Page 2 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
Wilma’s jaw dropped. “Ye cannae be serious! Surely me faither…”
“Yer faither’s in agreement with the rest of them. Says a laird must do his duty, including providing heirs for the continuation of his line.”
The dismay and outrage on Wilma’s face made him feel a little better, even if he knew there was nothing his cousin could do to aid him. “That’s foolish! Ye’ve already sired an heir in Finn, and even if ye hadnae, ye’ve years of life left, plenty of time to find a wife if ye want. And if ye daenae, I’ll be finding a husband someday, and there’s Gordon too.”
Her tone softened as she stepped forward to put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “I cannae believe they’re tryin’ to force ye into this and threatening to take the title, when ye’ve done so much to help our clan prosper.”
“Apparently what I’ve done is nae enough, so far as the Elders are concerned. A laird is apparently nae a laird without a wife and wee ones.” Murdoch grimaced and set aside the stack to reach for another. “If they take the matter to the Highland Gathering or the court, I cannae be sure of winnin’ the argument.”
Wilma returned to the bookshelves, though she continued to ponder as she did so. “Can ye nae just seduce a lass and wed her?”
“Has to be a lass of proper station. With me reputation, nay lass will want me, and nay father, brother, or cousin would consent to give his female relative to me in wedlock.”
Wilma gave him a fierce look. “I daenae ken what ye mean by that.”
“Ye ken as well as I what happened to me first wife. And ye ken the rumors that have been driftin’ through the clan since. Nay woman would risk it.” The words grated like sandpaper in his throat, but he’d long grown used to the knowledge that no one would ever listen to his side of the story. No one, save his cousin.
Wilma opened her mouth, and Murdoch shook his head. “Daenae argue. We both ken that what people think and what truly is are rarely the same. Leave it be.”
Wilma frowned but turned back to the bookshelf. Her brow furrowed in thought. “Ye said Malloy was going on about an old contract? If ye prove it doesnae exist, does that mean they’ll have to relent?”
“Like as nae, they’d find some other way to…och, and now I’ve found it, the devil take me luck.” Murdoch swore in mingled disbelief and annoyance.
There, under his hand, was a document clearly titled ‘Contract of Alliance by way of Marriage Between Two Clans’.
He read it quickly, his mood worsening with every word. Rourke had told the truth. His father had indeed signed a contract for him to be wed to a Lady Knox of Clan Clyde, as part of an alliance to be formed between them.
Further reading told him the lady’s given name was Nora, and that the terms of the agreement stated all children would be heirs and daughters of Clan Lochlann.
Murdoch scarcely heard Wilma’s soft, triumphant exclamation a moment later. “Found it!” He barely registered her soft touch on his shoulder, or her murmured “I wish ye luck in yer quest, cousin.”
The door clicked shut behind her a moment later, and Murdoch sat back in his chair with a thump. He had a sudden, almost overwhelming, desire to trade the glass of scotch he’d poured himself for the rest of the bottle. Had he not been in a position that required full use of his wits, he might have given in to that desire.
The document was real. There was a woman out there, a woman he’d never met, who was his betrothed.
Murdoch picked up the paper again, studying the name written in the faded ink. “Nora Knox…”
I daenae ken ye, Miss Knox, but I hope ye're a strong lass, for ye're me only hope of keepin' the peace. In the words of the old bard… ‘somethin' wicked this way comes’...and ye’ll be the makin’ or the breakin’ of me clan’s fortune.
2
“Here’s an interesting looking laird…och, never mind.” Lydia Knox, youngest among the Knox sisters of the Clyde Clan, shivered as she turned the page of her Book of Records.
“What? Was he already married?” Her sister Isobel leaned around her shoulder, grimacing as she shifted the weight of her belly. She was seven months with child, and her belly was as round as a ball.
“Nae as such. That is, he was, but it appears he killed his first wife.” Lydia shivered again.
“Killed his first…och, I think I ken which laird ye're looking at. Tis Laird Lochlann, aye?”
“Aye. Do ye ken of him?” Lydia raised a hopeful eyebrow. She knew what was written in the records, but she also knew that records weren’t always accurate.
After all, records had stated that Emma’s husband Hunter had killed their elder brother, and they’d discovered that to be a falsehood - a story spun by their detestable cousin Geoffrey to hide his own nefarious misdeeds.
Fortunately for them all, Geoffrey was dead, and his lies and manipulations with him. Instead of being exploited as his puppets (one of them forced to wed their own cousin, at that) the sisters had found safe havens and loving husbands. All of them, except for Lydia.
Lydia understood that it was only right for her sisters to marry first. She was the youngest, after all. The bairn of the family. She couldn’t begrudge her sisters the happiness they’d found, especially after how they’d all struggled to find peace and joy after fleeing Geoffrey.
Even so, it stung to be the only one who’d yet to find a potential husband. Especially after Nora and Isobel, who’d both sworn not to marry at all, had managed to acquire husbands who could give them love, as well as the lives they’d always dreamed of having.
