Highlander's Reckoning (The Sinclair Brothers #3) (2 page)

Fresh snow blanketed everything, but he was familiar
enough with the landscape to know his route. He guided his horse southwest to
face the duty that awaited him. There was no more time for hesitation or delay.
He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and set his mouth in a grim line,
willing himself to meet his fate.

“Today! Today is the day!”

Rona jumped as her chamber door flew open and banged
against the wall. Her father hadn’t even bothered to knock in his agitated
state.

“What is today, Father?” she said as he strode to
the side of her bed, where she was stuffing her feet into her boots.

His eyes quickly scanned her simple wool dress of
earthy green, her thick winter hose, and the worn leather boots she was lacing
up.

“No, this will never do,” he muttered, a frown on
his face. “Agnes!” he bellowed out the open door.

“Father,” she said, taking the stern tone she often
used with him. “Explain yourself. What is today, and why won’t my appearance
do? Do for what?”

His eyes focused on her, as if seeing her for the
first time. “Today your husband arrives!”

Rona’s chest squeezed and at the same time, her
stomach fell to the floor.

Her
husband
. What a strange and intimate word
to use for someone she’d never met. She had known for months that she’d been
promised to some Highland barbarian by Robert the Bruce, the self-appointed
King of Scotland. The longer she went without word of the stranger’s arrival,
though, the less real it all seemed.

Initially, it had been a horrible shock to learn of
the King’s plans for her. Of course, she expected to marry and was prepared for
an arrangement based on political maneuvering rather than love. But she had
always assumed that her father would be the one to arrange her marriage, which
meant that she would have a heavy hand in its planning. She had learned from an
early age that her father loathed conflict. With the right application of her
strong will and quick temper, she always expected to have at least some say in
whom she married.

But then word had come from Robert the Bruce this
past fall that he was taking Loch Doon away from her family and giving her in
marriage to some Highlander. Of course, Loch Doon was the Bruce’s to give or
take—it was his family’s keep, after all. The Bruce, alongside his father, had
built the castle by hand more than a decade ago.

That thought never ceased to amaze Rona, considering
the fact that the castle was built on a small island in the middle of a loch.
They had rowed every stone that now surrounded her onto the island. Then they’d
painstakingly built the imposing eleven-sided curtain wall that protected the
tower keep and the other structures within the castle.

Aye, the Bruce had every right to Loch Doon. He had
seen fit to place her father, the Laird of the Kennedy clan, in charge of the
castle while he was away fighting for independence, and now he had chosen to
give it to some third son of the Sinclair clan. But what right did the Bruce have
to give
her
to that Highlander?

Just then, Agnes, huffing and red-faced, burst into
her chamber.

“Aye, Laird?” the aged nursemaid puffed in response
to Rona’s father’s bellow.

“Daniel Sinclair arrives today. He rides toward Loch
Doon village as we speak. He sent a messenger ahead, but he could be here
shortly. Rona needs to be prepared.”

Her father’s eyes fell on her once again, and they
were sharp with appraisal. “She’ll need a bath, and do your best with that nest
of hair. Dress her in her finest gown. I’ll not present her to her husband
looking like a servant.”

Though her father spoke firmly to Agnes, Rona didn’t
miss the note of worry that laced his voice. No one spoke of it aloud around
the castle or the village that sat on the western shore of the loch, but it was
well known that Robert the Bruce was displeased with his castle’s keeper.
Daniel Sinclair’s arrival meant more than just her impending wedding. Sinclair
was also being placed in charge of Loch Doon, which meant that her father would
be stripped of his authority and sent back to Dunure, the Kennedy clan keep.

The thought made Rona bristle, as it always did. It
was easy for the Bruce to judge her father’s actions from afar. The King was so
busy fighting his enemies in the north that she doubted he remembered how
dangerous it was to live so close to the border—and how delicately one had to
proceed to avoid being razed by either the English or the Scottish. Her father
was still a loyal Scotsman—even if he had made an alliance with the English to
prevent Loch Doon from coming under attack.

Rona was jerked from her thoughts when her father
took her arms and gave her a little shake.

“You’ll not shame me, do you hear? I have been too
lenient with you, girl, but that is over now. I expect you to be docile and
obedient to your new husband. None of this talking back and demanding your way,
as you do with me. Your husband will have none of it, and neither will I
anymore.”

She felt her temper flare even as she tried to snuff
it out for her father’s benefit. She knew he was right. A husband would expect
a submissive and biddable wife. Her father had let her get away with much, but
whatever sliver of control she’d had over her life would be gone now.

“Aye, Father,” she said, though the meek voice
didn’t sound like her own.

