Bound to a Scot – Bonus Prologue
One month earlier…
Maddox slumped in his chair on the dais, the great hall finally clear of petitioners. A laird’s day was long and grueling. A serving woman approached and offered him a cup of honeyed mead, which he took with a grateful nod.
“Thank ye,” he said.
As he took a long drink of his mead, he closed his eyes and relished the silence of the hall around him. It had been a long day of listening to disgruntled folk complaining about one thing or another and having to promise to do something about these things, even though he had no idea what that might be. He knew his clan was in trouble and they were looking to him for leadership.
After the betrayal of his wife and the death of the child she had bore, which he learned was not his mere moments before she died too, Maddox was having a hard time mustering the strength to care about anything. That his wife had lain with another man then lied to him about the child that grew in her belly had left indelible scars on his heart and soul. And despite the fact that the child was not his, he had gone months believing it was and found himself grieving for its loss.
He shook his head and drained the last of his cup, then signaled for another. The serving girl scampered over and quickly refilled it. Maddox took another long swallow and leaned his head back against the chair, relishing the muzzy feeling that grew in his head as the mead took hold of him. It was how he’d spent most of his nights since his wife death—deep in his cups and in a state of murky bliss. He liked that he didn’t have to think about or feel a thing.
Maddox tipped his cup back and even before he had finished it, was signaling for the serving girl again to come refill it.
“Hold. There will be nay more mead fer the laird tonight.”
Maddox opened his eyes to see his cousin and chief advisor, Adair, crossing the room, with a stoic and determined look on his face. Maddox knew that look well. It usually meant he was bearing unpleasant tidings and there was something serious they were about to discuss. To get through it, Maddox knew he was going to need mead, so he signaled for the serving girl.
“If ye refill that cup again, I’ll chop ye up intae small pieces and feed ye tae the dogs,” Adair said. “Ye’re free fer the rest of the night. Begone.”
The girl turned and dashed from the room, the door banging shut behind her. Maddox frowned and turned to Adair who pulled a chair onto the dais and sat down, staring long and hard at him. Maddox burped softly and ran a hand over his face.
“Cannae a man have bleedin’ drink after a long day?”
Adair shook his head. “’Tis the problem. ‘Tis never just a drink fer ye, Maddox.”
“’Tis nae true.”
“Oh, it always starts off with one. But it quickly becomes two, which even more quickly becomes seven or eight. And it’s usually nae more only because ye pass out after that.”
“It helps me sleep.”
Adair scowled. “We’ve got serious business tae attend tae and I need ye focused.”
“In case ye didnae ken, I’m mournin’ the loss of me wife and child.”
“Of course, I ken. I helped ye bury them,” he said. “’Tis more than I would have done fferor her. And yer grief is far more than she deserves.”
“She was me wife.”
“And she was a bleedin’ cheat. The child she carried wasnae even yers and yet she lied tae ye and made ye think it was.”
Maddox slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Dinnae ye think I dinnae ken that?”
“Dae ye? Because the way ye’re whinin’ and bleatin’ and carryin’ on, ye’d think she was a saint. Let me tell ye, she wasnae a saint.”
Maddox slumped back in his chair and frowned. It wasn’t often that Adair spoke to him so bluntly, or so harshly, but he reckoned his cousin did when he felt Maddox needed it. Adair was one of the only people, in fact, he was the only person Maddox allowed to speak to him in such a plain and unvarnished fashion, usually because he only did it when there was a larger point to be made. And Maddox knew the sooner he allowed Adair to make his point, the sooner he would be able to return to his cups.
“What is it ye want, Adair?”
“I want ye tae pull yer head out of yer backside.”
“Nae possible. What else dae ye want?”
A grin flickered across Adair’s lips, and he shook his head. “Ye’re a bleedin’ donkey.”
“So I’ve heard,” Maddox replied.
“Aye. Because I keep tellin’ ye that ye are.”
“If I tell ye I agree with ye, will ye leave me tae get drunk?”
“Nay. We’ve got business tae attend tae.”
“What business?” Maddox groaned. “I’ve been dealin’ with business all bleedin’ day long.”
“Uh huh. And while ye’ve been drinkin’ another day away, I’ve been out among the lands, talkin’ tae our people.”
“And why would ye dae that?”
“Tae find out the state of things. And let me tell ye, lad, they’re nae good.”
“I dinnae need tae leave the hall tae ken that.”
“Aye, but ye’re goin’ tae need tae leave the hall tae dae somethin’ about it.”
