What the bluidy hell did Alex already say to them?
CHAPTER2
Saoirse observed the wave flow through the men in her family. Some of her male cousins noticed their father’s stance, and it was the catalyst for them to broaden their legs and cross their arms. It was like telepathy. Half of them weren’t even facing their father or uncles. She scanned the gathering clan members to see what prompted the intimidating response. She noticed Magnus immediately. It was like a magnet drew her to him. She glanced back at her father, grandfather, and uncles. They all watched Magnus descend the stairs with her aunt Siùsan.
“Saoirse, stop staring.” Rose Kyla whispered. She was only a few months older than Saoirse, so they’d always felt more like sisters than cousins.
“I’m nae.”
“Ye are. And ye’re practically drooling. If yer da sees ye, Óg’ll be dead before morning.”
“He saw us in the heather field. I was picking flowers when Óg arrived, and he offered to help. Da noticed us standing too close, but it was an accident. He came to gather the flowers I needed to put in the basket he carried. It startled both of us when I turned around.”
“Yer da isnae a daft mon, Saoirse. Watch yerself.”
“It’s naught. It just surprised me to see how different he is from three years ago.”
“There’s naught different aboot him. Ye’re the one who’s different. Ye werenae thinking aboot men three years ago. Ye were too busy learning all ye could from Aileen.”
Saoirse turned her attention away from Magnus and to her cousin. She considered Rose’s observation and realized Rose was right. It was only within the last few months that she wondered who and when she would marry. The older generation promised all the second-generation love matches rather than arranged marriages. The first generation were all devoted to their spouses and as in love as they were the day they married—likely even more. They wished the same for their children. But no one sparked Saoirse’s interest. At least, not before Magnus helped her pick heather that afternoon.
She made her way to the dais, which carpenters had expanded four times over the years to accommodate the laird’s ever-expanding family. Many of the cousins sat among their friends at meals, but when guests arrived, they crowded the table. There were nearly forty people seated at the rectangle formed by four tables. Saoirse sat between Rose and Ailish, Tavish and Ceit’s daughter. It placed her across from Magnus Óg. Saoirse smiled to their guest before she turned to listen to Ailish.
Magnus observed Saoirse as she laughed with her cousins seated on either side of her. It jarred Magnus to realize so many of the children he’d known were now adults. No longer would anyone ask him to supervise them at the loch or beach. He wouldn’t teach any of the lads how to fish or shoot a slinger while hunting. It was a bittersweet moment as he suddenly felt more like a guest than family. He shifted his gaze to his sister, who watched him intently. She’d raised him until she left home to marry Callum. Theirs was the only arranged marriage since Liam married Kyla Sutherland and began their dynasty.
Siùsan had protected Seamus and him from their parents’ discord and ambivalence toward their sons. His parents barely recognized Siùsan as the old Laird Mackenzie’s daughter, despite her legitimacy. Their father hadn’t even watched Siùsan ride away from their keep when she left for Castle Dunbeath. Within two months, she and Callum returned under less than auspicious circumstances, but they departed for Dunbeath with Seamus and him as foster-children. They were there under the guise of training to be warriors and leaders, but the Sinclairs adopted them. He and Seamus dragged their feet about returning to Clan Mackenzie and their father. If they hadn’t been the laird’s sons, they would have asked to join Clan Sinclair.
“Óg, how goes yer betrothal? Have ye set a date?” Magnus watched as Saoirse’s gaze darted to him, even though she was turned to Rose. He didn’t want to answer Ceit’s question, but he had no choice.
“I’m nae betrothed anymore. It fell through.” He suddenly felt like he needed to explain to Saoirse before he did anyone else. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, but it embarrassed him that Ceit brought it up in front of everyone.
“That’s a pity,” Brighde said with a sympathetic smile.
“Nay, it wasna. It was a blessing.” Magnus offered a tight smile before he turned to speak to Torquil. Luckily, the man was too eager to regale him with the story of how his brother, Blake, met his bride at court. Magnus tried to follow the tale, but he sat with an even heavier heart than when the meal began. As soon as it was over, he hastened to his chamber and locked the door. Once in bed, he stared at the ceiling. Two questions shattered the sense of respite. He had told no one since it happened a moon ago. He’d figured he’d have a little more time before he had to discuss it. He should have prepared himself for it to be among the first pieces of news his extended family would want.
By the time he drifted to sleep, he wondered if he’d erred in coming here. He felt unsettled and slept worse than the nights spent on the ground. He felt like he’d nodded off only minutes before the sun rose for all the rest he’d gotten. He dragged himself belowstairs for a bowl of porridge before venturing to the lists.
“Óg!”
Magnus turned to find Kirk Hartley and Blake waving to him. Kirk was Dedric and Isabella’s son He shared his mother’s white-blonde hair, while his twin sister, Keira, and their younger sister, Sarah, inherited Ric’s darker locks. Before Kirk was born, the only two people he’d ever met with such fair hair were Brighde and Isabella, and they weren’t related. The thatch of light-colored locks made him think of Saoirse, who’d avoided him that morning. He’d received a perfunctory nod and smile before she hurried from the Great Hall. He’d returned the barely there greeting and wondered if he’d imagined everything from yesterday, but he realized she was being discreet. There were too many people at the morning meal for him to appear like a lovesick pup. Once he joined the men at the hearth the night before, he realized they’d adopted their intimidating stance in jest. At least, most of them. He wasn’t certain about Alex.
“I challenge ye first.” Blake was the second largest man in the clan after his father, Magnus Mòr. It was only by a hair’s breadth that Mòr and Blake outsized the others, but they had legs like tree trunks and appeared as unmovable as the Cairngorm Mountains. Blake’s younger brother, Torquil, was nearly the same size at two years Blake’s junior.
Kirk followed his father’s warrior build, but he wasn’t as tall or broad as the Sinclairs. He was one of the quieter young men, but he was a keen observer. Magnus often wondered what Kirk thought about everyone. He suspected Kirk would share insights that no one else noticed.
“Ye sure ye wish to start yer morning on yer arse? Yer bonnie bride might pass by.” Magnus elbowed the younger man.
“She likes ma arse just fine, so I dinna mind.” Blake grinned, then flushed, his whisky-brown eyes closing for a protracted blink. Magnus looked toward the lists’ entrance, which Blake faced. His bride scowled at him before laughing. She walked away, shaking her head.
“Ye should think before ye speak one of these days.” Kirk clapped his friend on the back. “Why she married ye is anyone’s guess.”
“Oh?” Magnus learned some of the story last night, but he didn’t recall hearing anything about Blake misspeaking.
“Aye. I spotted her in Stirling Caste’s bailey just after we arrived. I may have made an inopportune comment that she heard while I watched her walking by.”
“Inopportune?” Kirk howled. It was his turn to shake his head. “That’s nae how Torquil tells it.”
“Tor has a big mouth.” Blake frowned, but mirth danced in his eyes.
