Chapter 7

© Copyright 2005 by Sara Keprensk

Annabeth blinked, quite sure that she hadn’t heard him properly. “I beg your pardon?”

“We’re getting married.” Robert repeated. Was the lass daft or just deaf?

“That’s what I thought you said.” Annabeth crossed the room to greet Father Mackenzie. “What penance do you require for lying, Father? For I fear that your Laird has just lied. We are not getting married. Indeed we are not.”

“What do you think I’m here for, Lass?” the priest smiled. “By the time the three of us part company, you will be Lady MacAllen.”

Annabeth stared at him. “Laird MacAllen doesn’t love me and I don’t love him, therefore we are not suited for marriage. I don’t think that your services will be required.” She scowled at Robert, who scowled back.

“Would you rather that I married you to the baron I’ve been hearing about instead?” Father Mackenzie asked calmly, pulling out a small black book from his pocket. “Because, if not, I’ll be needing to marry you to my Laird sometime within the next hour.”

Annabeth spun and glared accusingly at Robert. “The baron is that close? Only an hour behind us?”

Robert rubbed his neck. “Well, it’s probably less than that. We met him earlier on, when you were asleep. He’s coming here to check with Father Mackenzie that we are married.”

“You told him that we are married?” Annabeth shrieked, her head spinning dizzily. “What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t exactly tell him anything of the sort, he jumped to that conclusion and I felt that keeping him under that illusion was a good way to keep you away from him.” Robert sounded slightly defensive. “I never dreamed that he would come to check. We can’t expect Father Mackenzie to lie to Baron Fulford, so, if you don’t wish to be carried back by the baron, we have to make it a truth.”

“Then I shall leave before he gets here and you can admit to him that we were never married.” Annabeth poked him in the chest and then waltzed towards the door.”

“You can’t leave.” Robert caught her arm, stopping her short. “The baron could be here any minute and you will never outride him. Besides, Aurelia needs a mama and you’re the only person she’s ever taken to that quickly.”

“I’m not marrying you for the sake of your daughter…sister…whatever.” Annabeth stamped her foot.

“I couldn’t care less what reason you cite for marrying me,” Robert tugged her back into the middle of the room and slid his hand down her arm to grasp her hand. “But marry me you will.”

Father Mackenzie took their free hands and held them together. “I’ll just skip the preliminaries, considering the lack of time. Laird MacAllen, do you take this lady for your wife?”

“I do.” Robert growled and scowled at his priest.

“Lady…?”

“Annabeth.” Robert supplied shortly.

“Lady Annabeth, do you take this man for your husband?”

“No I don’t.” Annabeth stormed.

“Yes she does.” Robert corrected. “Proceed.”

“I pronounce you Laird and Lady MacAllen. Kiss her, Laird.”

“You can’t proceed without my acceptance.” Annabeth protested strongly.

“This is Scotland, not England. We work differently here.” Robert pulled her close and kissed her thoroughly, leaving her unable to stand without help. He tossed the priest a coin and then stalked out of the room, dragging Annabeth with him, accompanied by Father Mackenzie’s low chuckle. “Stop looking at me like that, Beth, I had no more choice in the matter than you did. We’d better make the most of it.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say.” Annabeth pulled her hand free from his. “You’re not the one who was forced into this and whose family and friends are all in a different country. And do you really think that your people are going to accept an Englishwoman as their Laird’s wife?”

“My people will accept whoever I tell them to accept.” Robert hauled her into his chamber and shut the door firmly.

Annabeth stepped away from him, eyes wide. “What are we doing here?”

“We’re making our marriage unquestionable.”

Annabeth started to protest but faltered as Robert stooped to brush his lips against hers. When he took her into his arms and kissed all thoughts out of her head, she melted against him and gave in to his advances.

* * * * * * * * * *

Aaron glared at Patrick and the other man’s smothered chuckle turned into a full-blown guffaw. Aaron sighed. Patrick wouldn’t find it so amusing if it were himself that Megan had decided to attach herself to. Her devotion was very flattering but also rather smothering. Aaron couldn’t even go to relieve himself without her trying to follow.

“Look on the bright side, Aaron.” Patrick suggested “At least you’re not having to fight her at every turn anymore. I would have thought that you would be relieved that she isn’t still trying to goad her horse into an entirely different direction from the rest of us.”

Aaron snorted. “She won’t even sit on her horse anymore, let alone try to make it run away from me. Do you realise how small a saddle becomes when there are two people sitting on it?”

“You could always call her bluff and ride her horse, seeing as she won’t get off yours.”

