The Chieftain's Choice (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 1) Read online

  Silence pressed in except for Orion’s muffled clip-clop through the pine scented forest. After a while she deemed it safe to probe further. “Is there something wrong with the betrothal contract?”

  “No, nothing wrong exactly, but I need to discuss some matters with your grandfather. Is he at home?”

  “He is.” After a long moment, she prodded again. “What are the matters must you discuss?”

  “I think it’s advisable for me to keep that between your grandfather and myself for the present.”

  Why? Surely these matters concerned her. But of course she was only a woman. No, she was a meek woman. Vanora would never have allowed men to decide who she married. That was one thing Alana admired about her cousin.

  Mayhap the only thing.

  “Grandfather wouldna object to me hearing the details of my own wedding.”

  “There’s a matter of great import I’ll discuss with you personally, Alana.” His tone turned serious. “First I must know if your grandfather will approve.”

  Of great import. Those words held an ominous ring, but she wouldna get him to commit to more than that.

  Silence stretched between them, but she was still very much aware of the muscular chest she leaned against. If she were honest with herself, she wouldna mind at all if he kissed her again.

  ***

  Alana introduced Gavin to her grandfather. After the customary stiff bow, he let his gaze follow her until she exited the door, then took the comfortable leather armchair opposite Sir Angus and critically assessed the man.

  Angus McWayre was still hardy, though he must be close to seventy. His white, powdered wig framed a plump face devoid of all but a few coarse wrinkles around his mouth and across his forehead.

  “How does your father fare?” Sir Angus asked.

  “Not well. The physician says it is a matter of weeks.”

  “I’m heartily sorry to hear it. Then I suppose he willna be able to attend Rory and Alana’s wedding.”

  Gavin leaned forward, grasping his hands in front of him as he propped his elbows on his knees. There was no way to soften the news. He’d best be out with it. “No, he can’t attend Rory’s wedding. Rory ran away to London.”

  Angus pierced him with a sharp blue gaze from under bushy brows. “Ran away? Are you saying he’s crying off?”

  Gavin nodded and Sir Angus sputtered. “But why, mon, has he no honor? He gave his word, the Carmichael signed the contract, the banns are posted.”

  “I understand all that. That’s why I’m here.”

  “But why?” Sir Angus repeated. “Alana is a bonny lass.”

  “I agree. Although Rory has behaved abominably, you can lay some of the fault on your other granddaughter.”

  “Vanora? What’s the spiteful little minx up to now?”

  “She told Rory some wild tale that put Alana’s parentage in question. She’s convinced the clansmen Alana was born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

  “What!” Angus stormed to his feet and paced the length of the sofa. “Rory already knew about Alana’s father. Torquil ‘twas a rouge, I’ll grant it, but he was a McWayre. And Alana’s mother, Hester—her character was impeccable. I had always thought the Carmichael held Hester in great esteem.”

  More than mere esteem. The chieftain had been in love with Hester before he’d married Gavin’s mother.

  “He does. We all do,” Gavin said. There’s no dispute that Torquil was Alana’s father. The charge is that Hester was not her mother.”

  Angus fell into his chair as if all energy drained from him. “That’s outside of ridiculous.” The words spat from quivering lips. “A dozen of the clan’s women tended Hester when she was with child and during her confinement. There can be no doubt of Alana’s birth.”

  “I didn’t say there was any truth to Vanora’s tale, but she’s enlisted the aid of Hester’s midwife, who says Hester’s child died and was replaced by the babe born to Miriam, Torquil’s mistress. You remember her?”

  “Aye, we all remember the English witch.” Angus stared into space as if searching for something. “Why would Vanora do such a thing?” He dipped his chin and narrowed his eyes to blue slits. “You’ll have your hands full with Vanora. But you’re a strong mon. She needs a strong mon.”

  Gavin sighed. Sir Angus, like everyone else, took it for granted that he was affianced to Vanora. “I’m afraid she’ll have to find another. I’m not marrying Vanora.”

  “You’re crying off too.”

  “I’ve never proposed to Vanora. However, I’m here to make you and Alana a proposal.”

