She heard derisive laughter erupt from the guards watching her struggle to her feet, though a brusque wave of Alec’s hand to his men silenced them.
No sound at all now but her heartbeat roaring in her ears as tears blurred her vision at the grimness of Alec’s expression when she stopped, breathless, in front of him.
Ah, God, he hated her now, she could see it in the coldness of his eyes that appeared black as night as he stared at her, Alec still not speaking.
She could but stand there shivering, her hair covered with a dusting of snow while any joy she had felt melted away into pure dread.
“You will accompany me tae the great hall for supper, Lady Mackay. I heard from Simeon that my clansmen and servants have shunned you while I’ve been abed—but that ill-treatment will cease,” he said in a commanding voice that the guards could hear, but then he lowered it to a gruff whisper. “You must have respect here as my bride, thoughIknow you dinna deserve it for conspiring tae have me killed. Now come.”
CHAPTER11
Alec held out his hand and Rowen took it, his grip as punishing as his harsh words, his fingers as cold as ice.
For an instant she wondered if he might have died after all and appeared to her now as a vengeful specter for how forbidding he looked—yet no ghost would pull her along with him into the keep with strides so long that she had to hurry to keep up with him.
No ghost would have a calloused palm from training for battle, his hand clasping hers so tightly that she winced…though he eased his grip and slowed his pace as they entered the torchlit hall that was filled already with Mackay warriors and servants alike.
Rowen felt as if her whirling emotions had been whipped around from pure elation at seeing Alec on his feet again to mounting trepidation for what he might have in store for her. His expression still grim, he led her to the head table and eased her snow-dampened cloak from her shoulders.
“Sit.”
She did, sinking into her seat at the gruffness of his command and nervously smoothing the folds of another one of Alec’s tunics, her own garment never returned to her. She imagined the maidservants had cut it into pieces by now and used it to clean slop buckets, and why wouldn’t they?
No laughter or easy conversation echoed from the rafters, everyone staring at her with somber faces and scorn in their eyes—och, Rowen wanted nothing more than to jump up from her chair and run from the great hall!
Yet Alec’s heavy hand upon her shoulder stayed her as if he sensed her panic, and he hadn’t seated himself but stood beside her.
“As all of you can see, I am well—aye, and most thankful tae God for the ministrations of our healer and the unceasing prayers of my wife, so Simeon told me. Day and night Lady Mackay pleaded for my life, and heaven must have heard her because I stand before you healed and whole.”
Alec had barely finished before a great roar erupted from those assembled, while Rowen could only stare up at him, wholly astonished. Yet he quelled the clamor with a wave of his hand much as he’d done to the guards in the bailey, his other hand squeezing her shoulder as if to warn her to keep silent.
She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to, her throat felt so tight for the ominous expression that had darkened his face, Alec truly formidable to behold.
“I also heard that my bride has been shunned these past days within her own household—sohear me, all of you. I swear from this moment forward, if anyone speaks ill of her or shows disrespect toward her in any manner, or tae her lady’s maid, you will answer tae me as your laird and commander. Am I understood?”
Solemn nods greeted his query among his warriors while some of the servants appeared to blanch and hasten back to the kitchen as if to seek refuge from the intensity of Alec’s unflinching gaze. Her heart pounding, Rowen could but stare at him still, both stunned and confused.
His warning to his clansmen wasn’t anything at all what she had expected, another squeeze upon her shoulder telling her that he was not yet finished.
“Rumors and malicious talk have abounded that my wife had a hand in what befell me, but I tell you if she hadna ridden back tae fetch help, mayhap I’d be rotting in my grave and not here with you this night. She is a Sutherland no longer, but a Mackay, and her loyalty lies with me as her husband—and with you, my clansmen.”
At that pronouncement, another rousing roar went up that made Rowen’s face flush hotly, her confusion only growing.
Alec hadn’t outright stated that she played no part in what had happened to him, but it was clearly enough to turn the tide of hostility she had suffered these past three days.
No one was glaring at her any longer or looking at her with suspicion—och, except for Sheena, who stood near the doors to the kitchen with a pitcher in her hands.
The comely maidservant appeared unmoved by Alec’s words as she fixed a gaze of such contempt upon Rowen that she shivered, Alec uttering a low curse beside her.
“Sheena MacBain, come forward!”
He must have seen the maidservant’s dark look, but Sheena held back and appeared uncertain now, until a dark-haired young man who closely resembled her came up behind her to give her a push.
“The laird calls for you, dinna shame us!”
Rowen swallowed hard as only then did Sheena walk toward the head table with whom Rowen assumed must be her brother. They didn’t stop until standing right in front of Rowen, Alec’s hand once more heavy upon her shoulder.
“You disparaged my wife by your outburst in our bedchamber,” he said in a voice grown harsh again, Sheena’s dark brown eyes lit with more surprise than remorse.
