Katie gripped her wrist, and the power of her gaze stopped Leah in her tracks. “Of course not!” she insisted, her eyes darting about the room. “You are the most pig-headed woman I have ever known, Leah Anderson. Why don’t you do somethingIsuggest for once instead of leaping head-first into a fight you cannot win?”
And with that, Katie dragged her out of the room.
Leah glanced behind her, her skirts tangling around her ankles as she hurriedly followed her friend. She could hear her father advancing on the room, his voice livid with rage.
“Where is she? Bring her to me this instant!”
CHAPTER 3
Magnus was getting dizzy.
He had watched so many flailing arms and frilly skirts that he felt as though he had been part of the ceilidh itself. He was extremely bored, resorting to entertaining himself with fantasies of the long walk back to his castle, where he could be alone with the trees and the wind and wallow in blissful solitude once more.
He was not accustomed to public events and disliked the noise and the curious looks he had been getting from every corner. He was convinced everyone was staring at him because of the patch across his eye or his infamous past. Neither was welcome, and it was putting him on edge.
He decided that, impolite or not, he would find his host and take his leave. They had discussed the alliance, and he felt he was in a good position with Laird MacIrvin. Although they had only had a brief exchange of words, he was convinced that their association would be a favorable one.
He stepped down from the platform at the side of the room and slowly made his way round to the back of the hall where he had seen his hosts departing a few minutes ago.
He had never been good at such social occasions. Long ago, he and his wife had attended a few such functions—invited by the old lairds of the land. But in recent years, his time had been spent at war or traveling to and from the next battle. He was no longer au fait with modern social customs and, in truth, had enjoyed their absence from his life.
The only reason he had traveled so far to be here was due to the council’s insistence that he make a new alliance. That had only come about because he refused to remarry.
The idea of taking a new bride horrified him.
He glanced at the dancefloor, shuddering at the idea of ever having to court a woman again. He could not imagine what sort of lass would look at his face and see anything but abarbarian.
Having finally worked his way to the other side of the room, Magnus was about to ask a servant where he might find his host when he heard raised voices coming from the far end of the corridor.
He quickened his pace, walking through a low arch only to see Laird and Lady MacIrvin in a heated discussion with an older English gentleman. He was rather red in the face and gesturing wildly with his hands. He seemed, to Magnus’s untrained eye, almost unhinged.
“You will tell me where she is this instant,” the Englishman declared.
Laird McIrvin looked as though he was about to give the man a piece of his mind when Daphne laid a gentle hand on his arm.
“Lord Burton,” she said sternly, turning to the Englishman. “Your daughter is here, as you know, and she will be available to greet you. But you have arrived without a warning. You cannot expect her to be ready to see you immediately. Please give her some time to prepare herself.”
“Prepare herself? That is all she has done for weeks! I gave her leave for a month, and she failed to return to me. I have been forced to travel hundreds of miles to bring her home, and I arrive here to find her frolicking in a room full of strange men. God knows what she has been up to in my absence. I shall drum some sense into her—you mark my words.”
“Lord Burton, I willnae have ye sully the honor of me guest with baseless accusations,” MacIrvin warned, his eyes flashing with real anger as he looked down at the Englishman.
Magnus had to give the older man credit; he wasn’t intimidated by someone a foot taller and broader than him.
“You don’t fool me,” Lord Burton spat, pointing an insolent finger at MacIrvin’s face.
Magnus had seen enough. He might be a guest, but he would not see his host spoken to in such a manner. He stepped forward, deliberately using his bulk to tower over Lord Burton, who glanced up in shock and surprise as Magnus rudely interrupted their conversation.
“Laird MacIrvin, Lady MacIrvin,” he stated quickly, “thank ye for yer hospitality and the invitation to attend the celebration. Alas, I must away. It is a long walk back to me lands, but I will contact ye soon to extend our agreement.”
He offered his hand, his eye flicking to the Englishman, who was staring at him wide-eyed, his face almost purple with fury.
As MacIrvin shook his hand and Magnus stepped back, he heard Lord Burton mutter about “insolent Scottish manners”and fixed him with a hard stare.
“Are ye sure ye willnae stay?” MacIrvin asked, glancing at the high windows above them. “The sky is wild, and there’s a storm on the horizon. Daphne and I would be honored to have ye as our guest, and we could continue our discussion in person over breakfast.”
Magnus put a hand on his chest in thanks, genuinely touched by MacIrvin’s offer. “Nay. I am seldom away from me castle. I wish to get back tonight. But I thank ye for the offer.” He cleared his throat, forcing out the words that felt so foreign on his tongue. “Ye are welcome to visit MacWatt Castle whenever ye are able.”
He was surprised to realize that he meant it. He liked the Laird. Despite MacIrvin’s fearsome demeanor and arrogant reputation, there was a kindness in his eyes that he could not hide. Marriage had been good for him, a concept that Magnus was unfamiliar with.
