Page 67 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

“That is true, indeed,” Laird McNeil said with a pensive hum. “What do ye suggest, then? As far as I understand Liam willnae let this matter go unless I agree to do as he pleases. And I have nae intention of givin’ him Muriel; I have made that verra clear.”

“Why nae?” Ron asked with a pleasant smile.

When he didn’t elaborate, Laird McNeil leaned a little closer, raising a curious eyebrow. “Why would I? What do I gain out of it?”

“Weel, yer daughter will be happy, for one,” Liam pointed out. “Does that nae matter to ye?”

“Even if that didnae matter to the laird, though I’m sure it does,” Ron said before anyone else could speak, eager to keep everyone pleased, “there are other reasons why ye should consider it, Laird McNeil. Liam may nae be a laird but he is me right-hand man.”

I am? Since when?

Liam would have to ask Ron about that later, when it would be just the two of them. Last time he checked, he was never home long enough to even be one of his advisors.

“And he’s Lady McAlpine’s brother. An heir to the lairdship were somethin’ to happen to me and her,” Ron added. “Dinnae underestimate Liam’s influence just because ye only view him as a mercenary. He is far more than that. It’ll serve ye weel to think of him as someone who ye want as an ally.”

That seemed to give Laird McNeil pause, to the point that Liam could see Macleod’s brow twitching and his hand fiddling with the ring around his finger. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy seeing Macleod nervous. It gave him a strange satisfaction to see him squirm in his seat – waiting to see what Laird McNeil would do.

When McNeil didn’t speak, Macleod slammed a hand on the table. “We have a deal,” he said. “In case ye have all forgotten about this, Muriel was promised to me. Are ye the kind of man to go back on yer word, Laird McNeil? If I kent that from the beginnin’ then I wouldnae have made the deal with ye.”

“I never said that I willnae honour our agreement,” Laird McNeil assured the man. “I am only hearin’ what Laird McAlpine has to say on the matter.”

“And why would any of us need to listen to him?” Macleod asked. “This matter could have been resolved with the duel. He had nae right to stop it.”

“Do ye want to go back outside and finish what we started?” Liam asked; unable to control his rage around Macleod. Every time he spoke, he reminded Liam why he despised him so much – his cruelty coating every word he spoke. “Because I am more than happy to go back out there and kill ye.”

“Liam,” Ron said in a warning tone; his hand coming to rest on Liam’s shoulder. It was a comfort as much as it was an order and though Liam didn’t like taking orders from anyone, he would accept them if they came from Ron. “I am afraid the duel has left everyone agitated. It is only natural that tensions are high right noo but let us consider this matter reasonably. I ken Liam and so I ken that he willnae stop until he either has what he wants, or he dies. Isnae that correct, Liam?”

“Aye,” Liam said. “I have nae intention of lettin’ this man marry Muriel. She doesnae want it so I willnae let anyone force her.”

Muriel's hand found his under the table and gently squeezed it. However, even a slight movement of his arm sent a sharp pain through it, reminding him of the cut on his bicep. He'd have to go to the healer before it became infected, he reasoned. He wondered how long these negotiations would last, and if they would ever end. Everyone at the table, especially himself, was too stubborn to compromise.

“So, unless ye kill him, he willnae stop,” Ron said. “But if ye do kill him, both of yer clans should consider the McAlpines yer enemies.”

Liam had always known that Ron would support him no matter what. Still, hearing those words from him put a small smile on his lips. It was good to know that he wasn’t alone, even if he had ignored his laird’s orders time and time again.

“What do ye suggest, then?” Macleod asked. “That Liam marries Muriel? How does this benefit me?”

“Weel… I have a verra bonnie daughter, Laird Macleod.”

It was Lady Hextilda who spoke, much to everyone’s surprise. At her words, Macleod turned to face her, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Aye, I have seen yer daughter,” he said. “I met her when I first arrived.”

“So ye ken that she is a bonnie lass,” Hextilda said. “Is she nae?”

“She certainly is,” Macleod agreed. “She is a verra bonnie lass. But she is nae the daughter of a laird.”

The way Macleod spoke about the girl had the hairs on the back of Liam’s neck standing up straight. He was like a bird of prey looking for its next meal and he had just found it.

Liam would never understand why Lady Hextilda would want her daughter to marry a monster like Macleod. Did she not know how he treated those around him? Or did she simply not care, just like her husband? It seemed odd to him that anyone would sell their own child just so they could have more money and more power but he didn’t dare speak.

Perhaps the girl was more like her mother than like Muriel, he thought. Perhaps she would be safer than he feared.

“She may as weel be,” Hextilda said. Liam didn’t miss the scathing glance that she shot her husband; daring him to claim otherwise. “Me husband raised her ever since she was a wee bairn. Me first husband died nae long after she was born. He is the only father she has ever kent.”

“That doesnae make her the real daughter of a laird,” Macleod insisted. “There are plenty of other noble lasses out there who would be happy to be me wife. I did ye the honour of choosin’ Muriel and noo ye want me to marry a lass who’s nae even the laird’s real child?”

There was silence for a few moments. Hextilda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly as frustrated with Macleod as he was, though she tried hard not to show it.