Victoria Roberts - To Wed A Wicked Highlander

She closed her eyes.

Sybella had spoken the sacred vows that bound her and Alex as one. MacKenzie blood or not, she was now a MacDonell. She had pledged her troth. Tears slowly slid down her cheeks. Her misery was like a weight upon her shoulders, a stab of guilt buried deep in her breast. How was she supposed to get herself out of this situation? Alex had preached words of honesty and trust. Perhaps she could find a way to speak with him without making him angry and without blood being shed. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d say, but she’d figure it out. She always did. She had started this marriage under a false pretense, and now it was clearly time to right that wrong.

Sybella wandered aimlessly through the halls in search of her husband. She would need to proceed cautiously and think about her words before they escaped her lips, lest she find herself on the pointy end of Alex’s sword.

She reached Alex’s study and was lifting her hand to knock when raised voices sounded from within. She had to admit that she was curious if Colin had taken his leave or if he had again sought out her husband.

Sybella looked around and then placed her ear to the door.

“’Tis good to have ye again under roof, MacGregor. I grow tired of the damn MacKenzies.”

“Ye still donna trust them?” asked a deep voice.

Alex smirked. “As much as ye trusted the bloody Campbell.”

“And ye must be Lady Sybella MacDonell, my cousin’s new wife.”

Sybella bolted upright, her eyes widening in surprise as she tried to mask the guilty look on her face. The woman speaking had chestnut tresses and wore a dusky rose dress that hugged her full-figured frame. She carried a bairn with curly brown locks and azure eyes that stared back at Sybella.

“My apologies. I was searching for my husband to tell him that my brother had taken his leave. I didnae know ye had arrived, my lady.” Sybella approached the woman and smiled. Running her hand over the bairn’s head, she said, “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady MacGregor. And who have we here?”

The woman’s face lit up. “Please call me Rosalia. And this is my son, Lachlann.”

“Only if ye call me Sybella. And if ye donna mind me saying so, your son is a handsome laddie.”

“Thank ye. He is almost one year now and has already been taking steps and getting into trouble. Granted, he staggers like his Uncle Declan when he is in his cups, but my wee lad does try his best.”

“He is a lad. Of course he is getting into mischief,” said Sybella with a giggle. “Have ye seen Aunt Iseabail yet?”

“Nay, we only walked through the gates a moment ago, and Alexander stole Ciaran away to his study.”

“Then come. Ye have had a long journey. Let me offer ye something to eat and drink, and we will find your seanmhair.” Grandmother.

Sybella walked with Rosalia and Lachlann by her side when she wanted to do nothing more than crawl back into bed and lift the covers over her head. And to think she had almost been foolhardy enough to speak the truth to her husband! How many times had Alex preached to her about truth and honesty—yet she still couldn’t fathom the words that she’d heard escape his lips. If he couldn’t follow his own advice, how could she be expected to honor him with the same courtesy?

She bit her lip to stifle her outcry. Alex didn’t trust her. Not that she had given him any reason to place his faith in her, but the thought gnawed at her gut. How was she supposed to search for the stone now? Something must have shown upon her face because Rosalia interrupted her thoughts.

“We didnae arrive at an inopportune moment, did we? Ye look troubled, my lady.”

Sybella forced a smile. “Nay, and please call me Sybella.”

As they sat in the great hall, Sybella couldn’t stop her racing heart. Her face burned with the memory of Colin’s words. Her father would never let her rest until she found that dreaded stone. And here she was, placed in a dangerous position that required her to betray her husband and his clan. Then again, how could she possibly deceive Alex when he had never trusted her to begin with?

“So how do ye find being wed to Alexander?” asked Rosalia, bouncing Lachlann gently on her lap.

“’Tis something we are both yet getting accustomed to.”

“Your clan must be fairly close if your brother was able to pay ye a visit.”

“My clan is from Kintail. ’Tis about a day’s ride from Glengarry.”

Rosalia lowered her voice. “Alexander wrote in his missive that my seanmhair isnae doing well. Her memory is fading.”

Sybella sighed. “I notice it more when she becomes upset, but aye, she is sometimes forgetful. The day after Alex and I wed, we found Aunt Iseabail walking in the woods in her bare feet. She came across the path of a lone wolf. If Alex hadnae arrived when he did…She said she was searching for Alex but didnae remember her purpose and didnae realize she wore nay boots.”

“My poor seanmhair. ’Tis one of the reasons we came to Glengarry. We havenae seen her since Ciaran and I wed. And she has yet to lay her eyes upon Lachlann.”

At that moment, Aunt Iseabail walked into the great hall with outstretched arms. “My dearest Rosalia. How lovely to see ye again.”

Rosalia stood with Lachlann and embraced her seanmhair with one arm. “’Tis so wonderful to see ye.” She pulled back and smiled. “Seanmhair, I have someone I would like ye to meet. This wee lad is your great-grandson, Lachlann.”

Aunt Iseabail’s eyes glowed with enjoyment. “Ye have brought me the greatest gift of all, Rosalia. He is absolutely bonny. And he looks just like his sister, Anabel.”

Rosalia paled.

* * *

Alex sat in his study with the MacGregor, grateful for another generous gift of ale. No sooner had Sybella’s brother walked out of the gates than MacGregor had appeared. The man’s timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Now that Alex knew about some of the MacKenzies machinations against the MacLeods of Lewis, he sought MacGregor’s counsel. He would have time to visit with his cousin later, but at the moment, Alex was more curious to see if the MacGregor had any sound advice to offer him.

“So the MacKenzie’s son told ye that they killed innocents?” asked MacGregor, shaking his head in disgust.

“Aye. I cannae think of anyone else who would want to kill my wife.”

