The large man threw down his wooden plate and stood, ready for a fight. Lachlann lurched forward. His arse kicking was long overdue.
“Enough!” Niall’s tone left no room for discussion. He grasped Aldred’s shoulder before he could stand. Without another word, Aldred resumed eating and gave Douglas his back. This forced Lachlann to ease back as well, but his vexation remained.
“Hey, Douglas.” Lachlann’s lips turned up into a genuine smile. “Did ye not just come back from battle? Entertain us all with yer stories of conquests.”
By the look of Douglas’s reddening cheeks, his brother had been kind in his recounting of the battle. Any battle was better off without the man…unless the goal was to lose.
“No?” Satisfaction spread across Lachlann’s chest. “Mayhap another time then.”
Douglas scowled at them, before settling back and returning to his own talk.
After a few minutes, Niall said, “That man is a glutton of the worst kind.”
Lachlann knew he referred to Garnait without being told and his and Aldred’s gazes went to the dais. The man’s hands roved the supple swells of the ladies flitting about him in the guise of being fed. That the manwould chastise the three of them the harshest, while showing no restraint himself behind his wife’s back and allowing the same from his sons, was as insulting as the tone he used every time he spoke to them. That he could gainsay any of their plans was galling.
“I’ve heard this is all show.” Aldred washed down the last of his mead, tipping it back twice for good measure. “And the best show is for strangers since they do not know him as we do.”
“And have ye any idea who thosecoigrichare?” Lachlann motioned to the warriors opposite Garnait’s trestle.
Their pale skin and light hair marked them as Saxons: their fine clothing as earls. They lifted their mugs toward Garnait. With a wolfish grin on his ugly face, he winked in return.
“My guess would be they’re from the same southern clans making alliances with the Normans. My dear uncle’s own fondest wish for our clan.”
Lachlann wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “The man flirts with danger, courting those leaders. They would as soon slit yer throat if they believed it would please the English.”
“When the cat’s away…” Aldred spoke in a lilting tone, his eyes on the entrance to the hall. “And the cat is about to return.”
The rough-hewn door was thrown open. Garnait turned the flash of a fearful gaze toward the sound. His dark-haired spouse, flanked on either side by her ever-present handmaidens, entered. Lachlann knew from Aldred’s boasting that at least two of them could no longer claim the title. The din hushed to silence in tense anticipation.
“Garnait.” She strode forward, a slow but determined gait, her long walrus-skinbrathugging her regal length, her hair flowing down her back. “What are ye about?”
“Ma-Margaret,” her husband stuttered, his eyes wide with guilt.
Margaret’s eyes followed the young ladies as they were ushered away from her husband. “Up to no good, I see.”
She paused to accept a kiss on the cheek from the Saxon earls who’d risen to greet her. Each held her hands, in turn, while quiet words were exchanged.
“Friends of yer aunt?” Lachlann’s face tightened. Thoughts of her niece, Lily, came to mind.
Niall merely shrugged.
It was becoming even more imperative that they take their leave of this place and soon.
“Not at all.” Garnait cleared his throat and motioned to the vacated spot beside him. “Not at all, my dear. Come, come sit beside yer husband.”
The sharp flick of a brow was the only further acknowledgement.
“Of course, my husband.”
Margaret assumed her rightful place at Garnait’s side. It seemed as if someone had opened both doors to let the air out of the hall.
“I am glad to see ye have taken yer repast in my absence. Some things take precedence and time is of the essence now.”
Her gaze settled on Niall, and she smiled. His face blanched at the sudden interest. Lachlann’s stomach dropped. The undue attention could only mean one thing. She was advancing her plans for her niece to wed Niall. Mayhap burning bridges had its advantages.
“It seems we may not have a chance to speak to Garnait.” Lachlann turned his attention to Niall.
Niall’s scowl turned from his aunt to Lachlann. “We will speak to my uncle about our journey this night. Come sunrise, we are taking our leave of this place.”
