“I was hopin’ ye would allow me to sit with ye again while we eat and celebrate the birth of our Lord.” He smiled, not really giving her a chance to decline him emphatically the way she should.
“I…” She looked at her uncle about to head for the doors. She was tempted to look over her shoulder at her father to know if he was looking her way. She had never deceived him, and she wouldn’t start now. “I would like that,” she told him with a soft smile. “But first, join me while I speak a moment to my uncle.”
He agreed, and they walked together toward the doors. If he thought to share a word with her while they went, he’d have to pick up his pace.
“Uncle Torin,” Elysande called as she hurried to him. After a quick kiss to her dearest Aunt Braya and her cousins, she pulled Raphael forward.
“Ye already know Raphael Cameron.”
Her uncle offered Raphael a bright smile and pulled him closer for a heftier pat on the back. “Aye, how d’ye like it here so far, lad?”
Elysande tried to keep her mouth shut but she could not. “Enough to wed me, no doubt!”
Everyone standing around her opened their eyes wide. Her aunt, who was no exception, shooed her sons away then turned back to her. “Elysande, are ye ill?” She stared into Elysande’s eyes as if trying to silently convey the need to close up her niece’s mouth.
“What was that I just heard ye say aboot weddin’ someone, Elysande?” her father asked, coming close.
“Elysande was recitin’ a line from one of my poems,” Uncle Torin told him.
“Oh?” her father asked, eyeing Raphael suspiciously. “Which one?”
“The one aboot Alisdair MacLauchlan’s long snout,” her uncle answered. “Would ye like to hear some of it?
“There was a young fool—”
Her father held up his palm. “No more.” He took a step toward the doorway with the rest of his family then turned back to Raphael. “Ye, come with me.”
No. Elysande tried to stop it. If her father got Raphael alone, he would frighten him away. “Father—”
“Of course,” Raphael cut her off. “I was hopin’ fer a moment or two with ye, Commander.”
Elysande watched them leave. Out of her sight. What if her father killed him?Dinna be ridiculous, Elysande, she told herself. He would never go so far.
“El, what was that ootburst aboot?” her uncle asked, pulling her thoughts away from Raphael running away.
“I know all aboot yer plan to have us marry fer peace. Ye will never convince Father and ye will never convince me.”
“What the bloody hell are ye talkin’ aboot, gel?” he exclaimed. “Braya, check her fer fever.”
Her aunt came closer and reached out but Elysande moved out of the way. “I’m well, I assure ye. Ye traded me fer peace, Uncle Torin.” She hated herself for it, but tears stung her eyes.
He gathered her in his arms immediately and kissed the top of her head. “My wee gel. I love ye as my own. Ye are the daughter we never had. Aye, Braya, my love?”
“Aye,” her aunt agreed, closing her arms around them both.
“I’m hurt that ye would think such a thing of me,” he said, crushing her heart. “But now that ye mention it, if ye werena opposed to such a union, I would be on yer side.”
She almost smiled. But she remembered her outburst and nearly fainted. She never wanted to face Raphael again. She would rather be swallowed up by the ground and never return.
