Just Beyond Tomorrow. Bertrice Small

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      At the sight of her sister-in-law’s plight, Una Brodie began to shriek so loudly that her extended family came running from all directions, surrounding the riders, open-mouthed.

      The duke was certain he heard Flanna Brodie chuckle wickedly, but on reflection decided he had imagined it. “There is nae need to shout, madame,” he told Una Brodie. “If I meant the Brodies of Killiecairn any harm, I should hae scarce come wi’ just six men at my back.” He untied Flanna’s wrists, instructing Colin More-Leslie to undo the girl’s leg shackles at the same time. “Ye may get down,” he murmured to her.

      “Oh, no, my lord,” she said, almost gaily, obviously enjoying herself mightily. “The view from up here is far better than I should get on the ground. Besides, I hae never been on such a fine beast as this one is.”

      “We shall both get down,” he said through gritted teeth, dismounting first, then lifting the girl to the ground after him.

      “What the hell is going on here?” a man, fully as tall as the duke, said as he pushed his way forward. “Flanna? Where hae ye been? The old man hae been frantic all day wi’out ye.” His glance met the duke’s green gaze. “And, who are ye, sir?”

      “Patrick Leslie, Duke of Glenkirk,” was the reply. “I hae business wi’ yer sire, man.” He held out his hand.

      It was gripped in return. “Aulay Brodie, my lord. If ye will come wi’ me. Ye and yer men are welcome in our hall. Una! Cease yer caterwauling, woman! ’Tis nae a raid. ’Tis a visit, damnit! We get few enough. Dinna drive our visitors away before we can offer them our hospitality.”

      The duke followed Aulay Brodie into his house, Flanna hurrying ahead of them, the others following behind. The little hall was soon full with all the family and servants. There was but one smoky fireplace at the far end of the room, and seated in a high-backed, blackened oak chair next to it was a white-haired old man. He had been a large man once, but now he was gnarled and bent, his most prominent feature being his large, hooked nose. His eyes, however, were sharp, watching carefully as his visitor approached him in the company of his son.

      “This is Patrick Leslie, the Duke of Glenkirk, Da,” Aulay Brodie said.

      Patrick bowed politely to the old man. “Sir.”

      Lachlann Brodie waved the younger man to a seat opposite him. “Bring whiskey,” he said curtly. His command was quickly obeyed. His gaze swung about to his only daughter. “Where were ye?” he demanded.

      “At Brae,” she said. “I intend taking Aggie and Angus so I may live there.”

      “Huumph!” her father grunted, and then his eyes moved back to Patrick Leslie. “They say ye brought my lass home, bound hand and foot upon yer saddle. Why?”

      “She attacked me,” the duke replied quietly. “Nae one arrow, but two, shot at my feet, nae to mention the dirk she waved about. I considered it a hostile action.”

      “She could hae killed ye if she so desired,” Lachlann Brodie replied, chuckling. “When she was sixteen I saw her bring down a full-grown stag with one of those arrows. Straight through the beastie’s heart she shot it. She could hae found her own way back to Killiecairn.”

      “I want to buy Brae,” Patrick Leslie said bluntly.

      “Why?” The old man’s eyes were suddenly sparkling with interest.

      “It abuts my lands. I want as much land between me and my neighbors as I can get,” the duke answered him. “These are dangerous times between the king’s war down in England and the religious fanatics all about us.”

      “Aye,” Lachlann Brodie agreed.

      “Ye canna sell Brae, Da,” Flanna interrupted him. “ ’Tis mine. My dowry. ’Tis all I hae!”

      “I’ll gie ye a fair price for it,” the duke continued as if Flanna had not even spoken. “A dower of gold is more valuable to a lass than Brae and its forested lands. They are all surrounded by Glenkirk lands, useless to anyone else but me.”

      “How much?” Lachlann Brodie asked.

      “Two hundred and fifty gold crowns,” came the answer.

      The old man shook his head in the negative. “ ’Tis nae enough.”

      “Five hundred, then,” the duke replied.

      There was an audible hiss of breath in the hall at the very substantial offer.

      “ ’Tis nae gold I’m wanting for Brae, my lord,” Lachlann Brodie finally said. “There isna enough gold in the world for ye to buy Brae.”

      “Then, what do ye want, sir?” the duke inquired. “If it is in my power to gie it to ye, I will, for I mean to hae Brae.”

      “If ye want Brae, my lord, then ye must take its heiress as well,” Lachlann Brodie said. “Marry Flanna, and Brae is yers.”

      “Damn me!” Aulay Brodie said aloud, as surprised as the rest of the audience in the hall. Gold was his father’s God, yet here was the old man actually attempting to do well by his youngest child.

      “I dinna want to marry anyone, least of all him!” Flanna exploded.

      “Shut yer mouth, lass,” her father said calmly. “I’m a hard man, and ’tis true I’m tight wi’ a merk, but I loved yer mam. She was the joy of my old age. I promised her I’d see ye wed well, and the truth is, lass, ye’re nae likely to hae a better chance ever again.” He turned back to the duke. “Well, my lord, how badly do ye want Brae? She’s nae a bad-looking wench, although a trifle big boned. She gets that, I fear, from me and nae her mother. She’s young enough to be a good breeder, although at twenty-two she’s almost past her prime. She’s got a fierce temper, I’ll nae lie to ye, but ye could nae hae a better wench at yer side in a fight. She’s a virgin, I’ll guarantee ye, for none can get near her, so ye may be certain yer heir is yer own blood. If ye want Brae, ye must take my daughter to be yer wife. Ye dinna hae a wife, do ye?”

      He thought about lying to the old man, but it would be a lie easily discovered. “Nay, I hae nae wife,” he answered.

      “I will nae marry him!” Flanna shouted, but she was ignored. This business was between her father and the duke, it would seem.

      “Hush, ye stupid little ninny,” Una Brodie hissed at her. “Yer da is going to make ye a duchess if ye’ll keep quiet.”

      “I’ll nae have him!” Flanna attempted to make her wishes known once again.

      Patrick Leslie looked at the girl. He needed a wife. The truth was he didn’t care if he loved her or not. He needed a wife who could give him heirs, and Flanna looked strong enough. Love was an unpleasant complication, he had already decided. The girl was pretty enough. The dowry was something he badly wanted. He didn’t need gold, for he was a wealthy man. His family wanted him wed. Who else was there? True, the Brodies were hardly equal to the Leslies of Glenkirk. They were rough and rude Highlanders, but it didn’t matter. It was unlikely he would see them often once Flanna was at Glenkirk. Unless, of course, he needed their aid in a fight. Looking about at the hard-eyed Brodie men, he decided they would be an asset in a battle. In that moment he realized he had made his decision. “I’ll СКАЧАТЬ