Chapter Five #3
Granda Iain stepped forward, his weathered face creased with a smile that looked entirely too pleased with himself.
“We’ve come with good news,” he announced, while sweeping his gaze over Lillith and Lenora before settling it on Grandmama Marion.
Lillith vowed his eyes gleamed with hopefulness, and the thought that he wanted to smooth things with their grandmama made her heart swell.
“Indeed?” Grandmama Marion’s voice could have frozen the loch in summer. “And you felt the need to burst in unannounced to deliver it?”
“’Tis our own home, is it nae?” Uncle Brus countered, though Lillith noticed he shifted uncomfortably under Aunt Sebille’s withering stare.
“What news?” Eve asked, her tone forcibly neutral as she met da’s gaze.
Granda Iain clasped his hands before him, looking every inch the diplomat. “Rory has decided—at my suggestion—that he would like to take time to get to know both Lillith and Lenora before making his final choice of bride.”
Lillith felt as though the floor had dropped away beneath her feet.
She honestly did not think this would happen, though she had sat here moments ago and come up with a plan just in case of a twist of events like this.
“He has agreed to this even after I shot him, and he said he’d decided on Lenora?
” she heard herself ask, her voice sounding distant to her own ears.
“Aye,” her da confirmed, his expression softening somewhat as he looked at her. “Now, both of ye will have time to get to ken the man one of ye will wed.”
Their granda nodded his agreement, looking pleased with himself.
Lillith took a long breath. “And ye consider this good news?” She wanted to scream when her granda, her da, and her uncles nodded.
“Of course,” Granda Iain replied, apparently oblivious to the fact that neither Lillith nor any of the other women looked pleased. “Ye’ll both have the opportunity to show him yer true natures before he decides. ’Tis a brilliant compromise, if I do say so myself.”
“Brilliant?” Grandmama Marion stepped forward, her silver hair catching the light as she faced her husband with steely determination.
Her small frame seemed to grow taller with indignation.
“The suggestion you thought was brilliant,” she said, poking his chest, “is still the men deciding the women’s futures. Therefore, the quarrel is still on.”
A muscle ticked in Granda Iain’s jaw. “God’s blood, Marion, I was trying to give the lasses more time—more choice in the matter!”
“More choice?” Grandmama Marion scoffed. “They still have no choice at all! One of them must wed him—the only ‘choice’ is which one he prefers after inspecting them like prized mares at market!”
The tension between husbands and wives filled the room like a physical presence.
Uncle Rolland exchanged a glance with Uncle Brus that spoke volumes about their reluctance to be caught in this particular battle.
Lillith’s da looked torn between frustration with his mama and sympathy for Lillith and Lenora.
“’Tis better than it was before,” Da finally said, his tone placating. “At least this way they’ll have time to—”
“Time to what, Royce?” Eve interrupted, her English accent growing more pronounced with her agitation. “Time to resign themselves to their fate?”
The men exchanged frustrated glances. Granda Iain’s face darkened with stubborn pride, which was an expression Lillith recognized from her own reflection when she was set upon a course and would not be swayed.
“I see this discussion is pointless,” he said, rubbing at his neck and then rolling his shoulders. She imagined his fight with Grandmama Marion was giving him knots. “Perhaps when ye have all had time to consider the advantages of my arrangement, ye’ll all see its wisdom.”
“Do not hold your breath waiting for that day,” Grandmama Marion replied sweetly, though her eyes remained hard as Highland flint.
With a curt nod that did little to mask his frustration, Granda Iain turned and strode from the room. The other men followed, Da pausing briefly in the doorway to cast an apologetic glance toward Lenora and Lillith before pulling the door firmly shut behind him.
The room fell silent for several heartbeats after their departure.
Lillith felt numb with shock. She could hardly believe Rory Matheson had agreed to get to know her after she had shot him and how he had acted.
Now, they would be thrust together, and she would have to endure his presence, judgment, and insufferable arrogance. Thank the gods she had a plan!
“Well,” Aunt Elena said finally, breaking the silence, “’tis a good thing we have our plan.”
Grandmama Marion nodded slowly, her gaze flashing as she looked between Lenora and Lillith. “We will start tonight. Lenora, you will ‘spill your wine on him and tromp upon his toes if he asks you to dance.”
“And talk to him endlessly at dinner about the weather,” Eve added.
“What shall I do?” Lillith asked.
The women all looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, there are no contests tonight, so there’s no way to ruin his pride there,” Eve said.
Grandma Marion clapped her hands together. “I know! You need to dance with several warriors, and I will suggest that Rory ask you to dance. Turn him down with the excuse of being tired, but then dance again right after that with another warrior.”
Lillith did not love that suggestion. She made it a point to never dance with the warriors when they asked, so they would not think she was interested in anything more than a simple dance from them.
It had pained her in the past because she did so love to dance, but rarely got to, unless her da asked her to, which he did so from time to time now, unlike before he met Eve, and he became happy once more.
But he was usually dancing with Eve. “I do nae think—”
Grandmama Marion gave her a dark layered look that surprised Lillith. Her grandmama was usually so sweet. “This is war, Lillith, and everyone must sacrifice in war—even you.”
Lillith nodded her agreement. “I’ll carve out his pride and serve it to him on a platter!”
“That’s a good lass,” Grandmama Marion said, her tone humorous but sharp.
“And I shall be so dull that watching plaids dry in the sun will seem exciting by comparison,” Lenora added with unexpected spirit, drawing surprised laughter from the women.
Grandmama Marion clasped her hands together. “Then we are agreed. Our plan begins at once.”
A small smile tugged at Lillith’s lips despite the gravity of their situation.
There was something deeply satisfying about the thought of besting Rory Matheson, of watching his face when she outshot him or outran him, of seeing that insufferable pride of his crumble.
She tapped her finger against her chin thoughtfully.
“I believe I’ll wear my hunting leathers instead of a gown to supper. That should scandalize him thoroughly.”
“Your da will be furious,” Eve said.
“Aye,” Lillith agreed. “I’ll leave handling Da to ye.”
Eve winked her agreement.
“Mayhap this shall be fun!” Lenora exclaimed, obviously warming to her part of the plan to save herself. “I’m going to talk in excruciating detail about the cloud formations over the past fortnight. That should send him running from the great hall.”
The women laughed, the sound a welcome release of tension. Lillith met her sister’s gaze and found a mirror of her own determination there.
As the women continued to refine their plans, Lillith’s thoughts returned to Rory Matheson—to his icy blue eyes, his broad shoulders, the way his jaw had clenched when she’d crashed into him.
A strange fluttering sensation stirred in her stomach at the memory, but she was certain it was worry for her part in the plan.
She took several deep breaths until she felt settled.
She was fierce. She was strong. She would prevail.
The Hammer of the Highlands had no idea what he was in for.