Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (50 page)

Just as she opened her mouth to tell him, a knock sounded at the door. Before either of them could answer, the door opened and her little sister Ailsa poked her head in. Like Gillian, Ailsa had lovely brown eyes and chestnut colored hair, but where Gillian’s hair was sleek and straight, Ailsa’s was a sleep-tousled riot of curls.

“I heard ye talking, Gillie. It woke me up. Ye sounded upset. What are ye...oh.” Ailsa’s eyes landed on Fingal. Putting her hands on her hips she demanded, “what are ye doing here?”

“Ailsa, pet, this isn’t a good time.” Gillian gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and attempted to usher Ailsa from the room. “Go back to bed, sweetling, and I will tell ye everything in the morning.”

Ailsa pulled away from her. “I will not go back to bed.” She turned on Fingal. She didn’t appear remotely intimidated by the huge warrior sitting by the hearth. “Ye don’t belong here and clearly Gillie doesn’t want ye here. Ye can leave now.” She pointed at the door.

Gillian cast a worried glance at Fingal but was surprised to see a grin spreading across his face. “Ailsa, I’m very sorry we woke ye, lass. The king has asked us to consider something very important. We were discussing it.”

Ailsa stared at him for a moment. “Well I think ye should discuss it in the morning. Gillie has a lot of responsibilities and needs her rest.”

Fingal’s grin only broadened and it was hard for Gillian not to laugh at her imperious little protector. “It is all right, pet. Go back to bed.”

“Not until ye tell me what is going on. I am not leaving ye alone with him.”

Gillian glanced at Fingal, who gave her an almost imperceptible nod. “Ailsa, do ye know who this is?”

“Aye. Fingal MacIan. The one people say is really Laird Malcolm’s son.”

“That’s right and because of that, the king has asked him to be our laird.”

“But the person ye marry is supposed to be our laird.”

“Aye, that is also true, so the king wants me to marry Laird—uh—Fingal.”

“And what if ye don’t want to marry him?” Ailsa glared at Fingal.

Gillian sighed. “That doesn’t really matter.”

“Of course it matters.”

“Nay, pet, when the king tells us to do something we must obey. However, he has given me a choice this time.” Ailsa looked at Gillian expectantly. “If I don’t wish to marry him, I can join the holy sisters and he will marry Fallon instead.”

“What if Fallon doesn’t want to marry him?”

Gillian hadn’t given this a moment’s thought. Fallon would surely marry him. Gillian was certain their mother would insist on it. Hadn’t she wanted Fallon named chief? Before she could tell Ailsa this, Fingal said, “Then
ye
have the great good fortune of marrying me.”

Ailsa looked askance. “I don’t want to marry ye.”

Fingal chuckled. “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

When his words sank in, Ailsa turned back to Gillian, grabbing her hands. “Nay, nay, nay. Gillie, tell me that isn’t true. Ye can’t go to a convent. Ye can’t leave me. What would I do without ye? Mother only cares about Fallon. I need ye.”

“Ye don’t understand, pet.”

“I do understand. If ye don’t marry him, ye will leave me and Fallon will be Lady MacLennan or I will be. I don’t think I want to be Lady MacLennan and I’m sure I don’t want Fallon to be, but mostly I don’t want ye to go away.” Ailsa threw her arms around Gillian and held on as if she could keep her close with sheer force. “Please, Gillie.” She started to sob.

Gillian wrapped her arms around Ailsa. More than any other member of the clan Ailsa needed her.
Mother only cares about Fallon
. As hard as it was to admit, Ailsa was right. Gillian had never understood it. Mothers were supposed to love and protect their children—all of their children. However, their mother doted on their sister Fallon. She had rarely shown Gillian and Ailsa the same affection. With their father gone who would be there for her youngest sister? How could she leave her sweet sister with no one to love and care for her? If she could put aside her hatred of the MacIans for anyone, she surely could for Ailsa. She held her sister quietly for a moment before kissing the top of her head. She looked across the room to Fingal. “Ye’ll give me time?”

“Aye, lass, I will. Ye’ll try to get past yer hatred?”

