Chapter 5 #2
The great hall itself glowed with torchlight and hanging banners bearing the McGuire crest. Evergreen boughs lined the rafters, and long tables stretched the length of the room, crowded with clanfolk and guests.
Music pulsed from the far end, fiddles and drums urging feet to dance.
It was a display of wealth and power, meant to leave no doubt as to who ruled here.
Ian noticed Arianna barely touched her food. Her fork pushed at the meat without purpose, and the bread before her lay untouched.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Ye’ve scarcely eaten a bite,” he said. “Is the food nay to yer liking?”
She glanced at him, startled, then shook her head. “It’s fine,” she replied softly. “I’m just… too nervous to eat much.” Her fingers tightened briefly around her cup.
Ian’s brow lifted.
“Nervous,” he echoed, a hint of challenge in his tone. “Does bein’ mine make ye so afraid?” He watched her carefully as he spoke. A flicker of fire crossed her face.
Arianna lifted her chin, her spine straightening. “No,” she said coolly. “Ye daenae make me afraid.” Her eyes held his without wavering. “It’s leavin’ me home that unsettles me, nae ye.”
Something in her defiance pleased him more than it should have. Ian gave a low huff of amusement.
“Aye, best ye get used to change,” he said. “This is a powerful hall ye sit in now.” He gestured subtly to the room. “Did ye notice how many clans came to witness this union?”
She followed his glance, her eyes widening as she took in the banners and faces. “I did,” she said. “There are far more here than I expected.” Her voice carried a note of awe despite herself. “It seems half the Highlands have gathered.”
“As they should,” Ian replied, arrogance threading his words. “The McGuires are feared and respected. It’s the price of power.”
She gave a small snort before she could stop herself. “That sounds like a lonely sort of pride,” she said. “Fear only lasts so long.” Her eyes sharpened. “Respect must be earned again and again.”
Ian’s mouth twitched, caught between irritation and reluctant admiration. “Careful, wife,” he murmured. “Ye speak boldly for someone new to this hall.” He leaned closer. “I’ve earned every scrap of what I hold.”
“I’m sure ye believe that,” she shot back. Her fingers finally lifted a bite of food, though she barely tasted it. “But power built only on fear tends to crumble.”
The air between them tightened, words clashing like steel. Ian felt the prickle of attention from nearby seats and straightened.
I cannae let the clan see me falter to a woman, even one as beautiful as this.
“Ye test me,” he said quietly. “That could be unwise.” His tone was low, dangerous as he attempted to pull her into obedience in front of his men.
Arianna’s cheeks flushed, but her eyes did not drop. “And ye provoke me,” she replied. “Which seems equally foolish, for ye would nae want all the clans that have come from afar to witness such a spectacle,” She pushed back her chair. “If ye’ll excuse me, me Laird I need to speak with me mother.”
She stood, smoothing her skirts, and inclined her head stiffly. Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away from the table. Ian’s gaze followed her despite himself. Her hips swayed beneath the fabric, graceful and infuriating.
He remained seated, his hands clenched around his cup.
The music swelled, laughter rising again as though nothing had passed between them.
Yet his blood burned hotter than before.
Ian watched until she disappeared into the crowd, already knowing this marriage would be a far greater battle than any he had fought on the field.
Ian was still staring toward the crowd when George, the councilman approached, a broad smile fixed upon his face. “A fine weddin’, me Laird,” George said, raising his cup. “The hall’s full, the clans are pleased, and the alliance is sealed.”
Ian shifted his gaze to him, unimpressed. “Aye,” he said flatly, “ye look pleased enough for the both of us.”
George chuckled, mistaking the edge in Ian’s voice for modesty. “Ye’ve done the clan a great service this day,” he went on. “A strong wife from a respected house, and heirs soon enough, God willin’, perhaps even this very night.”
Ian’s jaw tightened. “Mind yer tongue,” he warned. “What passes between me and me wife is nae council business.”
George’s smile thinned, though he kept his tone mild. “With respect, it becomes council business when the future of the clan is at stake.” He leaned closer. “Peace is fragile, and heirs steady it.”
Ian’s eye darkened. “And meddlin’ breaks it,” he said. “Ye’d do well to remember who leads here.”
George straightened, a flicker of irritation slipping through his careful calm. “We only act for the good of McGuire,” he said. “Just as we did when we ensured this marriage came to pass.”
Ian rose slowly to his full height, towering over him. “Ye ensured nothin’,” he growled. “Ye advised, and I agreed…once.”
George stepped back, cowering. He lowered into a deep bow. “Of course, me Laird. I apologize for overstepping.” The words stuttered out of his mouth with trembling lips.
Ian lifted his cup at last, his expression cold. “Daenae let it happen again.”