“Aye?” he amended.
She nodded coolly and then turned her attention back to his newly tamed cousins.
“Did you both hear that? Your laird has commanded you to fight with me the next time you feel like tossing your fists.” She released them, slapped her hands together, and turned crisply on her heel.
The crowd behind her took a unified step back, but each face wore a smile of respect. Kate’s heart leapt. If she’d known that slapping a few of their most ruthless warriors around would win her their favor, she would have done the like sooner.
Chapter Thirty-Four
KATE LEANED OUT THE WINDOW to steal a glimpse of their guest before actually meeting him. It was the first time in her life she had ever received anyone of import at her home. It was the first time she had received anyone at all, for that matter, save for her uncle and his guard. Her heart raced and her cheeks flushed with worry. What if the MacLeod did not like her because she was a Campbell? Would he consider her a Lowlander? She had learned from almost everyone living in the castle that most Campbells were considered Lowlanders. And no Lowlander was deemed worth his weight in spit. Keddy the cook even went so far as to say Lowlanders were as bad as the English. And Rabbie the tanner called them Protestant whoresons. Kate squeaked with apprehension and patted her cheek with her palm. She looked down at the dozen or so men whose horses clopped up right to the doors.
She chewed her bottom lip while she regarded the lead rider, uncertain, by the looks of him, if he was a bear or a man. He wore a thick fur overcoat of sable brown, which matched his long hair. He was not altogether feral, though. For when he saw Graham, his smile was like a ray of light piercing the gloom. Still, Kate gulped when he dismounted and threw his tree-trunk-sized arms around Callum’s commander. Whether gentle man or savage, Donald MacLeod was enormous.
Callum came up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. “What worries ye, lass?”
“Him wanting me dead worries me.” She wrung her hands together. “Did you see the size of him, Callum? Why, he’s bigger than you! I’d say one—”
Callum leaned down and captured the remainder of her words with a slow, sensual kiss. Her body relaxed in his arms. “He’ll no’ want ye dead,” he promised when he withdrew. “Donald MacLeod is one of the finest lairds I know. He took Maggie and me in when we escaped yer grandfaither’s dungeon. He fed us and clothed us, and then he allowed me to build Camlochlin on his land.” Callum released her and moved to the window. “D’ye know the risk he took fer me, Katie? He convinced his clan to live with MacGregors, and no’ one of them has ever uttered a word that we dwell here. It’s his men as well as the MacKinnons who patrol the shores of this isle, aidin’ in keepin’ us safe.” He reached for her again and kissed her brow, speaking there. “Dinna be frightened of him. He and his sons are good men.”
Kate nodded, keeping the remainder of her worries silent, and followed Callum out of the room.
She almost hightailed it back up the stairs when, reaching the bottom, the great beast of a man lifted his charcoal gaze, and then the rest of his body from where it bent to Maggie, and bellowed. “When are ye goin’ to teach yer sister how to speak like a proper Highlander?”
Kate decided then and there that she could imitate their speech and the MacLeods would be none the wiser. It was clear that she would have to do the like—the man was obviously disturbed by Maggie’s Lowland inflection.
The brute’s eyes narrowed slightly when Callum chuckled at his query. And then Callum MacGregor, giant of a man that he was, was enveloped in a furry embrace that made him look like a boy of twelve. “Ye remember Alasdair, Rory, and Padraig.” The MacLeod turned to his sons, and the three giants standing behind their father swallowed Callum up next. The rest of the men who accompanied the MacLeod were greeted with warm salutations and hefty pats to the back.
When Donald MacLeod’s eyes settled on her, Kate straightened her shoulders and forced herself to smile.
“I dinna believe we’ve met.”
“My betrothed.” Callum appeared at the man’s side. “Katherine Ca—”
“Kate,” she cut him off before he had time to say her full name. No reason to have the visiting chieftain hate her so soon.
Her fingers were gently pried off her plaid by the MacLeod and lifted to his lips. “Well met.” He kissed her hand, then angled his bent head to Callum. “I’m sorely pained that ye didna send word to me of yer betrothal.”
“’Twas sudden,” Callum told him and pounded him on the back. “Come, I’ve opened my best kegs of whiskey fer yer visit.”
They moved on into the great hall, where tankards were dipped into barrels of aged brew and conversations drifted from the coming winter to which clans would be best for raiding in the spring. Some sweet meats and fresh bread were laid out on the tables, but the true feast would come later, after the MacLeods had time to refresh themselves. For now, the men were happy to warm their bellies with good whiskey and their feet by the massive hearth fire.
Kate listened to the clan chief MacLeod’s hearty laughter when, after he had taken a seat beside Callum, Maggie plopped Henry the pig into his lap. Kate decided the MacLeod might not be so bad, after all, as long as she did not open her mouth. Now that she thought about it, he had not even mentioned Lowlanders when he spoke about raiding. She began to suspect that living so far from the iron fist of England’s rule provided the MacLeods with little chance—or desire—to fight. Why, he seemed not to care at all about anything that went on below Fort William.
“Kate.”
Jarred from her thoughtful reverie, Kate blinked her attention to the deep gray gaze fastened on her.
“Tell me,” Donald MacLeod said, leaning back in his chair. “D’ye have any sisters of marriageable age? I’m lookin’ fer a wife fer m’ son, Padraig.”
Kate’s lip twitched. It was about to happen. She had hoped she could get through the morn without speaking, but she had to answer him now. Her eyes cut to Callum, but Donald’s son, Alasdair, was leading him away from the table, back to the barrels of brew.
Kate reminded herself that she had faced far more terrifying men than this one, and cleared her throat before she spoke. “Nae, my laird. I have only a brother.”
He arched a speculative brow at her, then sipped his drink. “I see. Where, might I ask, did Callum find ye, lass?”
Kate remembered to breathe. God help her when the man found out she was a Campbell. She inhaled a deep breath. “He saved me from a neighboring clan who were raiding my land.”
“In?”
