Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2) Page 10

  Arrian walked to the window and threw it open. Ignoring the icy blast of wind, she stared at the churning sea. How bitterly she regretted the storm that had blown the Nightingale off course and landed her in this harsh land.

  In just four weeks time, she was to have become Ian's wife. Now she would be forced to pretend marriage to a man she detested.

  She shivered and closed the window, but not before a gust of wind blew out the candle, leaving the room in shadows.

  Arrian picked up her shawl and pulled it around her shoulders, feeling as if she were being drawn into a dark abyss from which there was no escape. The time was approaching for the mock wedding, and she was frightened.

  What would Ian think when he learned she had given in to Lord Warrick's demands? Surely he would understand that she would not willingly dishonor him.

  Arrian could not find an appropriate gown among her trousseau, so she borrowed a plain black dress and a black veil from her aunt. She had trouble hooking the back, but at last she stood before a mirror and observed her appearance with satisfaction.

  The stark black gown would show everyone how she felt about this wedding. She arranged the veil over her face, feeling pleased with her cleverness. Surely Lord Warrick would be displeased by her attire. He'd not have everything his way tonight. In a final defiant deed, she picked up her ruby betrothal ring and slipped it on her finger.

  "Well, my girl," she told her own image, "you look more like a woman going into mourning than a bride." She smiled behind the veil. She would show that arrogant lord the contempt with which she viewed him.

  There was a knock at the door, and she wrenched it open, expecting to find Lord Warrick. Instead Mrs. Haddington greeted her.

  The housekeeper was clearly shocked by Arrian's appearance. "I'm ta take you to Lady Mary's room, m'lady." There was something cold and distant in the housekeeper's eyes that had not been there before.

  "I'm ready, Mrs. Haddington," Arrian said, raising the veil and putting a brave foot forward.

  As they walked down the hallway, the housekeeper spoke in a hurried whisper. "May I ask, m'lady, if you are truly related to Lord Gille Maclvors?"

  "I am proud to be his great-granddaughter. My aunt Mary is his daughter."

  The housekeeper sucked in her breath. "It would have been far better if you'd no ha come here. Nothing good has ere come from joining a Drummond to a Maclvors."

  "I will not be joined to your chief—it's all playacting for Lord Warrick's benefit. He seems to derive some pleasure in demonstrating his hold over my aunt and me."

  "I'm sure his lordship has his reasons."

  By now they had reached Lady Mary's room, and Arrian rushed to her aunt. She had hoped to prepare her aunt for the ceremony earlier but had not found her awake. Lady Mary's eyes were still closed.

  Barra looked at Arrian with the same coldness her mother had shown. "Her ladyship comes and goes. Tis the drug," she said.

  Arrian was almost glad her aunt would not have to witness her humiliation. But she felt so alone in a hostile world. She touched her aunt's cheek, and the older woman's eyes fluttered open.

  "Arrian, my dear, why are you dressed in my black gown? No one has died, have . . . they?" She tried to sit up but fell back. "We must . . . leave this . . . place."

  "Aunt Mary, you see—"

  Her aunt's eyes closed, and Arrian brushed a tear from her cheek. "Sleep, dearest," she whispered, "and don't weep for me. You will soon be safely away from this place."

  There was a knock on the door, and Arrian's heart filled with dread. Pulling the black veil into place so he wouldn't see her face, she turned to see Lord Warrick enter with a gentleman she had not met.

  Warrick approached her and smiled ironically. "Your manner of dress doth stab at my heart, my lady."

  "It reflects my feelings of the moment, my lord."

  Warrick turned to the tall man beside him. "May I present my most trusted friend, Mactavish. He, along with your aunt, Mrs. Haddington, and Barra, will witness our joining."

  Was there a look of compassion in the older man's eyes, Arrian wondered? No, surely if he was a friend of this devil he would feel no pity for her plight. She acknowledged the introduction with the merest nod. Then a terrible suspicion came to her. "You are not an ordained minister are you?"

  "No, m'lady. I'm no more than Lord Warrick's steward and friend," Mactavish said.

