Elayne glanced between Dunn and Laird McCoy as they stared each other down. They were both smiling, but it was more like a baring of teeth. There was no warmth in it, no kindness, nothing but a dare for the other to take it one step further.
“Let us all hope that willnae happen with us,” said Elayne quickly, just to break that strange tension in the room. All the eyes in the room turned to her then, though, and she balked under the sudden scrutiny.
Everyone blamed her for this. Everyone knew she had been the one who had been foolish enough to marry Dunn, and though it was Dunn they were after, they would never let her forget her own sins.
A long silence fell over them all once more, but this time no one pretended to eat. Instead, some looked away, while others, like Laird McCoy, continue to stare at Elayne. She tried her best to meet his gaze, unflinching against the intensity of it. It would do no good to show weakness now.
“So ye are married,” the man said, and though it didn’t sound like a question, Elayne nodded.
“Aye, we are.”
“An’ ye have consummated the marriage?”
Elayne almost choked on air at Laird McCoy’s question. He had phrased it so casually, as if it was perfectly natural to ask such an intimate—and frankly rude—question in front of his entire council, in front of the servants, even in front of her father. Heat rushed to Elayne’s face, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill, though she was determined not to let them. She didn’t want Laird McCoy or her father, or really anyone in the room, to see her cry. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
“I dinnae see how that is any o’ yer concern,” Dunn said. When Elayne looked at him from the corner of her eye, he looked murderous, as though he was about to leap over the table and kill Laird McCoy right then and there. “Nor is it proper tae ask a lady such a question. I willnae let ye insult me wife like this.”
“I think it’s a valid question,” Laird Macgillivray said from the other side of the table. He gave Elayne a small shrug, seemingly not bothered at all by the insult. “This is somethin’ we must all ken tae understand how tae move forward, dinnae ye think, Elayne? Answer the question.”
Elayne could hardly hear what her father was saying. Her stomach dropped at his command—and a command it was, she knew, as he had left her no room to refuse—her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as she stared at the far wall, trying to gather her wits about her. Distantly, she felt Dunn’s hand on her forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Ye dinnae have tae tolerate this,” he whispered to her.
But what other choice did she have? Neither her father nor Laird McCoy would let it go now, and if she didn’t answer them, they would take it as an admission that she had lied.
Drawing in a deep, steeling breath, Elayne turned to look at Laird McCoy in the eye. She clenched her teeth, letting her hatred for the man wash over her like a wave instead of trying to look past it, to shove it far enough down so as to appear polite.
“Aye, we have,” she said. “Plenty, in fact. An’ if ye need tae ascertain it, perhaps ye could come an’ watch us consummate it again tonight.”
The effect of her words was instantaneous. Whispers spread around the room, followed by giggles from the servants. Laird McCoy, though, looked at Elayne with such hatred that, as satisfied as she was by his reaction, a jolt of fear ran down her spine, making her blood run cold. He had tried to humiliate her, but Elayne had made him fall in his own trap, and the man clearly wasn’t pleased.
“How dare ye?” Laird Macgillivray said, his voice low and dangerous. Elayne turned slowly to face him, dreading the moment their gazes would meet. “How dare ye speak this way tae our guest? Tae yer betrothed? Is this how I raised ye?”
There were several things Elayne could have told her father in that moment. She could have told him Laird McCoy wasn’t her betrothed anymore, that he couldn’t be now that she wassupposedly married to Dunn. She could have told him Laird McCoy’s insult had been much more severe, and yet he hadn’t thought of defending his own daughter against him. She could have even told him that he wasn’t the one who raised her at all. After her mother’s death, the only love she had known had come from her governess and the servants. He had only spoken to her when necessary, and after a certain point, Elayne hardly ever saw him.
She said none of those things, though. Her father would never change, and she had long since stopped expecting anything of the sort from him. Trying to reason with him would only be a waste of breath.
“Did anyone else see the sheet?” Laird McCoy asked, forcing Elayne to look at him again, only this time she frowned in confusion. She didn’t know what to say to that or even what Laird McCoy meant. In the few seconds that they stared at each other in silence, she was certain he could tell she had been lying this whole time.
Before Laird McCoy could say anything else, though, Dunn slammed his hand on the table, making everyone around him flinch. His lips were curled back as he glared at Laird McCoy, and Elayne could see a small vein in his forehead jumping under his skin to the pulse of his heart.
“Enough,” he barked.
“I dinnae think this was the original purpose o’ this gatherin’,” said Blaine calmly, looking at the three men around him. “We have other matters tae discuss, as I am certain ye all ken.”
It did nothing to lessen the tension between Laird McCoy and Dunn, but at least they no longer looked as though they were about to attack each other, and Elayne was grateful for that. Blaine was clever and he knew how to handle her father, so he could also handle Laird McCoy. It was Dunn she feared wouldn’t be controlled, but after a few moments, he leaned back in his seat, letting it go, much to Elayne’s relief.
She didn’t like any of this any more than he did, but the last thing they needed was bloodshed at the dinner table. They would simply have to bear it until the end of the meal; until they would be free to leave that room and everyone who was so eager to humiliate them.
For a while, the conversation drifted to safer topics and Elayne allowed herself to tune it all out, catching only a few words here and there. It was a skill she had perfected for those rare times her father insisted she dine with him and his company, and this time was no exception.
It was only when she heard her father speak about water that she began to pay attention once more, lifting her gaze to discreetly look at him.
“I dinnae understand how it happened,” he said. “One has tae be an imbecile tae drown.”
Elayne’s fork dropped from her hand, clattering against her plate. Quickly, she picked it up once more and brought a tiny bite to her lips, acutely aware of the fact that everyone was watching her once again.
Was he talkin’ about me maither? Was he talkin’ about me? About someone else?
