Page 50 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERTWENTY

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Lara's eyes widened, dazzled by the sight.

Candlelight flickered across gold platters heaped with roasted meats and bright fruits, crystalline goblets brimming with wine. Ribbons of color unfurled across the stone walls, tapestries depicting heroic tales of clan battles long past.

Her heart swelled at the sounds of laughter and lively tunes swirling through the hall. For a fleeting moment, she could pretend all was well.

A familiar figure lurked in the shadows, watching. Waiting.

Lara's breath caught in her throat as Gregor's gaze pierced through the crowd, fixing upon her like an arrow finding its mark. Her stomach twisted into knots.

She slipped into the throng of revelers, hiding in their joyous embraces and drunken merriment. Yet an itch lingered between her shoulders, instincts warning of eyes following her every move.

After a while, a firm hand grasped her arm.

"A word, me lady?" Gregor's tone was edged with impatience.

Lara swallowed hard, summoning a bright smile. "The feast is meant for revelry, nae grave talks, me laird."

"This cannae wait." His fingers tightened around her arm. "I sense ye’re troubled, Lara. Why are ye avoiding me?"

Panic rose in her chest. She twisted from his grip, pulse racing.

"Please, dinnae be silly, me laird. Why would I try tae avoid me sister’s betrothed? Dinnae let yerself think such heavy things during such a… happy occasion. Rest assured, all is well."

Gregor frowned, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I dinnae believe it, lass, but aye, we’ll discuss it another time. Soon."

And he vanished as quickly into the crowd as he had come, leaving Lara shaken. She gazed around the hall, aching to flee the suffocating warmth and cacophony of sounds.

The feast no longer seemed a refuge. She edged toward the great doors, slipping out into the chill night air. She drew a sharp breath, the cold seeping into her bones and calming her frayed nerves.

A familiar figure detached from the shadows. "Are ye well, me lady?"

Darragh. She nearly wept in relief at the sight of his familiar, scarred face.

"Aye, it’s just… Gregor wants tae discuss something with me, and I am afraid he might question me about our marriage," she said wearily. "I had tae get away as he seemed determined tae understand why I was avoiding him."

Darragh's eyes darkened. "I saw. Dae ye wish me tae intervene?"

"Nae. Nae violence here, nae tonight." Lara shook her head. "I only wish tae escape him until the feast ends."

"Then avoid him ye shall." Darragh smiled and offered his arm. "Might I have the honor of escorting ye in the gardens? The moon is full and bright, perfect for a stroll."

Lara gladly took his arm, matching his smile with her own. "I would like that very much."

The sounds of merriment faded into the distance as they wandered the gardens, talking of lighter things. But even in the peace of Darragh's company, unease still whispered at the back of Lara’s mind.

Gregor would not give up so easily. She only prayed the coming days would not bring his wrath.

When they returned back from the garden and went inside, Lara spotted Elsie sitting alone in a corner, looking lost in troubled thoughts. Curious about her sister's isolation, Lara went over to check on her and see if anything was wrong.

She wove through the crowded hall, still ignoring Gregor's piercing stare following her every step, and slid onto the bench beside her sister.

"What troubles ye, dear sister?" she asked softly, slipping an arm around Elsie's shoulders. "Why dae ye sit alone when there's a feast tae be had?"

Elsie shook her head, red-rimmed eyes meeting Lara's. "I dinnae share the mood for gaiety this night. There are… concerns weighing on my mind. I am worried, and I feel like a fool for nae understanding things before."

Lara's heart clenched. "Concerns? Of what sort? Is all well with ye Elsie, ye are worrying me?"