The Wrong Highland Bridegroom: A Novella (2 page)

Effie awoke to a morning full of hope and bright with promise. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and she had never been closer to finding her true love.

Her sister Elyne, on the other hand, was not having as lovely a morning. She banged about the solar with Winifred, her merlin falcon, perched on her arm. “I should take Fred to get some exercise,” grumbled Elyne, referring to her precious hooded falcon.

“Woud’na do ye any harm to get some fresh air,” chimed in Gwyn, their younger sister. “Ye’ve been grumbling about all morning.”

“I dinna grumble,” defended Elyne. “And should ye no’ be helping Isabelle or making yerself useful?”

“Fine. Send me down to the kitchens while ye both go meet yer husbands. ’Tis no’ fair David made betrothals for ye both and no’ for me.”

“Now look who is grumbling,” said Effie with a laugh. “Go on wi’ ye, Gwyn. Be a good lass and help Isabelle.”

Gwyn turned on her heel with her pert nose in the air and stomped off to find their sister-in-law.

Effie went to help her sister, who was struggling to tie her cloak one-handed so as not to disturb her falcon. “Are ye displeased wi’ the man David chose?”

“Nay!” shouted Elyne, a bit too loud to be believed.

Effie put her hands up and walked back in surrender.

Elyne’s shoulders slumped. “I apologize. Some exercise will do me good.”

“Go for yer ride, sister, and think on this. I plan to find a man of my own choosing. I plan to find a man I love, and who returns my affections. Ye can do the same.”

Elyne only shook her head and slumped away to the stables.

Effie wished her well and skipped down the tower stairs to the courtyard. It was a mass of people and excitement.

“What is all the to-do about?” she asked a ghillie hurrying by.

“The clans decided to hold a tournament for May Day!”

“A tournament!” Effie could hardly keep herself from squeaking in joy. She had only been to a tournament once before and was thrilled by the prospect. May Day was also the traditional time to celebrate the legend of Robin Hood with plays and even tournaments. If it was to be a tournament of Robin Hood, there would need to be a Maid Marian. Her excitement soared for a moment but plummeted back when she remembered she had other sisters who would no doubt take that prized role.

Still, the day was fine and the prospect for amusement high. She went further into the large, grassy courtyard and waved at her brother, David, who was directing the men to build the lists. He was too busy to notice, but another man, Malcolm Douglas, waved back instead.

She raised an eyebrow and turned away, as was proper. But then she turned back with a sly smile, which was not proper in the least. The courtyard was a chaotic scene as people rushed about setting up everything needed for a proper tournament. Despite the yelling and banging, everyone seemed in high spirits; the prospect of watching the young knights of the assembled clans demonstrate their skill and bravery as they bashed at each other with swords and lances was a happy thought to one and all.

Fortunately for the festivities, the courtyard was a large one and relatively flat, giving enough space not only for the contestants and onlookers, but also a variety of tradesmen who had spontaneously set up shop in tents along the thick castle walls. Effie let her nose guide her to roasted apples and savory meat pies. The aroma was heavenly.

She stood outside the tent, realizing too late she had not brought a single coin with her. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment.

“Two pies, good sir,” said a deep voice behind her.

Effie turned to find the muscular figure of Sir Malcolm Douglas. Her heart skipped a beat. He was bigger and even more handsome at close range.

He gave her a winning smile. “I dinna believe we have met. I am Sir Malcolm Douglas, the knight who will win this tournament. A pie, m’lady?”

Effie accepted the savory meat pie with pleasure. “Ye are mighty sure o’ yerself.”

“I speak naught but the truth. When it comes to a lance or a sword, there be none who can best me.”

“If there be a contest for braggarts, I am certain ye would emerge the victor,” teased Effie with a smile.

“Ah, ye wound me.” Malcolm clasped his chest. “But aye, I have no doubt I should win any contest ye care to put before me.”

“An interesting challenge, sir knight. I shall have to think of the contest.”

“For ye, anything!” Sir Malcolm swept her a bow and strode off into the crowd.

Effie beamed after him, pleased her plan was working so well so fast. Here was the man for her.

“Miss Effie?” a ghillie spoke at her side.

“Aye.”

“Lady Maclachlan has invited ye to sup with her.”