Feeling a headache coming on, Maddox pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn’t need Adair to tell him they were in trouble. Crops had been blighted, the huntsmen weren’t finding much game, and the fishermen’s nets were coming back empty more times than not. The people were hungry, growing agitated, and unless Maddox did something to reverse their fortunes, he knew he might be facing a revolt. Possibly even a loss of his lairdship, if not worse. But in light of what he’d recently lost, they felt like small concerns to him.
“And what dae ye want me tae dae about it?” he asked. “Dae ye think I can wave me bleedin’ hands and summon bountiful crops and game? Dae ye think I can say a few words and make the fish jump intae our boats?”
“Nay. But ye can make an alliance that will provide the clan with the money and provisions we need tae see us through the lean times.”
Maddox waved him off. “I’ve got nay alliances.”
“I ken that. ‘Tis why I’ve been doin’ a little bit of scoutin’ on me own.”
Sitting up in his chair, Maddox fixed Adair with an icy glare. “Ye’ve been negotiatin’ on me behalf? Without me authority? How dare ye!”
“I had yer blessin’ tae dae it.”
“I never gave it.”
“Ye did. But ye were probably too deep in yer cups tae remember.”
Maddox opened his mouth to verbally lash the man but closed it again without speaking. It was entirely possible he had agreed to let Adair seek out an alliance and just didn’t remember it. He didn’t seem to remember much after the sun went down lately. Adair stared back at him with a knowing gleam in his eye and Maddox shrank back in his seat.
“Fine. Maybe I did,” he snapped. “And what have ye found?”
“I’ve exchanged letters with Laird Burchard Macfie,” Adair said. “He’s amenable tae makin’ an alliance. He lacks fightin’ men and kens ours are the best around.”
“He wants our fightin’ men?”
“As a reserve force, aye.”
“Is he bein’ threatened by another?”
“He didnae say specifically. But ‘tis a detail ye can hash out with him,” Adair says. “In exchange fer a military alliance, he’s offered a vast amount of money and supplies. More than enough tae see us through this lean time and the next.”
Maddox’s eyes narrowed. He could tell there was something Adair was keeping back. Something he wasn’t telling him. When Adair cut his eyes away and refused to meet Maddox’s gaze, his suspicion was confirmed.
“What daes he want in return fer this largesse?” Maddox asked suspiciously. “Aside from our fightin’ men, that is?”
Adair cleared his throat then reached into his coat and pulled out a folded paper. He hesitated, then thrust it toward Maddox, who stared at it like it was a snake that was coiled and ready to strike. Slowly, he plucked the folded page from Adair and opened it. He quickly read the terms they had discussed for the proposed alliance once, then read them again.
“Marriage?” Maddox asked. “Are ye bleedin’ jestin’ with me?”
Adair pulled another item from his coat and handed it over. Maddox took it and turned it over to find it was a small painting of a man, a woman with dark hair and green eyes, and a young girl with dark hair and blue eyes. It was, Maddox assumed, a portrait of the man and his daughters. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at the green-eyed woman. She was strikingly beautiful, even rendered in paint.
“He wants me tae marry her?” Maddox asked and pointed to the green-eyed woman.
Adair cleared his throat. “Nae exactly. That is his wife, Emmeline.”
“His wife? She’s half his bleedin’ age.”
“’Tis his wife all the same,” Adair said. “Nay. He’s proposin’ a match between ye and the blue-eyed girl. His daughter, Cecilia.”
Maddox’s heart dropped into his belly, and he groaned. “Ye’ve got tae be jestin’. She’s a bleedin’ bairn, Adair.”
“He says she’s seen fifteen summers. She’s of child-bearin’ years. And I hate tae bring up the obvious, but ye need an heir.”
His gaze still fixed on the small portrait in his hand he slumped back in his chair and stared at the blue-eyed girl—girl being the most important word in that sentence. His eyes though, kept drifting to the other woman, the one with the green eyes, and he found himself entranced. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair.
“Bleedin’ hell,” he muttered. “The heavens must hate me tae jest with me like this.”
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Poor Maddox needs some happiness in his life. Can he put aside his grief and jumpstart his life, with a new wife? Who will be the lucky one?
Thank you so much for your comment dear ❤️ Maddox has been through so much, and he definitely deserves happiness. Whether he can put aside his grief and open his heart again is a journey only time will tell. As for who the lucky one might be… well, you’ll just have to keep reading to find out! 😉 Thank you for sharing your thoughts—I love hearing what readers think! ✨