He eyed her for another moment, a look of doubt on
his face. Muttering a prayer, he turned and exited her chamber, closing the
door behind him.

“Let’s see to your preparations, my lady,” Agnes
said briskly. “You’ll want to make a good first impression.”

After several hours of scrubbing, cinching, combing,
and adorning, Rona barely recognized herself in the polished silver plate that
hung in her chamber.

Her red hair, normally wild and wavy, was smoothed
and pulled back from her face in braids. The fine blue gown she wore was laced
tightly, making it hard to breath. It also accentuated her breasts and waist in
a way that the simple gowns she normally wore didn’t. The color made her eyes
look even brighter blue and set off her red lips also. Though Agnes had placed
a gold circlet on her head, she had taken it off as soon as the maid left.
Carrying the circlet on her head made her walk funny, like she had to
constantly glide just to keep the thing in place.

Agnes had departed more than an hour ago, judging by
the weak winter sunlight straining through the clouds outside Rona’s window.
The maid, following Rona’s father’s command, had given Rona strict orders to
wait patiently until she was sent for. No one seemed to know exactly when her future
husband would arrive, but she could tell from the noises outside her chamber
and the activity in the yard below her window that the whole castle was abuzz
in preparing for his appearance.

She stood from her desk and practiced her curtsy
again.

“How nice to meet you, my lord,” she said sweetly as
she bowed her head modestly. “A pleasure to meet you, my lord. An honor to
welcome you to Loch Doon, my lord.”

Rona jerked upright, letting her practiced manners
and honeyed voice fall. “How nice to meet the complete stranger I am ordered to
marry, my lord. How kind of you to take over the castle my family and I have
made our home for the last three years, my lord.”

She cursed to herself and began pacing her chamber
like a caged cat. How could she possibly hide her true feelings and thoughts
from her new husband? How could she learn to bite her tongue and be sweet and
supplicating for the rest of her life? How could she simply stop being herself?

Without even realizing what she was doing, she
reached behind her back and began untying her tightly cinched gown. She kicked
off the thin indoor slippers Agnes had found for her as she shimmied out of the
dress. When she was free of all the fine garments, she found the simple green
woolen gown she had worn earlier stuffed in the back of her armoire. As the
rougher, thicker material slid over her skin, she sighed with relief. She was
herself again.

Almost.

There was one thing that always brought her back to
herself, one thing that always eased her worries and soothed her temper. But
how would she manage to sneak out of Loch Doon, cross the open waters of the
loch, and travel through the Galloway woods to her destination?

She glanced out her window again. From high up in
the tower keep, she could see the swarm of people moving hurriedly through the
yard as they prepared for the arrival of their new lord. The portcullis at the
castle’s main entrance stood open as people streamed in and out. Beyond the
wall, she could see several boats, some moving toward the castle and others toward
the mainland where the village lay to the west. She knew what to do.

Once she had donned a thick winter cloak and her
heavier, fur-lined boots, she eased her chamber door open and glanced in both
directions. The household staff must be too busy with preparations, she thought
with relief. She made her way down the spiral stairs leading to the great hall
at the base of the tower keep. Though a few maids passed her on the stairs
carrying armfuls of fresh rushes or clean linens for the rooms above, none gave
her any notice.

As she passed from the great hall into the yard, she
pulled up the hood on her cloak, though everyone seemed too busy to pay
attention to her. Without so much as a question or even a lingering look, she
walked through the portcullis and to the small docks along the island’s shore
where several boats were moored.

Just as she reached the docks, she caught sight of a
man untying a small rowboat in preparation to depart.

“May I trouble you for a ride to the mainland?” she
called out to the man. “I can pay you, of course.”

“Aye, mistress. I am going to the village anyway,”
the weary-looking man replied.

He didn’t seem to recognize her, for which she was
grateful. Though she was the lady of the castle, Rona didn’t like to make a
spectacle of herself. Her simple attire was usually enough to keep her out of
the center of attention, which suited her just fine.

The man extended a hand to her as she boarded the
small boat. Then he took up the oars and began rowing toward the western shore.

“Have you made many trips today?” she asked as they
hit the open water.

“Aye. The Laird of the castle is in a huff. Someone
important is supposed to arrive today, and the Laird has ordered all the boats
in the village to transport fresh rushes, extra food for a feast, and even an
extra cask of ale from the village brewer. What I wouldn’t give to be inside
the castle this evening.”

Despite the winter chill in the air, the man wiped
sweat from his brow and sighed. Rona nearly opened her mouth to tell the
oarsman that she would rather be anywhere
but
the castle tonight, but
then thought better of it. She was one of the privileged few, and though she
was unhappy with her current situation, she always tried to remind herself how
lucky she was.