“Oh, aye.” Her elation plummeted. Effie followed the ghillie back into the castle with heavy feet. She could not very well avoid Connor’s mother, but she did wish she could escape the audience. She wanted to find true love, not be false to anyone.

Effie arrived at the Maclachlan solar to find this was not just an intimate gathering for herself and her supposed future mother-in-law. It appeared the better part of the Maclachlan clan was present, including her supposed intended, who stood straight and tall as a lance.

“My dear Euphemia.” Laird Maclachlan himself greeted her at the door. He had a well-trimmed silver beard to match his silver eyes. He was tall, like his son. “Ye do us great honor to break bread with us.”

Laird Maclachlan offered her his arm and walked her slowly to the table. He walked with a noticeable limp and Effie was at once conscious of the honor he had given her by walking her into the room.

“The honor is mine,” murmured Effie.

Lady Maclachlan gazed at her with tears in her eyes. “Effie, my sweet child. I have always wanted a daughter, and now the Lord has answered my prayers.” Lady Maclachlan embraced her firmly, then squeezed even tighter. Effie patted the woman on the back, desperately trying to draw breath. The embrace was apparently not going to end soon.

I’m sorry
, mouthed Connor from behind his mother.

“There now, let the lass breathe,” said Laird Maclachlan, and much to Effie’s relief, Lady Maclachlan let her go.

Effie hoped to eat a little and run away, but Laird and Lady Maclachlan clearly had other ideas. First Effie was introduced to Connor’s five uncles and their wives, then she met his seven female cousins and his five male cousins and their respective spouses. Much to Effie’s embarrassment, everyone she met presented her with a gift for her wedding. Soon she had a bounty of gifts piled around her feet: silk cloth, feather pillows, embroidered linen, silver candlesticks, gold thread—their generosity knew no bounds.

“And I give to ye this.” Lady Maclachlan nodded to two ghillies who carried a large, engraved cedar chest to the middle of the room.

At Lady Maclachlan’s urging, Effie opened the chest and found a fortune in gowns. There were silk gowns and wool gowns and linen gowns. There were linen chemises and gauzy veils. The materials were fine and the needlework on the gowns was exquisite.

Effie shook her head, feeling smaller and smaller with each passing minute. “Nay, ’tis too much,” she whispered. She glanced at Connor, whose lips tightened into a thin line.

“I had many bairns whom the Lord called to heaven before me,” Lady Maclachlan spoke in a near whisper and the entire room silenced. “I made a wardrobe for each o’ my daughters and now ye shall wear them and turn my sorrow into joy, my suffering into rejoicing.”

“I…I dinna ken what to say.” Effie’s voice was weak, much like how she felt. How could she break this woman’s heart by not marrying her son?

“Ye dinna need to say a thing.” Lady Maclachlan’s voice was warm and she took Effie’s hands in her own. “I ken ye lost yer own sweet mother, as I have lost my daughters. I only hope in time ye may look upon me as yer own mother.”

Tears sprung to Effie’s eyes, though whether due to the kindness of Connor’s mother or her own guilt at her deception, she could not say. This earned Effie another hug from Connor’s mother, which was soon joined by the aunts and the female cousins, all of whom were speaking of happy futures and wiping tears of joy from their eyes. Effie had never felt so adored nor so low.

The meal was a long one. The nicer everyone was to Effie, the worse she felt. When the food was finally cleared from the table, Connor asked quietly to speak with her privately and she indicated the tower. Unfortunately, the comment was overheard and one of the uncles announced the young couple was seeking time
alone
.

The clan made happy humming noises until Effie thought she might expel her meal. She smiled weakly and curtsied her way to the door.

“I had no idea they were going to do that,” said Connor when they finally were alone on the tower.

“How can yer family be so nice?” Effie accused. “Are they always like that?”

“They are a kind people,” Connor admitted. “And my mother has been planning my wedding day since I was in the cradle.”

“Och, yer mother. How can I disappoint her?” Effie leaned against the stone parapets. “I wish yer mother was less kind. I may have to marry ye after all,” she said gloomily.

“Let us see what we can do to avoid that tragedy,” said Connor dryly.

“I dinna mean to suggest marrying ye would be…” Effie paused, trying to find the right words.

“A fate of unspeakable horror?” suggested Connor in a helpful sort of tone.

“Nay, ye are jesting wi’ me. Ye are quite a goodly match. And even if ye were a troll, yer mother’s trunk full o’ gowns would turn the head of any young lass.”