  Arrian was glad her face was hidden behind the veil, because she knew her eyes would reflect the terror she was feeling. Her hands trembled so that she clasped them behind her back.

  "I'd sooner see this evening's work come to a hasty end, my lord," she said. "Could we not go on with this ritual?"

  Warrick bowed stiffly to her. "As you wish, my lady." He extended his hand to her, and she reluctantly placed hers in his grasp. Something within her rebelled against this heinous deception. But she was trapped and had no alternative but to see it through to the end.

  Lord Warrick moved forward until he stood beside Arrian while the others in the room closed in around them.

  "Lady Mary," Warrick said in a soft voice, "can you hear me?"

  To Arrian's dismay her aunt opened her eyes. "I hear you, you Drummond devil." Her gaze fell on Arrian. "What has happened?"

  "I only want you to hear a pledge between myself and your niece," Warrick said.

  "Well, do it and be done with it," Lady Mary said sleepily.

  Before Arrian could protest, Warrick reached out and removed Arrian's veil and tossed it on the floor. "I don't even know your Christian name," he said with a smile twisting his lips. "Amazing, is it not?"

  She stared at the crumpled veil and then into his silver eyes. "Arrian—Arrian DeWinter."

  Warrick suddenly became serious. "Lady Arrian DeWinter, I take you as my lawful wife."

  Arrian suddenly felt like laughing. This was indeed not to be a proper wedding. She was almost lighthearted when she answered him. "Lord Warrick Glencarin, I take you as my lawful—"

  "No, Arrian, no!" her aunt protested in a weak voice. "Do not speak it—"

  "Say the words," Warrick insisted forcefully.

  Arrian saw the fear in her aunt's eyes. She then looked to the housekeeper and her daughter and saw hostility reflected on their faces. She would have done with this nonsense as soon as possible.

  "I take you as my husband," she answered through stiff lips. "And there's the end of it."

  There was a gleam of victory in Warrick's eyes as he took her hand and quickly removed the Maclvors betrothal ring. Before Arrian could object, he slid the Drummond wedding ring in its place.

  "You give me back my ring," she said. "Give it to me at once!"

  Warrick turned to Mrs. Haddington. "I believe you can all leave now. The deed is done."

  Without a word the three witnesses filed out the door, then Warrick turned back to Arrian. "Now, what were you saying? You want what?"

  Arrian held out her hand. "I told you to return my ring."

  "Nay, my lady. I'll not have it on your finger. It will be returned to Ian Maclvors."

  "You are hateful," she cried, wanting to strike out at him. "I despise you for the villain you are."

  "Tut tut, my lady wife," he said, "married such a short time and our first quarrel."

  Lady Mary reached out to Arrian. "Do you know what you have done, child? The deed cannot so easily be undone."

  "You need not be concerned, Aunt Mary. This will not be a real marriage. Lord Warrick demanded this imitation wedding to fuel his own arrogance."

  "Arrian, Arrian, what will your father say?"

  "But you don't understand, Aunt Mary. There was no minister to sanction the marriage, so it isn't legal."

  "Oh, my poor, dear child. In Scotland you need no minister. You are bound to this man as surely as if you had been married with your parents' blessings and with all the trappings."

  Arrian's face whitened, and she turned to the man who was apparently her legal husband. "You tricked me! Yo
u let me believe—"

  "I was never anything but honest with you, my lady. It was you who chose to ignore the importance of a Marriage by Consent."

  Arrian looked at her aunt for help but saw the expression of finality on Lady Mary's face. "You are a beast, my lord, and I do not honor you."

  Warrick shrugged. "I had so hoped marriage would calm you, my lady—apparently it has not."

  Anger boiled inside her, but she had no retort. "You will still allow my aunt to leave in the morning?"

  "What's this?" Aunt Mary asked. "What are you saying, Arrian?"

  Warrick answered in a kind voice. "Your leg needs medical attention, Lady Mary. You will be sailing to Edinburgh tomorrow morning."

  "I'll not leave without my niece. And there is no way I'll step foot on another ship. I'd rather walk."

  "You have no choice in this, my lady. I will not be responsible for your losing a leg, and you are not well enough to travel by coach."

