He hummed, setting his fork and knife down. “I daenae think any of those dresses will be appropriate for yer betrothal. Ye’ll have to go to town to buy a new one.”
Thalia gawked at him. “There is nothing wrong with any of me dresses.”
“Daenae look at me like that, lass.” Archibald’s eyes narrowed, his voice stern. “I’m only tryin’ to help ye. It wasnae long ago when ye were always comin’ home knee-deep in mud. I doubt things have changed much since then, considering I caught ye yesterday in the same predicament.”
Thalia frowned, but before she could say anything, Finlay beat her to it.
“I agree with Laird MacFinn.”
“Excuse me?” Thalia gaped at him.
Finlay met her gaze. “I should think ye should get a new dress for such a special occasion. We can go to Inverness and find ye somethin’ there.”
“I would have taken her, even in a dirty dress,” Harrison sniffed. “In fact, I almost did.”
The sound of forks and knives scraping against plates stopped at once.
Thalia turned to him in shock, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on Finlay.
The chair scraped across the floor as Finlay rose to his feet. He was calm, dangerously so, as he raised an eyebrow in question.
“Did ye just insult me betrothed in me own home?” His voice was even, but his body was stiff, as if waiting for a sign to strike.
Harrison stood, squaring his shoulders. “I daenae believe she is yer brideyet.”
Finlay chuckled, but his eyes held no amusement. Slowly, he drew his sword from its sheath and set it on the table in front of him. Beside Thalia, Daisy gasped and scrambled under the table. Thalia wanted to follow her, tell her that it would be all right, but she found herself unable to look away from the scene. She was frozen, waiting for the next move.
“I think ye should apologize,” Finlay commanded, his voice ringing out with all the power of a dangerous laird.
Harrison looked from the sword on the table to Finlay.
Archibald cleared his throat, looking at his companion. “Daenae be so stubborn, Harrison. We are guests in his castle.”
Harrison smacked his lips together and then finally said, “I apologize, Laird MacAinsley.”
“Nae to me,” Finlay growled. He nodded at Thalia. “To her.”
Harrison’s icy gaze slashed towards her. She gasped at the hatred in it, but she held it stubbornly as he ground out, “I apologize.”
Finlay nodded, then resheathed his sword. He and Harrison sat again, and everyone tentatively resumed eating their breakfast.
Thalia peeked under the table, giving Daisy a gentle smile. “Everythin’ is all right,” she soothed. “Do ye want to come out now?”
Daisy hesitated for a moment, then nodded as she crawled out from under the table and back into her seat.
Something had shifted during Harrison’s outburst, and the tension hung heavy in the still air. Thalia took a bite of her potatoes, but she could not taste them.
Ava shifted in her seat, leaning across Thalia to look at Daisy. “Daisy, I just had an idea. What do ye think about gettin’ a matchin’ dress for the betrothal?” she asked.
Daisy’s eyes grew wider in excitement as she glanced from Ava to Thalia. “Could I?”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Thalia answered, running her hand lightly over Daisy’s head.
Archibald coughed loudly from across the table.
Finlay set his fork down again. “Excuse me, everyone. I find that I have lost me appetite.” He stood and stalked out of the breakfast room.
Thalia watched him leave. He was angry, and it was partially her fault, again. She excused herself and followed after him.
