The Other Highland Laird

‘I saw your victory in the tournament as a sign that you had defeated your brother – and therefore had claim to my hand,’ Marion sobbed.

‘That is a charming thought, but reality is very different, Marion, you must understand.’

He kissed her eyelids and dabbed her tears away with his fingertips, and gradually her body ceased to quake with sorrow and instead quivered with yearning as he kissed her. His lips brushed hers so softly, yet a spark was released, sending a violent fire coursing through her veins. Marion stood on the tips of her toes to reach Brice’s face as he towered above her, and she traced the outline of his lips with one trembling finger. He cradled her face in his hands, his eyes burning into hers and then he leaned in and took her lips captive again, holding them in the warmth of his own; his tongue first barred from entry and then invited in with an eagerness that took him by surprise. Marion felt Brice’s body come alive with desire and leaned harder against him, but he inhaled sharply and took her by the shoulders, firmly breaking the embrace. They stood there, facing each other, the wretchedness of their situation growing to the proportions of a yawning abyss between them.

‘Tha gaol agam ort,’ Brice whispered, reaching out to touch the tips of Marion’s fingers.

‘I love you too,’ Marion said, recognizing that he had said those words to her in Scottish Gaelic.

Brice felt like a sword had pierced his heart. ‘You understood what I said…’ he whispered in wonder.

‘I know a little of the language of my ancestors and I am proud of my roots,’ Marion replied.

A look of abject sorrow flickered across Brice’s face but he rallied quickly and his expression was resolute as he bid her return to the festivities and prepare for the evening.

‘Go now, Marion. Let us not make this more painful.’

‘How could you even say that? It was you who followed me here, and you who said you loved me.’

‘I didn’t follow you. I just came here as I usually do when I am in need of a place to hang my head and give in to emotion once in a while.’

‘And you needed to do that today? Why?’

‘You know why.’

‘I want to hear you say it.’

‘Because you are to be betrothed to Robert and I am in no position to stop the event from taking place.’ He looked away. ‘Please go, Marion. I need to be alone here.’ She dared not touch him again though she wanted to throw her arms around his warm, comforting body and melt into him.

When Marion had gone Brice felt like he had lost some vital part of himself. Would that he were anyone else but the brother of the man who was to be betrothed to the woman he loved, Brice thought, holding his head in his hands. He would have fought a duel for Marion. He would have moved heaven and earth to have her.

Marion re-entered the castle once more and then went out again to join the revelers. Lady Buchane looked curiously at her, noting the tear stained cheeks and eyes still moist with emotion.

‘Where were you child?’

‘It’s a long way to the privy and back,’ Marion said, hoping her mother wouldn’t ask her where the privy actually was.

‘You need to rest for a while now and then get ready for the evening,’ Lady Buchane said.

Marion said nothing for a while and then turned to her mother. ‘Do you know how betrayed I feel, mama, that I knew nothing of the fact that I was to be betrothed today? How could you conceal such an important piece of information from me?’

Lady Buchane evaded the question, and coaxed her offspring to eat. Marion, however, could not eat even a morsel.

That evening as the pipers played and the feasting continued, Marion was betrothed to Robert. She searched the faces around her for Brice, but he was not there; coming in only after the simple ceremony during which Marion’s hand was placed in Robert’s and an announcement was made that the two were pledged to each other.

‘We will be married soon,’ Robert whispered in Marion’s ear as he surprisingly avoided her lips and kissed her delicately on the cheek instead. She was quiet, conducting herself much as a sheep approaching slaughter, and said nothing on the ride back to Arniston House.