still, he found himself pleased by the concessions made so far and he felt the temptation to continue to press for more. If the Robertson was feeling generous, why ever not? When Hamish nodded at him, Duncan knew his friend noticed the same thing.
“…and I have ordered a feast for tomorrow eve to mark our progress,” Iain finished.
“A feast? Pardon my inattention, Iain. A feast on the morrow?” he repeated.
“Aye. Many of my people have voiced an interest in meeting the MacLerie’s emissary and his men, so I thought a feast would give them that opportunity.”
Something in this offer made Duncan prickle with unease. “Truly, Iain, though I, and my men, appreciate this sign of friendship, this will distract us from our purpose.” He turned and looked at the others in the chamber. “Mayhap we should finish our work and celebrate the results then?”
Iain walked to his side and put his arm on Duncan’s shoulder. “I assure you I will not be dissuaded from my purpose in this. We are a few measures from completing the agreements and may even be done by tomorrow eve.”
Duncan recognized defeat, but he also kenned when and when not to argue with a powerful man. With a nod, he acquiesced to the plans.
“Dinna worry so, Duncan,” Iain said as he stepped away and waved his steward out of the chambers. “I will leave you all to your task and you will not be bothered by the preparations.”
But Duncan did worry. He was fighting a battle within himself to keep his own thoughts and attentions on the dozen or so clauses yet to be agreed to and off the woman whose mournful eyes plagued him even now. Hamish approached and he leaned close to hear his words.
“Do ye have some fear or concern over this feast that I should ken aboot, Duncan? Something I should be taking a look at?”
Duncan brought a parchment up in front of them as though pointing something out to his man, but truly to cover their words. “‘Tis not his words, but something in his manner, that is amiss. I cannot give you an exact thing, but…”
Hamish nodded. “I get yer meaning. But I’ve sensed nothing from him that I wouldna—he is nervous aboot the treaty, but no’ more than I would expect.”
“Be alert, Hamish.”
Duncan lowered the parchment back to the table and sat in his chair. “Well, sirs, shall we proceed then and hopefully finish our business in time for the laird’s feast?”
There was a certain amiable air in the chamber as they worked through the rest of the day. Duncan chose to eat in the solar and organize his thoughts and strategies for what he believed would be the final day of negotiating with the Robertsons. Although most issues were resolved, a few important ones remained to discuss.
As was his practice, he walked through his concerns one by one in his thoughts until he was clear on his path. What surprised him, though, was what, or who, waited there in the silence as he cleared his path of actions for the morrow.
Mara filled his thoughts then and through the night and the next day. Unlike any other woman he’d encountered, she presented more questions than she answered. The flush in her cheeks as she rode his horse toward him aroused him more than any woman had in…months. The way she humbled herself to beg him, nay there was no doubt she begged, to turn his attentions elsewhere and spare her and her daughter from any scandal. The false face she presented to the world intrigued him rather than angering him. Mara was a riddle, a puzzle full of twists and turns and unexpected secrets, that called to him.
And he excelled at solving riddles and puzzles.
That thought tugged at him the next day as the keep and village bustled around him, preparing for the feast ordered by its laird. Duncan worked by rote through his tasks, and as he suspected, the final clause stayed just out of reach through the day. They would need to meet on the morrow and finish. Within a sennight, they could all be home in Lairig Dubh.
Now, seated in a place of honor next to Iain, Duncan cast a glance across the crowded hall looking for the one person he’d like most to speak with. Deep inside, he’d known she would not attend, but his damned heart had held on to a spark of hope. ‘Twould most likely be the last time he’d see her and to see her smile and possibly to share a dance would have been a good thing.
He noticed that his men were seated in different parts of the hall, each one involved in some measure of flirting or enjoying some woman’s company and Duncan suspected that his men would be sleeping outside the keep this night. Even