A Faerie Fated Forever by Mary Anne Graham Page A

you and my Heather. Such would be of great benefit to both our clans. I demand that either this wench be banished from our company or my clansmen, my family and I will leave and trouble ourselves of the hospitality of the Clan Maclee no further.”
    With MacIver's final words, he threw down the gauntlet. A feud between the two clans would destroy the island. At this moment Nial hated the widow profoundly. His time with her had been no more than satisfying an odd lust he seemed to have for the woman. He didn’t even understand the lust, for he surely did not like her. Yet he liked having his back pushed to the wall even less. The MacIvers and the elders of his clan had been doing just that for days now.
    None of those logical thoughts motivated his actions. His growing admiration for Heather did though. He was fond of her and found her intelligent, brave and caring. She did not deserve the venom from the evil woman who stood before him.
    He motioned to two clansmen and ordered them to escort Sorcha out of the castle.
    “Do not presume to return to my household again without an invitation,” he said, looking into her eyes coldly as she passed.
    She snatched her arm from the grasp of the men leading her and stepped in front of Nial. “Laird Maclee, do not presume to return to my bed again without an invitation either.”
    The company gasped and she smiled at his visible fury at having been called to the carpet in front of all and sundry.
    Carrick stood again, calling to him loudly. Nial didn’t want to speak to the man just now and doubted he could be civil anyway.
    “I suggest that everyone proceed with dinner. Laird MacIver, you need have no concern for Heather. I will go to attend her now.”
    Somewhat mollified, Carrick motioned the group to dinner. Nial left to go to the kitchen. He entered quietly, and found Heather laughing and talking to the group of servants who enjoyed the meal in much greater humor than was generally found among guests in the dining room. They all competed for Heather’s attention and fought to serve her.
    When two maids argued over who would fill her cup and she protested that she could fill her own, he spoke for the first time. “Perhaps one of you could fetch me a cup and plate instead.”
    The chief cook made a startled noise and commenced shouting at her staff, having a conniption fit from the laird appearing in her kitchen. He calmed the servant, insisting he wanted to dine here and he shook away the staff’s protests. He sat beside Heather who insisted that they could serve themselves. He instructed that it be as she wished and all of the household servants found themselves dining with the chief of the clan in his kitchen.
    Before the meal ended he and the lass debated with high good humor whether Shakespeare’s works could possibly be considered classics in Scotland since the writer was English. That led to a discussion of the merits, or lack thereof, of all things English, and before the meal ended the crowd howled with laughter as Nial and a kitchen lad traded singing funny ditties about the odd ways of the Sassannach .
    After the merriment dwindled, Nial turned to her and said, “I hope you haven’t forgotten your promise to walk with me in the garden.”
    He shifted uneasily at her heart shining from her eyes as she replied, “I could hardly have forgotten such a thing, Nial.”
    During their stroll, he found himself discussing a problem with the crops and a punishment he had to decide for a tenant who shirked his service obligation. She had good ideas for both, and before they finished debating the merits of those, he realized how late the hour grew.
    He looked at her in today’s brown sack and matching Granny bonnet and wished she were more attractive. She made a good friend but if he married her he would dishonor himself by betraying his vows with another woman. He feared he would end up in a marriage as desperately unhappy as that of his mother and father. The thought of