“Och, aye, Kintail,” he announced, “hills rocked and the moon wept when that boy reached his bonnie bride’s door last night!”
The heat staining Gelis’s cheeks slid around to scald the back of her neck.
Her father’s brows snapped together.
“Have done with such gabble, MacRuari.” His tone was thunderous. “You’re no’ making sense. Dinna make me call you a blethering old fool.”
Valdar laughed and slapped his thigh.
“Fool I may be,” he boomed, his bearded face splitting into a grin, “but I’m man enough to ken that a young stirk doesn’t go tearing up stairs nekkid unless he —”
“Naked?” Duncan MacKenzie roared with all his lung power. His hand flew to his sword hilt. “Saints, Maria, and Joseph! I’d have expected more of—”
“Caution, my friend.” Sir Marmaduke’s voice cut in. “They are handfasted — good as wed.”
The Black Stag scowled, fixing his long-time friend with his most formidable stare.
“Hell’s afire!” He flung back his plaid, his eyes blazing. “Why I have a brain in my head when I have you to constantly remind me of things that canna be changed, is beyond me! Besides, running naked up stairs, and on his way to greet a lady, is just —”
“He was naked save his plaid.” Gelis raised her own voice. She just omitted that he’d held the plaid in his hand. “Valdar must not have gotten a good look at him. The stair tower isn’t well lit.”
Her father mumbled, cursing under his breath at no one in particular.
Valdar rubbed his hands together, beaming still. “A spirited gell, did I no’ say so already?”
Ignoring him, Gelis gripped her father’s arm. “Now who is being ablethering old fool?”
She leaned close, her voice low. “Or would you claim it isn’t custom for men of these hills to go bare-bottomed beneath their plaids? Especially when within their own good walls and heading to their own bedchamber.”
The Black Stag looked down at her, his mouth clamped tightly shut.
“And” — she lifted on her toes, speaking into his ear — “he had every right to enter that bedchamber — as well you know!”
“I’d know what riled you so greatly, you’d come hallooing down here with your hair undone and no shoes on your feet.” He jammed his hands on his hips, took in her dishevelment. “If he —”
“He had naught to do with my appearance this morn — you did.” Gelis tossed her head, flipping her hair over one shoulder. “I heard our clan battle cry and thought you were leaving —”
“Havers, lass.” He grabbed her, pulling her against him for a swift embrace. “You should ken I’d ne’er have left without seeing you. I knew you’d be down —”
“But the war cry — I heard it.”
“To be sure, you did.” He released her, his expression lighter.
Almost as if he was going to laugh.
But he caught himself, lowering his voice instead, “I only bellowed the war cry to put the fear o’ God in this pack of cloven-footed MacRuaris!”
Gelis stared at him, not knowing whether she should laugh or scold him.
“You never change, do you?” She spoke the words lightly, knowing her love for him shone in her eyes.
“My girl.” His voice was rough, deep, and only for her. “Have a care with yourself, you hear?”
She nodded.
He said nothing else.
A muscle jerked beneath his left eye and she touched the place with her fingers, pressing gently until it stilled. A common trait shared by many MacKenzie males, the twitch made her breath seize, the sight of it reminding her of kith and kin she might not see again for many days.
