At least, that’s what he’d told himself. Although if Conall were to be honest, he had enough for that now. Perhaps even more than enough, yet he’d intended to work another year or two. And the hell of it was, he couldn’t say why. Conall had no idea why he was so reluctant to claim his inheritance, and rebuild and rule MacDonald. He would have to do it now though, if he married Claray.
His gaze dropped to where she lay curled in his lap, the fox pup in her arms, and Squeak, who had climbed out from the plaid she wore, now sitting on her chest peering around. When he’d set out for her uncle’s to save her from the forced marriage Gilchrist Kerr and Maldouen MacNaughton had planned, she had been nothing more than a stranger. A name he’d heard repeatedly over the years, but not more than that. He hadn’t even known what she looked like. All the meetings her father had arranged to try to find out when he would claim her had taken place with his uncle at MacKay and without her present.
Conall had known that his dragging his feet was annoying her father, that Gannon MacFarlane was losing patience and ready to break the contract and find her another husband. He hadn’t really cared ere this. But that was before he’d tasted her passion by the river. And the moment she’d said she would join a convent or possibly marry Payton if his cousin’s kisses didn’t stir in her what his did . . .
Just the memory of her saying that made him grind his teeth. There was no way on God’s earth that he would allow her to marry his cousin. It would mean the end of their relationship. Conall wouldn’t dare risk being around the lass again after what happened at the river if she married Payton. That little episode had raised a thirst for her in him that was hard to ignore. Her being married to his cousin would not slake that thirst. If she were married to Payton, he’d have to avoid them both to avoid betraying his family and his own code of honor.
As for her going to a convent and becoming a nun, that would be a crime against God himself. Claray had not been made to spend her life on her knees in prayer. The lass had too much passion in her for that. So, he would marry her, reclaim his name, title and home and set to work filling her belly with bairns.
The thought made him smile, and imagining all the ways to accomplish the task of filling her belly, all the positions and places he could do so, helped pass the time as they continued their ride through the long day and the evening that followed.
Chapter 9
It was the loud hollow clop of horse hooves on the drawbridge that woke Claray. Opening sleepy eyes, she peered around with confusion, slow to understand the shapes surrounding her. It was late. She had no idea what time, but the light of several fires lit up the night. Claray recognized the familiar curtain wall of MacFarlane stretching away into the distance, and noted the crowds of soldiers gathered around fires in front of its moat.
Eyes widening, she glanced over Conall’s shoulder and saw that while Roderick, Payton and Hamish were following them, the rest of the warriors were now breaking off to join the soldiers already surrounding her home. No doubt they would build their own fires as they set up camp.
“It seems me da has company,” she murmured, shifting to face forward as they rode under the barbican.
“The Buchanans,” Conall announced even as she got her first glimpse of the bailey and the mass of men there. She’d thought there were a lot of soldiers outside the walls, but there were nearly as many inside. The light was better here, or perhaps her eyes had merely adjusted. Whatever the case, she could see that not everyone was on their feet or even awake. Their arrival had obviously roused the castle from sleep, and while some had risen in case trouble followed them, others were still attempting to get their rest.
MacNaughton would be a fool to try to take on so many warriors, she thought, and glanced toward the keep in time to see three men come out and start down the stairs. They were all tall, but while her father was gray-haired and barrel-chested, the other two men were younger. Both had longer, dark hair and were leaner, with the upper arms and chests of men who spent long hours swinging heavy great swords.
“Aulay and Alick Buchanan,” Conall murmured.
“Nay,” Claray said with disbelief as she took in the two men with her father. She recognized Aulay, of course—he looked much the same as the last time she’d seen him—but . . . “That can no’ be Alick. The last time I saw him he was still mostly a gawky youth, lanky and all feet.”
Conall chuckled softly at the description, and then asked, “And when was that, lass?”
Claray had to stop and think before saying, “At the celebration of Aulay’s marriage to Jetta. They’d had a quiet wedding with just their sister and the brothers and their spouses, but held a larger celebration fer the rest o’ the family a week later.”
“That was more than four years ago,” he pointed out with amusement.
“Was it?” she asked with surprise, and then nodded slowly. “Aye. I suppose it was. Me mother was still alive then. She was no’ feelin’ well at the time, but insisted on goin’ anyway.”
“Yer mother was their father’s sister?” Conall asked.
Claray nodded. “Aye. She was the second o’ six Buchanan daughters born after me uncle Odart, Aulay and Alick’s father. And then there was Uncle Acair, o’ course. He was the youngest o’ the brood.”
She couldn’t tell from Conall’s grunt whether this was news to him or not, and found herself adding, “Mother said they were all very close while growin’ up, but she and Uncle Odart’s wife, Aunt Seona, got on very well and became the best o’ friends. Fortunately, Da liked Uncle Odart too, and we tended to visit back and forth a lot. MacFarlane is on the northern border o’ Buchanan, so close as can be for travelin’,” she pointed out, and then added, “’Tis the only reason me da agreed to attend the weddin’ celebration. Mother was sick at the time, ye see,” she explained, lest he think anything untoward about her father. “She was coughin’ and wheezin’ a bit with a lung complaint and we were worried about her travelin’, but she insisted. Mother was most fond o’ me cousins. Aulay especially. She was glad he’d found a love match.”
Claray paused briefly, and then added sadly, “It was the last celebration she was able to attend. She grew too sick and weak after that. By the followin’ summer the lung complaint had taken her from us.”
“I was sorry to hear o’ yer mother’s passin’, lass,” Conall said quietly. “From all I’ve heard, she was a fine woman.”
Before Claray could respond, they were stopping at the foot of the keep stairs and she was grasped by the waist and dragged out of Conall’s lap.
“Alick!” she squawked on a laugh when she realized who had grabbed her. If she hadn’t been holding the fox pup, she’d have smacked her cousin in the chest for his handling of her when he swung her around in a small circle.
“Look at ye, Claray. Ye’re all grown,” he said, grinning from cheek to cheek.
“Aye, well, so are you, cousin,” she replied, and couldn’t hold back her own grin. She and Alick were the same age and she’d always had a soft spot for him. But that didn’t stop her from kicking him in the shins to stop him when he tried to hug her. “Watch the fox!”