“That’s… terribly kind of ye,” she ventured.
Alas, Martin seemed to think this boded well for him. He puffed out his chest.
“And I ken that I’m still young, but I’ll be a full guardsman soon, and I’ll get my pay. And the Laird willnae turn ye out in the meantime, not with you being his sister by marriage. So, we will just have a long engagement and?—“
“Och, Martin,” she tried to interrupt gently.
A smile lit his face. “I love hearing ye say my name,” he said dreamily.
“That’s not—” she ventured, raising a cautioning hand between them.
“She doesnae want ye.”
Out of the shadows came the voice, sharp and decisive as the crack of a whip, and behind it, the man.
Ciaran.
The words were blunt. Cruelly so. And Eilidh probably should have done something to soften them. But when Martin looked over at her, she just gave him an awkward, apologetic sort of wince.
“Sorry, Martin,” she said.
To her utter horror, his chin wobbled as though he might weep.
“Begone, lad,” Ciaran commanded, and though his tone was no less harsh than it had been, this time, Eilidh thought that he was likely doing the younger man a kindness.
Martin paled, bowed, and fled.
Eilidh watched his retreating form, then dropped her head in her hands.
“Ye were cruel to that poor lad.”
Her head jerked up and her mouth popped open in outrage. “I was cruel to him?” she echoed incredulously. “Ye were the one who?—“
“Ye let him think he had a chance,” Ciaran interjected rudely. “That’s cruel.”
Eilidh sputtered. “I’ve never spoken to him before in my life!” she protested. “If I encouraged him, then I encouraged every man I spoke to this evening.”
“Aye.”
Even in the shadows, she could see something dark flicker over Ciaran’s features, and no matter that she was still irritated with him, seeing that darkness sent a shot of longing through her.
“They certainly all wanted ye.”
She reminded herself that he hadno rightto act as though he were jealous, not even if it did make her shiver pleasurably.
“Well, I hardly see how that is your concern,” she said, tossing her head haughtily just to show him how very unbothered she was by his theories about her desirability. “Nor do I see how it is your place to tell me what is cruel or not. As I see it, cruelty isnae being kind to someone, it’s being thoughtless and unkind to someone who has done naught but help ye.”
She arched a very pointed brow in his direction.
To his credit, he winced.
“Ye are right. I—forgive me, Eilidh.” The apology was stilted, and Eilidh was deeply irritated to find herself melting in response to it. “For before. I was not ready to see my aunt, is all. I shouldnae have taken it out on ye.”
She gave her hair another toss, trying to look unaffected.
“Nay, ye shouldnae,” she agreed loftily. “And if ye think that ye are going to get an apology from me… Well, ye will be waiting for a verra long time. My family comes before all. And I wasnaethe one to call for her, but I would have done so. I would call for ten allies if it meant keeping my family safe.”
He looked distinctly uncomfortable at this declaration, but Eilidh found there was no real satisfaction in gaining the upper hand this way.
