Though nowhere as extravagant as the wedding gown she’d worn a couple of weeks ago, the dress was elegant and finely made, giving her courage a much needed boost. Something she would need to face her formidable cousin and brother. Taking a deep breath, she entered the laird’s solar.
Lachlan stood before the fire, facing her. The two other men rose as she entered. Surprisingly, the normally dour expression on her cousin’s face that had earned him his epithet, Archibald the Grim, was absent—he actually appeared to be smiling.
She turned to the other man and drew in her breath. Though it had been years since they’d last met, she recognized him at once. Rory.
She’d forgotten what impressive men her brothers were. He stood at least half a foot over six feet tall—a couple of inches taller than Lachlan, who was himself an unusually tall man. Like Lachlan, Rory was broad-shouldered and exceedingly well muscled. His hair was dark golden brown, his eyes an unusually striking blue, and his perfectly chiseled features well tanned. The combination was striking, and something was oddly familiar. It took her a moment to realize why. His eyes were the exact same color as hers. The obvious blood connection moved her more than she would have thought possible.
Realizing she was staring, she shifted her gaze back to Lachlan, who seemed amused by her study of her brother.
She grinned sheepishly and, remembering her duty, greeted one of the most powerful men in Scotland, the Earl of Argyll. “Cousin, I hope your journey was a pleasant one.”
“Uneventful, at least. We had to travel with uncomfortable speed to arrive in the time allotted by Coll’s messenger.” Seeing Flora’s contrite expression, he added, “Not that I mind.” He gave her a sharp look. “I’d begun to think you would never wed.”
Rory stepped forward to greet her with an unexpected hug. “It is good to see you, Flora. It’s been too long.”
Not used to such brotherly displays of affection, Flora held herself awkwardly for a moment before she allowed herself to relax. It felt strange…but nice. When he released her, she was able to say with all sincerity, “It has indeed, brother.”
“I’m sorry for the loss of your mother, lass.”
Flora felt the familiar wave of sadness, stayed by the sudden comforting press of Lachlan’s hand at her waist. “Thank you,” she said. “I miss her greatly.”
Rory glanced meaningfully at Lachlan’s hand. “Coll was just explaining how this all came about. I admit it was a bit of a surprise. I was under the impression from the missive you sent refusing my invitation to Dunvegan that you were with Duart.”
Luckily, she and Lachlan had anticipated this question and were prepared. Indicating for the men to sit, Flora took the seat beside Lachlan. Folding her hands in her lap, she turned to her brother and tried to stay calm under his intense scrutiny. Something she’d had plenty of practice with the past few weeks, thanks to Lachlan.
“On my way to see Hector, we suffered a carriage accident on the road near Falkirk.” She left out the fact that she’d been eloping with Lord Murray and that the accident was a result of being waylaid by kidnappers.
“I happened to be returning from Edinburgh,” Lachlan continued. “And was able to offer Mistress MacLeod assistance.”
“How fortunate that you were there to help,” Argyll said. “Brigands and thieves have made the roads so dangerous, who knows what might have befallen you, Flora.”
She looked at her cousin quizzically. It wasn’t like him to be so accommodating. She’d expected some rather pointed questions from her demanding cousin.
Rory studied her so intently, she felt a strange urge to squirm. Then he turned his scrutiny on Lachlan. “Fortunate indeed.” It was clear from his tone that he was skeptical. He looked directly at Lachlan. “Why did you not return my sister to Edinburgh?”
“I was needed here.”
“She should have been returned to her family as soon as was possible,” Rory pointed out, his voice holding an ominous edge. “Even if you could not do so yourself, you should have sent for me. Immediately.”
Lachlan met his gaze. “I discovered I liked having Mistress MacLeod here—with me.”
Rory’s eyes flared, and Flora could see his hand tighten on the wooden arm of the chair. Lachlan noticed but didn’t seem to show any indication of backing down. The tension between the two men was palpable. Realizing she’d better do something before this deteriorated further, she stepped in. “It was my wish as well, brother. Please, don’t be angry. Can’t you see that it has all turned out for the best?”
Rory broke his glare at Lachlan long enough to look at her and see that she was in earnest.
“Are you sure that this is what you want, Flora? You wish to marry Coll? He has not coerced you—”
“No,” Flora said firmly, putting a restraining hand on Lachlan, sensing his anger. “I came to this decision on my own. I assure you, Rory, I wish to marry him.” She smiled at Lachlan. “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.”
Lachlan took her hand and held it in his, an almost symbolic gesture. “You’ve heard it. We have agreed to marry. It is done.”
Flora looked at him questioningly, noting the odd turn of phrase.
“Not if I withhold my permission,” Rory said.
“Are you doing so?” Lachlan challenged.
“Of course he isn’t,” Argyll said. “He’s already agreed.”
