Claimed By A Charmer (The Pith Trilogy) (2 page)

Galloway, Scotland

August 1219

The forest’s tranquility should
have arrested the thoughts racing through Douglas’ mind, but it did little to
stifle his discontent. Douglas Kerr sat on his warhorse in deep reflection. The
sun blazed down as he rode along the trail. His father’s missive directed that
he take a wife. Morna Farley was the chosen lady. His father’s command
instilled hatred for the duty, yet his father’s order would be done whether he
agreed or not.

Douglas ripped the missive, knowing
if he contested the edict, he would forfeit his position as laird over the Kerr
Clan. She was certainly a beauty—if such a thing was important. He hadn’t
deemed it a necessary quality, although he hadn’t considered taking a wife
before. He arrived at her keep, feeling anxious. This day he would ask for her
hand as his father willed. Her acceptance would assure his future, and that of
the Kerr Clan.

He entered the great hall wearing a
frown and feeling repugnance at being forced. Lord Farley, her father, stood by
the hearth and seemed gladdened to see him.

“Douglas, come and rest. I’ve been
expecting your arrival. I received a message from your father saying ye would
come.”

“Lord Farley, I am here to request
Morna’s hand and—”

“Ye have it,” he said readily. “I’m
fond of the Kerrs, and the alliance will benefit both our clans. ‘Tis a proud
day for us all.”

Douglas reflected on his first
encounter with Morna. He’d met her at the Shelmore’s, a border clan whom had
the allegiance of many clan, during a feast the month before. He had assessed her
character, and she seemed agreeable. Mayhap she would make him a good wife.

“I’d like to search her out and
make the request myself, if ye don’t mind.”

Lord Farley smiled. “Aye, as you
wish. She might be in her chamber. Go, lad, and welcome to the family.”

Douglas bowed, left the great hall,
and took the stairs. He reached her chamber door, and startled when he heard
men’s voice through the wood. Morna was in jeopardy. Douglas threw the door
open and bounded inside. His intended wife fornicated in the arms of not one,
but two men. The sight of their naked, entwined bodies sickened him. The trio
hadn’t heard his entrance, and their position left nothing to his imagination. She
pleasured one by using her mouth, while the other pleasured himself by pumping
his body against hers. He frowned, disbelieving his eyes, and quickly turned to
leave.

He didn’t stop to explain his hasty
retreat to anyone. He was thankful that he’d requested to seek her out. If
she’d been sent for, he wouldn’t have found out about her promiscuousness. Morna
wasn’t meant to be his wife, and he would tell his father so, when next he saw
him.

Discharging the affair, Douglas
returned to the Highlands with his cousin, Brendan, in tow. Morna sent him
missive after missive imploring his return, but he hadn’t responded, nor had he
cared what her messengers replied. The only contact he could bring himself to
have with her family, was to send a message to Lord Farley explaining that she
wouldn’t adapt to his demanding lifestyle. He’d softened the dismissal because
Lord Farley didn’t deserve the harsh words he really wanted to impart.

On the trail, performing sentry
duty for the MacKinnon clan, he wasn’t sure why he thought about Morna this
day, but his reflections ceased when his cousin shouted.

“Douglas, halt.”

Brendan scowled, probably for his
stupidity, because he hadn’t paid attention to their travel.

“You’re going the wrong way, man. Where’s
your mind this day?”

“Faigh muin, where are we headed?”

“I thought we would stop by and see
Ellic.” Brendan looked at him expectantly.

“Nay, can’t we go another time? I
just want to get home.”

“You’re just sore ‘cause you didn’t
marry that English lass.”

His cousin, Brendan, shoved his arm
in a quip, giving him a half-hearted frown that could be taken for a smile. Douglas
shook his head. If only Brendan knew the truth of the matter.

“Nay, I didn’t want to marry her.”

“You lie, she was too beautiful to
let go so easily.”

“Nay, ‘twas her character that I
didn’t like. I suppose I’ll settle for one of our lassies though.” Douglas
laughed, trying to make light of it.

