Neil took another slow sip. The cup’s rim cooled his lip. He listened to the hall as a hunter listens to a field. He tried not to think of the woman in the wine-red dress beside Davina and failed, and told himself the failure mattered less than the work ahead.
He drew a long breath and let it out through his nose. “Organize the cèilidh,” he instructed firmly. “Three nights from now.”
Although his voice was not loud, Davina heard him. Her eyes flickered to him, bright with purpose. She spoke at once to the nearest footman, and the hall caught the current. The men began to name tasks because they liked to move when there was a shape to move toward.
Neil swallowed, staring at nothing and everything at the same time. Let whoever was behind his brother’s capture stay hidden. One way or the other, he would drag them out.
Lachlan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and set his cup down with care. He had on a look that said he had thought through something and decided the shorter path was best. He twisted in his seat.
“What do ye think of the cèilidh, Kristen?” he asked, warm as he would ask a sister.
The din in the hall died down, ceding place to anexpectant silence.
Heads turned, first in ones and twos, then in a sweep, like rain falling in drops and then torrents. Neil’s hand closed around his cup again. He did not drink. The metal pressed a cool line into his palm.
Kristen swallowed, yet he felt the movement in his own throat. Color rose to her cheekbones, and her arm tightened a fraction around Anna to keep the lass from slipping. Finn’s hand found the hem of her sleeve, trusting her without looking.
Neil did not look away. He had told himself a hundred times since he walked through the gates that this hall would take its measure from him. In that hush, he saw that the measure his people trusted most had been set by the woman in wine-red who had taught children to laugh, and cooks to plan, and men to lower their voices when fear rose.
He did not know if the twist in his chest was anger or respect. He only knew it held.
Everyone waited for her to speak.
16
The candles guttered low, and the smell of stew and smoke lingered. Warmth spread across Kristen’s face as every head swiveled toward her.
Lachlan had asked for her thoughts. The words still hung in the air like a bell that had not finished ringing.
She blinked, startled. Neil was around; there was no reason why her opinion should be sought anymore. She could also tell from the look on his face that he did not like it at all.
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
“Why would ye ask her?” Neil asked.
His voice cut clean across the hall. It was not a shout. It did not need to be.
Murmurs died down once again. Spoons lowered. A cup halted mid-air and did not move again.
Kristen felt the air thicken, and her stomach sank. She placed a palm on the table to steady herself. In truth, she had been expecting this. However, she had not thought it would happen with a hundred eyes on them.
Lachlan did not flinch. He turned his head, met his brother’s stare, and held it. “Because she’s been here when ye werenae.”
The words ripped through the ripped hall like the first crack in a frozen lake. No one dared to breathe loudly.
Kristen did not look at Neil right away. She looked down at her hands. Her fingers were too still, and she wanted to curl them more than anything. But then she thought better of it. She looked up at last.
Neil set his glass down on the table. His jaw locked, and a small muscle jumped near his ear. The candle beside him shivered as if it too felt the strain.
“That isnae what he meant,” Kristen said, the words tumbling out before she could weigh them. “He only meant that I have seen how the people might react; that is all.”
Her voice sounded steady to her own ears. She hoped it sounded the same to theirs. The last thing she wanted was trouble.
She tried again, her voice softer. “Folks are weary, me Laird. They will be glad to dance. They will be kinder if we tell the truth about the bairns while music is playing.”
A few faces relaxed. Davina’s eyes warmed. Finn stared at Kristen as if the sound of her voice could fix the world.
Neil’s eyes did not leave her. They pinned her where she sat, making her hands clench.