As the little rowboat glided into the village docks,
she reached into the pouch she carried on her belt and dug out several coins.
“Thank you,” she said as she pressed the coins into the man’s calloused hands.
He opened his palm, and she heard a startled gasp followed by a protest that it
was too much. But she had already leapt from the boat to the wooden dock,
leaving the oarsman sputtering with surprise as she strode away.

Instead of entering the village, however, she turned
south toward the forests that surrounded the loch. Though a cold wind whipped
her cloak, her pulse hitched and she quickened her pace. She was almost there.

The winter sky was transitioning from pale gray to
deep charcoal, and though the sun was obscured behind clouds, Daniel guessed
that it was near sunset. He’d made better time than he had expected—less than a
week to travel from the Highlands to Ayrshire.

The southwest corner of Scotland might as well have
been a different country, though. While the Highlands had been blanketed in
snow when he left, the Lowlands had only patches of snow in the shadows.
Compared to the rugged mountains of the Highlands, the softer, rounded hills
surrounding Loch Doon looked more like the English countryside than what he
thought of as Scotland.

That thought only served to sour his already foul
mood. The journey had been hard and wearying, especially alone. Though he
should be looking forward to taking charge of a strategically important
stronghold, he stewed on the potential mess the castle might be in under Gilbert
Kennedy’s control. And instead of warming to the thought of sharing a bed with
the Kennedy lass who was promised to him, he bristled at being forced to marry
some Lowlander whom he had never even seen.

Now he stood in a large, barge-like boat on the
shores of the village that served the castle. Just as the boat pushed off, a
weak beam of late sun broke through the clouds, hitting the island that rose
out of the loch before him. In the sunbeam, he could make out the strong lines
of the curtain wall, with the tower keep rising from within.

The castle looked imposing and impenetrable, an
impression which only increased as the barge drew nearer and Daniel got a sense
of the scale of the structure. The curtain wall now towered over him, and he
could see that each stone had been placed with care and precision. Even though
he was weary from his travels, hungry, and in a foul mood at the thought of
meeting Kennedy and his future wife, Daniel nevertheless felt a stirring inside
his chest at the sight of Loch Doon.

This place is under my care now
,
he thought with a swell of pride.

The sun faded behind the clouds once again just as
the barge reached the docks on the castle’s west side. A young lad who had been
accompanying him on the boat ride bolted toward the castle even before the
barge had been secured to the dock.

“The new lord is here! The new lord is here!” the
boy cried out as he ran under the raised portcullis and into the castle’s yard.
Suddenly everyone was running, trying to arrange themselves in orderly rows on
either side of the yard for Daniel’s arrival.

Thank God he had sent word earlier in the morning
that he would arrive today, otherwise he could only imagine the pandemonium he
would be witnessing now. As it was, he frowned as he disembarked from the barge
and strode toward the castle’s entrance. Already he could see that he would
have a lot to do to get the castle in proper order.

Just as Daniel passed under the portcullis, a short,
stout man dressed in the English fashion hurried out of the tower keep. His
hair was streaked with gray, but his trimmed beard was reddish-brown. Daniel
registered the man’s eyes widening as he took in the solitary, road-soiled, and
kilted man before him. But the man quickly dropped into a bow, preventing
Daniel from reading any more shock and horror on his face.

“Laird Kennedy, I presume,” Daniel said evenly. Let
the man think what he wanted about him. He was the lord of this keep now.

“Aye, and you must be Daniel Sinclair, sent by King
Robert the Bruce himself to serve as keeper of Loch Doon,” Kennedy said, loudly
enough for all the servants who lined the yard to hear.

Good, Daniel thought with inward relief. At least
the man who was being so publicly put down wasn’t challenging Daniel’s new
authority. Not yet, anyway.

Kennedy looked over Daniel’s shoulder and dropped
his voice. “Forgive me, my lord, but where are your men? Surely you have
traveled with a retinue?”

This was an early opportunity for Daniel to assert
his authority.

“Nay, Laird, I traveled alone. I do not need to fill
Loch Doon with men who are already loyal to me to establish order.”

Another startled look crossed Kennedy’s face, but he
refrained from commenting.

“I have been told much of your daughter’s beauty,
Laird. Where is the lass I am to marry?”

Normally Daniel would have softened his words
somewhat, but he was too tired to care at the moment.

He wasn’t too tired, however, to notice the
tightening around Kennedy’s mouth.

“I will introduce you to Rona shortly, my lord. I’m
sure you would rather have a tour of the castle first,” Kennedy replied.

