Free The Laird's Right by Mageela Troche Page B

impart some advice.” Ailsa drew the comb through her hair.
    “I know about the marriage bed.”
    The comb’s teeth scraped her scalp. Usually, a relaxing tingle spread through her and lulled her to sleep. This day, her wedding day, it failed.
    “This is about Cameron lands.”
    Her sleepiness cleared. “I am ready.”
    Her face was expressionless. “Elspeth knows everything happening in the clan. She’s the one to see for help with your lairdess duties and any problems with the clan. She takes great enjoyment in telling all. She’s not mean-spirited. The first story she’d tell you will be the one about Cairine and Alec.”
    “Cairine and Alec?”
    Ailsa drew up the stool. “When Alec and Quinlan were younger both courted Cairine. I think Alec would have wed her though my father would have never allowed it. Alec was another belonging for him to use for his benefit. One day, while training, my father demanded they fight. Alec refused and was beaten by my father for disobedience. Quinlan no longer able to see Alec struck for their friendship, Quinlan threw the first blow. They began fighting. How long it lasted, I cannot say. “
    Ailsa lowered her head, hiding her grimace and the gathering wetness rimming her eyes. “Soon, they were bloody and dirty. And every time Alec stepped away, my father shoved him back at Quinlan, yelling at him not to shame him. Alec won the fight, breaking Quinlan’s nose. Still, my father wasn’t pleased and beat Alec.”
    “Why?” Her voice shook.
    “He never needed a reason.” She lifted her head as if she braced for a blow that never came but in her memory.
    “Once he healed, he vowed to never wed.”
    A broken vow for her…
    “He is a good man give him time. Treat him well, care for him and perhaps, love him.” She laid her hand on Portia’s knee. “Promise me.”
    Her small face hardened, appearing as fierce as her husband. Portia hesitated, knowing she didn’t have love in her.
    “I shall.”
     
    * * * *
     
    The small chapel glowed from the dozens of candles spread about. Here in this family chapel, she would stand before a priest and cleave herself to another man.
    The last time, she had walked on tippy toes. The dreams of her life—the feasts in the great hall, the nights as they sat before the hearth with her working on a tapestry and him staring into the fire surrounded by the children she would bear.
    This day, hope for a future, even her musings of that life, were bleak.
    “Father, before the ceremony I wish to confess.”
    “Of course, my lady. Laird, will you be confessing as well?”
    “Nay, Father, we don’t have time.”
    She entered the confessional and crossed herself. “I have taken the Lord’s name in vain. I have prayed for mass to end… I’ve taken a life.” She peeked at the candle, expecting it to flicker from the same chill that danced down her spine.
    “A life?”
    “More than one—I was escaping from my own private torment. My actions led to the loss of good people who helped me.” The woodcarver and a farmer and his son. It took all her stubbornness not to collapse at the loss of them and the way they saved her life. These men might not have been knighted but were as brave as any man.
    “Did you play a hand in their deaths?”
    “Never, but their kindness to me sealed their fates. Father, Alec wishes to wed me and I worry his death shall follow.”
    “God may have other plans for him.”
    “Maybe the devil does too,” she whispered, fearful her words might conjure him.
    “This devil you speak of?”
    “An English baron who desires my dowry. He shall come for me and will cut down any who stand in the way of his wants. Just as my husband did. And my brother-in-law MacKintosh will retaliate against Alec and the clan. Death can only follow.”
    “I understand your fears. One question—what about your life?”
     
    * * * *
     
    Alec listened to Father Murray perform the ceremony. Portia seemed ready to weep and joy wasn’t