The corner of his mouth quirked up, and Edna’s heart began a slow thud in her chest. “Aye, ye would think ye would avoid it then.”
“’Tis kind of hard when it’s in the midst of the corridor,” she said breathlessly.
Something crossed Malcolm’s face before he was releasing her hastily, putting some distance between them. “Forgive me,” he said softly, looking contrite.
Edna felt the sudden disconnect and gave him a tight nod before she brushed past him, careful not to touch his body. Clearly, he ran both hot and cold when it came to her, and it only confused Edna even more.
It was quite frustrating, but Edna didn’t have time to think about Malcolm that evening when she was summoned to the dining table.
“Och, Edna, lass,” her father said warmly, motioning her over, where an awfully familiar figure was seated at the table to his left. “Come, join us.”
“Edna,” the man indicated with a sly smile. “Ye look lovelier every time I see ye, lass.”
Edna frowned, not bothered by his attempt at flattery. She knew exactly who the man was and how much she didn’t care for him.
“Laird Belshes,” she murmured, knowing that her mother would want her to be polite at least.
Neacal Belshes grinned, and Edna tried to keep the revulsion from her expression. The man was ten years her senior, a tall, thin Scot with large hands and long fingers that reminded Edna of spider legs. His bright red hair was already starting to thin in the back, and the clothing he wore was heavily bejeweled, clinging to this thin frame like an overly decorated curtain. Why her father and mother put up with the laird, she didn’t know, but she preferred not to be in his presence whenever he visited.
“Well now,” her father stated, clearing his throat. “Ye were saying ye had some plans that ye wish tae discuss with me.”
“Aye,” the laird stated, tearing his eyes away from Edna. “I wish tae help with the uniting of the clans. I am nothing more than a humble laird who enjoys his peace, ye see, and I have heard some of the rumblings of trouble recently.”
“Troubles?” her mother asked, her eyes narrowed. “Wot sort of trouble?”
The laird sighed, drumming those long fingers on the table in a rhythm that had Edna squirming in her seat already. “Why, between the McGregors and the McPearsons, of course. I’ve heard the talk, and I am concerned that ye are in danger, Finlay.”
Her parents exchanged looks. There wasn’t anything that wasn’t known amongst the clans about some disagreements, but trouble? Edna wasn’t so certain that the talk the laird was hearing was founded to be true.
“Aye,” her father said slowly, turning his attention back to their visitor. “But wot would be yer plans then? The Belshes clan is small.”
Neacal’s gaze narrowed at the comment, and Edna pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. It was true that they were small in numbers, not one of the great clans in all of Scotland presently. She also knew that the laird wished to be one of those great clans, as all lairds hoped to become one day.
The expression was fleeting, and before her father could take a drink of his ale, Neacal turned his smile to Edna. “I wish tae marry yer daughter, of course, and grow mah clan. Tae have a McGregor in mah family will only strengthen mah bloodline.”
Edna choked on her ale, quickly swallowing it before she spit it out onto the table.
“Edna?” her mother asked, surprise on her face. “Ye wish tae marryEdna?”
In any other situation, Edna would be hurt by her mother’s surprise, but she didn’t want anything to do with the laird. She didn’t trust him, nor did she think that he had the clan’s interest in mind. He wasn’t her father, who cared for his clansmen.
Neacal reminded her of a snake in the grass, one that was poised to strike, and he was attempting to do so now.
“Aye,” he replied, his gaze turning heated. “I think we will be well matched. Edna is a strong lass, and with yer bloodline, our bairns will be even stronger.”
Her stomach churned at the thought of him in her bed, those hands on her body, and she pushed her chair back abruptly. “I will never marry ye,” she stated, hearing her mother’s sharp intake of breath. “Never.”
“Edna!” her father growled, but she was already moving toward the stairs, hot tears burning in the back of her eyes. Marry him? He wanted her to marry him? It was preposterous to even consider his marriage proposal! He could bring nothing to the marriage that would make her change her mind.
Once she was safely tucked into her chamber, Edna wrapped her arms around her waist, staring into the fire. Her father would never force her to marry the laird. He couldn’t. He didn’t trust the laird any more than Edna did...and to be his wife? Edna shivered. She would rather die an old maid than marry the laird!
A soft knock echoed on the door, and Edna crossed the room, opening it to find her mother in the doorway. “Ye will have tae apologize tae the laird, Edna,” she sighed. “Ye shouldn’t have responded so.”
“I dinnae want tae marry him!” she cried out. “Ye cannae make me!”
“I’m not going taemakeye!” her mother fired back. “But he is right. We need all the clans’ support, and unless ye apologize, there is strife. Yer da is down there right now trying tae smooth it over.”
Edna’s shoulders slumped. “He looks like an overdressed tree.”
