Angus hid his mouth by rubbing the tip of his nose with his fist; his voice dropped to an even deeper whisper, “Oy, ye are doomed straight to hell now, man.”
Graham eased a step forward and threw out his chest. “Aye. Am I to be turned over to the Buchanans then—to face the pike or the dungeons?”
“Oh no, my friend.” The MacKenna shook his head. “I have decided on something much worse. Ye shall face the severest punishment of all. A life sentence, in fact.”
Graham swallowed hard. He didn’t suppose he could blame the chieftain. After all, a clan could not very well go to war over the womanizing ways of one individual—especially when that individual wasn’t even blood kin. “Aye. I would hear it then. What is this severe punishment I am to receive?”
“Marriage.”
The word echoed down the length of the hushed hall as the MacKenna patiently clasped his hands in front of his waist and waited.
Angus snorted out a belly laugh.
Graham whirled around and smacked the back of his hand across Angus’s chest, effectively knocking the man’s hearty laugh down to a hissing snicker. “Haud yer wheeshtafore I snap yer neck.”
There was not a damn thing funny about what the MacKenna had just proposed. Graham turned back to the chieftain and repeated the dangerous word, “Marriage?”
Gray nodded, his stance visibly more relaxed. “Aye, marriage. Ye need a good woman to teach ye the error of yer ways and keep ye to the proper path.”
A trickle of sweat rolled down the center of Graham’s back and settled in the crack of his arse. Damn, the room was suddenly too warm, and there wasn’t even a fire. He rubbed his knuckles against the small of his back while shifting in place. “And who might I ask is this woman that is prepared to mold me into a better man?”
It couldn’t be the Buchanan sweetling or her luscious maid. Those two already shared the bear of her husband—Chieftain Buchanan himself—hence the problem. Saint’s bones, he prayed it wasn’t her sister. That one had the screeching voice of a seabird and a bloodcurdling scowl to match.
Lady Trulie stood and moved to her husband’s side. “You’re the perfect match for my sister Lilia—and the twenty-first century is the perfect place to keep you out of sight and out of mind until our allies calm down.”
“Oh, holy hell.”
“Aye.” Gray nodded, his ever-widening smile lighting his face brighter than a newly pitched torch. He lifted his hands to all in the room. “All here bear witness; Graham MacTavish shall be duly matched and wed to my good sister Lilia Meredith Sinclair.”
Tankards thumped on the tabletops and a chorus of heartyayesechoed to the dark rafters of the high-ceilinged room.
With her fingers laced into a prim knot at her waist, Lady Trulie descended the steps, slowly approaching Graham and Angus with her long skirts gracefully whispering across the floor.
Damned if he didna feel as threatened as a wee mousie facing down Mother Sinclair’s cat.
The lady paused once she reached the men, pulling in a slow deep breath while she studied them. Her head barely tilted to one side and her brow furrowed the merest bit as her eyes narrowed.
Sizing up their weaknesses, no doubt.Graham swallowed hard. No force in all of Scotland or the great beyond struck fear into his soul like that of the Sinclair women. Able to skate back and forth across the strands of time at will and control unexplainable powers, the Sinclairs were the bloodline chosen by the very Fates themselves to break the curse of the vile witch who had shackled him into the form of a dragon by day and a man by night, then bound him to the shores of Loch Ness and the depths of the sea for more than three centuries.
These women were powerful and—lore a’mighty—he had seen each of their tempers flare hot and wicked more than once. From Mother Sinclair down to the MacKenna’s wee daughter, Chloe. Berserkers appeared meek as lambs when compared to enraged Sinclair females.
“You and Angus come to the solar. We will go over the details of your trip.” Lady Trulie lightly patted his arm, then turned toward the stone arch leading up to the chieftain’s private tower. “Come now. Both of you.”
“Begging yer forgiveness, m’lady.” Angus angled around in front of Graham and held his clasped hands up to her, shamelessly pleading. “Surely, ye dinna mean to send me off into the unknown too.”
“Hell of a friend ye be.” Graham shouldered Angus aside. “Leave the coward here, m’lady. I shall be fine on my own.”
One of Lady Trulie’s dark brows arched a notch higher in a chilling look of displeasure. With a quick shake of her head, she waved both men forward. “Bothof you. To the solar. Now.”
The sound of Granny’s staff hitting the floor behind them hastened their steps. Graham cast an imploring look back at the MacKenna bringing up the rear. Surely the man’s mind could be changed. Surely, he wouldn’t damn a fellow Highlander to the scheming of the Sinclair women.
“On wi’ ye, man.” Gray nodded once toward the winding stone steps at the end of the hall. “Ye brought this on yerself. The both of ye did.” He paused and turned to glance at those still gathered in the main meeting room. “I gladly adopted ye into this clan but I will not continue allowing ye to anger my allies at every border. I have many to protect. I will not risk them for the randiness of one.”
“I curse the day I took ye as friend,” Angus said in a low hissing growl. He stomped on ahead, his stocky form swaying from side to side with his rolling, short-legged gait.
Graham sucked in a long deep breath and blew it out. “And I curse the day I was born,” he muttered, while silently praying the gods would somehow reach down and pluck him out of this damn mess.
CHAPTER2