  "Then Arrian must accompany me."

  "No, Lady Mary, she will not." He thrust the ruby ring at her, and she clasped it in her hand. "You will deliver this into the hands of Ian Maclvors with my wife's regrets. Tell him she now wears the wedding ring of a Drummond—and is the first lady of Clan Drummond."

  Lady Mary stared at the young chief for a long moment. He was most certainly a handsome rogue, but haughty and decidedly too sure of himself. "It seems I have no say in this matter," she said at last. "But there will be grave consequences from this deed. Arrian is not some little unknown. Her father wields more power than you can imagine. I beg you to allow her to accompany me. You have what you want. She is legally your wife."

  "If the duke of Ravenworth is as powerful as you say, he could easily have the marriage annulled. No, Arrian will remain with me to prevent such an action."

  Arrian would have spoken, but her aunt silenced her with a glance. "How long do you intend to keep her a prisoner in your castle?"

  "She will not be a prisoner. But I shall keep her until it suits me to let her go."

  "I will expect you to honor her and not lay a hand on her."

  Warrick smiled at Lady Mary, liking her in spite of the fact that she was Gille Maclvors's daughter. "You have my word that she will have a separate bedroom from mine, and a door that locks."

  "Locked doors only keep out those who want to stay out," Lady Mary stated.

  "I will not intrude on your niece. In marrying me, she has given me what I want from her."

  Lady Mary stared into gray eyes and found herself believing him. "I'll hold you to that."

  "Your niece will be safe from me, my lady—but who will save me from her?" He smiled at Arrian, who only glared at him. "I have found her to have a fierce temper, and she has demanding ways."

  Lady Mary reached for Arrian's hand. "If that is so, you are the first person to evoke those distasteful emotions in her. Her temper was always sweet and her nature loving."

  "It will be blood hate between us, my lord," Arrian said. "We are locked in a contest of the strongest."

  His silver eyes looked cruel. "Your understanding is exceptional, my lady wife." He bowed slightly to Lady Mary and then to Arrian. "I'll bid you both good night. I know you'll have much to talk about since you are departing in the morning, Lady Mary."

  After he'd left, Arrian could not stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. She could not imagine what life would be like after her aunt was gone.

  This world was cold and unbearable, a hostile place where she had no friends.

  10

  Arrian stood silently, battling the conflicting emotions that ran through her mind. She wanted to rage at the man who had tricked her into marriage and had taken away her future with Ian. She so desperately wanted to leave with her aunt, but that would not be possible.

  Trying to disguise her sadness, she turned to Lady Mary. "You're so pale. I fear this evening has been a strain on you. Shall I get your medicine?"

  "That would be nice, child," Lady Mary said, wanting to be lost in forgetfulness. "I find the pain is almost more than I can endure."

  Arrian picked up the vial and poured the liquid into a spoon. "I will be glad to have you in Edinburgh where you can receive proper care."

  Lady Mary took the medicine and then caught Arrian's hand. "You did this for me, didn't you?"

  Arrian avoided her aunt's eyes, hoping she could hide the truth from her. "Why would you think that?"

  "Because it's my leg that's damaged, Arrian, not my mind. You came to Scotland to marry Ian and would never have agreed to marry a man you hardly know unless there was a good reason. I heard the exchange between you and Lord Warrick. You didn't marry him out of love. You only agreed to this marriage because I need medical attention."

  "I never thought the marriage would be binding. I believed it was only a way to try to humble me and humiliate Ian."

  "It is most certainly binding, Arrian."

  "I know that now." She plumped up her aunt's pillows and tried not to cry. "I can only imagine what my parents will say when they hear what I've done."

  "Dear child, why didn't you come to me before you agreed to go through with the wedding? I could have warned you."

  "You were ill, Aunt Mary. I made the decision on my own, and I'm prepared to live with the consequences."

  "I don't know how I will explain this to your mother and father. I fear there will be a terrible backlash. Raile will come thundering in here with a vengeance, you know he will."

  "Aunt Mary, that's exactly what Father should not do. You must try to keep this from him as long as possible. Meanwhile, I shall try to escape, or perhaps Lord Warrick will release me. I don't want anyone to be hurt."