  Angus sank back against the cushions, his frame shrinking like the old man he was. “You’re asking for Alana’s hand?”

  Gavin nodded. “I am. The Carmichaels always keep their word. If Alana was willing to marry Rory, she should have no objections to me. All we need do is change the name of the bridegroom in the marriage contract. None of the alliances will be changed.”

  “Nay, the alliances will be strengthened, and you willna have trouble with Alana. Does your father agree to this change?”

  “It was his decision.”

  Angus bobbed his head. “Doesna surprise me, that. What of Elspeth?”

  Gavin rubbed his neck. He had no idea what Elspeth, Angus’s daughter and Vanora’s mother, would think of him marrying Alana. “I doubt Elspeth would care. She won’t permit Vanora to marry until she reaches twenty-one and comes into her inheritance.”

  “Is Lyulf still…at Gilmour Hall?” A nerve twitched in Angus’s jaw. He meant to ask if Lyulf was still with Elspeth. Angus would be aware of the rumors that Lyulf and Elspeth were lovers.

  Unfortunately, Gavin couldn’t ease his mind. “He is.”

  “Then Elspeth should be at least one ally in Alana’s corner.”

  One ally? Until that moment Gavin hadn’t considered the ramifications to Alana in replacing her cousin as his wife. If she knew of those ramifications—

  Shoving to the edge of his chair, he held his hands out in appeal. “I beg of you not to mention this rumor Vanora has spread about Alana’s parentage. It would distress her overmuch, especially the suggestion that Miriam might be her mother.”

  Aye, though I know not how you’ll keep it from her, and make no mistake, there’ll be the devil to pay where Vanora’s concerned. She’ll likely stir up more trouble with the Gilmour clan. She’s quite capable.”

  Gavin knew better than Sir Angus how much trouble Vanora could cause. That, among other reasons, was why he’d never have married Vanora under any condition. Until Rory had left, he’d not thought of any reasonable way to avoid that fate.

  It was assumed that he’d have to make the alliance in order to bring peace between the Gilmours and the Carmichaels. The clans had in past years waged wars over property boundaries, lost sheep, insulted women. His refusal to propose to the headstrong Vanora would ignite the hard feelings again. But he now had a plausible excuse.

  How ironic Vanora’s malicious gossip forced him into the position of having to take his brother’s place and marry Alana in order to save the Carmichael honor. But any reasonable person would understand that. Not that Vanora had ever been reasonable.

  Without thought to his injured arm, he struck the chair arm harder than he should have.

  His grimace caught Angus’s attention. “What’s wrong with your arm?”

  Alana had said nothing about their confrontation with the bandits when introducing Gavin to her grandfather. The omission struck him as odd, but he supposed she had her reasons.

  As nonchalantly as possible, he explained being set upon by the highwaymen. “One managed to strike my arm, but did little harm before Alana rescued me, showing me a way of escape. I did lose my horse, however, and I would appreciate it if you would send your guards to find him.”

  “Indeed, and you may borrow any steed from our stables.” Angus shook his white head. “More bandits. They become bolder every day. Alana keeps a lookout since she knows the passages so w
ell, though I’ve admonished her about the dangers. She’s a brave woman. Docile, tis true, but quite resourceful. She’ll make you a fine wife and mistress of Stonecrest.”

  Gavin couldn’t argue that point. All remained to be done was to propose to Alana, but a small doubt niggled him. Her resemblance to Vanora unnerved him. The only difference between the cousins was a sprinkling of freckles across Alana’s nose and that mole above her lip. He prayed the differences between the cousins ran below the surface.

  Alana seemed docile, but who could know a woman by her appearance?

  Yet she had risked her life to save him. That told him more about her character than anything else she could have done.

  Greater love hath no man than he give his life for a friend.

  But a complete stranger?

  If only he knew more about her. He’d heard she lived a secluded life, but possessed the decorum of a noblewoman as well as her mother had.

  But was Hester truly Alana’s mother? No, he refused to believe she was the product of a clandestine liaison between Torquil and his English mistress. A scandal like that couldn’t have been kept secret all these years. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to investigate.