“I don’t think I can love ye, but aye, I suppose I can try not to hate ye.”

Gillian entered the great hall on Fingal’s arm. She was not happy about it, but if she were going to go through with this, she may as well start acting the part. The hall grew silent as all eyes turned toward them. She cleared her throat slightly. “After discussing the matter with the laird, I have decided to obey the king’s request. I will marry Fingal MacIan, who is laird of Clan MacLennan.” The room erupted as it had earlier with a mixture of elation and disapproval. She didn’t have the energy left to bring the hall to order, but Fingal stepped in.

He raised his voice over the din, “Enough.” The room fell still. “I know not all of ye agree with the king’s decision in this regard. However, the dissent must stop now. A clan divided will fall. I will not allow that to happen and neither should any of ye. It is late and everyone is tired. Gillian and I will be married later this afternoon. Ye will have until then to decide where yer loyalties lie. After the wedding, the members of the clan must give us their fealty or leave MacLennan land.”

A voice called out from the back of the room, “But laird, ’tis still winter. Ye would turn us out of our homes?”

The room was silent but for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Gillian glanced around at her people. She didn’t want Fingal to turn any of them out. Before she could argue with him, he answered, “I certainly would not wish to. I would prefer to have ye stay and help me rebuild this clan. However, that can only happen if ye accept me as yer laird. For the sake of the clan, I cannot agree to anything less.”

As much as Gillian despised the idea, she couldn’t argue. He was right. To tolerate less than complete allegiance would surely ruin them. Although it killed her to agree with him, she had to. “It must be this way. Whether or not ye accept that it is his birthright, Fingal MacIan is Laird MacLennan by the king’s order. After we are wed, he is laird as my husband too. No one can deny that. If ye choose not to accept it, then it is to yer own folly.” She looked into Fingal’s warm green eyes and was shocked to see admiration. Suddenly, it was all too much for her. “Please excuse me now. I suggest ye all find yer beds and get a bit of rest. I suspect it will be a busy day.”

Gillian edged her way through the dumbstruck crowd. Perhaps she should have seen to the comfort of her guests, but she needed to escape. Then again, if Fingal was laird now, she would not be Lady MacLennan until after they were wed. Let him handle it. She rushed up the stairs and into her bedchamber. Her rumpled bed linens reminded her that less than two hours ago she’d awakened from a sweet dream about her father to the nightmare in which she found herself now. She slid to the floor, with her back against her chamber door. “Oh Da, how can this be happening? What am I going to do?” How she wished it was only a nightmare, or even better that the events of the last year were just a nightmare and her father would wake her from it.

Before she settled her jumbled thoughts, someone pounded on her door. “Gillian, let me in.” It was mother. Gillian should have known better than to expect the woman would give her a few moments of privacy. She stood with a sigh and opened the door to her mother and her sister Fallon.

Her mother charged into the room, anger washing off her in waves. “That man is horrible. This cannot be allowed.”

“Mother, please, it is done.”

“It isn’t done until it’s done. We have to think.”

“Nay, Mother, we don’t. I will marry Fingal MacIan in a few hours. Ye must accept that.”

“Don’t tell me what I must accept, Gillian.”

“Please, I don’t wish to argue. I know ye probably would prefer that I step aside for Fallon—”

“Good heavens, no! That man cannot marry Fallon under any circumstances.”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is. She doesn’t have to marry him.” Fallon stood silently to one side.

“The problem,
Gillian
”—her mother hissed her name as if it were an invective—“is he should not be the leader of this clan. I know this is not the way things were meant to be.”

“I’m not sure why ye are so certain of the way things were meant to be. Things are as they are and frankly the more I consider it, the more I believe we only have Laird Malcolm to blame. He wanted Fingal to lead this clan enough to betray a staunch ally and waste too many lives to see it done. Perhaps this isn’t the way he intended it to happen, but happen it has.”

“Ye know nothing, Gillian MacLennan!”

“Mother, I know that this is beyond our control and I’m tired of arguing with ye. I can only follow the king’s dictate and do what I must to help preserve our clan. It is as Fingal said. Ye must decide where yer loyalties lie. Mine lie with the clan.”