“’Tis a logical choice to think the MacLeod would want to avenge his clan by taking aim at your wife.”

“Aye, but I have ne’er known of a man who could cover his tracks so well. My most skilled tracker couldnae find the trail.”

“Mmm…’tis difficult to say, but we donna know what the MacLeods do on that savage isle. And ye say naught has happened since your wife has remained inside the walls of the castle?”

Alex nodded in response.

MacGregor had a look of concentration on his face. “My men are verra skilled. I will send a few of them out with your men to scout. Mayhap they can pick up something.”

“Thank ye.”

“Donna worry, MacDonell.” MacGregor gave a brief nod. “Ye helped save my wife. I will help to save yours. Rosalia will be cross with ye for stealing me away for so long.” He stood and downed the rest of his drink. “Come. Let us find our women.”

Alex walked with the MacGregor to the great hall where the women were gathered around Aunt Iseabail at the table. Rosalia’s eyes lit up when she spotted her husband. When Alex offered Sybella a smile, her eyes darkened and she quickly lowered her gaze.

MacGregor placed his hand on Rosalia’s shoulder and bent to kiss her on the top of the head. “Wife.” He turned and kissed Aunt Iseabail on the cheek. “’Tis wonderful to see ye again, my lady.”

Aunt Iseabail smiled. “Your husband hasnae changed. He is still a verra fine looking man, Rosalia.”

MacGregor’s face reddened slightly.

Rosalia stood up from the bench and embraced Alex. “Cousin, marriage suits ye. Ye look well,” she said with a grin.

Alex raised a brow. “I could say the same for ye, Rosalia. And this young lad must be Lachlann. Congratulations to ye both.” He ruffled the bairn’s hair and was rewarded with a smile. Alex stood behind Sybella and placed his hand on her shoulder. He didn’t miss how she tensed under his fingertips and then abruptly stood. “And this is my wife, Lady Sybella MacDonell.”

“’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Laird MacGregor. My husband speaks of ye highly.”

“Please call me Ciaran.”

“Verra well. I am Sybella. Ye have journeyed far. Please sit and I will get ye something to drink.”

“Nephew, did ye see their strapping young bairn? How much longer do ye think it will be before ye have one of your own? I am nae getting any younger, ye know.”

Alex shook his head. Rosalia giggled, MacGregor smirked, and Sybella paled. “Give it time, Aunt. Ye cannae schedule such things.”

To Alex’s relief, Rosalia came to his rescue. “Ye cannae rush the gods. When they bless Alex and Sybella with a bairn, they bless them.”

“I suppose ye are right, but I find that the more time passes, the more impatient I become.”

“Ciaran, Lachlann is falling asleep in my arms. I think I will go to our chamber and lay him down,” said Rosalia, repositioning the bairn.

MacGregor held out his arms. “Nay, give him here. I will take him. Ye stay and enjoy the company of your kin.”

“Thank ye.”

The fierce MacGregor laird departed the great hall, carrying his bairn in a way that was as gentle and nurturing as the caring father that he was. Alex remembered when the man’s blade had struck down Archibald Campbell, the seventh Earl of Argyll. It was hard to believe that a warrior so adept on the battlefield could be a loving, devoted husband and father. Alex didn’t miss seeing how the man doted on his wife and child. Perhaps one day he himself might know the feeling of holding his own son, his heir.

Rosalia and Sybella resumed their seats flanking Aunt Iseabail, while Alex sat down on the other side of the table. “And how is life at Glenorchy? If I were to guess by that smile upon your face, Cousin, I would say life is treating ye well.”

“Everything has been wonderful. Ye probably received my missive that Declan and Liadain are wed. And Aisling and Aiden are expecting another bairn.”

“Ye will have so many MacGregors underfoot that your husband could start his own army.”

Rosalia giggled. “Donna give him any ideas. And what of ye, Alexander?” She leaned forward and smiled at Sybella. “My cousin is treating ye well?”

Alex didn’t fail to notice Sybella’s slight hesitation. “Aye, he is verra kind.”

“I am sure my seanmhair would have words with him if he wasnae.”

Aunt Iseabail nodded. “’Tis true, Nephew.”

“I am so sorry to hear of your father’s passing. He still seemed hale the last time we were here,” said Rosalia in a soft tone.

“His health slowly faded.”

“He was a good man.”

“Aye.”

Rosalia leaned in close to Aunt Iseabail. “And how have ye been enjoying having another woman within the walls?”

Aunt Iseabail clapped her hands. “I simply love it! Sybella is quite lovely company.”

“And I feel the same for ye,” said Sybella, her eyes distant.

“Have ye heard word of your mother, Rosalia?” When Rosalia’s lips thinned, Alex gave her an apologetic smile.

Rosalia shifted on the bench. “Nae since her English lover’s fate joined that of the bloody Campbell.”

* * *

“Who is the bloody Campbell?” asked Sybella. If she was being compared to this man, she wanted to know who he was.

“He was Archibald Campbell, the seventh Earl of Argyll. And his lands bordered the MacGregor. He was the right hand of the King, but his greed got him killed,” said Alex with a trace of bitterness.

Sybella’s eyes widened innocently. “So I take it he wasnae a man to be trusted.”

“Trusted? I wouldnae trust him alone with a dog. He held my cousin against her will in order to force MacGregor to break King James’s command. The man got what he deserved. He had nay honor.”

Alex had said that he trusted the MacKenzies as much as Ciaran trusted the bloody Campbell. Granted, the words Sybella overheard had been spoken with a heavy wooden door between them, but did Alexander truly think her clan had earned the same fate as the bloody Earl of Argyll? Something clicked in her mind: she believed the Campbell had met his demise upon the blade of Ciaran’s broadsword. Is that truly how her husband felt?