  As the silence lengthened, Gavin realized Sir Angus was waiting for him to respond. “Then I may present my suit to Alana?”

  “Aye. I’ll tell her to meet you in the garden.”

  Gavin started to rise, but another thought struck him, and he relaxed against the cushions. Perhaps he could put to rest any doubts about Alana’s parentage without much difficulty. Surely there’d be a registry of births and deaths at the kirk. “Before I leave I’d like to visit your kirk.”

  If Sir Angus thought this unusual, he gave no sign of it. “Indeed, and I’m sure the vicar will be delighted to meet you. He’s been here over fifteen years now. The poor mon’s sight and hearing are verra poor, but he prides himself on the kirk. You ken discuss the arrangements with him.”

  Evidently Angus concluded Gavin wanted to see the vicar about the wedding ceremony.

  As good a reason as any in normal circumstances, but Angus must realize the charges against Alana should be addressed before the wedding. “I suppose he keeps a registry there.”

  “Of course—for the entire clan.”

  “Good. I’m interested in such things, and I’d like to look up Alana’s birth so I can defend her, if Vanora continues this farce.”

  A scowl drew Angus’s brows together. “I kenna think why that would even be necessary.” He cleared his throat. “Verra well. Alana can show you the kirk herself. She’s quite fond of it. Alana is a God fearing woman, you should ken.”

  “Another way she’s different from her cousin. I doubt Vanora fears the devil himself.”

  Gavin rose and bowed deeply. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll await Alana in the garden.”

  He hastened to the entrance in wide strides. A footman held the front door open, and Gavin stepped out into the fresh breeze.

  Now to convince Alana she must change bridegrooms.

  Chapter 2

  If Grandfather had sprouted a second head, he would not have shocked Alana more. Gavin Carmichael, the chieftain’s heir, wanted to marry her. So many questions bubbled in her brain, she didn’t comprehend Grandfather’s words as he briskly explained his meeting with Gavin.

  She waited patiently for him to finish speaking so she could ask what she really wanted to know. Why would Gavin Carmichael want to marry her when he had Vanora? Grandfather fumbled through his papers, looking everywhere except at her.

  Before she had a chance to question him, he pulled out his gold watch and made for the door. “Gavin will explain the details later.”

  How could Grandfather turn her world upside down and rush off? She ran after him. “But Grandfather, what about Rory?”

  “I’m late for an appointment, lass. Gavin is waiting for you in the garden. After you’ve spoken to him, take him to the kirk.”

  “The kirk…but Grandfather—”

  “He wishes to see it, lass.” He pecked her on the forehead and was gone.

  Alana stared after his retreating form in stunned silence. Grandfather was ordinarily a stoic man, but something had upset him. Why did he run off? He wasn’t suggesting that she change the bridesmaid’s bouquet, for heavens’ sakes. No—that she change grooms.

  Evidently, neither Grandfather nor Gavin had any doubts she’d agree to the switch. Indeed, they probably thought she’d be pleased.

  They weren’t wrong.

  A little quiver of pleasure fluttered around her breast, but there was something else—something akin to fear. Gavin belonged to Vanora, didn’t he?

  Gavin waited in the garden, but he’d have to wait a bit longer. Uncertainty chased her up the stairs to her chambers like a snapping spaniel.

  Inside her spacious bedroom, she tugged the bell pull and peered in the cheval looking glass. The men obviously gave no thought that she’d want to make herself presentable before receiving a marriage proposal—the second in as many weeks—but she did. Twigs still clung to her riding habit, and she began unbuttoning her jacket before Mina entered the room.

  Mina was more friend than servant. She rushed toward Alana, hands aflutter. “Here let me do that, Miss.”

  “No, take down that gown. I must change quickly.” Alana pointed to a moss green garment made of fine muslin and trimmed with lace from her mother’s wedding gown. The same gown she’d worn when Rory proposed.

  She’d resigned herself to her future with Rory. Now Gavin had upset those plans.

  Being a keen observer of people, she’d sized Rory up immediately as a nere’do well. He’d doubtless travel to the big cities often, and mayhap, keep a woman at each. Oddly, this dinna bother her. He would leave her alone for the most part, and she was used to being alone.