“I shall be sure to mention it in conversation when I find a prospective bride.”

“Aye, do. Better yet, hang them on parade and take the lass with the largest dowry,” said Effie, continuing the jest.

“Ah, but I think my parents already did that.”

Effie turned away with a blush. The Campbells were a wealthy clan, and she herself was well-dowered, though it embarrassed her to think of it.

“I am sorry if I offended,” said Conner in a soft voice.

“Nay, what ye said is true. I understand I can add to the coffers of any young man. Yet I should so much wish to be prized for my inner character or even my outward appearance, rather than my price.”

Connor leaned an elbow on the stone parapets beside her. “And so ye shall.”

“I thought perhaps today…” Effie stared over the lush green valley below, dotted scenically with white, fluffy sheep. It was not quite shearing time and the sheep were heavy laden, and she knew from experience rather smelly, but at this distance they were like picturesque little clouds dotting the landscape.

“Ye met someone?” Connor’s voice was neutral. He also looked out over the valley.

“Aye.” Effie shrugged. “Mayhap. Yet how can I seek true love and break yer mother’s heart?”

“My mother will survive, make no mistake. She wants to see me happy. If I convince her I have found a lass that makes me happier, she will turn her love to a new bride.”

“And my dowry?” Effie was afraid to look at him.

“’Tis no concern.”

Effie exhaled a breath she had not known she was holding. “Truly? I should no’ like to hurt anyone.”

“Yer scruples do ye credit, but fear not. Now tell me, who is the man who has captured yer heart?”

Effie could not help but smile when she thought of him. “His name is Sir Malcolm Douglas. Do ye know o’ him?”

“Aye, but no’ well.” Connor folded his arms across his chest.

“He was quite attentive to me today. And what o’ ye? Have ye found another yer mother will adore?” Effie rejected a pang of regret that she would not be that lass. She could not ask for a more loving family.

“Nay, no’ yet. I shall have to look wi’ more diligence.”

“Aye, ye should. I canna verra well marry another if yer mother has no bride for her son.”

“Verra true,” conceded Connor, yet his attention was taken by something in the sky. “Do ye have falcon messengers?”

“Nay. My brother keeps falcons and hawks only for hunting. Perhaps another clan. Why do ye ask?”

“A falcon coming in wi’ a missive tied to its leg.”

“Where?” Effie scanned the skies. Connor pointed, and following his direction, Effie noted only a black dot in the sky. “How can ye see that?”

“I have been told my eyes are good.”

“If ye can see anything other than a black speck, ye have uncommonly good eyes.”

“The falcon does seem to be heading this way,” said Connor.

Effie could only agree and watched as the bird flew closer. “It’s Fred!”

“Fred?”

“Winifred. My sister’s merlin falcon. Ye say it has something on its leg?” Effie held out her arm as the bird approached, hoping it would think her to be Elyne and come home. She was in luck. Fred swooped in and gracefully pulled up to land on Effie’s arm. The talons were sharp, but she was more interested in reading the missive that was attached.

Without having to be asked, Connor gently held the bird still and untied the little scroll of paper, handing it to her.

Effie read it quickly as the dreadful meaning gripped her. She grabbed Conner’s arm. “Och, nay! We must see David at once!”

Connor followed the attractive form of Effie Campbell as she ran into the solar where David was conferring with some of the other lairds regarding the tournament. Already this clan gathering was much different than what he expected, and if the missive was correct, it was about to get even more complicated.

“David!” Effie rushed to him, the scrawled note in her hand.

“What is wrong?” Laird Campbell was a large man, quick with a frown. He gave Connor a steely look. It was clear he would have more than words with anyone who hurt his sister.

“Elyne’s falcon returned with a note,” cried Effie. “She went for a ride and has seen the English marching against us! She is caught outside the valley wi’ Tavish Grant and they canna return wi’out being seen.”

“The English have come now?” David Campbell reached for the missive and Effie handed it over. His brow furrowed deeper as he read the small note. “Ye are sure this came from Elyne’s falcon?”

“I am. I am sure my twin wrote that missive,” said Effie.

David turned to the other lairds. “Forgive this interruption. I must investigate this report.”

He ran for the outer wall walk, followed by Connor, Effie, and all the lairds. On the outer wall walk, they all scanned the valley below. Were the English marching to attack?

