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Murine's eyebrows rose at this, and she pointed out, "But Saidh was betrothed."
"Aye, and so was Aulay. Our mither insisted on it. Saidh because she was a lass, and Aulay because he was the eldest son and heir to the title," Dougall explained.
"And ye
t Saidh's betrothed died like mine and Aulay's--" She paused abruptly, looking uncertain, and Dougall immediately understood that Saidh had told her what had happened there and how angry they had all been about it, so was afraid to upset him with the subject.
"Aye, Aulay's betrothed refused to fulfill the contract when she saw the scar marring his face," he said grimly. "And she was no' kind about it either. She decried him as more monster than man."
Murine winced and nodded solemnly. "That was cruel."
"Aye," Dougall muttered. Just the memory of the woman's words and Aulay's pain made him want to hit someone. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm that urge and then added, "She also said she'd gladly give up her dower fer breaking the betrothal, but she would no' marry him, she'd rather die or take the veil."
Murine gave a humorless laugh and pointed out, "And yet I would marry Aulay in a heartbeat rather than take the veil." Her yes widened suddenly and she said, "Oh, say! Do ye think he is in the market for a--"
"There are a few things I need to do ere we leave," Dougall interrupted sharply, getting to his feet. He didn't wait for her to say anything else, but strode abruptly out of the clearing, his mind a storm of emotion.
Murine frowned slightly as she watched Dougall go, but then turned her thoughts to the idea she'd come up with: marrying Aulay Buchanan. Saidh had painted a picture of her brother as a rather tragic figure. According to her he was a good, strong man and fair leader . . . Rather like Dougall, she thought. But Aulay had been shamed and tossed aside by a heartless, selfish betrothed who had judged him by his looks alone.
Murine had not met Aulay and had no idea how bad the scar was that had offended his betrothed so, but if he was anything like Dougall . . . Besides, if there was one thing she'd learned in this life, it was not to judge anything by looks alone. After all, Montrose was a handsome man in looks, but ugly as sin to his very soul underneath. Since her mother had claimed he looked like a younger version of his father and she knew how that man had abused her mother, Murine would say he had been the same. She was quite sure that Aulay was just the opposite, scarred and ugly on the outside but with a heart as fine and kind as Dougall's. She would pick that over a man like her half brother any day. And she would definitely choose it over her brother's plans for her. Or even the nunnery.
Murine just wasn't sure how she would manage a feat like convincing Aulay that marrying her was to his benefit. She had little enough to offer him, just kindness and gratitude for saving her from the fate her brother had intended for her. She could definitely promise that she would be a good wife to him, and that she would be a good mother to any offspring they had as well. But would that be enough?
And what about Saidh? How would she feel about such an arrangement? What if she wanted more for her brother? It had seemed clear that Saidh adored her brothers. She'd also made it clear she was glad Aulay's betrothed had refused to marry him. She'd thought someone so shallow would be a faithless and uncaring wife and that he deserved better. Would she think Murine good enough for her brother?
She needed to talk to Saidh, Murine decided firmly and glanced around, wondering how long it would be before they left. Seeing that the clearing was empty except for herself made her frown slightly. Dougall had refused to leave her alone lest she faint and hurt herself since finding out who she was, yet she was now all alone.
Strange, she thought and then gave a start as Alick suddenly appeared beside her. Not so alone after all, she thought, as she returned the smile he offered her and peered curiously at the skin of liquid he held in his hands like an offering.
"Here," he said holding it out toward her. "I mixed up a tincture fer ye that Rory sent with us. It should help ease the ache in yer head."
Recognizing the name Rory as that of the brother Saidh had claimed was a healer, Murine accepted the bulging skin, and asked curiously, "What's in it?"
Alick shrugged and admitted wryly, "I ha'e no idea. A bunch o' weeds and sech that smell pretty bad. I mixed it in with whiskey to try to make it taste better, but ye may want to plug yer nose and just down it quickly. That always helps me when I ha'e to take Rory's tinctures."
Murine grimaced, and then did as he suggested; she plugged her nose and downed as much of the tincture as she could in one go. It was an awkward business. She had to plug her nose with thumb and finger, while holding the mouth of the skin to her lips with only her other three fingers. Still, she managed to gulp several mouthfuls before having to stop to take a breath. That was when the heat from the whiskey hit her. It burned down her throat and slammed into her stomach with a vengeance that left her gasping and then coughing violently.
Alick quickly grabbed the skin to keep her from dropping it, then set about pounding on her back until the coughing fit ended. He waited for her to catch her breath, and then offered the skin again. "Ye'll need more than that to get the full benefits."
Murine hesitated, but the coughing fit had turned the dull ache in her head into an agony, and in the end, she took the skin and lifted it to her lips again.
