Page 89 of The Laird’s Lost Wife

“I have to agree with Edith,” Helena piped up.

Hunter took a step forward, meeting their eyes. “I am the Laird here,” he said softly. “Mother, ye have me love and respect. Lady Pilbury, ye have all the honor owed a guest. But make nay mistake; I am the one who decides here.”

Lady Pilbury ducked her head, nodding. Helena held his gaze but stayed silent.

“Still,” Hunter continued, when the silence had become suffocating, “ye are both right. This has gone far enough.”

He thought he saw a spark in his mother’s eyes. When he glanced over at Daphne, her expression was blank, but there was a tinge of curiosity there too.

An angry rap at the door made them all jump, except for Hunter.

“I’ve been expecting this,” he sighed and moved to the door.

He pulled it open, revealing a red-faced Lady Ceana standing there. Her husband stood at her shoulder, and behind them were a few other guests.

“Word travels fast, eh?” he drawled.

Lady Ceana folded her arms. “What were ye doing in here with me sister? Daphne, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Daphne said at once, her eyes darting guiltily around.

Lady Ceana huffed. “I daenae believe that. Me Laird? What have ye to say?”

Hunter met her gaze for a long moment, before letting his eyes skip over the other guests. A crowd was gathering now; he could hear them shuffling and whispering out in the corridor.

Turning, he met Daphne’s eyes squarely. For once, she was looking straight back at him, unblinking.

Did she understand what was about to happen?

Maybe. Even if she did, she probably didn’t approve.

He turned back to the crowd. “I imagine ye all have questions,” he began heavily. “Daenae fret. I have the answers. There’s a reason for this cèilidh, a good reason. Lady Daphne and I are to be wed.”

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Helena gasped, clasping her hands together. Lady Pilbury’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropping open.

“We already have a daughter together,” Hunter continued, raising his voice above the chatter rising in the corridor.

In the distance, he was vaguely aware of the music grinding to a halt. The commotion must have spread out to the Great Hall. He suspected that even if he wanted to step out into the corridor, he’d struggle with all the people.

“Our daughter will be me heir,” he announced, glancing at the people in front of him. “The wedding will take place in two days.”

There was movement, and then Magnus appeared, shoving his way to the front. His face was red, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head.

Hunter met his gaze. “I’ll explain more later,” he added in a low voice.

Then he stepped forward, arms outstretched, and herded the overspilling crowd back through the hall.

“Did I hear right, me Laird?” Magnus gasped, staggering back toward the door.

“I’m sorry I didnae tell ye,” Hunter murmured. “Talk later.”

“Two days?” Helena yelped. “That’s nae enough to plan a wedding!”

“I must arrange a wedding gift!” Lady Pilbury gasped.

More shouted words filled the air—some congratulations, some questions. Hunter lowered his head and tried his best to ignore them, pushing the people back and back. The door slammed shut, and abruptly everything quieted down.