“Why would you want to be nagged by
a harping wife?”

“My father wishes me to marry. Don’t
you want a wife? I’d get started on it—it’ll take years to find a woman who
would put up with your surliness.” Douglas laughed at his baiting. His cousin
wasn’t one to enjoy any kind of ribbing.

“I’ve more important matters to
consider. I’ll never take a wife. I enjoy my freedom too much. Colin’s out of
his mind, putting up with Julianna’s carping—”

“He loves her. Ye know how he feels
about her, and you do care for your sister-in-law. You’ll not tell me
otherwise.”

“Aye, I do,” Brendan admitted. “Though
she’d try my patience were I married to her. Ye want to find a woman like her? You’ll
need be very charming, and I know how you like to tease the lassies. I don’t
have it in me to be charming like you.”

“Not if you continue to scowl all
the time. You’ll not even get a tumble from the loose women you visit.” Douglas’
jest made his cousin grin.

“Don’t worry for me, I get my fair
share of women.”

Had Brendan sensed his quiet manner
on the way home? Douglas usually did laugh or jest, but he had acted
differently since their visit to the Lowlands. Brendan wasn’t ordinarily one to
converse on the subject of women, but he must have caused his cousin’s concern
by being withdrawn.

“Aye, you’re aright. I don’t know
why I’m thinking such foolish thoughts.”

“‘Cause you’re a fool, ye arse.” Brendan
shoved him again then nudged his horse into a gallop.

Douglas kicked his horse’s flanks. “Aye,
I’m an arse, more than ye know,” he muttered, riding swiftly to catch up.

He stopped suddenly, jarred when
Brendan slowed his mount and held up his arm.

Brendan turned his horse. “Someone
comes.”

Douglas couldn’t see the rider in
the distance, and was amazed at his cousin’s ability. Brendan’s keen hearing
must have picked up the sound of a horseman ahead. Douglas scanned the
landscape, and finally saw Gilbert riding toward them.

“Douglas,” Gil shouted.

“Gil, what goes?” Douglas shouted
back.

Gil halted his mount when he
reached his side, and his face looked bleak. Douglas waited for him to catch
his breath.

He’d taken Gil under his wing for
the past few years, yet he still needed more training to turn him into a fierce
Kerr warrior. Gil wanted to be a scholar, and always messed around with herbs
and medicinal potions. He liked to solve the unknown, riddles he’d called them.
Of course, Douglas and Brendan teased him about it often, calling him
sissified.

“I’ve word from Cedric. Your father
is ill. It doesn’t bode well. You’ve been called home.”

“Has he died, Gil?” Douglas almost
couldn’t get the words out.

“Not yet, but he’s likely to. Ye
know how old he is.”

“Brendan, do you want to ride
along?”

“Aye, of course I do. It’s been a
long time since we visited the Kerr clan.”

Douglas nodded, kicking his mount
into a gallop, stirring up a trail of dust. Several MacKinnon and Kerr warriors
rode with him. The warrior’s faces showed their somber regard for the journey. A
laird was dying—a solemn occasion indeed if there ever was one.

Douglas clearly recalled the images
of his mother, father, and sister, as he rode toward home. Home. The keep and
clan were his future; he knew he must eventually face it.

A few hours later, Douglas
approached the drawbridge and felt his tension ease when he noted the sentry
posted outside the walls. He walked into his father’s keep and saw the sullen
looking faces. He glanced around the hall for his mother. The hall hadn’t
changed in the last ten years. Everything remained as it always had. The wooden
out coves etched in an ancient scroll design still existed on the left side. The
same banners welcomed visitors. Two wolf hounds lay beside the hearth, and
several ladies congregated at the other end of the hall. All seemed normal.

Striding to his mother, he took her
hand, gently squeezing it in greeting. “I came as quickly as I could. Is my
father still …”

“Aye, you’ve arrived in time. You
should go to him.” Shelagh kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed ye, Douglas. Come and
rest yourself before you go to him.”

