the table before him.
Lachann took a sip from his mug and noticed Macauley looking at him with utter loathing in his eyes, which he quickly masked. ’Twas clear he held naught but contempt for Lachann.
They were even, then.
Nay, Lachann had the advantage. MacDuffie would never allow his daughter to choose the man with less wealth and fewer resources.
At least, Lachann did not think so.
But then MacDuffie drank yet another glass of whiskey, and Lachann had to wonder at the man’s sensibility. MacDuffie tried to refill his glass but found the bottle at his elbow empty. “Where is that damned wench, anyway?” he demanded, his words slightly slurred. “Call for more whiskey.”
Catrìona got up from her chair beside Macauley and went to the top of the stairs, where Anna had nearly fallen awhile earlier under the weight of that absurdly weighted tray.
“Anna!” she called.
“What brings you to Kilgorra, MacMillan?” Macauley asked, and Lachann realized the laird must have said naught to him of Lachann’s intentions.
He gave his old rival a hard glare. “I might ask the same of you, Macauley.”
The other man laughed. “To be sure, I plan to . . . help Kilgorra open trade with the lowlands. And perhaps England and France.”
Lachann glanced at Duncan, whose expression was carefully schooled to give no reaction at all. Lachann wondered if Macauley was serious, but he was not about to question the man now.
Anna emerged from the stairs with another whiskey bottle for the laird, as well as a tray of fruit and cheese. She kept her eyes down and served the table efficiently, picking up the pitcher of ale and refilling everyone’s mug.
When she came to stand beside Lachann, he could not refrain from inhaling deeply of her scent, and he thought of the raspberries she’d brought him. They were the same color as her bonny lips.
Lachann quickly turned his attention to his intended bride. “I look forward to exploring your isle, Catrìona.”
“Aye?” she replied. She pushed away from the table and came to Lachann’s side, easing Anna away. She reached for the tray the maid had brought and pressed her breast against Lachann’s shoulder as she moved.
Lachann realized he needed to generate some enthusiasm for the woman. “Will you be free on the morrow to ride with me?”
“No, she will not,” Macauley interjected. He faced Catrìona squarely, with irritation. “You are spending the day with me, if you recall.”
Catrìona looked away from Macauley and smiled down at Lachann. “I regret I cannot go with you on the morrow, Lachann,” she said. “But the day after?”
Lachann felt Macauley’s glare.
“Aye,” he said.
“I do apologize, Lachann,” Catrìona said sweetly, leaning into him. “If only I’d known . . .”
Damn all if he would apologize for arriving early after altering his plan to stop at Callachulain to visit his elderly uncle. He’d wanted no delays, for his purpose on Kilgorra was essential to the protection and safety of Braemore. Leave it to a Macauley to sabotage his intentions.
Lachann maintained a semblance of calm, remembering that Macauley had had some time to court the woman, so she knew him. The only questions were how well, and whether Lachann could supplant him.
At least Macauley did not seem to have started recruiting men for an army. Lachann had the advantage there.
“Laird MacDuffie, we saw no guards when we came into the harbor,” Kieran said. “Is that because you were expecting us?”
“Kilgorra is a peaceful isle, ” Macauley answered for MacDuffie. He kept his eyes upon Catrìona as she left Lachann’s side and returned to her place at the table. “We have naught to fear.”
We?
Fury simmered just beneath Lachann’s surface, and his hands were oh so ready to draw his sword. But there had been no open warfare between the MacMillans and Macauleys since that final battle when Lachann had taken Ewan hostage. Matters had quieted, even after the
Lachann took a sip from his mug and noticed Macauley looking at him with utter loathing in his eyes, which he quickly masked. ’Twas clear he held naught but contempt for Lachann.
They were even, then.
Nay, Lachann had the advantage. MacDuffie would never allow his daughter to choose the man with less wealth and fewer resources.
At least, Lachann did not think so.
But then MacDuffie drank yet another glass of whiskey, and Lachann had to wonder at the man’s sensibility. MacDuffie tried to refill his glass but found the bottle at his elbow empty. “Where is that damned wench, anyway?” he demanded, his words slightly slurred. “Call for more whiskey.”
Catrìona got up from her chair beside Macauley and went to the top of the stairs, where Anna had nearly fallen awhile earlier under the weight of that absurdly weighted tray.
“Anna!” she called.
“What brings you to Kilgorra, MacMillan?” Macauley asked, and Lachann realized the laird must have said naught to him of Lachann’s intentions.
He gave his old rival a hard glare. “I might ask the same of you, Macauley.”
The other man laughed. “To be sure, I plan to . . . help Kilgorra open trade with the lowlands. And perhaps England and France.”
Lachann glanced at Duncan, whose expression was carefully schooled to give no reaction at all. Lachann wondered if Macauley was serious, but he was not about to question the man now.
Anna emerged from the stairs with another whiskey bottle for the laird, as well as a tray of fruit and cheese. She kept her eyes down and served the table efficiently, picking up the pitcher of ale and refilling everyone’s mug.
When she came to stand beside Lachann, he could not refrain from inhaling deeply of her scent, and he thought of the raspberries she’d brought him. They were the same color as her bonny lips.
Lachann quickly turned his attention to his intended bride. “I look forward to exploring your isle, Catrìona.”
“Aye?” she replied. She pushed away from the table and came to Lachann’s side, easing Anna away. She reached for the tray the maid had brought and pressed her breast against Lachann’s shoulder as she moved.
Lachann realized he needed to generate some enthusiasm for the woman. “Will you be free on the morrow to ride with me?”
“No, she will not,” Macauley interjected. He faced Catrìona squarely, with irritation. “You are spending the day with me, if you recall.”
Catrìona looked away from Macauley and smiled down at Lachann. “I regret I cannot go with you on the morrow, Lachann,” she said. “But the day after?”
Lachann felt Macauley’s glare.
“Aye,” he said.
“I do apologize, Lachann,” Catrìona said sweetly, leaning into him. “If only I’d known . . .”
Damn all if he would apologize for arriving early after altering his plan to stop at Callachulain to visit his elderly uncle. He’d wanted no delays, for his purpose on Kilgorra was essential to the protection and safety of Braemore. Leave it to a Macauley to sabotage his intentions.
Lachann maintained a semblance of calm, remembering that Macauley had had some time to court the woman, so she knew him. The only questions were how well, and whether Lachann could supplant him.
At least Macauley did not seem to have started recruiting men for an army. Lachann had the advantage there.
“Laird MacDuffie, we saw no guards when we came into the harbor,” Kieran said. “Is that because you were expecting us?”
“Kilgorra is a peaceful isle, ” Macauley answered for MacDuffie. He kept his eyes upon Catrìona as she left Lachann’s side and returned to her place at the table. “We have naught to fear.”
We?
Fury simmered just beneath Lachann’s surface, and his hands were oh so ready to draw his sword. But there had been no open warfare between the MacMillans and Macauleys since that final battle when Lachann had taken Ewan hostage. Matters had quieted, even after the
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