Actually, Daniel would rather be back in the
Highlands, but he held his tongue. It would take a while to get used to these
Lowlanders’ soft, barely-Scottish accent. They sounded more English than
Scottish, at least to his Highland ears. And a quick glance around those
gathered revealed the fact that although some men and women wore the plaids of
the Kennedys, Bruces, and other Lowland clans over their shoulders, none of the
men wore kilts. Instead, they were dressed in English-cut breeches. Daniel
barely managed to suppress a frown.

His mood lightened somewhat as Kennedy guided him
around the castle. The curtain wall extended nearly to the small island’s shoreline,
and the entire keep was bigger than Daniel had initially thought. There was a
wooden barn off the yard that held milking cows, pigs, and chickens, but there
were no stalls for horses.

“We don’t need horses here on the island,” Kennedy
said in reply to Daniel’s unspoken question. “I’m sure you noticed the
well-maintained docks in the village. There is a large stable nearby for the
castle’s use.”

Daniel got a tour of the small but peaceful kirk,
the armory, and the kitchen, which was attached to the main tower keep. The
kitchen staff, like all the others he was introduced to, bobbed courteously,
but sent curious glances at his kilt and general travel-worn appearance as he
passed.

From the kitchen, Kennedy guided Daniel through the
great hall, where the trestle tables and benches had been pushed to the side
for the day. Finely woven tapestries lined the walls, and a fire roared in the
large hearth on the back wall.

As the two men made their way up the winding stairs
that led to the private chambers above, Daniel again tried to broach the
subject of his unseen bride.

“I suppose Lady Rona waits to greet me in her
chamber? Or perhaps she has prepared a bath for me.”

“Ah…I have instructed Agnes to ready a bath for you,
my lord, though the water isn’t hot yet. We had so little notice of your
arrival…”

So, perhaps his mystery bride was simply unprepared
to be presented, Daniel thought, his dark mood returning. As much as he could
appreciate the time and effort it could take a lady to get ready, his patience
was wearing thin. Why was Kennedy being so evasive?

“This will be your chamber, my lord,” Kennedy said
as he pushed a heavy wooden door open. “Once word came from King Robert that
you would take over as keeper of Loch Doon, I vacated this chamber in favor of
a smaller one abovestairs.”

The chamber was dim, and a fire was ready to be lit
in a large brazier. Furs covered the window against the winter chill, but
enough low light filled the room to reveal an enormous bed, an armoire, and a
desk with a candle, pitcher, and bowl on it.

Daniel turned to the Laird, realizing that it was
the first time they had been out of earshot of servants or household staff.

“Thank you for your gracious welcome, Laird Kennedy.
I hope you know that I did not request this post, but now that it is mine, I
plan to run a more…orderly keep.”

It took the remainder of his energy to refrain from
openly stating that Kennedy had jeopardized Robert the Bruce’s ancestral home
as well as cast doubt on his allegiance to his Scottish King by dealing with
the English. Nevertheless, Kennedy seemed to pick up on the unspoken critique.

“I accept the King’s decision, because I am
loyal
to him,” Kennedy said tightly. “I welcome you to find a more…orderly way to run
a Scottish castle in what has almost become English territory—and keep the
castle in one piece, of course.”

So, perhaps Kennedy wasn’t as docile and
conciliatory as Daniel had initially thought. Hell, what had the Bruce gotten
him into?

Brushing the subject away with a wave of his hand,
Daniel indicated for Kennedy to continue with the tour. They climbed the stairs
higher, and Daniel was shown more private rooms for guests and other members of
the family, plus a large study.

The stairs ended at a platform where archers could
survey the entire curtain wall and the open loch waters that surrounded it.
Daniel was again struck by not only the beauty of Loch Doon, but also its
impenetrability as a stronghold. No wonder the Bruce wanted it safely kept in
good hands.

As they made their way back down the winding stairs,
Daniel paused in front of one door that Kennedy hadn’t opened.

“Another guest chamber?” he said, forcing Kennedy to
stop and face him.

“Ah…nay. That is…that is my daughter’s chamber.”

Daniel narrowed his eyes at the suddenly fumbling
Laird. Without waiting or knocking, Daniel pushed the heavy door open.
Half-expecting to hear the startled shrieks of the mystery lady, instead he was
greeted with a silent, dark, and cool room.

He rounded on Kennedy. “What is the meaning of this,
Laird? Where is your daughter?”

Kennedy entwined his fingers in what looked like a
desperate prayer. “Lady Rona…is not here.”

His patience had finally worn to nothing. “Well,
where the hell is she?”

“I don’t know.”