Aaron looked over at Megan’s gentle mare and then looked scathingly back at his friend. “That horse would fall to her knees if she had my weight set on her. She’s a perfect mount for a little bit of a thing like Lady Megan but she wouldn’t last an hour carrying me. I guess I’ll just have to ride with her again.”

Patrick laughed again as Aaron strode to his mount and swung up into the saddle behind Megan. She obligingly shuffled forward, giving him room to get comfortable, and then leaned back against his chest, nestling into him.

“You’re angry.” She said bluntly.

“No, I’m not.” Aaron clamped an arm around her waist to stop her falling off as he spurred his horse into action.

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.” He mentally added another pair of coins to the tally that he was going to have to give to Father Mackenzie at his next confession.

Megan twisted around in the saddle and surveyed him critically. She lifted her hand to his forehead. “You are, you’re frowning so you must be angry.” She smoothed her hand along the furrows in his brow, effectively ridding him of the unbecoming lines.

Aaron smiled at her. “Turn around woman and keep those hands to yourself before you distract me.” He lightly touched her cheek then turned his eyes back to the view in front of him.

Megan did not do what she was told. What a surprise. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek into his chest. Her closed eyes, however, fully gave the impression that she was taking him seriously on not distracting him and was going to go to sleep.

Patrick rode up beside him. “You change moods faster than I can change plaids.”

Aaron scowled at him for the implication that Megan had control over his moods.

“See.” Patrick laughed. “From stormy to bright sunshine and then right back again.”

“With a man like you with me, it is hardly surprising that a smile doesn’t stay on my face long.” Aaron replied blandly.

Patrick scowled at the insult.

Aaron laughed. “See, you’re at it now. You’re a pretty fast mood changer yourself.”

“Any more insults, MacDonald, and you’re going to be escorting these ladies on your own. I wonder how you’d like that, huh?” Patrick returned to his place beside Lady Morris and turned to call back to Aaron. “You would get lost without me. How do you fancy roaming jolly old England for a few days while I’m safely back home, sleeping in my own bed?”

Aaron deigned not to reply. In truth, he didn’t dare for fear that Patrick would do exactly what he threatened. He knew that Patrick was certainly capable of deserting him. And Aaron’s own sense of direction was notoriously hopeless, a shameful thing for a Scot to admit, even to himself. No, it was safer to keep on Patrick’s good side, at least until the bonnie lowlands arrived back in view.

* * * * * * * * * *

Annabeth was asleep again when Robert heard the loud approach of the Englishmen. He covered her with a plaid and left the room, shutting the door quietly. He hoped that she would sleep until the baron left again, but he had a feeling that the baron was not going to leave without seeing her again and hearing from her lips that she really was a married woman.

He thundered down the stairs and swept into the kitchen, sweeping his sister up into his large arms. He gave her an affectionate kiss and then set her back on her small feet. “Aurelia, there are some men outside that I don’t want you to have to meet. Be a good girl and go join Lady Beth. She’s asleep in my chamber. You could do with a nap. I promise that, when I’m finished and you’re awake again, I will spend some time with you and nothing will get in the way this time.”

“I don’t want to sleep in with Lady Beth.”

“Did I say to go if you wanted to?” Robert asked patiently.

“No.” Aurelia shook her little head and her dark curls bounced around her face.

“Then it wasn’t a request was it?”

“No.” Aurelia walked slowly out of the kitchen, dragging her feet and pouting.

Robert watched from the kitchen doorway to check that she went where she was supposed to and then entered the great hall to receive his visitors, explaining his newly-found situation to Lily, who was most interested to find that the ‘little bit of an English girl’ was her new mistress.

“And don’t let on to the baron that you’ve never met the girl before.” He warned quietly, pasting on a rather obviously false smile as Baron Fulford stormed through the impressive entrance, his men streaming in behind him.

“Well, where is she?” the big-nosed Englishman demanded, glaring at his young host.

“If you are referring to my wife, I would have thought that you would have noticed when you stumbled across us earlier that she was asleep, naturally I left her on our bed upstairs.” Robert nodded at Lily and she left the room. “If you gentlemen,” he almost choked on the word, “would like to be seated, my people will provide you with some refreshment.”

The baron plopped down on the nearest bench and Robert sat down opposite him, not wishing to be near him but knowing that he needed to be there. Liam sank down next to his Laird and the multitudinous English soldiers filled the remaining spaces at that table and the neighbouring one.

Baron Fulford leaned forward. “If what you say is true, and I’m not saying that I believe that it is, then you took my betrothed. What have you to say to that?”

“If what you say is true, and Beth really was your betrothed, then I find myself thinking that you need to start looking for some other girl, preferably one a bit nearer your age for Beth is blithely wed.” Robert smiled, hoping that the word ‘blithely’ didn’t make the statement a false one.

