“Aboot peace…”
He blinked. “Aye?”
She lifted her chin out of her hand and crossed her arms on the table. “I am not sure I stand on yer and Uncle Torin’s side.”
“Och, dear lady, ye twist the knife.” He pretended to be holding on to said knife at his heart and writhed in pain.
“Fergive me, dear sir, but with Robert the Bruce dead and his young son on the throne, we dinna have the guarantee of safety we once enjoyed with his father. If we begin lettin’ everyone into the stronghold, ’twill no longer be a stronghold. Still…”
“Still?” he asked, praying there was hope for her.
“If ye become the next chief, I would trust ye to keep yer word.”
“And ye would give peace a chance between our clans?”
“Aye,” she promised with a smile that softened her large eyes. “But ’twill take a miracle to change my father’s mind.”
“Ah, well, then ’tis a good thing I know people,” he said, glancing up—referring to his angelic name.
They laughed together until a shadow covered her. Raphael looked up to see a tall fellow with yellow hair and dark eyes staring down at her.
“Ellie, I was lookin’ fer ye. I wasna expectin’ to find ye sittin’ alone with a stranger.”
Unrattled, she glanced up and narrowed her eyes on him. “Where were ye expectin’ to find me, Hugh?” She raised her brows and waited for him to answer.
“With yer kin,” he answered. Then he looked over his shoulder at the first generation of MacPhersons and their friends now sitting together at another table, all engaged in drinking and laughing.
Raphael’s father was at the table as well, sitting near Nicholas. He was drinking but not laughing.
“But I see Cain is distracted. Shall I bring the matter up with him?”
Raphael saw Elysande’s anger boil to the surface, her eyes becoming the same icy color as her father’s.
“Raphael Cameron,” Raphael introduced himself. His voice achieved what he wanted. The man’s attention shifted instantly to him. Raphael offered him a friendly smile.
“Hugh Tanner.”
“Mr. Tanner, fergive me fer sittin’ with yer wife.” He began to rise from his chair.
“I am not his wife.” Elysande’s voice stopped him.
Raphael knew it already because if she was anyone’s wife, someone would have mentioned it by now. Still, he stopped rising and glanced at Elysande. “Betrothed?”
“No,” she told him, soothing his racing heart. “And I am beginnin’ to hope I never am.”
Raphael smiled, liking her boldness, and sat back down. “In that case, Mr. Tanner, ye are free to join us, but I will remain where I am.”
Hugh Tanner had other ideas. He reached down and grasped Raphael by the collar and pulled him to his feet.
Raphael was here for peace.
It took an instant to remind himself before he reacted, and an instant for a younger version of Nicholas MacPherson to reach them and yank him free.
“Hugh, that will be enough!” the younger MacPherson said in a hushed voice and through clenched teeth. “The Camerons are our guests.” He turned Tanner around and gave his back a shove. “Now go sit somewhere else before you start a damned war.”
“Elias MacPherson,” the brawny Highlander greeted and dragged a chair from its place. “Call me Eli.”
Raphael introduced himself and gave Elias a more thorough looking over. “Ye were on Lord Ramsay’s ship when we came to Dunbar last spring.”
