Chapter Eleven
"She is a bonnie lass but a wee one,” Colin MacLagan said to his sons when they had a moment alone.
Iain sighed and nodded. He had been tempted to linger in the chambers he and Islaen had been given, waiting for her to join him, so that he could avoid any time alone with his family. That, he knew, would only postpone the inevitable. They naturally had a lot of questions and he decided it might just help Islaen's settling in if he answered them as soon as possible.
"Aye, she is a good lass. Do ye ken the MacRoths?"
"Nay, not weel. Good people and the mon has a lot of sons."
Inwardly, Iain grimaced, knowing that his father wanted him to have sons, and answered reluctantly, “Eleven."
"Wheesht, there's a brood to be proud of. The lass is the only daughter?"
"Aye. The youngest child too."
Tavis grinned and winked at his wife who sat at his side, also a cherished only daughter. “Her kin have a heavy hand, do they?"
"'Tis nay too bad, though,” he half-smiled as he touched a fading bruise near his eye, “they guard her weel."
"I was going to ask ye about that,” growled Colin. “Ye arenae still at odds with them, are ye?"
"Nay, that settled it all."
"Men,” Storm grumbled in disgust. “Knock each other about, then shake hands. ‘Tis foolish."
"So Islaen said,” Iain drawled and Storm shook her head as the men laughed. “T'was a good fight. Her brothers are good."
"But ye are better."
"Aye, Tavis, but I willnae be if there is a next time. They watch and, if it works, they learn it."
"Why didnae they come here with ye?"
"The English had raided, Fither. They got word of it halfway through our journey."
"Bad?"
"Bad enough so they felt they had best get back home and see to things ere they came here."
As Iain continued to answer questions he realized that his knowledge of Islaen, her life and her kin was still somewhat vague. He also saw that he needed to be evasive. While his family would never intrude too deeply into his private affairs they were quite naturally interested in how his marriage was working. Finally, he muttered the excuse that Islaen might need his help in finding her way to the feast and left what had begun to feel like an inquisiton, though he knew it had not been.
"The lad is being verra coy,” Colin muttered. “Do ye have naught to say, Alex?"
Alexander straightened up from where he lounged against the wall, having eavesdropped upon the family conference in the ever filling hall. “Me? Now what would I have to say about Iain's marriage?"
Tavis's bright blue eyes sparkled with laughter although his voice was stern. “Ye always ken more than ye ought about other men's wives. I also ken that this time ye didnae come just to annoy me by flirting with Storm."
"How ye wound me, Tavis,” Alexander murmured, winking at Storm, who smiled and shook her head.
"Come, Alex, enough teasing. Tell us what ye know,” Storm urged gently. “Is it a good match? Will it work?"
"Despite Iain's effort, aye, I think it will. She is a good lass, Storm, a very good lass and she loves him though she willnae say it. She kens weel that Iain would flee that. Aye, the lass kens her mon very weel indeed."
"He clings to his fears,” Colin said with a sigh.
"Aye, he does but ‘tis not only her death upon a childbed that he fears. Death stalks him."
"MacLennon,” Tavis growled.