“I see nothing,” muttered David.

“Elyne would never send such a missive wi’out good cause,” defended Effie.

Connor scanned the valley carefully, methodically working his way up into the hills beyond. At last he saw what he feared he might. “Look!” He pointed in the far hills. “I see something. A glint of metal.”

David squinted in the direction Connor was pointing. “I see naught.”

“Trust him, David,” said Effie. “He has the sight.”

Connor was pleased by her defense of him. So far his prospective bride wished to have little to do with him. At least she appreciated his vision if nothing else.

David turned to Connor as if evaluating his worth. David could not see what he saw. Would he trust him? Finally, David gave a curt nod. “Ring the alarm, bring everyone inside the gates!”

A few moments later, the bells rang and people ran about, rushing into the castle gates. People in the valley ran across the green toward the castle, herding their animals as they went.

“We need to prepare.” David took Effie’s hand and put it into Connor’s. He wrapped their joined hands in his own. “Take care of her,” he said to Connor. His eyes bore into him and Connor understood; David was trusting his sister to his protection.

“I will,” said Connor. It was a vow.

David squeezed his hand, sealing the arrangement. Effie may wish to wed another, but David Campbell certainly expected Connor to wed his sister and care for her forever.

With that, Campbell left, barking orders to servants and guests alike. The lairds followed him with equally vociferous instructions to their clansmen.

Connor stood holding hands with Effie, momentarily alone on the wall walk. Connor thought to drop her hand, but he noted tears welling in her eyes and held on in the hope it would bring her comfort. The wind played with her blond tresses and she turned her face to the sun. She was beautiful. Absolutely stunning.

He could not believe his good fortune when he first met her. She was the most beautiful lass he had ever seen, outshining even her identical twin in his estimation. He had always been of a serious, taciturn nature. Bonnie lasses left him with little conversation; Effie Campbell left him speechless.

Effie took a deep breath, attempting to keep her emotions at bay. It was not to be. Tears spilled from her beautiful blue eyes.

“May I be of help to ye?” asked Connor softly, even as Effie attempted surreptitiously to wipe the tears from her eyes. If his mother had taught him anything, it was how to be comforting to a lady in pain.

“My sister is somewhere out there with some strange man. The English are coming to attack us or put us under siege. And yer mother is probably embroidering even more lovely gowns for me.”

“Nay, dinna be distressed.”

Effie looked up with deep blue, swimming eyes.

“My mother only does her needlework in the morning light.”

His dry humor brought a brief smile to her lips. It hovered but vanished as quickly as it came. “My poor sister. She is trapped out there with some unknown man and the English army.”

“I know Tavish a little. He is a good man. It will be well.”

“How can ye know for sure?”

Connor shrugged. “I canna know for sure, but ye need to have hope. One canna live wi’out hope.” It was the one thing he had learned from the losses of all his young siblings. When trials came, you could either crumble in defeat or hold on to hope.

Effie took a deep, calming breath. “Aye. Ye be right. To live wi’out hope ’tis no life at all.”

“Aye.” Connor still held Effie’s hand. He had no interest in letting it go.

Effie turned to the valley and gasped, yanking her hand free to cover her mouth with her shock. “I can see them now.”

Connor nodded. He had been watching the English army approach for a while. They had clearly come prepared to take back Alnsworth castle—by force if necessary. The bright sun glinted off their armor, shields, and tips of their pikes in a display both impressive and terrifying. Mounted knights approached first, followed by divisions of soldiers marching in tight, precise formations. They were not serfs rounded up for a melee; these were seasoned warriors, experienced and deadly.

“I fear my hope is beginning to wane,” whispered Effie.

“Then look away,” replied Connor. “I find in a battle between hope and truth, it is best to turn away from the real and cling to what one hopes for.”

“And ye find this practical?”

“Nay. But I feel better.”

A slow smile crept over Effie’s face and he returned it. Something warm and tingly coursed through him. He had expected to secure an arranged and advantageous marriage as was expected for the future laird of his clan. He had not expected to feel warm and tingly for anyone, certainly not his bride. It was…unnatural.

Could Effie’s odd notions about finding true love actually have merit? He edged a little closer to her even as the English marched ever nearer. As a sober, thoughtful, reasonable man, he might have to explore this befuddling concept of love.