Focusing on less contentious topics, she tightened her grip as he spun her around the room.
“I believe this has gone better than either of us expected,” she said, looking at the warm and happy smiles their dance was eliciting.
The match was clearly well received by the majority, despite its abrupt inception.
“Aye,” Magnus replied. “The council is happy for once. I never thought I’d see Lord Mortimer smile, but I was proved wrong today.” He glanced briefly across the room as his expression hardened slightly. “Yer faither seems happy.”
Leah had to admit that she had been surprised by her father’s pleasure at Magnus’s proposal. Although he had been the one to suggest the union to save her honor, she knew the Earl of Burton looked down on Highlanders and believed them beneath the higher-class English set.
It was to his detriment, she thought bitterly. She had never known such kind and generous people, and could well understand why her best friend had been swept away by these wild hills and grassy moorlands.
Despite his earlier fury, her father seemed almost cheerful as they passed him. He was bouncing on his toes as the music continued, looking about him as though he had devised the greatest marriage imaginable.
She pictured what her life might have been like with the Marquess of Wellton and shuddered. Magnus’s grip tightened on her waist, and she shook her head, smiling up at him upon seeing his concerned gaze.
“All is well. I was just imagining what my first dance might have been like with Wellton.”
Magnus snorted. “He probably couldnae have managed a waltz—ye might have had to push him about the floor in a chair.”
Leah found herself laughing at that. “He is hardly an invalid. He is the same age as my father.”
“Aye, are ye sayin’ you’d prefer to have married Wellton?” Magnus asked, an amused glint in his eye. “Thirty years isnae so much between the two of ye, after all. He might have been able to pick up a bairn without breaking his back if he did manage to make one.”
Leah shook her head in mock outrage at his joke, but her heart was singing that Magnus was able to tease her in such a way. He seemed relaxed and happy, the heavy burdens he carried forgotten as he held her easily, as though she weighed nothing at all. She felt as though she were dancing on clouds, suspended inthe air, with only his arms to support her—she needed nothing else.
The dance came to an end, and they slowly came to a standstill. Magnus looked up at the band, about to request another song, when they heard a great commotion at the back of the room.
Leah looked over Magnus’s shoulder as a large company of men burst into the wide entrance hall. Many of them looked as though they were dressed for battle, and Leah felt ice rush through her veins as they pushed the guests aside roughly. They came to stand in the center of the room, and shocked shouts of outrage echoed about the space.
At the head of the rabble was a huge man, almost the same size as Magnus but much older. He had dark brown hair and a full beard streaked with layers of grey.
He strode into the hall, his men parting like the Red Sea before him. Leah glanced back at Betty, who was watching the newcomer with the same fearful wariness that she had seen on her face earlier.
“This wedding must be stopped!” the man shouted.
Magnus took a step to the side, shielding Leah from the man’s gaze as he squared off against him, his jaw tight.
Does Magnus know this man?Who is he, and why has he not been invited to the wedding?
Endless questions bounced around her mind as she stared at Magnus’s tight shoulders.
The stranger looked like a laird, just as Magnus was, and it would have been customary to invite every laird from the surrounding area to their wedding.
She frowned as the men circled the room, standing in front of the crowd and making a human shield around their leader.
Magnus grabbed Leah’s arm, pushing her further behind him, his grip firm and almost painful as he maneuvered her out of sight.
“Let the lass go, Magnus,” the newcomer ordered, taking another step forward and glowering at him with obvious disgust. “Ye cannae protect her either way.”
“What is the meaning of this?” a voice demanded from the other side of the room.
Leah stole a glance at her father, who, as usual, was using his arrogance and pride to try to take control of a situation he was clearly ill-equipped to manage.
The Earl pushed forward, looking at the newcomer in outrage. “This is my daughter’s wedding. Who is this man, MacWatt? Who is he to you?”
Magnus was utterly still, gazing at the newcomer with a mix of sorrow and defiance.
“Leave this place, Gibson,” he said in a low, threatening voice. “Ye can do nay good here,” he growled.
