Patrick stepped back as the MacKilyn men disappeared out into the hallway, to slump down into a chair close by.
“You ken what you’ve just agreed to, aye? It’s no secret that this is no the first time the MacKilyn has exercised this ploy on an ally.”
Malcolm understood. All too well.
“It is nothing more than the artifice of a desperate old man.”
“A desperate old man with no sons, mayhap. But lacking in honor, Colm, you ken as well as I do. There’s no honor to be found in forcing a man to wed yer daughter to obtain the alliance he desperately needs. It’s the sale of yer soul he wants.”
Malcolm nodded his agreement, refusing to allow regret to poison his heart. He had no choice. His sister’s life depended on his securing the MacKilyn warriors to his cause.
They’d heard the stories of the MacKilyn’s trickery from the time of their first visit to Castle MacGahan. Stories about the wily old laird with riches and land, but no sons to pass them on to. No sons, but a dozen daughters, it was said.
A dozen daughters, each in turn to be married off to an ally of the MacKilyn in return for a pledge of their father’s alliance.
Now he, too, would be one of those stories.
“And what of Lady Danielle?”
Malcolm shook his head, unable to meet his brother’s gaze, his tongue too thick to answer.
“Based on what you told me yestereve, I had thought I would be welcoming a new sister into the family.”
Perhaps it was the work of the Norns, the vile fate-bringers of Asgard. He should never have confided his plans for Dani to his brother. Now they would never be. For a man who had wanted no entanglements with women, his life had become as a web of spiders.
“Youwillbe welcoming a new sister into the family, Patrick. A daughter of the house of MacKilyn.”
“The Elf will no be well pleased,” Patrick muttered, thumb and forefinger stroking his chin.
“No, I dinna suppose she will be, though in truth, her feelings are no my first concern.”
It was the feelings of another woman that troubled him now. Another woman with eyes of green and skin so soft and fragrant, he could lose himself in her for a lifetime.
A noise in the hallway had Patrick on his feet, sword drawn, and at Malcolm’s shoulder as he approached the door.
“Dermid?” Patrick silently mouthed Malcolm’s suspicion.
With a flick of his wrist, Malcolm set them both in motion, toward the opening where he expected to find his brother waiting. Even as he took the last step, he prepared to lecture Dermid about his penchant for spying at half-open doorways.
With Patrick in place to his left, he flung the door open wide.
It was not Dermid standing in the hallway, but Dani, her face an expressionless mask.
No words passed between them, and for half a heartbeat he deluded himself into believing she had not heard the discussion that had passed between him and Patrick.
In that half a heartbeat, his world held still as he stared into her eyes. Hoping against hope, even as her fingertips lifted to her lips, as if only by physical restraint could she hold back her words.
Half a heartbeat only before hope died a wicked death.
And then she was gone. Racing away down the hallway, her skirts lifted high to give her more speed.
Patrick’s hand to his shoulder kept him from running after her. That was as it should be. Even if he had pursued, even if he caught her, what could he possibly say? He’d said too many words to her already.
Once again he’d failed a woman entrusted to his care.
Nineteen
ITOLD YOU ALREADY, I don’t care how my hair looks, Elesyria. It doesn’t matter.”
