Charming the Shrew by Laurin Wittig Page A

he shed his cares in his dreams. But what cares could a bard have beyond learning the latest news and singing for his keep?
    She had cares, and not small ones, cares she must attend to.
    Leaving had at least kept her out of Dogface’s hands, and from the sound of the message the bard had read her—she still marveled that he could read—she had left none too soon.
    But what was she to do now? If she continued with her original plan, she would have to travel past Assynt to get to her aunt’s village by the sea. She had no wish to go anywhere near her home until she was sure Dogface had departed and would not be returning. That meant her aunt’s was no longer her destination. Then where could she go?
    Not Assynt, nor Dun Donell, nor the sea village, nor an abbey. She shuddered. The list of where she could not go was growing longer by the moment.
    A new thought had her shuddering: ’twas not unheard of for a bride to be married by proxy. Nay, Broc would not do that to her…would he? She must not panic. She was smarter than Broc, so there must be a way around this problem. Perhaps he had not thought of a proxy wedding…but he would, eventually. Someone would mention it, probably Dogface, though she still did not understand why he wished to wed her. But ’twas just the kind of thing he would suggest, for he was too like Broc in that he did not brook with others thwarting his wishes. She would not be safe from the vile man unless he could not wed her.
    An idea formed, faint at first, but as she mulled it over it became clearer, stronger. She must wed another before Dogface or Broc could find her and seal her fate. Even if they did marry her to Dogface by proxy, ’twould not hold up if she had previously consummated a union with another to whom she had freely given her vows.
    She must marry. She must marry soon.
    She watched the sleeping man across from her. He was very pleasant to look at, but nay, he would not make for the sort of husband she needed. She must find someone with enough strength and power to stand up to Dogface, and to Broc, for ’twould come to that, she was sure. She needed a hero like those in the songs the bards sang…a hero like Tayg of Culrain.
    She considered that for a moment. As far as she knew he was unwed and a second son. He was loyal to the king, for he had fought by King Robert’s side for many months. He was faithful, strong, brave. All the things she needed in a husband, for herself and for the clan. But would he take her to wife?
    She would bring a powerful alliance as her tocher, along with wealth. He was said to be the very opposite of Dogface and Broc. Perhaps if she could not convince Tayg of Culrain himself she could convince the king to pledge them for ’twould be to his benefit to seal an alliance between his loyal man and one of the far Highland clans.
    The king. She had told Ailig to seek the king’s support to make him the next chief of Clan Leod, yet he had declined, most forcefully, to do so. But that did not mean that she could not petition the king. Ailig had asked her what her duty was. Was it not to see to the well-being of the clan? Marrying Dogface would not speak to the well-being of the clan. Broc stepping into her father’s place as chief would not speak to the well-being of the clan.
    But if she were to secure a strong alliance to one such as Tayg of Culrain and if she were to secure the king’s command that Ailig should be chief of Clan Leod of Assynt after his father, then that would speak to the well-being of the clan.
    Of course her tongue might not endear her to the king…or to her intended husband. Anger rose in her that she would have to hide her true self, but Ailig’s words of counsel came back to her. With a little effort to curb her tongue she would serve her own purposes, securing a future she could contemplate without revulsion. After all, marrying a hero would be very different from marrying a rogue. She smiled to herself. She had a plan. She would