“As do mine. How dare ye suggest otherwise?”

“Good, then there is nothing more to discuss. Good night, mother.” Gillian opened the door as a not so subtle hint for them to leave.

Her mother narrowed her eyes and she snarled, “Yer father would be so ashamed!” before leaving in a huff.

Fallon remained behind for a moment, looking a bit stunned. She gave Gillian a quick hug and whispered, “Nay he wouldn’t, Gillian,” before following their mother.

Would he? Dear God, in a few hours she would marry his murderer’s son. Would her father understand that it was her only option? It made her head hurt. The course was set; she had to try to make it work for the sake of her family and her clan.

~ * ~

Fingal had watched with admiration as Gillian left the hall, her head high and her back straight. He found her simply remarkable. After arguing tooth and nail against marrying him, she could have remained stubbornly silent, or worse yet, openly disagreed with the demand he had placed on her clan. Clearly she recognized the need for clan unity and in spite of her personal feelings she fully supported him in that. Perhaps there was hope for this marriage.

The remainder of the MacLennans appeared to follow her suggestion to “find their beds” as many of them left the hall while others bedded down on the floor as was their custom.

As the hall cleared and they were afforded a bit of privacy, Niall interrupted his musing. “She seems to have accepted this better than I expected.”

Fingal shook his head. “Nay, she hasn’t.”

“She was agreeable just now.”

“Aye, because she is smart and she cares about her clan. She is not happy. She blames me for my mother’s actions.”

“She will get past that, Fingal.”

Fingal hoped so, but he wished he could be as confident about it as Niall. Before he could say so, Eadoin approached. “Lairds, can I be of any service?”

“Eadoin, ye were made the MacLennan commander?” Niall asked.

“Aye, Laird MacIan.”

Eadoin and Niall had trained together and Niall still considered him a friend in spite of all that had happened. During his captivity, after the battle at Duncurra, Eadoin told them that Malcolm’s decision to attack Duncurra did not have the whole-hearted support of many of his men, but nevertheless they were sworn to follow their laird.

Niall asked, “What can we expect from the MacLennans?”

“I wish I knew for sure. There are some, many in fact, who are thrilled. There is no denying we are vulnerable. Having the might of the MacIans and their allies behind us again is a relief. Niall, after the battle at Duncurra ye dealt fairly with us. We were well treated and our wounded cared for. Ye allowed us our dignity. The ransom ye requested was laughably small. Many of us won’t forget that.” He turned to Fingal. “Most of the MacLennans accept that ye are Malcolm’s rightful heir. The king has effectively silenced any opposition to that by insisting ye marry Gillie. I will swear my fealty to ye.”

Fingal nodded. “I appreciate that. However, I fear there is something ye aren’t telling us.”

Eadoin seemed to consider his words for a moment. “Malcolm kept secrets and I suspect he wasn’t alone. Two of the elders, Nolan and Owen, have been dead set against the idea of ye being made laird. Nolan particularly was close to Malcolm and perhaps knew more about what Malcolm kept hidden than anyone. I believe ye will have the support of most of the clan even if some of it is grudgingly given. Just don’t let yer guard down until we know for sure.”

“Aye, Eadoin, I won’t. I appreciate yer candor.”

Eadoin’s demeanor became solemn. “Laird, I will serve ye faithfully. Malcolm wanted ye to be his heir. I do not respect the method he chose to accomplish it, but the fact remains this is what he intended to happen eventually. However, before I declare my fealty tomorrow I would like to make something clear.”

Fingal nodded and Eadoin continued. “I have known Gillie since she was a bairn. She is like a sister to me. Duncan was my commander, and I considered him a friend. He had both my respect and admiration. I do not hold ye responsible for what yer mother did but ye must know that Gillie adored her father. When she became our chief, we learned how strong and dedicated to this clan she truly was. She was destined to marry someone who could serve as laird and she was unlikely to have any say as to whom it would be—I don’t dispute that. As far as it goes, I know ye are an honorable man, and a better choice of husband than many. However, in spite of her willingness to follow the king’s demands, ye must know she has a broken heart and mourns the loss of her father deeply. I will not swear my fealty to ye until ye have sworn to honor and protect her in yer marriage vows. Never give me cause to regret my oath to ye.”