"Whoa!"
Dougall glanced up with surprise as two hands caught him in the chest and brought his charge through the woods to an abrupt halt. Realizing that he'd nearly crashed into Conran, he muttered an apology and started to go around him, but Conran stepped into his path.
"What's about?" he asked, eyes narrowed. "Ye look ready to kill someone."
Dougall opened his mouth, then narrowed his eyes and asked, "Where's Geordie? I thought the two o' ye were going fer a swim."
"He's swimming, but . . ." Conran hesitated, and then simply said, "I changed me mind."
Dougall's mouth tightened. He didn't need to be a mind reader to know that Conran had changed his mind because he'd decided he should stick close enough to keep an eye on Dougall and Murine and make sure Dougall didn't behave inappropriately, or threaten her virtue in any way. It was a bit insulting, but Dougall let that go for now and growled what was uppermost in his mind, "Murine's thinking to marry Aulay."
Conran blinked at this announcement. "What? Why would ye think that? She's ne'er e'en met him."
Dougall ran a frustrated hand through his hair and then quickly recounted their conversation, ending with "I'm sure she was about to ask if I thought Aulay would be interested in marrying her."
"Aye," Conran agreed, and then added regretfully, "And he probably would marry her. Out o' gratitude fer her saving Saidh if nothing else. The only thing that might prevent him from doing it is his worries on his scar, but he'd convince himself that saving her from her brother's intentions would make up for it."
Dougall cursed and turned his head away. Conran was verifying exactly what he'd thought himself. Aulay hadn't shown any interest in marriage since his betrothed had humiliated him. He wouldn't talk about it, but they all knew that bitch had scarred Aulay more emotionally than the scar that had cleaved his face. Aulay was sure the scar made him unmarriageable, that no woman would willingly marry a man as ugly as he. He'd seemed to resign himself to a solitary life. But Murine's situation might change everything. Aulay would feel the same gratitude and appreciation for Murine's saving Saidh that they all did, and he'd feel pity for her situation. He'd also think her having to live with what he considered his monstrosity would be better than having her own brother whore her out to his friends and acquaintances. Aye, Aulay would marry Murine, Dougall was sure, and the very idea made him feel like his head was going to explode.
"What are ye going to do?" Conran asked.
Dougall glanced to him with confusion. "About what?"
Conran rolled his eyes. "Dougall, ye're me brother. I ken ye. Ye like the lass. More than like her even. Ye should tell her that and marry her yerself."
Dougall was silent for a moment, considering the suggestion, and then he said reluctantly, "But Murine might be Aulay's only chance at having a good woman to wife. Murine would be a loving wife and a fine mother to his children."
"Dougall," Conran said heavily. "Aulay
has no' e'en met Murine. 'Tis no' as if he's in love with her too."
He stiffened at the suggestion. "I'm no' in love with Murine."
"Mayhap not, but ye're halfway there," Conran said dryly and then added firmly, "And do no' try to tell me ye're not. Ye're usually a quiet, grumpy bastard, but no' since we stumbled upon Murine. I've ne'er seen ye smile so much ere this, and ye actually talk to the woman, stringing whole sentences together rather than just grunting on occasion as ye usually do. And ye're hovering over her like a mother with her first bairn," Conran added firmly. "Ye like the lass. Do ye really want to hand her over to Aulay?"
Dougall frowned at the question. The very idea of standing back and watching Aulay wed Murine made him want to hit someone. But . . .
"How the hell should I know?" he burst out in frustration. "I've considered marrying her, but I barely ken the lass. We only met her two days ago and she's been unconscious most o' that time. Hell, I ha'e no' e'en kissed her," he muttered with disgust and then glared at Conran. "Thanks to you."
"Me?" Conran asked with surprise. "How is it me fault ye ha'e no kissed the lass?"
Dougall peered at him with disbelief. "Ye're the one who said me doing so would make her believe I think as little o' her as her brother."
"Oh, aye," he said wryly and then shrugged. "But I did no' mean kissing. Anyway, forget what I said. Ye're considering marrying the lass. Yer intentions are honorable here. Just do no' take it too far ere ye're sure ye want to marry her, else ye'll ha'e no choice in the matter."
"Aye," Dougall muttered, wondering just how far he considered to be too far.
"And I'm thinking ye may want to avoid stopping at Buchanan," Conran added. "It may be better to travel straight on to MacDonnell. That way ye can avoid Aulay meeting her until ye've made up yer mind as to whether ye want her or no'."
Dougall nodded slowly, and then shook his head and pointed out, "Once we get her to MacDonnell, Saidh'll claim all her time and I'll no' get the chance to know her better," he said with frustration and Conran frowned at the truth of those words.
