“Laria should mind her own business,” said Mari, glaring at the petite, blond woman who always dressed like a whore.
“I think I’ll go check on the meal since it is about to start.” Laria tugged at her bodice, exposing more cleavage and turned and swung her hips as she made her way back up the stairs. Every man there watched her with a smile on his face.
“I’m sorry, Eideard. Time got away from us,” apologized Tillie. “We were collectin’ things from nature to decorate the great hall.”
“Ye’ll call me Chieftain now as is proper,” he spat. “And I never said ye two and the children could go off without an escort. It had better no’ happen again.”
“We didna think it mattered since we werena goin’ far,” Mari boldly spoke up, determined to prove to this man that he didn’t scare her the way he did everyone else. In Duncan’s absence, she’d become braver. “It’s Yuletide and there were no decorations for the holiday to be found anywhere in the castle. We were helpin’ Duncan’s mathair since she is too distraught lately to do anythin’ but cry.”
“It’s a silly tradition, and I dinna care about holidays,” spat Eideard.
“Well it means a lot to young ones as well as to the rest of the MacLean Clan,” Mari stated. “If Duncan were here he –”
“Well Duncan’s no’ here!” Eideard cut her off. “He and his brathair are dead and it’s high time ye accept it, ye silly wench.” He put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. “After all, I would hate to discover my future wife is thinkin’ about another man when she is about to marry me.” He chuckled, and lowered his hand, grazing much too close to the side of her breast.
“What?” she asked, aghast that he should say such a thing. “I’m no’ yer wife, and never will be.” She pushed his arm from her shoulders. “I am betrothed to Duncan.”
“Ah, but ye will be mine soon,” said the man, as if he honestly thought so.
Tillie and Mari exchanged worried glances as Eideard pulled a missive out of his sporran and opened it.
“What is that?” she asked, feeling a knot in her stomach. She cringed, knowing something bad was about to happen.
“This missive came today from yer faither.” He handed it to Mari. “Since Duncan is never comin’ back, yer faither has made an alliance with me. He’s agreed to our betrothal. Ye will be my wife now. And ye will bear me many children.”
Mari’s hand shook as she quickly scanned the missive. Tillie looked over her shoulder. Sure enough, it was a parchment from her clan and her father’s words upon it agreed to her betrothal to Eideard.
“How could my faither have made this decision without speakin’ to me first? Especially since I’m already betrothed.”
“Ye are only a wench.” Eideard snatched the missive back and stuck it into his pouch. “Ye have no say in whom ye will marry.”
“Nay, that’s no’ true,” she gasped. “I’m sure my faither would have mentioned this to me before agreein’. I want to go back to my clan and speak to him about it anon.”
“Nay. He’s already left to campaign for our king overseas.”
“When did this happen? And how is it that I ken nothin’ about it and yet ye do?”
“My man, Baldair, met yer faither’s messenger on the road and intercepted the missive.”
“I see,” she said, her eyes darting around the courtyard. She felt like an outcast since every man there now answered to Eideard. “Well, I will have to speak to my faither about this before anythin’ is final.”
“There is nothin’ to talk about. The betrothal is already finalized and ye will be my wife.”
She couldn’t fight Eideard about this. Not now when there was no one to back her. She had no choice but to pretend it didn’t bother her for now. Then, when everyone went to sleep tonight, she would find a way to sneak out and go home to find out the truth for herself. Even if her father was overseas, her clan would know if he’d truly betrothed her to Eideard. “Well, I suppose we’d better hurry to join the feast. After all, we dinna want to miss out on the sowan.”
Sowan’s Nicht was a Scottish dish made from oat husks and fine meal. They’d steeped it for about a week in water until it went sour and then drained it. The bottom part was eaten like porridge while the swat, or liquid had been made into a fermented drink. It was a tradition to have it on Christmas Eve.
Eideard ran his hand down her back, making her jump in surprise. She pushed him away. “Dinna touch me like that again.”
This made him chuckle as he pulled his hand back. “Well, I suppose it willna kill me to wait a little while. But I warn ye, if ye act like that in our weddin’ bed, I’ll take my hand to yer behind.” By the glint in his eyes, it seemed to Mari that the thought almost excited or amused him. It sickened her even more.
“A little while?” she asked, shocked to hear him say this. “But we’ve just become betrothed. I thought it would be at least a few months before we wed. We havena even posted the weddin’ banns yet on the door of the castle and the church as is proper.”
“Why bother?” asked the man. “There is no need to do so and no need to wait. Now, hurry to the great hall and I’ll meet ye there in a few minutes.” Eideard turned and walked away to talk with some of his men.
“Tillie, this is horrible!” cried Mari, her heart racing as well as her mind. She couldn’t marry Eideard because she was going to marry Duncan. She didn’t even like Eideard. “What was Faither thinkin’?”
“Oh, Mari, I am so sorry,” said Tillie with concern in her voice. “I suppose Da didna want ye to be lonely and single since Duncan is . . .”
“Dinna say it!” snapped Mari.
“Sister, mayhap this is for yer own guid. Ye need to accept that Duncan isna comin’ back.”
“Nay, I’ll never accept that. And neither will I ever marry that cur, Eideard.” She glared at the man from across the courtyard.
“But ye have to, Mari. Faither has secured the deal with Eideard. There is nothin’ ye can do about it.”
“I am goin’ to sneak out tonight and go back to our clan,” she whispered to her sister. “I need to ken if what Eideard says is the truth.”
“Then I’m comin’ with ye,” answered her sister.
“Nay.” Mari shook her head. “Ye have yer daughters to care for. Ye need to stay here with them.”
“I’ll bring them along with us on the trip.”
“It is too dangerous. Ye’d better stay here. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“Nay, dinna do it, Mari. The roads are dangerous and ye could be attacked by bandits on the road or even killed.”
“I have no other choice, Tillie. Eideard will never allow me to go back to our clan. I have to find out the truth because Hogmanay is in a sennight. The last thing in the world I want to do is to marry a man I truly despise.”
“Then at least take the gypsy with ye. Mayhap Malmuira will be able to tell ye if ye are in for trouble and then ye could hide if ye are.”