Chapter 2
Magnus forced his limbs to remain still as he leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, wishing he had not bothered to come tonight and envying his host’s easy manners.
He glanced back at the raised steps at the side of the room, where Laird MacIrvin stood with his wife. They looked happy and content. He felt a twinge of sadness as he acknowledged the thought. Perhaps they deserved to be—that was more than could be said for him.
His gaze moved further along from Lady MacIrvin to the woman who had been smirking at him. Magnus attempted to drag his gaze back to the room so as not to be caught staring, but it was as though he were a compass and she was True North.
He had never seen a woman so striking in all his life. His wife had been a comely lady with a passionate nature, but nothing compared to the phoenix he had just laid eyes on.
Her hair was a kind of red he had rarely seen, tumbling over her shoulders in effortless curls. He likened it to the flash of a fox through the heather on a hillside or perhaps a forgotten ember in a long burned-out flame.
She had looked at him with something in her gaze he had not been able to place, a strange thread simmering between them like a reflection of a feeling he had forgotten.
But then she had called him a barbarian. An Englishwoman who did not know who he was or where he hailed from had the nerve to judge him on a first meeting.
He should have been angry. He should have felt the slight keenly. Instead, he found himself amused by it. It was a feeling so foreign that he questioned whether the occasion had muddled his mind.
He realized he was still staring at her when a movement to his left caught his attention. Laird MacIrvin was approaching him. His body briefly blocked Magnus’s view of the girl, and the sudden disconnect seemed to drag him from under her spell.
What witchcraft is this that has me staring at the lass like a green lad half me age?
He clenched his fists, trying to get his mind to focus on the reason he had traveled all this way.
“Thank ye for comin’,” Laird MacIrvin said cordially, coming to stand beside him as Magnus rose and they both turned to watch the couples on the dancefloor.
Magnus only grunted in response. He was far better at discussing clan business than feigning civility. He had no problem with Laird MacIrvin or his wife and newborn bairn, but he was here to negotiate terms. They were not friends.
“I believe we have things to discuss now that ye have showed yer face,” MacIrvin continued, his assessing gaze flicking to Magnus and back.
He was a little shorter in stature than Magnus but had the presence of a man used to getting his way.
“Aye. Yer invitation was a welcome one,” Magnus conceded. “I’d be open to making an alliance. If it benefits both our clans.”
There was little chance it would not. Clan MacWatt had many resources that would be valuable to Clan MacIrvin. Magnus had managed to forge a modest empire in his island after years of toil and struggle, but he could benefit from MacIrvin’s connections and the status of being his ally.
“Of course,” MacIrvin replied. “I’ve wished to bring our clans closer for many months now. But it is hard to pin ye down when ye arenae ever outside yer castle walls.”
Despite his harsh words, his tone was jovial, and his lips twitched slightly.
He was not wrong, either. Magnus did not usually spend time at balls and dances. He was here tonight to negotiate terms and placate his restless council, nothing more.
His gaze slid back to the edge of the room, where the fiery beauty had now been joined by another woman, their heads bowed, deep in whispered conversation.
“I’d be happy to further our alliance, Laird MacIrvin. I believe it would be mutually beneficial for our people.”
“Of course, I agree,” MacIrvin replied, but his voice was somewhat distant now—he seemed distracted.
Magnus tensed up, concerned that he may have offended him somehow, but when he turned to look at the man, MacIrvin’s gaze was fixed on the phoenix girl.
Magnus followed it, enjoying the chance to take her in for a second time.
The taller woman who had joined her was making furtive, hurried movements with her hands, and they both looked to be in some distress.
Magnus’s fingers twitched as though to reach for his sword, ready to defend whoever had put that sorrowful expression on her face.
He almost growled audibly at his ridiculous reaction.
Ye ken nothin’ of this lass, and ye think it yer duty to find out what ails her? Have a solid thought in yer head, ye dobber.
“Excuse me, Laird MacWatt, we will return to this conversation another time.” MacIrvin bowed and turned swiftly, making his way back toward his wife, leaving Magnus frowning after him.
The redhead’s skin was paler now, her hands clasped in front of her, her fingers twisting together unnaturally. She had clearly been given some unwelcome news.
Magnus was tempted to move closer to try and hear their conversation, but once again he shook off the feeling with a grunt of frustration.
The very notion of getting involved in Clan MacIrvin’s business, for a lass he neither knew nor wished to know, was pure folly. He kept his feet firmly planted on the floor and resolved to leave the ball as soon as his early departure would not set tongues wagging.
“He can’t be here!” Leah exclaimed, clinging to Katie’s arm with a vice-like grip.
As soon as Leah had seen her friend crossing the room toward her, she knew something was wrong. She could already hear the commotion outside the hall, heralding the new arrival.
Her father had come, and she felt a jolt of pure fear for the first time in her life. It was not so much her father who she was afraid of but the life he would force upon her now that he had cornered her.
“I told him I would return to England and agree with everything he has planned for me,” she said desperately. “Why did he have to chase me here? I would have gone back in a matter of weeks as it is.”
Katie’s kind eyes were soft and gentle, but there was reproach in them, too.
“He gave you a month to be with Daphne, Leah. And, it pains me to agree with him, but you have been here for over two.”
There was a wild shout from outside the hall. Leah saw several of the guests at the edges of the room look about them curiously as if to see who was making such a racket.
“I will see my daughter. You cannot stop me!”
Her father’s booming voice echoed through the room, and now every head in the vicinity was turning to listen. In a matter of seconds, he would barge inside, ripping away all of her hopes and dreams and saddling her with a life of his making.
Leah felt as though she were back in the drawing room all over again, watching as her father threatened to take away everything she cared about.
I will not be forced to live by a man’s whims. If I must fight, I will.
Katie came to stand in front of her, almost as though she had read Leah’s mind. She gently took her by the shoulders, her gaze steady and unwavering.
“Let us not embarrass our friends. You are the guest of Oskar and Daphne—you cannot start a brawl in the middle of a celebration in honor of their son!”
“I shall do as I like,” Leah hissed angrily. “Are you telling me to bend to his will? To return to England and marry whatever ape he has picked out for me?”
Katie gripped her wrist, and the power of her gaze stopped Leah in her tracks.
“Of course not!” she insisted, her eyes darting about the room.
“You are the most pig-headed woman I have ever known, Leah Anderson. Why don’t you do something I suggest for once instead of leaping head-first into a fight you cannot win? ”
And with that, Katie dragged her out of the room.
Leah glanced behind her, her skirts tangling around her ankles as she hurriedly followed her friend. She could hear her father advancing on the room, his voice livid with rage.
“Where is she? Bring her to me this instant!”