Highlanders. Michelle Willingham
“And you did not answer me.”
Juliana began shaking her head. “How can I love him? He is the eldest son of our worst enemy. We have been at war for years and years. Hundreds of good MacDougall boys and men have died at their hands!” Falling in love with Alasdair was unthinkable.
Mary sighed. “I never expected to fall in love with William—Buchan’s third son who was intended for the church!”
“I am not in love,” Juliana said tersely.
“Did he seduce you?” Mary was incredulous.
Juliana knew how dangerous such an accusation was—especially if her brother ever heard it. “No! I wanted to be with him. Mary, I am eighteen years old. I should have been married last year, and most women would have been married years ago! I simply don’t know why I desire Alasdair, but I do.”
Mary studied her. “And what happens when we are freed? When you go home? When our brother arranges the right marriage for you?”
Juliana stiffened. She had not considered any of Mary’s questions. “I will be pleased when we are freed, and I cannot wait to have a husband,” she said, but as she spoke, she felt as if she were responding with rehearsed answers, ones her sister wished to hear. “You know I want children of my own!”
“If Alexander ever learns of your affair, he will be furious. But he will forgive you, I am certain, and I am as certain that he will kill Alasdair Og.”
Juliana shook her head as she imagined her brother and Alasdair in the worst blood feud imaginable—one fought over her innocence—or lack thereof. “I know you will never tell him.”
“Of course not! But will you be able to deceive your husband when the time comes? How can you hope to have a good marriage, when it starts with a lie?”
Juliana leapt to her feet. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought about any of this!”
Mary also stood. “I know you haven’t. I love you so, Juliana, but you are impulsive and reckless, and I am afraid for you.”
“He won’t hurt me.” She felt certain of that.
“I think you are right. He is our enemy, but he is an honorable man. Still, I am worried. You must be careful with him.”
Juliana did not understand. “What are you saying?”
“Alasdair does not strike me as a casual man.”
Mary smiled grimly, as Juliana realized that she was right. There was nothing casual about Alasdair. He was a man of careful ambition and keen intellect. He would not behave recklessly, or undertake any path lightly. His choices would be deliberate ones.
Even the choice of having an affair with the sister of his enemy.
* * *
THE NEXT FEW days passed without any major incident, as both sisters awaited word from their brother and William, to learn their response to Alasdair’s ransom demands—to learn of their fates. Of course there was little doubt that the ransoms would be paid, sooner or later. However, Alasdair had not revealed his exact demands, and neither Juliana nor Mary had dared to directly ask him.
The women were allowed to move freely about the castle, the children to play upon the beach. Lady MacDonald was an amiable hostess, sharing tales with the women and the boys about life in the isles, and including Mary and Juliana in many household tasks. Because it snowed heavily for several days, an unusual occurrence for March, everyone was kept indoors most of the time. And with such weather, it was unlikely any messenger would be able to arrive.
Alasdair gave the boys small carved horses and men, toys that kept them occupied for hours. And at night, when everyone was abed, Juliana stole into Alasdair’s room, where he was waiting impatiently for her.
It finally stopped snowing one late afternoon. Juliana stared outside her chamber window, pleased to see the gray clouds dispersing, revealing patches of blue sky. Tomorrow might be sunny.
Mary came to stand beside her. “Maybe now we will receive word from Alexander and William.”
Juliana put her arm around her. “Of course we will. I am going down to help Lady MacDonald and the maids in the kitchens. Will you come?”
Mary hesitated. “I think I am going to lie down.”
Juliana hugged her. “Rest.” In the ten days they had been held captive, Mary’s girth had obviously increased. No one could mistake that she was pregnant now.
She went downstairs. Realizing her mood was as bright as the next day promised to be, she sobered. She was beginning to feel like a guest, not a hostage, and maybe she had better remind herself that was not the case.
Then she heard Alasdair shouting.
She stiffened, as he so rarely raised his voice. But now his brother, Angus Og, was shouting back at him. What could they be arguing about? Shocked, she hurried forward, intending to end the dispute.
“Are ye a madman now?” Angus Og cried. “Or perhaps, ye think yerself immortal, like an old Celt god!” His blue eyes flashed and he stood as if braced for battle.
“I think ye speak too freely, or, mayhap, yer filled with envy!” Alasdair snapped. “Achanduin Castle is a fine stronghold!”
Juliana had been about to go inside and step between them, for she feared they might come to blows, but she paused, stunned. What did Achanduin Castle have to do with them?
“I am not jealous, Alasdair,” Angus Og warned. “I think to protect ye, ye fool, from yer own grand and blind ambition!”
“And ye have no ambition? We both ken ye’d be King of the Isles if I let ye take Islay!”
She had seen nothing but camaraderie and affection between the brothers. Her resolve became unshakable. Juliana stepped into the great room.
Both men whirled to face her. Each was flushed with anger and now, they were incredulous that she dared interrupt.
“Ye wish to speak with me now?” Alasdair demanded.
“Let her stay,” Angus Og smirked.
Juliana trembled. “I heard you speaking—shouting. How can two brothers fight so?”
“‘tis not yer affair, Juliana,” Alasdair warned.
Juliana glanced at Angus Og, blushing. Alasdair was so angry that he had failed to address her as Lady Juliana—he had sounded as if they were intimate, which, of course, they were.
“Perhaps Lady Juliana wishes to ken why we argue over Achanduin Castle,” Angus Og said, eyeing her.
Juliana stared back at him. She had hardly spoken to him in the past few days since he had arrived at Dunyveg. But she had observed him from afar, and in many ways, he reminded her of Alasdair. He was shrewd, arrogant, powerful and aware of it. He was also good-looking, and he knew that, too. She had caught him flirting with her maid and she was fairly certain he had seduced her.
He would inherit most of Kintyre from his father, making him a powerful Highland lord. He was a few years younger than Alasdair, whom she had learned was twenty-seven, and he had yet to marry.
“Of course I wish to know why you argue over Achanduin—which is on my land.”
Alasdair smiled tightly at her. “Ye never cease to amaze me with yer boldness.”
Angus Og laughed without mirth. “My brother flirts with ex-communication.”
Juliana went still. Had she misheard?
Alasdair cursed, the very first time he had ever done so in front of her.
“The Pope thinks to excommunicate Alasdair?” she cried.
“Bishop Wishart has written us, demanding Alasdair return Achanduin Castle to the church, as the next Bishop of Argyll has been elected. Wishart was