  Of course, he’d give her children, and she wanted children…a lot of children. Her lonely childhood weighed heavily on her spirit. Her children wouldna grow up alone, please God.

  Aside from that, she’d have a lovely home. Not a castle, but comfortable enough. She’d have a few servants to tend that home. What more could a woman want? A comfortable home, children, and a husband who left her alone much of the year.

  Gavin Carmichael was a different matter. As heir to the chiefdom, he’d been groomed for that position since birth. Most assuredly, he’d been well educated and had his duties drummed into his head from an early age. The Carmichael clan depended on him. The well-being of the people depended on him. A man with such a sense of responsibility wouldna leave his wife alone, and mayhap, he would expect more from his wife than Alana could give.

  In spite of her misgivings, a spark of elation burned at her core. He’d kissed her. She could still feel the pressure of his lips and those strange sensations his kiss evoked. What if she fell in love with him? God help her if she fell in love as her mother had.

  “Are you certain you want this gown, Miss?” Mina fluffed the skirt’s panniers. She must wonder why Alana would dress in her best gown in the middle of the week.

  “Twould seem I’m to wed Lord Carmichael’s heir, not his younger son. I must dress quickly. Gavin Carmichael waits—”

  Mina’s head jerked up, her mouth dropped open. “You are to be the Countess of Stonecrest? Of Clan Carmichael? But what of your cousin?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m forgetting my place. Pay no heed to my questions.”

  Alana smiled. “Of course I’ll pay heed to you. You’re my friend, and you’ll be coming with me.” Anxiety rose as she watched Mina’s distressed features. “You will be coming with me?”

  “Indeed, I’ll be going where you go, Miss. Let’s get you dressed. You canna keep Lord Carmichael waiting.” Mina helped her out of the habit and into her gown. “Should I put your hair up?”

  “Nay, you know how my ears stick out.” Alana sat at her dressing table. “Get out the worst tangles. I’ll wear my hair down.”

  Mina laughed as she took the brush. “Your ears do not
stick out, but if I had hair as lovely as yours, I’d want it down m’self.”

  Why had Gavin rejected Vanora? Her ears didn’t stick out. She was beautiful and spirited—everything Alana was not.

  Vanora could be headstrong and petulant, and men often preferred women to be docile. Still, Vanora had other things to recommend her. Not only was she heiress to Gilmour Hall and the lands, but the clan people loved her.

  Alana had always believed the clans admired Vanora because they had revered her father, Robert Gilmour, who’d died at sea shortly after his daughter’s birth. The Gilmour clan refused to allow an outsider to come in. Blood inheritance was the only thing they knew, and only Vanora carried her father’s blood. The fact that she behaved more as a son than a daughter only endeared her to the clan more.

  “Mina, doona you have relatives who live on a Gilmour croft?”

  “Aye, my grandparents on my mother’s side. They’re getting old, poor souls.”

  “How do things go for the clan?”

  “The Gilmour suffer cruelly, Miss. I’ve heard many of the crofters are starving, while others thrive but doona work the land. They put it down to the devil, and the closest thing to the devil they see is the Gilmour steward, Lyulf.” Mina brushed Alana’s hair with practiced strokes. “They lay the blame on Lady Gilmour—” She stopped brushing.

  The mirror reflected Mina’s anguished features. “Tis sorry I am, Miss. I forgot Lady Gilmour is your aunt.”

  Alana understood Mina’s reaction. Everyone knew Lyulf was more than a steward to Aunt Elspeth.”

  “That’s all right.” Alana patted the maid’s hand lying on her shoulder. “I know how the clan hates Lyulf.”

  “For a fact, they do. Lady Vanora makes certain of that.”

  “But how does Vanora manage? I know she’s been at odds with Aunt Elspeth ever since Lyulf came, but why does the clan believe her?”

  “Ah, they love Lady Vanora, you may be sure. She goes out every morning into the fields, I’ve heard, and works with the crofters. Every afternoon she visits the women, offering little gifts for the children. She’s at every sheering and every harvest.”