Page 10 of Twelfth Knight’s Bride

It felt strangely right.

Seamus emerged behind Aileana and then Peigi, whose cheeks were damp with tears.

Seamus squared Aileana in front of him while the hall stared raptly at the dais. “Aileana, this is folly, and as yer laird, I forbid it. Renounce what ye’ve just offered—”

“Nay, ye cannae sentence Peigi to a life with this brute when it was my fault. Since ye’re bent on gaining yer recompense from the Crown, as ye should be, I’ll…” She took a deep breath and extricated herself from Seamus’s hold, summoning that stubbornness James realized he expected from her, and rolled back her shoulders. “I’ll take the punishment,” she said, much gentler this time.

Gasps and murmurs rattled the hall, breaking the silence like a split of lightning.

Punishment? James smarted. He hadn’t intended it to be a punishment…or had he? If anything, it was justice. This marriage was a bargain, but it wasn’t intended to be a life sentence of misery.

“Are ye certain?” Seamus asked, also more gently, taking her by both shoulders again, refusing to be cast off. “Sister, this isnae what I wished for ye.”

She shrugged. “Be honest. I burden ye, and with nothing for a dowry—”

“Nothing yet,” Seamus emphasized. “But when the king’s ruling comes back to me and I’m awarded, I’d have much for a dowry, and yer prospects would change. The Fraser laird’s nephew is seeking a woman and leads a powerful stronghold. He’d be pleased to consider ye.”

“Aye, and he’s already had two wives who’ve preceded him in death. Is he as old as faither? Or nearly as old?” she replied with dry sarcasm. Seamus sighed. “At least James is a far cry better look—”

She snapped shut her mouth, but James heard the direction of her remark, and a silly bout of excitement lurched in his chest at the knowledge that she found him handsome.

Seamus rubbed the bridge of his nose, heaving a hand to his hip. “Do ye ever think before ye speak?”

Aileana looked down at her hands, subdued by her brother’s censure. “Mither was right. I’m hopeless as a lady.”

The dejection in her voice made James uncomfortable. Hopeless? Nay, she was bonny, strong, skilled, and she loved her people enough to steal—and not just from anyone. From him.

Drifting in thought, James twisted the stem of his cup. In truth, Seamus was right. She’d only stolen some vegetables, nay his coin or valuables. He was doing this just as much to lord his command over the Grants as he was to gain his inheritance.

“How old are ye, lass?” James asked.

Aileana frowned at him. “I have nine and ten years.”

His thoughts deepened. Nineteen was certainly older than many a maiden upon their marriage.

“If Aileana continues to be stubborn about this, then I’ll agree to betroth her to ye,” Seamus began. “We can send for a priest, for we havenae a regular holy man, and this will give us time to post the banns—”

“Nay, we’ll handfast. She comes with me now,” James replied.

More gasping. More shocked utterances.

“Ye would deny a lady of rank, no matter how penniless, her kirk wedding?” Seamus demanded, this time, rage ringing unchecked in his remark.

“I dare say ye cannae afford the priest’s fee or the cost of hosting guests,” James replied.

He glanced from Peigi’s grief-stricken face to her hands clenching Aileana to her red-rimmed eyes. Aileana gripped her stomach, pulling away. Was she about to swoon? Fall ill?

He ought to back out of this now. But stubbornness or greed for his money—or perhaps…desire to learn more about this enigma of a woman—refused to topple his stance. A warrior would be weak to make demands and then wave them off as whimsy.

“It’s all right, brother,” Aileana croaked. “Let us please just…get this over with.”

“But ye must have a stake in this bargain, too,” Seamus replied, then turned on James again. “I must demand that if Aileana do this, that she be given a degree of latitude or else there’s no deal and I’ll await my chance to defend her against yer formal complaint.”

“What are yer terms?” James quirked his brow.

“If ye handfast her, I demand that she be given until Twelfth Night to decide if she’d like to remain as the Lady of Tioram Castle, or if she’s too miserable as yer trophy of humiliation and wishes to return home, that the handfast be severed. Promise me this, as an official term for everyone in this hall to bear witness to, or else we have no accord.”

Grant sliced the air to emphasize his point.