On a Highland Shore by Kathleen Givens Page B

it. I will be a faithful husband to ye.”
    Her father put his hand heavily on the table. “See that ye are,” he said, as though that settled the matter.
    Margaret shook her head. “Ye canna expect me to marry him now.”
    Her father’s jaw was firm. “I do. Ye will.”
    “No.”
    Nell put her clasped hands to her mouth.
    “Margaret!” Lachlan cried. “I swear this will never happen again. It was Fiona who tempted me, ye ken. She was so welcoming…”
    “Dinna blame this on her! Ye chose…”
    “Enough!” her father roared. “The contracts have been signed. Ye’ve pledged yer troth. He’s apologized. That is the end of it. Ye’ll marry as planned.”
    Margaret stared at him. “Ye canna mean it.”
    “I do mean it,” her father said firmly. “I’ll see the two of ye wed.”
    “To a man who cares only for his own pleasures, who breaks his word?”
    “I dinna promise to be faithful to ye before we wed, Margaret,” Lachlan said.
    She turned to meet his gaze. “No,” she said, putting all the contempt she felt for him in her words. “No, I suppose ye dinna.” She turned back to her father. “How can ye think to marry me to a man who neglects his properties and his people? Who buys new clothing instead of repairing his home? Did ye ken his tenants have complained to Uncle William?”
    “How do ye think ye ken all this?” Lachlan shouted.
    She met Rignor’s eyes, saw his plea for her silence. “I listen, Lachlan,” she said. “I turned away from it, thinking we’d change all that together, but I listened. I willna marry ye.”
    It was her father who answered, his tone stern but not angry. “Margaret, surely I dinna need to remind ye of what ye already ken. We marry to make the clan stronger, to increase our lands and our power, not for our own pleasure. Ye’ve been betrothed to Lachlan since ye were a bairn. I’ve given my word to yer uncle William and to the king that ye’ll marry, so marry ye will. That’s the last of it.”
    Lachlan took her hand again. “I swear on my life that it willna happen again, Margaret. I swear it.”
    “I willna marry ye. There has to be more than this.”
    “There is not more,” her mother said. “Ye’ve been dreaming of something that doesna exist.” She threw her husband a glance. “Ye’ll marry Lachlan and be glad of it.”
    “No.”
    There was silence in the room.
    Mother glared at Father. “Tell her! Tell her she must marry Lachlan!”
    “I ha’ done that,” he said wearily.
    “I willna marry him,” Margaret said.
    “So I’ve heard,” Father said. “Go to yer room, Margaret. When I’ve decided what to do I’ll come to ye.”
     
    It was evening of the next day before Father came for her, knocking quietly at their door. Nell, who had kept Margaret company the long day, answered. Father stood for a moment, looking at his daughters. Ewan and Fergus peered around their father’s side, but he waved them back.
    “Go now, laddies. This is no’ for ye,” he said.
    Her father’s tone was somber, and Margaret winced. It was this tone that frightened her more than his shouting, for this tone was what he used when he delivered bad news or set decrees that were unalterable. He closed the door behind him. Nell retreated to stand by the window. Margaret sat on the edge of the bed. After a moment her father joined her, rubbing his hand along his thigh, then straightening the wool of his feileadh.
    “Margaret,” he said, “ye’ll be going to the shielings as planned. Nell will go with ye. Then ye’ll be going to the Abbey at Brenmargon for a night or two, until yer uncle William comes to fetch ye. And then ye’ll go to court.”
    “To court? But, Father, why?”
    He met her gaze. There was regret there, yes, but this was the gaze of the clan chief and no one, even a daughter, could gainsay him. She felt her heart sink.
    “Ye need to make yer choice, lass. It’ll be marriage to Lachlan or the convent for ye. There are no other