Caring for the stables and helping the stable lads with their work was one way Maddock was able to get his mind off the recent news his father had shared about possibly signing the Oath of Allegiance and committing to the false king. Even if it was just to placate the crown, take the reward money, and keep the Campbells off their backs until King James returned, the idea of signing one’s name to such an ignoble piece of parchment rubbed all the MacDonalds, and most of their allies, the wrong way.
The other way he preferred to keep his mind off Highland politics was not open to him, as Fiona was presently assisting Sorcha with the laundry.
None of this kept his mind off Adaira and her missing betrothed.
A crunching sound drew him from his thoughts. Arran had entered the stables, carrying two heavy buckets of fresh water from the well.
Maddock had known the man for much of his life. Arran MacDonald of the Sleat MacDonalds had been fostered at Glenachulish since he was twelve, after the death of his father. His mother had not fared well after his death, and as a favor to a local chieftain, Seamus had taken the lad under his wing.
Maddock and Arran had been of the same age, and tall, lean Maddock had taken an immediate liking to the more portly Arran. While Arran had grown out of most of his portliness, Maddock was yet taller and leaner and teased him about it whenever he could.
Much like Maddock, Arran typically had a smile on his face.
Today, however, something hung over the man like a specter.
Maddock paused, set the horse brush on a nearby bench and moved the horse into a stall. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Arran easily hefted the heavy buckets to pour fresh water into the horse trough, yet his grim expression belied something deeper.
“Arran, what ails ye? Ye look as if someone stole your favorite treat.”
Arran’s expression tightened, and Maddock’s eyebrows rose. He touched a nerve. The burly man set the buckets to the side and pressed his hands against the damp trough, leaning upon it.
“How bad is the situation with the Campbells and the false king? I’ve heard rumors but naught with surety.”
Maddock shrugged one shoulder and leaned against Luath’s stall. “As well as can be expected for a set of clans who dinna want to accept the legitimacy of a sitting king and are searching for a rogue letter that might give their claim validity, while being pressed to sign a paper that might sign away their rights and power. So, no’ too bad.”
Arran did not react to Maddock’s light-hearted assessment of the situation.
“Why do ye ask?” Maddock pressed.
“The man who came to the door a few days past, the one who wanted to wed Adaira. He used the complications in the Highlands as a reason to woo her.”
Maddock stiffened. Why was Arran so interested in a misguided man who tried to court his sister?
“Och, weel, ‘tis a problem, aye? Adaira’s wedding was both a love match and a political gain, further aligning the MacDonalds and strengthening those alliances. The Keppochs are wild and have no qualms fighting for what they believe. Glengarry sees that as an asset. Now with Adaira no longer marrying Sawny, every man with a hope to rise above his station is panting at her heels, and she has no love for anyone. Sawny’s absence is most unfortunate for both Adaira and Glen Coe.” He assessed Arran for a moment. “Why? Do ye have a solution to the problem of the missing Keppoch man?”
Arran’s stern expression finally broke, and he turned, leaning his backside against the trough.
“No’ a solution regarding Sawny, but an option, one that might eliminate the panting and your father’s concern for his daughter’s stricken state.”
Maddock said nothing and waited for Arran to continue. What idea did the man have in mind?
Arran dropped his gaze, studying his boots. His wavy, light brown hair fell across his face, obscuring most of it from Maddock.
“Your father has been a mighty figure in my life after mine passed, and I see ye and Reade as brothers. Even your mother welcomed me with open arms when mine could not. I would do anything I could to aid your father and your family for all ye have done for me. And I know we dinna speak much of it, but I am a Sleat MacDonald, with powerful kin on my father’s side. If Adaira were to wed me, it would retain the strong, needed alliance and stop the uninvited beaus from approaching your sister. Your father would no’ have to decide which alliance would serve best while trying to weigh Adaira’s happiness.”
Maddock’s mouth fell open. Arran? He who enjoyed the brothels as much, if not more, than Maddock, and never, ever expressed any interest in marriage? Now he wanted to marry Adaira?
“What? Have ye lost your senses? Your debaucher character aside, ye have seen her? Not only full of sorrow and stupidly pining that the Keppoch bastard will return, but she is closed off, emotionless. I dinna think she will love another for a long time.” His voice trailed off in his confusion at Arran’s intentions.
“I want to try to do what is best,” Arran said by way of explanation. “I have no prospects and she has unending sadness. ‘Twould be a crime to her and her betrothed to offer a marriage under those conditions.”
“Why ye, then? Is it no’ a crime to ye?”
Arran lifted his chin so his dark hazel gaze met Maddock’s. “I am doing it to be a friend to ye, Mad. To ye and your family. I know what it is to lose everything and need someone outside of family as a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen to. And I would no’ pressure her into anything. Your parents would be assured that I have no foul or conniving intentions, and ‘twould take the pressure off your father and the need for alliances. Ye would be aligned with the Sleat MacDonalds. Though I have not lived with them in a long time, ‘twould be something.”
Maddock’s anger fizzled out as his friend spoke. He was right, an alliance with the level-headed Sleat MacDonalds would be something. And in his heart, Maddock knew Arran, more than he even knew his brothers sometimes. Arran had no treachery in this offer, only longing to be of service to his family, especially his sister, in their time of need.
“Ye will no’ feel abused or swindled if she never loves ye? What if she never takes ye to bed? What of children? Of your own needs?”
