Lachlan quirked his brow. “So youth and beauty are an excuse for betrayal?” Time to test his theory. “I hope you are as forgiving of your wife.” Though he was speaking to Gordon, he was watching MacKay and saw the big Highlander still. “It’s not too late to reconsider those vows, you know. You won’t be married for…”
“No date has been set,” Gordon filled in. “We were betrothed just before I left for training on Skye.”
MacKay hadn’t moved. Usually when the subject of Gordon’s impending nuptials arose, he immediately got up and walked away.
Maybe Lachlan had guessed wrong.
“Then you have plenty of time to get out of it,” Lachlan said. “Take my word for it, marriage is a black plague on the soul; a wife will only make you miserable.”
Gordon was impossible to rile. He only smiled. “One bad grape doesn’t sour the whole barrel of wine. Not all women are like your wife.”
“Thank God,” Lachlan said with a shudder. Gordon was right. Bad shite happened to everyone. He didn’t dwell on Juliana’s betrayal, but it had cost too much for him to forget. And it sure as hell didn’t mean he ever wanted to jump back in the cesspit again.
Gordon smiled, shaking his head. “Besides, I couldn’t get out of it even if I wanted to. The betrothal contract is as binding as a marriage contract. I’m honor bound to go through with it.”
Lachlan made a harsh sound that was supposed to be a laugh. “Honor has nothing to do with marriage.” He fixed his gaze on MacKay again. “What’s she like, your betrothed? Ugly as a sow or fair like the little countess over there?”
Gordon shrugged. “I don’t know.”
That surprised him. “You’ve never met her?”
Gordon shook his head. “It was arranged by our fathers.” Both of whom, Lachlan knew, opposed Bruce. “I fostered with her brother,” he added by way of explanation.
Perhaps Lachlan hadn’t been wrong after all. MacKay started to get up. But Lachlan stopped him. “The Sutherlands are friends of yours, aren’t they, Saint?” he said sarcastically. Gordon’s betrothed was Helen of Moray, the daughter of the Earl of Sutherland, and there were few feuds longer or more intense than that between the MacKays and the Sutherlands. “Have you ever seen the bride?”
MacKay’s hand tightened around the hilt of the eating knife he still held in his hand.Interesting.
“Aye,” he said with all the enthusiasm of pulling teeth.
Gordon didn’t hide his surprise. “You never said anything.”
MacKay shrugged indifferently, though Lachlan suspected he was anything but. “It didn’t seem important.”
Lachlan sensed the weak spot and went in for the kill. “So what do you think, Saint? Is Gordon here going to need a few tankards of whisky to stomach fucking his bride, or is he going to be eager to plunge his cock between her soft, velvety thighs?”
For a moment Lachlan wondered if he’d gone too far. MacKay looked as if he might kill him. But the look was gone so quickly, he could have imagined it.
He hadn’t, though.
“You’re a crude bastard, MacRuairi. I don’t know why the hell Bruce thought you could be a part of this team. You’re poison.”
Lachlan smiled. “That’s exactly why he wanted me.” Silent and deadly. The perfect weapon.
He would have said more, but Lachlan saw the troubled look on Gordon’s face and let the subject drop.
Bella woke with a start. She looked around, seeing the unfamiliar stone walls, and for a moment didn’t know where she was.
Then suddenly the memories returned, and all the despair and heartache of the night before crashed over her in a fresh, heavy wave.
Keep her safe. Please keep my daughter safe.
Buchan wouldn’t hurt her. Not physically at least. Joan was the one good thing that was between them. Her husband’s angry tirades, his jealousy, his irrational suspicions had never spilled over to their daughter.
Buchan cared for the quiet girl with the big, soulful eyes as much as he could care for anyone. Joan bore the mark of her father in her dark hair, blue eyes, and classically shaped features.
Thank God.
Her husband had accused her of many horrible things over the years, but bearing a bastard wasn’t one of them.