“Are you suggesting that I am lying to you?” Anger and indignation flooded the elder man’s eyes.

“Not at all, merely that perhaps you are mistaken as to the identity of my wife. Perhaps it is some other young lady that you are looking for.”

“Do you really think that I am dumb enough not to recognise my own betrothed when I see her?”

“Do you really want me to answer that question?” Robert smirked.

The baron glared at him suspiciously. “Now look here, you young upstart! I demand to have proof that you are married to that girl. If there is any doubt of the transaction, the girl is my property and, as her guardian, I have the right to take her away from you.”

“Do you want to see the Priest or the bed sheets?” Robert signalled one of his serving girls over.

“The Priest.” The man’s eyes glowed. “Bed sheets prove nothing. One doesn’t have to be married for that kind of activity. One doesn’t have to own the cow to be able to milk it.”

Robert jumped out of his seat and caught the man by his chin. “Don’t you ever suggest any such thing about my wife again.” He said menacingly. “If I ever hear you say that again…” he let the sentence hang, letting the baron’s imagination finish the sentiment. He turned to the serving girl. “Fetch Father Mackenzie here at once.”

The baron waited until the girl and scuttled off before speaking again. “Of course, if you have married her who was destined for me from her cradle, I would feel honour bound to challenge you to a duel.”

“Be my guest. I don’t imagine that a duel would inconvenience me too much. Ah, Father, would you please verify for the good Baron here that Lady Annabeth and I are married, he doesn’t seem to be inclined to take my word for it.”

Father Mackenzie smiled, glad to be able to be of help in annoying the man who had apparently beaten his new mistress. “Indeed they are man and wife, Baron, I joined them in the holy union myself and was never more satisfied with a job either!”

The baron went an ominous shade of purple, showing his host that he had never even remotely believed his story. He looked absolutely furious. “Don’t you ever check that there isn’t a former claim?” he exploded, banging his fist on the table so hard that Father Mackenzie was sure that it was going to break.

“Oh, I am sorry, was she already married? Oh dear, well, if that is so, the first marriage would nullify the second. I’m sorry, Laird, but that’s the way things are.” He said, knowing full well that the former claim alluded to was not a marriage claim.

“That’s alright Father, his claim is only a betrothal; I take it that my marriage vows will override the betrothal?”

“Yes, yes indeed they do. Yes, a marriage is much stronger than a betrothal, especially if it is consummated.”

“It seems, then, that your trip to Scotland was unsuccessful.” Robert grinned at the baron, not even trying to hide the glee he felt at bettering the old man. “I wouldn’t come back if I were you. I might think that you are trying to harass my wife and, if that were the case, I might not be responsible for my own actions.”

Having issued that threat he threw open the doors to the keep and openly invited the Englishmen to leave, even as Lily started to bring the promised refreshment through.

“Not so fast. I said that I would call you out and I will be as good as my word!”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Robert drawled lazily.

“One hour, Scot, and then we meet in your courtyard. By the end of today only one of us will live.”

“Then I hope you’ve said your prayers.”

An inelegant snort sounded behind him. “I doubt he even knows what a prayer is.”

Robert spun around to see Annabeth at the bend in the stairs, Aurelia’s hand clasped in her own. He groaned inwardly and wished that she had had the good sense to stay out of the way. But then, considering that she was English, good sense was probably too much to be wishing for. “Ah, there you are.” He said brightly. “Did you have a good sleep?” he held out his arm and glared his wishes at her.

For once, Annabeth took the hint and walked to his side, leaning against him slightly as he put his arm around her waist. “Most refreshing.” She murmured in answer to his question, and accepted his kiss without comment. Aurelia giggled and lifted her arms to Robert.

He obligingly picked her up with his free arm and then turned to the Baron. “I will see you in an hour. But you just remember that the plans that Annabeth’s father made for her will now be nullified as she has entered under a new master. Even if you kill me, you will have no grounds on which to support your supposed betrothal. In the presence of this Priest I put forward the claim that, if you have the fortune to kill me, my family is left in the charge of Aaron MacDonald and Liam MacRae. What they say goes.”

Annabeth opened her mouth but Robert, guessing that she was going to argue with him about being able to look after herself, gave her a warning squeeze. He looked at the baron and tried not to look too satisfied when he saw the high colour in the man’s face.

“I don’t think that I want to wait an hour.” The baron whipped his sword out of its sheath. “I’ll have some of that malapert blood from you now.”

Robert drew his own sword with deathly swiftness. His grin was chilly. “I wouldn’t be counting on that if I were you. First one to draw blood wins?”

Baron Fulford laughed harshly. “No boy, we’re fighting to the death.”


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