listening.
Gwyneth had stayed behind to protect the castle. There were no direct threats, so Torrian’s sire had not been concerned about any attacks. He had another hundred and fifty guards at the Ramsay castle, and they would protect his clan if need be.
Torrian noticed plenty of guards set at various distances, even some archers, which didn’t bode well, but his sire did not seem to be concerned. This was a friendly visit, by order of the King of the Scots, so any threats visited upon them would be akin to threats against the Scottish crown. He prayed his feelings were unfounded, and yet the premonition would not leave him.
As they drew closer to the gates, a line of horses moved out to greet them.
Torrian rode up to his sire’s side. He’d do everything possible to make his sire proud, his goal since he’d been abed with his illness. Yet the turmoil in his belly belied his outer countenance. He feared he would not get along with Davina, and that he would therefore disappoint both his father and his king.
This day could be one of the most important days in his life, the kind of event that determined his future, his happiness, even his direction. Not realizing he was holding his breath, he let it out slowly when their horses were almost nose to nose with the Buchan horses.
“Greetings. We welcome you to Buchan Castle.” The man in the center, who also appeared to be the eldest of the group, was the one who addressed them. “I am Glenn, chieftain of the Buchans.” He nodded to the rest of the group before continuing. “To my right is my eldest son, Dugald, and to my left is a neighbor, Ranulf, chieftain of the MacNivens. My daughter Davina rides behind me. Hugh, my second, rides next to Dugald. My youngest son, Cormag, rides next to him.”
Torrian arranged himself so he could see past the Buchan to Davina behind him. Dark-haired and beautiful, she sat tall, her shoulders back and a beautiful smile directed at different men in their line.
Quade responded with a nod. “I am Quade, chieftain of Clan Ramsay. My son Torrian is to my right, my wife Brenna is to my left, my brother, Logan Ramsay, rides next to my wife. My second Seamus is far left, my son’s second, Kyle, is far right.”
There was a slight, nearly imperceptible twitch of the Buchan’s eyebrow. “Your wife rides next to you?”
Quade squared his shoulders and sat taller on his horse. “Aye, as she always does unless we are under attack. I need not concern myself with such during a visit for the king, do I?”
The chief of Clan Buchan chuckled. “Of course not. You are our esteemed guests, as it should be. Allow me to lead the way.”
The chief turned his horse around so quickly he unsettled a couple of the beasts near him, but they calmed as the group headed toward the castle. Torrian caught Davina glancing over her shoulder at him, giving him a coy look and a smile before she lowered her eyelashes and followed her sire.
Torrian had to admit his uncle was correct about one thing. Davina was a beauty. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance, but her hair was almost dark enough to be black, something he’d rarely seen before except on his Uncle Alex, though he noticed the Buchan brothers had the same coloring.
He immediately thought of the blonde locks in total disarray around Heather’s face, somehow more entrancing because they weren’t all tidied up. He chastised himself for the thought; he needed to give Davina a fair chance. He owed as much to his sire and his king. While he had every intention of returning to Heather, he knew the importance of treating Davina with respect and acting as though he was a willing participant. He and Kyle had discussed that Torrian needed sound reasons for rejecting the betrothal or relations could turn to violence with a clan like the Buchans.
He vowed to draw out as much information as possible, learning all he could about the Buchans and the MacNivens.
The Buchan castle was
Gwyneth had stayed behind to protect the castle. There were no direct threats, so Torrian’s sire had not been concerned about any attacks. He had another hundred and fifty guards at the Ramsay castle, and they would protect his clan if need be.
Torrian noticed plenty of guards set at various distances, even some archers, which didn’t bode well, but his sire did not seem to be concerned. This was a friendly visit, by order of the King of the Scots, so any threats visited upon them would be akin to threats against the Scottish crown. He prayed his feelings were unfounded, and yet the premonition would not leave him.
As they drew closer to the gates, a line of horses moved out to greet them.
Torrian rode up to his sire’s side. He’d do everything possible to make his sire proud, his goal since he’d been abed with his illness. Yet the turmoil in his belly belied his outer countenance. He feared he would not get along with Davina, and that he would therefore disappoint both his father and his king.
This day could be one of the most important days in his life, the kind of event that determined his future, his happiness, even his direction. Not realizing he was holding his breath, he let it out slowly when their horses were almost nose to nose with the Buchan horses.
“Greetings. We welcome you to Buchan Castle.” The man in the center, who also appeared to be the eldest of the group, was the one who addressed them. “I am Glenn, chieftain of the Buchans.” He nodded to the rest of the group before continuing. “To my right is my eldest son, Dugald, and to my left is a neighbor, Ranulf, chieftain of the MacNivens. My daughter Davina rides behind me. Hugh, my second, rides next to Dugald. My youngest son, Cormag, rides next to him.”
Torrian arranged himself so he could see past the Buchan to Davina behind him. Dark-haired and beautiful, she sat tall, her shoulders back and a beautiful smile directed at different men in their line.
Quade responded with a nod. “I am Quade, chieftain of Clan Ramsay. My son Torrian is to my right, my wife Brenna is to my left, my brother, Logan Ramsay, rides next to my wife. My second Seamus is far left, my son’s second, Kyle, is far right.”
There was a slight, nearly imperceptible twitch of the Buchan’s eyebrow. “Your wife rides next to you?”
Quade squared his shoulders and sat taller on his horse. “Aye, as she always does unless we are under attack. I need not concern myself with such during a visit for the king, do I?”
The chief of Clan Buchan chuckled. “Of course not. You are our esteemed guests, as it should be. Allow me to lead the way.”
The chief turned his horse around so quickly he unsettled a couple of the beasts near him, but they calmed as the group headed toward the castle. Torrian caught Davina glancing over her shoulder at him, giving him a coy look and a smile before she lowered her eyelashes and followed her sire.
Torrian had to admit his uncle was correct about one thing. Davina was a beauty. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes from this distance, but her hair was almost dark enough to be black, something he’d rarely seen before except on his Uncle Alex, though he noticed the Buchan brothers had the same coloring.
He immediately thought of the blonde locks in total disarray around Heather’s face, somehow more entrancing because they weren’t all tidied up. He chastised himself for the thought; he needed to give Davina a fair chance. He owed as much to his sire and his king. While he had every intention of returning to Heather, he knew the importance of treating Davina with respect and acting as though he was a willing participant. He and Kyle had discussed that Torrian needed sound reasons for rejecting the betrothal or relations could turn to violence with a clan like the Buchans.
He vowed to draw out as much information as possible, learning all he could about the Buchans and the MacNivens.
The Buchan castle was
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