“They’re well trained, Countess, their allegiance unquestioned to myself—and Earl Seoras.” Not wishing to converse further about so perilous a subject, however veiled, Gabriel pointedly inclined his head toward the great hall. “Shall I escort you tae the dais?”
“My thanks, Laird MacLachlan, but no. Your lady should be joining you soon, aye?”
Gabriel nodded, though in truth he was surprised that Magdalene hadn’t yet come down the tower steps with her maidservants in tow. He hated that she must play the lunatic for even another day, another hour, but if it might protect her in any way, then they would both have to bear it.
He only hoped she wasn’t tussling with those women as she had done with poor Euna and Donella, but mayhap she wished to make an entrance with her gown askew and her hair disheveled—
“Ah, look, here she comes now,” Cora announced softly as fresh titters went up from the women who turned to look behind them.
Yet almost at once, the titters ceased and murmurs of astonishment filled the air as Magdalene walked down the last few steps—looking more radiantly beautiful than Gabriel had ever seen her.
Her gown—surely the finest from poor Anna’s wardrobe—an iridescent silk the color of gold that clung to the perfection of her curves.
Her long tawny hair brushed to a sheen as luminous as what she wore, her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and her incomparable sea green eyes seeking out his…only his.
Gabriel felt such emotion welling inside him that he stood stock-still, simply staring at Magdalene while she gave him the sweetest childlike smile—ah, he understood now.
No crazed lunatic for this evening, but docile and pliant…which would make her appear all the more unpredictable after the wild laughter that had flown earlier from the tower.
As Cora gestured to her entourage to accompany her into the great hall, Gabriel went to Magdalene and waved away the two maidservants following close behind.
“I’ll tend tae my wife now.”
The young women looked doubtful, and quite flush-faced. Gabriel felt certain that Magdalene had given them trouble after all while helping her change her gown for the feast, but they acquiesced with quick bows and then hastened away.
“My thanks, husband,” she murmured for his ears alone as she laid her hand in his, Gabriel feeling a tug in his chest at the touch of her fingers. “I’ve had my fill of servants dogging me for one day.”
“I dinna doubt it, my love,” he whispered back, wanting so badly to reach out and stroke the softness of her cheek, her hair. Yet he could feel the weight of countless pairs of eyes boring into his back, their entrance into the great hall sure to create a stir.
That thought made him bristle. He could already hear the courtiers’ laughter, and his hand must have grown tense for Magdalene gently squeezed his fingers.
“A time of reckoning will come, husband…for all.”
He didn’t feel soothed by her words, only grimly resolute as once more the reality that Seoras had ordered Malcolm’s death overtook him.
Alun, Cameron, and Conall must have sensed his thoughts, for they looked equally somber as they turned and strode into the great hall…leaving Gabriel with Magdalene to make their entrance alone, hand in hand.
Aye, he would pray for that reckoning, he told himself fiercely as he escorted her into what he had long imagined would be raucous laughter resounding from the rafters and blatant finger-pointing.
At him. At the young woman they knew as Mad Maggie. Yet strangely the hall had grown quiet but for servants rushing to fill cups and setting trenchers of food upon the long tables.
Everyone staring as she smiled sweetly from one end of the vast room to the other, her unrivaled beauty alone enough to render everyone speechless.
Even the servants stopped to stare, until Seoras’s roar of outrage sent them all scurrying like frightened mice.
“Damnation! Are we tae eat or stare like fools at my sister? Aye, she’s lovely—for alunatic, but dinna forget she’ll be drooling all over herself before the night is done!”
That pronouncement seemed to break everyone from Magdalene’s spell. Now laughter exploded around Gabriel—though he scarcely heard it.
As they reached the dais, his gaze settled upon Tavish, and all Gabriel could see in his mind’s eye was the man’s big callused hands around Malcolm’s neck.
Twisting the life from his brother…at Seoras’s command. Tavish glanced at him and then quickly looked away—the nervous twitch in his cheek confirming his guilt to Gabriel then and there.
“Sit here at my left, MacLachlan! You and your bride!”
Somehow Gabriel moved his feet to oblige Seoras, who already held a joint of roasted meat in his hand and waved it like a scepter.
All around them, his courtiers and barons and their own captains set upon the food like ravenous dogs. No pause even for a prayer from a white-haired priest who stood off to one side, the man clearly accustomed to such coarse behavior as he seemed to heave a sigh and made the sign of the Cross over the room.
