The Lochiel looked at who was none other than Angus Cameron. “Is this true?”
Angus lowered his head and nodded. “But Lochiel, that land wasna mine to gamble away. My late father left it to me, and his father—”
“Angus,” the Lochiel said, stopping him from any more speech. “If that land was important to ye, ye should no’ have bet against it. Hand the deeds over to Jamie MacDonald and go home, thankful that ye didna bet that too.”
Ismay watched and listened to the chief. He was just, concise, and each decision was handed out with authority. His was the last word. Jamie MacDonald got his land, the widow Abby Cameron would have her roof repaired by four of the village men. Old Ennis Cameron was given the Lochiel’s blessing to marry Ellen Stewart, and Magnus Ranald received the chief’s commendations on his written agreement with the MacMartins of Torlundy to be their chief butcher and have Cameron’s best beef delivered to them monthly.
The Lochiel’s attention was demanded on a dozen different matters, over the next pair of hours. For each one, Ismay watched him make wise, fair decisions. He was notswayed by begging, station, or a bonnie face.
He looked toward her more than once and Ismay was certain he would have been swayed by her. Not because of any way he gazed at her, for his expression barely changed in two hours. He was as unchanging as steel before it was dipped into fire. But so far, he had done everything she’d asked. He had even granted her wishes when they were not what he wanted. And…well, he did, in fact, look at her more warmly than he did with anyone else. Even his scowls lost some of their fearsome warning on her alone.
It was most likely why he did not look at her overlong. It would do him little good if others knew he favored her.
He favored her. How did she feel about that? She believed he was a better man than the monsters of her past. But what did she know? What if she made him angry? She thought about it. Had she not made him angry already when she followed him and almost got eaten by a coyote? Or how about when she disagreed with him or insulted him? His demeanor toward her had not changed.
“Lochiel,” an elder called out from where he sat at the table after the tenants left the Hall. “We must discuss the lass Hilary, daughter of our esteemed Sir Richard MacDonald’s wish to marry John MacBain.”
“She should be banished from the clan for such treachery,” another elder cried.
“A MacBain of all people, part of the Chattan!” shouted someone else. “She might as well have run off with a MacKintosh!”
One of the other ten tacksmen slammed his fist down on the table, riling up the other men.
Ismay sent them all a scathing look. These were the men who would toss her out and stone her if they knew she was the cause of the MacPherson/MacDonald feud.
“Miss Drummond?”
She turned her eyes in the Lochiel’s direction.
“What do ye think? Hilary MacDonald is Geoffry and Fionn’ssister. She wishes to be wed to a man from an enemy clan. Most here are against it and want to banish her. What do ye say?”
“Lochiel, who is this woman ye invite into our council?” an elder demanded.
When another of the men elbowed the first in the ribs to quiet him, Ismay wondered what had just been silently conveyed between them? She moved her gaze over the rest of them to find them all staring at her.
“I think”—she began without hesitation. She knew what kind of stuffy old fools these were, for there were plenty of them in her father’s council. “—if she is banished, she will more than likely be taken in by yer enemy, and in fifteen to twenty years yer sons will face her sons in battle.” She let her gaze rove over the men. “Is any one of ye willing to sacrifice his son today? Let her remain with ye without changing how ye feel about her. Let her husband live with ye—” At this, the elders went into an uproar, waving their hand and wagging their fingers at her. “Stop thinking only of yourselves and yer stubborn thirst fer battle and think of the future of yer clan. Let her husband live among ye and gain an ally whose sons will fight by your sons’ sides one day.”
Six of the ten continued to shout that her suggestion was madness. Four others stared at her and each other, taking her words into consideration.
There was only one opinion that mattered to her. She turned to the chief. He was staring out at his council and then, as if sensing her watching him, he flicked his gaze to her and smiled.
Ismay’s heart had no right to feel as if it might pop right out of her mouth if she opened it. Her head did not want anything to do with a man, especially not a man as powerful as the one lounging in a chair to her right.
How had he managed to penetrate her strongest defenses? No. She convinced herself it was not too late. She did not think he was terrible.She still wanted to leave his castle.
“Lochiel, ye are no’ considerin’ this lass’s words, are ye?”
Did his smile mean he agreed with her in front of these old, rigid men?
“She is correct,” he told them, then waited for them to settle down before he spoke again. “I have listened to yer complaints on this matter for two months now. This is my final judgment. Hilary is our kin. She will no’ be banished from the clan because of who she loves. Better an alliance with the Chattan than more enemies.”
Ignoring the arguing around her, Ismay grinned at the Lochiel when his dark gaze found her again.
He appeared as affected by her smile as she was by his. He tempted her to abandon her fears and…no. Even if she could somehow get past the hatred in her heart, her body was another matter. She did not want a man in her bed. The very thought of it would repulse her the rest of her days.
She sighed and looked away.
“All right,” he pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. “We are finished.”
