Much Ado About Highlanders (The Scottish Relic Trilogy) by May McGoldrick Page A

have Emily returned tomorrow?”
    The old man nodded. “They’re only after their ship. On that, Alexander was perfectly clear.”
    Before anyone could speak, the laird waved a hand, requiring silence. He and Kester exchanged a look. “No action will be taken against the Macphersons. The ship will be returned. We will have my daughter back.”
    The abbot breathed more easily.
    “Word of this is not to leave this chamber,” the laird ordered. “It that clear?”
    “Aye, laird,” an elder replied. “But what about Sir Quentin Chamberlain? What of Emily’s dowry?”
    “I negotiated my daughter’s marriage contract. I will make whatever adjustment we need to make in her dowry. I always had my doubts that the Macpherson ship would have worked out, anyway. And I’m certain Magnus MacKay would have objected to it, too.”
    The other clan elder spoke up cautiously. “But what if Sir Quentin learns Emily has been in the hands of these Highlanders?”
    “There is no reason he should know of it. We don’t expect him for another sennight,” the laird told them. “And you will spread the word that my daughter has gone to Glosters Priory with Kenna for a few days. They will be back soon.”
    It all seemed settled. There was some grumbling, but not one of them was brave enough to speak out. A serving lad appeared and whispered in the laird’s ear. MacDougall nodded and then directed him to take the abbot to the Great Hall and find him some supper.
    Satisfied that disaster had been happily averted, the abbot followed the lad out into the corridor, only to find Diarmad waiting to enter the laird’s chamber. The warrior nodded at the stunned cleric.
    Pausing at the top of the stairs, the abbot stared at the broad back of the Highlander. And before the door closed, he would have sworn he heard laughter.

Chapter 6
What we have we prize not to the worth
    Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost,
    Why, then we rack the value, then we find
    The virtue that possession would not show us
    While it was ours.
    Dresses the colors of spring glimmered with needlework of gold. The jewels the women wore caught every ray of light, blinding with their brilliance. Their faces were bright as the moon. Their voices soft. Their movements deliberate and refined. They crowded the Great Hall, standing in groups, whispering and sending scornful glances in Kenna’s direction.
    The men in the hall formed a single line before her, their faces hidden behind masks. Her father stood beside her, nodding when it was time for each of them to approach and present himself. She looked down at her wet dress, torn in places, stained nearly black at the hem. Her feet were bare and filthy. Strands of hair fell across her face.
    “Choose one,” her father ordered.
    “But I’m already married,” she told him. “I’m married to Alexander.”
    “He cast you off. Sent you back. He doesn’t want you.”
    Her throat tightened. Sadness clamped down on her heart, but it was no surprise. She’d fought him, deserted him, and said so many false things . . . all the while knowing that he was the only man she would ever want.
    “Choose one for your husband and do it now, Kenna. We will not move until you have done so. I’ve grown tired of this foolish independence.”
    Kenna tried to prove him wrong. She needed no protection from him. She tried to take a step. Her feet wouldn’t budge. She tried to raise her arms. They were bound to her side. She was a captive.
    The next man in line approached. “Will you have me, lady?”
    She could see nothing of his face, but only the crown sitting askew on his head. “Nay. You are just a prince’s fool.”
    The next one approached. “Will you marry me, great lady?” he drawled each word as if they were a collection of yawns.
    “You are duller and more false than a January thaw.”
    The next man was too cheerful in his question.
    “Nay,” she dismissed him. And the one after. And the dozens after that.
    She did not