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Every bone in his body tensed as he waited for what was to come. He wondered if she’d had something to do with this, but Anna’s wide eyes showed her surprise when her father said, “I should like to propose a betrothal between Sir Arthur and my daughter.”
Dugald choked. “A betrothal?”
Lorn’s mouth thinned in a straight line. “I believe that’s what I said. We can work out the terms later, but be assured that my daughter’s tocher is more than generous. It includes a certain castle that I believe might be of interest to you.”
Both Arthur and his brother went completely still. It was Dugald who finally spit out, “Innis Chonnel?”
A devious smile played upon Lorn’s mouth. “Aye.”
Arthur couldn’t believe it. The Campbell stronghold on Loch Awe that had been stolen from his clan years ago, returned for marrying the woman he wanted more than any other. A true devil’s bargain.
For a moment he hesitated, more tempted than he wanted to admit. Switching sides in this war was far too common.
But he couldn’t do it. Even if he could get past allying himself with the man who killed his father, too many people were counting on him. Neil, King Robert, MacLeod and the other members of the Highland Guard. Nor could he ignore his conscience. He believed in what they were doing.
The return of the castle to the Campbells—even to a younger son—was enough to convince Dugald. He turned to Arthur. “I have no objection. Arthur …?”
All eyes turned to him, but he was conscious of only two sets: those of Anna, who watched him with her heart in hers, and Lorn, who watched him with his suspicions in his.
Even if he had no intention of going through with it, Arthur knew he had to agree in order to defray any suspicion. This betrothal was a test of his loyalty. It was just as much about Anna’s happiness as it was about proving his allegiance.
His conscience warred with his duty, but it was a short battle. He had no choice. The stakes were too high. He couldn’t think about how much she was going to hate him when she found out the truth.
“I would be honored to have Lady Anna as my wife.”
Perhaps the worst part was that he actually meant it.
Nineteen
Anna had everything she wanted. Then why was she so miserable?
It was a week after her father’s surprise betrothal announcement in his solar. Once she’d gotten over the shock, she’d been elated. To marry the man she loved … Nothing could have made her happier—except maybe news that Bruce had decided the crown really didn’t belong to him and had disappeared in the Western Isles as he’d done before. But that dream had yet to come true.
While she’d been overjoyed, Arthur had looked as if he’d swallowed a fistful of nails.
In the days since, he’d been unfailingly polite. Attentive at meals and the few times their paths crossed during the day. He’d even allowed Squire to follow him around without complaint.
On the surface he was the perfect fiancé. But that was the problem: it was all on the surface. His formality—his increasing distance—dimmed the happiness inside her to a flicker. Every “Did you have a pleasant day today, Lady Anna?” or “Would you like another cup of wine, Lady Anna?” put a tiny fissure in her heart.
She didn’t understand. He cared about her—he’d admitted as much—so why couldn’t he see how perfect this could be?
But as the days went on, it became harder to convince herself that he wanted this. He was pulling farther and farther away from her. Something was troubling him. Though the week had brought them closer to the end of the truce—the Ides of August was fast approaching—the increased anxiety could be felt everywhere, and she didn’t think it was the looming battle.
She wished he would confide in her, but he’d rebuffed her attempts to speak with him. Not that there had been many opportunities. Other than their brief exchanges at meals, the only time he’d sought out her company was a few days ago, when he’d insisted on accompanying her to Ardchattan Priory. With no messages waiting for her, she didn’t have to hide anything from him.
But perhaps her father wouldn’t have minded him knowing about her role in passing messages. Their betrothal seemed to have eliminated any lingering suspicions her father had of the Campbells. As war moved closer and preparations for battle intensified, the Campbells had been spending more time with her father and brother, which she hoped was a sign of the thawing of any lingering coolness from the old feud.
She sighed, allowing her gaze to wander around the room as her maidservant finished arranging her hair. It was the sixth day of August. One day closer to the expiration of the truce.
Glancing out the window of her tower chamber, she saw a birlinn sail into the bay, the main anchorage for the castle. It was an ordinary occurrence, and one that would not have caught her attention but for the speed at which it traveled. The sleek wooden ship had barely pulled onto the sand bank when men started jumping out and racing toward the castle gate.
Her heart jumped, knowing something was happening. Not bothering with a veil, she raced down the tower stairs and entered the barmkin at the same time her father was greeting the troop of men from the birlinn.
MacNabs.
“What news have you?” her father asked.
The MacNab captain’s face was grim. “It’s King Hood, my lord. He’s on the move.”
She gasped, fear turning her blood to ice. It was here. The day she’d dreaded yet anticipated at the same time. The battle that could be an end to the war.
The castle was in an uproar. The warriors in the crowd seemed to bristle with excitement, eager for the chance to destroy their enemies. The few women who were about, however, had far different reactions—concern and, like Anna, fear.
Instinctively, her gaze sought out Arthur’s. The news had affected him as well. He was watching her with a burning intensity that she hadn’t seen since the attack. Their eyes held for a moment before he turned back to the MacNabs.
Her father ushered the newcomers into the Great Hall. Anna followed, anxious to find out all that she could.
Unfortunately, the MacNabs had little more information. One of their scouts had alerted them that Bruce had left the Earl of Garioch’s castle in Inverurie with a force of at least three thousand—three thousand, to her father’s eight hundred!—and started to march west. Whether he intended to head for Lorn or Ross first, however, they did not know.
Bruce was wasting no time. He would be ready to attack right when the truce expired. Dear God, the barbarians could be knocking at their gate by the next week.
Her sisters and mother had heard the commotion and hurried down to the Hall. Finding Anna at the back of the crowd, they asked her what was happening. She quickly filled them in, seeing her fear mirrored in their anxious faces. It was a day they all knew was coming, but now the bell had begun to toll.
“So soon?” her mother said fretfully. “But he’s only just recovered.”
“He’ll be fine, Mother,” she said, trying to convince them both. But it wasn’t just her father Anna was worried about. What if …
Nay. She couldn’t think about it. Arthur would come back. They would all come back.
But the uncertainty. The capriciousness of war was exactly what she’d sought to avoid. Why did she have to fall in love with a knight?
The men conversed for a while longer. She’d lost sight of Arthur and his brothers when they’d moved to the Hall, but when the talk turned to a scouting mission she saw him ease forward toward the dais, where her father was seated at a trestle table with some of his men and the MacNab captain.
Her heart froze, guessing what he was about to do. She wanted to call him back, to tell him not to do it, but she knew she could not. It was what he did.
“I’ll go, my lord,” Arthur said.
Her father looked at him and nodded, obviously pleased that he’d volunteered. Alan offered to go as well, but her father refused, saying he needed him at the castle. Eventually, it was decided that