  "If your father is in Scotland, no one will be able to stop him from coming to Ironworth." Lady Mary's eyes grew sad. "I don't know how this will all end, but there's bound to be much sorrow. I can't endure to leave you, Arrian."

  "You heard Lord Warrick, he won't allow me to go with you—and you must go."

  Lady Mary held out the ring she had clutched in her hand. "I can't think what Ian will do when I give this to him."

  Arrian was tempted to take back Ian's ring, but she no longer felt that it belonged to her. "I pray he will not turn away from me because of what I've done."

  The drug was already beginning to take effect, and Lady Mary was becoming drowsy. "The blame lies with Warrick and Ian, this is their fight. You have innocently become entangled in their feud."

  "But I still love Ian and want to be his wife. Impress upon him that I will come to him as soon as I'm able."

  "I will do that. But have a care, Arrian. Don't provoke this man, and don't forget for a moment that he is the enemy."

  "I shan't forget that."

  "I curse this weakness that prevents me from helping you. In days gone by, no young upstart would have gained the upper hand with me."

  "Don't think about that, just go to sleep now. But try to send word of how you are doing, for I shall be worried until I know you are well."

  "I will write." Lady Mary said, her mind growing unclear. "I find I am very sleepy now. You must rest also."

  Arrian watched her aunt drift off to sleep. She would remain with her tonight. There was no way of knowing when they would meet again. She touched a white curl that lay against her aunt's cheek, praying that the doctors in Edinburgh would save her leg.

  She went to the hearth to place wood on the fire and drew up a chair. She was so lonely, a tear trailed down her cheek. She had often dreamed of her wedding night, but Ian had always been the man in those dreams, not his enemy.

  Warrick slid his booted foot into the stirrup and mounted Titus. He needed to put distance between himself and his new bride. Guilt lay heavily on his shoulders, but given the same choice again, he would have behaved no differently.

  He headed Titus down the rutted bridle path on his way to the hunting lodge. Victory was his! He had struck at the heart of Ian Maclvors. But where was the feeling of elation he had exp
ected? Was Mactavish right about him—was he no better than a Maclvors in forcing a woman into marriage against her will?

  He halted his horse and turned back to the castle, which was barely visible under the cloudy sky. The act he had committed was vile and unworthy of the chief of Clan Drummond.

  He nudged Titus forward, unmindful of the cold wind. Lady Arrian had conveniently fallen into his hands. What he would do with her, he did not know. But he would not free her until he was ready.

  The moon shed its light on the solitary rider. There was torment in his eyes and heaviness in his heart. He could not forget the vision of tears in Lady Arrian's eyes. He had caused her a great deal of pain, and for that he was sorry. He had nothing against her—she had merely been useful to him.

  When he reached the lodge he was surprised to find lights shining from the windows. Dismounting, he saw Mactavish standing in the doorway.

  "Thought you'd be here, so I came ahead of you to lay a fire." Mactavish picked up a bottle of whiskey and poured a liberal amount into two goblets. "Thought you might also need a good friend and a strong drink."

  "You know me too well, my friend," Warrick said, throwing off his coat and taking the offered glass. "Let's celebrate. I want to drink myself into oblivion so that I won't think about blue eyes swimming in tears."

  Mactavish raised his glass in a toast. "To the new Lady of Glencarin. May she not live to regret this night, or you either, m'lord."

  Warrick's expression hardened. "I thought you came as a friend, not as my accuser."

  Mactavish downed his drink, and poured another. "So I did."

  Warrick took a deep drink of the burning liquid. "To my bride," he said raising his glass. "May she and God forgive me."

  Lady Mary tied a silk scarf around her head turban style. She fumbled through her jewels until she found a huge sapphire brooch, which she pinned to the middle of the turban.

  "Just because one is ill doesn't mean that one should neglect one's appearance." Holding the hand mirror, she nodded in satisfaction. "Exotic, don't you think, Arrian?"

  Her aunt was dressed in a white brocade gown with black velvet on the collar. "You look elegant as always. Does your leg pain you overmuch?"