The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

L owlands Border Town, September 20, 1320

“So, just tae be clear, ye want me tae seduce yer daughter and win her hand. And that, even though ye ken that she doesnae want tae be wed?” Laird Alistair MacDuff sipped at his mead as he pondered the request that had been laid before him. “And the lass has nay inkling that yer plannin’ this?”

“Nay. She’d never accept it.” Laird Bruce Cameron shook his head. “And in truth, nay more would I, save that we need the aid o’ her maither’s clan. These past years, we’ve been supplying border guards and warriors tae the cause o’ defending the Highlands, and we’re in sore straits for defending ourselves. Worse, an outer wall o’ the keep was damaged in the summer storms, and I’ve nae the gold tae repair it.”

Alistair grunted in response. He was familiar with the demands of war, his own clan having supplied two groups of warriors to the Battle of Bannockburn six years before. True, it had been under his father’s leadership, rather than his own, but he had led one team of their warriors into the field, and he remembered it well.

Of course, that had been before his clan had been attacked by their rival, Clan MacTavish. In the past two years, they’d been forced to consolidate their warriors in defending their home. Especially after the battle a year prior, which had resulted in his father’s death and his ascension to the lairdship.

Now, they had few warriors to spare, and little more gold. Though, if the repairs were minor enough, he might help. “How severe is the damage?”

“Tree took part o’ the outer battlements and shattered the postern gate on that side. There’s damage tae the main keep walls as well, broken window shutters and some cracks in the stone. We’ve patched it as well as we can, but we’re in need o’ proper stone masons and carpenters, as well as supplies.”

Alistair winced. Those sorts of repairs were difficult and costly, and could beggar a clan. It was certainly far beyond his means to offer any meaningful assistance in that area. “And yer kin-by-marriage willnae help ye without ye meetin’ their conditions?”

Laird Cameron sighed. “Me late wife’s clan has never forgiven me fer marryin’ the woman I loved when she could have wed a laird with greater standing. So they’ve conditions fer aidin’ me, and Niamh’s marriage is the foremost. Specifically, her marriage tae a Highland Laird such as ye.”

Alistair took another swallow of his drink as he considered the matter. He’d never met Niamh Cameron, not that he could recall, and knew almost nothing about her. Likewise, she probably knew nothing of him, either. With the Autumn Equinox Festival tomorrow, there would be plenty of opportunities to ‘accidentally’ meet Niamh and charm her.

Alistair grimaced. He couldn’t say he liked the idea of seducing a lass into falling in love with him, but that was far less disconcerting than the idea that he might fall in love with her in turn. The first was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but the latter scenario could have dire consequences for them both.

Alistair’s hand strayed to the ring he wore on a cord around his neck. That was the real danger, that he might come to care for the lass, and endanger them both.

On the other hand, sooner or later, Niamh was sure to find out the truth – that their meeting and courtship had been planned. No doubt, she’d be furious. And her anger, in turn, would cool any feelings he had for her as well, leaving them like many spouses in arranged marriages – coolly civil, but hardly passionate. That, he could live with.

Besides, it wasn’t as if the wedding wouldn’t benefit him. The feud with Clan MacTavish was a bloody one, and more than one of his kin and council had commented on the need for an heir to secure the lairdship and his bloodline. A wedding would convince them that he was paying at least some attention to their demands.

Alistair steeled himself, then met his fellow laird’s gaze. “How soon dae ye wish the wedding tae tak’ place?”

Laird Cameron’s expression shifted uncomfortably in a blend of relief and sorrow. “As soon as me daughter can be coaxed intae it. Fer our clan’s sake, the sooner the better.”

Since that matched both his inclination and the needs of his clan as well, Alistair nodded. “I can make it soon, I’m thinking. Unless... is it marriage or aught else she fears?”

“She doesnae want tae wed, but ‘tis other things she fears. I cannae speak more o’ it though. Ye should ask her about it yerself, should ye have the chance.” Laird Cameron shook his head.

“’Tis enough. So long as ‘tis nae the wedding itself she’s so adamantly afeared o’, I can work around anything else.”

In truth, it might be better for both of them if she was resistant to the wedding for reasons other than simply having a husband. It would make it easier for them to develop a polite, perhaps even cordial marriage, if she was willing to wed and he was willing to yield to her concerns on whatever truly frightened her.

He considered. Autumn Equinox would be their first meeting. “Say, a wedding by Samhain?”

It would mean a very swift seduction and courtship, swifter than might be expected, but it would also give Laird Cameron enough time to provide proof of the wedding to his kin-by-marriage, and a chance that the repairs might be underway before the full brunt of winter hit Highlands and Lowlands alike.

Alistair knew from his own experience that breached windows and walls in the main keep in winter could be dangerous for the health of the clan folk living there. And if the outer wall were not repaired by spring, it would be an invitation to brigands and enemy troops alike to attack.

“Samhain is acceptable, though ye ken I’ll nae protest if ye can convince her tae come tae the altar sooner.”

“We’ll see.” Alistair considered further. “I’ll dae me best tae bring her tae the altar by her choice, but if somehow she realizes the truth, will ye wish the arrangement annulled, or shall the wedding proceed?”

Laird Cameron winced. “I wish I could say that the arrangement rests on her willingness, but in truth…” he shook his head. “The needs o’ the clan are too great, and ‘tis past time me daughter had someone besides me tae be looking after her safety. She’s seen a score o’ years, and ‘tis best she settles down afore she gets past what most would consider marryin’ age.”

“Then are we calling this a betrothal agreement? So long as ‘tis understood that I dinnae introduce meself tae the lass that way?” Alistair was determined to be clear on the matter. He didn’t want to be accused of overstating or overstepping his position when he started pursuing the lass.

“Aye, though I’d prefer if we kept it a verbal agreement rather than a written one.” Laird Cameron gave him a wry look. “Me daughter is curious as a cat and twice the troublemaker when she’s o’ a mind. A written contract she might find, and then there’s nae tellin’ what she’d dae.”

“Yer word is sufficient fer me, and I’ll trust mine is the same.” Alistair lifted his tankard in a toast to seal the bargain, and Laird Cameron followed suit.

He drained the rest of his tankard and rose from his seat. “If there’s naught else tae discuss, best I seek me bed. I wouldnae wish tae be at less than me best if I’m tae seek out yer daughter and try tae win her heart, and her hand.”

Laird Cameron nodded. He looked weary, and Alistair couldn’t fault him. They were both in difficult positions and forced into doing things they weren’t entirely proud of for the sake of their clans and their kinsmen.

Back in his room, he went over the description Laird Cameron had given him.

‘Look fer a slender lass with hair the color o’ deep autumn leaves and eyes the color o’ summer meadows. She’s slim like a reed, and fair-skinned, save for the dots o’ darker sun-color across her nose, cheeks and forearms, like she’s been sprinkled with fairie kisses. She’ll be unescorted, wearin’ a Cameron tartan, and carryin’ a well-worn satchel.’

She certainly sounded pretty enough, and easy to identify, but only tomorrow would reveal the truth.

Alistair settled into his bed, his mind turning over the different methods by which he might make the best first impression.

Niamh Cameron… I look forward tae meeting ye. And though I ken I can never love ye, if the fates are kind, then mayhap at least we can have the comfort o’ a cordial relationship and the knowledge we saved both our clans.