He sat at the trestle table,
looking fondly about him. Brendan took the seat next to him, but remained
quiet.

“Where’s Candace? Is she well?”

“Aye, she’s well, but she went to
the Gordon’s for a visit. She has a friend there and wanted to see her. With
your father being ill, I thought it best she be away.”

“I should go to him.”

Shelagh stopped him with a touch to
his arm. “Await, he’s not doing so well. Try not to rile him, Douglas.”

“I won’t, Mother, I’m not a
barbarian.”

“Hah, ye could have fooled me. Look
at the size of you. Ye know how your father is, so try to be appeasing. Mayhap
you should wear the Kerr plaid?” She reached for a folded plaid that sat on a
bench beside the stairway.

Douglas accepted the plaid, and as
he strode up the steps to his father’s chamber, he replaced the MacKinnon plaid
he’d worn during his extended stay amongst that clan with the Kerr’s. After
dropping the extra plaid outside the door, he pushed the door open, and went
inside.

It was hot as purgatory and dark as
night inside his father’s chamber. Damn, his father really was ill. He wanted
to deny it, and hoped it seemed worse than it was, and that it was just a
passing ailment. Before making his presence known, he assessed his father. The
Kerr laird aged considerably since he’d last seen him, at least five years ago.
His father’s hair was nearly whitened now, and his skin wrinkled with age. Lying
in the bed, he seemed frail, and not the strong warrior that Douglas
remembered.

“Douglas, come.” His father’s voice
barely reached him from across the large chamber.

He stood beside his father’s bed. “Father?”
Douglas didn’t want to be affected by Thomas’ state, yet he couldn’t help but
be so.

“I’m dying, and not as a warrior
should.”

Douglas cringed. “Ye must not think
such thoughts—”

“I have a few things to say before
I pass. ‘Tis time ye returned and took your rightful place. I shouldn’t have
sent you to my nephew’s, but ye received better training there.”

Douglas didn’t want to hear his
father’s regrets. He knew why he had sent him away, and truth be told, he
hadn’t resented him for it. “Father—”

“Nay listen, I must tell ye, I’m
proud of you. You turned into a fine warrior, Douglas. We need a strong laird
to protect and lead our clan. I must talk to you about …” His breath hitched
and he coughed.

Douglas grew concerned. “You need
rest. I’ll come back later and—”

“Nay listen.” His father grasped
his tunic. “I had to send ye away, because if you remained, you would have
learned all.”

“Learned what?” He released his
tunic from his father’s grip.

“You know of our feud with the
Dunmores. It began the year before ye were born. Your ma didn’t want to marry
me, but I don’t regret it. On the day we wed, Robert Dunmore abducted Marykate.
When she returned, she was carrying you. She pled for her return to Robert, but
I couldn’t let her go.”

Incredulous, Douglas’ voice
clipped, “Are ye saying that I’m not your son?” He leaned forward, wanting to
grasp his father’s tunic as his had been grabbed a moment before. He held
motionless, waiting for his father’s denial.

“Damn it, aye. After ye were
birthed, your mother killed herself. She’s resting in unholy ground, she is. Jumped
off Kilbrun Ridge rather than be wed to me. Broke me heart that day. Robby
didn’t care for her. He told me to keep ‘er, that she was nothing but rabble.”

“I don’t understand any of this.”

“She loved Robert. I don’t know how
that came to be, because she was promised to me from the time she was a wee
lass. I sent ye away, lest you learn about it. Now that I’m dying, you must
know all. Don’t trust the Dunmores. Robert fueled the feud with lies, and his
son, Irving, would like nothing better than to renew it.”

Douglas’ life whirled in his mind. His
mother wasn’t the woman he thought her to be and his father wasn’t his father. Good
God, he was a Dunmore. His stomach coiled, wanting to wretch. His ire increased
with each assertion, making his nose flare and his anger boil within his veins.

“I’m not your heir. Find someone
else to care for your clan. You don’t need me.” He wanted to go and never
return. He turned to do just that, when his father stopped him with his hard
voice.