CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Connell
Connell scowled as he stalked through the corridor. His palm ached. The injury, made by Elsy’s wedding ring, no longer bled, but he still felt the pain. Peculiar as it was, he felt most of the ache in his heart, and no matter how he tried to ignore it, the pain only seemed to grow. Why did he have to be so cruel to Elsy? Why did he have to think of McCormick? She wouldn’t have been with him if Connell had only returned to her. How could he blame her for moving on?
If only she had chosen anyone but McCormick,Connell thought, his scowl growing darker.
He threw open the doors of the great hall, frowning when he found his men sitting, laughing amongst themselves. Brann was pouring ale into Logan’s goblet, a task that should belong to Scott, but given the lad’s ailment now fell to Brann. Connell’s frown deepened as he glanced between Logan and Brann. Logan wasn’t such a simpleton. He could pour his own ale.
“What is it now?” Glenton asked, smacking his hand against Connell’s back, and making him flinch. “What’s with that foul look? Has the lady still given ye naething for yer efforts?”
“Don’t tell me all our plans were for naught,” Logan whined before chugging his drink, droplets slipping down his cheek and staining his tunic. “More!” he shouted at Brann.
Brann didn’t move.
“Didn’t ye hear me, lad?” Logan shouted while wiggling his goblet. “I called for more.”
“And ye can likely get it yerself,” Brann said darkly.
Logan shoved himself up from his chair, the wood squeaking loudly against the stone. Spittle slipped from Logan’s lips as he scowled at Brann, his hand inching toward the blade at his waist. “What did ye say to me, lad?”
Brann scowled, tilting his head, unfazed by Logan’s threatening demeanor. His hand gripped the pitcher’s handle tightly and Connell wondered if he’d sooner dump the contents onto the floor. “Ye heard me.”
Logan scoffed, turning toward Connell, the ale in his belly making his movements jerky and his words slurred. Connell stifled the need to roll his eye. Of course, the men were growing agitated with nothing to do. He should have expected this. “Did ye hear what he said to me?” Logan slurred, jutting a finger in Brann’s direction.
“Aye, I heard it,” Connell said, his voice gruff as he stalked past Logan and Brann and dumped his body into a chair.
Ian chuckled while leaning back in his own seat, a plate of crumbs sitting in front of him. “I find it quite amusing, myself,” he said while waggling his eyebrows. “Nice to see the lad stick up for himself.”
Logan scowled, jerking his attentions toward Brann. “Aye,” he said with a bitter smile, slowly walking toward Brann, his feet nearly tripping over themselves. “The lad thinks he’s better than me.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” said Donald while leaning against the long table. “He’s tired of ye being a wanker.”
“Is that it, Brann?” Logan asked while leaning in close. “Are ye tired of me being a wanker?”
Brann didn’t say anything as he shoved the pitcher into Logan’s chest, earning a grunt of surprise. He stalked away from Logan, grabbing a seat next to Connell. Logan made a face while Grant and Donald laughed, shaking their heads in amusement.
“Enough of this,” said Glenton while bracing his hands on the table. His gaze met Connell’s, a look of frustration making Connell stifle the need to groan. He knew whatever the man had to say, he wasn’t going to like it. “What has Lady McCormick said? What does she know about her husband’s affairs?”
Connell grimaced as all eyes turned to him.
“Well?” Ian asked when Connell didn’t say anything.
Connell sighed and shook his head. “I believe she knows naething.” He frowned as he heard groans around the room.
Glenton smacked his hands on the table, the sound echoing throughout the hall. “That is all ye have gotten from her? Her lies? Her trickery?” Connell bit his tongue as Glenton smiled bitterly, hating that looking gleaming back at him. “Or is there more to it than that?”
Logan chuckled as he drank from the pitcher. Donald and Grant shared a look.
“What have ye been doing with her, Connell?” Ian asked, anger filling his gaze. “Ye have had a day. We should have our answers by now.”
“I know,” Connell said harshly.
“Then why don’t we?” Logan asked.
“Give me a day with the girl,” said Donald while taking out his knife. “I can get our answers.”
“Nae!” Connell shouted, his hands slamming on the table. Everyone stared at him as if he had lost his mind. All, except for Brann. Connell frowned as he leaned back in his chair, trying to calm his heart, trying to regain control. “I will question her. Do ye have nae faith in me? Do ye think me so weak to fall for her bonnie looks? If anyone should be questioning her, it is I. I gave up everything to be here, with ye all. My clan, my lairdship, my family. Ye have nae reason to mistrust me.”