Fingal returned Eadoin’s solemn gaze before carefully choosing his next words. There was a time when Niall, the man whom he respected more than any other, but who had been blinded by old hurts, behaved like a complete arse towards his lovely wife Katherine. Fingal understood what it felt like to be trapped between fealty to his laird and concern for his lady. “Eadoin, there are men who would consider that statement a threat. However, I appreciate the respect ye hold for Lady Gillian. Tomorrow, I will vow before God to love, honor, keep, and guard her. If ye ever think I am in danger of failing those vows, I give ye leave to address it with me privately.”

“Thank ye, laird.”

Eadoin’s relief was palpable and Fingal’s respect for the man grew. “Oh, and Eadoin, if I ever seem less than willing to hear ye out, ye need to say but one word—Katherine.”

Niall arched an eyebrow at him and Fingal laughed. “Niall, ye can’t deny it, ye were an arse and if ye had listened to me from the start, it could’ve saved ye loads of misery.”

Niall laughed too. “Aye, brother, ye needn’t rub it in.”

Eadoin chuckled. “Well, Lairds, it is late and if ye wish to get some rest before morning I will show ye to rooms upstairs. Yer men can bed down here in the hall.”

“Thank ye, Eadoin,” Fingal said. “Since it is so late, we won’t keep ye any longer. We will stay with the men in the hall tonight and sort out other arrangements tomorrow.”

“So be it. Good night then, Lairds.” Eadoin gave a small nod and left the keep.

As the men settled in for the night, Niall and Fingal sat alone at the table. “Niall, what think ye of Eadoin? Would I be wrong to leave him as commander?”

“Eadoin is a good man and I believe he will be loyal. However, I think ye should also have someone here whose loyalty ye would never question. Ye know I am leaving men-at-arms to bolster yer ranks, but ye need someone else.”

“Aye, that would ease my mind a great deal. Who do ye suggest?”

“In the short term, Diarmad can stay here.”

“Nay, he is yer commander, Duncurra is his home. I don’t want ye to do that.”

Niall insisted, “There is no one I trust more. He would be a solid advisor and a strong right arm just until things are more settled. But ye also might want to bring in a few guardsmen of yer choosing—maybe Peadar and Quinn MacKenzie. Ye trained with them at Chisholm and ye know they would be worthy guardsmen.”

Fingal laughed. “Ye just made Rowan MacKenzie one of yer guardsmen. Cathal will declare war if we lure more of his sons away. Besides, Peadar is married and settled at Carraigile.”

“Then just ask Quinn. Another man ye should consider is Bran MacBain. He trained here when I did but left well before Laird Kelvin died, while Malcolm was at court. He won’t have had strong ties to Malcolm but the MacLennans will respect him. And, of course, Hogan MacBain is a solid ally.”

“Aye,” Fingal agreed, “so is Laird Ross, and Bran is married to his youngest daughter, Tira. I may also eventually contact Laird MacKay. His nephew, Dougal, is old enough to begin training as a squire.”

“That would also give ye ties with MacLeod as Dougal is his nephew too. I think it’s a good plan, Fingal.”

“Still, I need to learn what resources I have available before I act.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Niall cautioned. “When Malcolm turned on me, he severed more ties than he knew. Ye will need to take steps to rebuild allies as quickly as ye can.”

“Aye, Niall, I know ye are right. But I may not have the funds required to do this.”

“Fingal,” Niall said in exasperation, “ye are more stubborn that I ever knew. Yer mother left a small fortune to ye.”

Fingal frowned and clenched his jaw. “I will not take that money. She stole it from Da. It should go back to the MacIans.”

“And I am tired of arguing with ye about this. We do not need it. Ye do.”

“Nay. Eithne and Malcolm are to blame for all of this. I want nothing from her.”