Chapter 23
The music began, loud enough to make Ryder jump. They were at least an hour and a half into the celebration, and it felt like an eternity.
Just about all the guests were here now. Parties at Keep MacCulloch were rare enough to ensure that everybody accepted their invitation. A few well-known lairds made sure to come by and greet Ryder, laughing and cracking jokes.
He was careful to keep a smile on his face. The cèilidh might be a party to all intents and purposes, but everybody knew that for the lairds and their councilors, it was more than that. Much more than that.
A wrong word, a poorly phrased joke, or even a too-tight handshake could rub somebody up the wrong way. Annoy a particularly prickly laird, and if you were important enough, he might decide to take offence. Offence led to bad feelings, which led to malice, which led to decisive action.
What that action was could not be foreseen in advance. It was best to stay ahead of what might happen and be polite to everybody.
A lumbering man with a shock of orange hair came shuffling over, twisting the ends of his beard between his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s Draco Anderson, aye?” Ryder said, taking the initiative to step forward and extend a hand. “Chief councilor to Laird Black?”
“Aye, that’s me,” Draco said, his voice deep and rumbling as if he was talking from inside a barrel. “Fine party, this. It’s been a good while since I’ve seen so much decent food. The roast pork is excellent.”
“I’m glad ye are enjoyin’ it. We’re glad to have ye here.”
“Nay doubt, nay doubt,” Draco smiled, nodding. “And congratulations on yer betrothal. She’s a fine, pretty lass, but I am sure ye ken that already.”
Ryder smiled tightly. He had been complimented about a thousand times on Megan’s beauty and wit by various guests.
Most of the compliments were sweet and genuine, but there were a couple of leering grins thrown at him along with the compliment, or a remark on Megan’s face or figure that made him bristle.
He generally just delivered a long, hard stare at whoever had made such a risky compliment until they realized their mistake and hurried off, muttering excuses.
Draco didn’t seem inclined to risk inappropriate comments.
“Beautiful hair,” he added. “Reminds me of me second daughter. She’s as sharp as a blade, too. Troublesome, as I’m sure ye can imagine.”
“I’m nae sure I can imagine, as I have nay bairns of me own.”
Draco pursed his lips, eyeing Ryder for a long moment. “Nay, but ye raise those sisters of yer like bairns. Laird Black and I admire a man who does well by his family. That’s why I wanted to drop a wee word in yer ear. Laird Black agrees; we discussed it just now.”
“A word in me ear? That sounds official,” Ryder responded mechanically, frowning.
“It’s nae official. It’s just the word of one man with daughters to another man raisin’ lassies of the same age. That sister of yers, Alaina. The wee pretty one, getting’ near to an age where she can be wed—have ye made a betrothal for her?”
Where was this going? Ryder eyed the other man for a long moment.
“She’ll nae be wed until she’s twenty at least,” he answered at last.
“Very wise. I daenae approve of young marriages. So, no betrothal?”
“Of course nae. Why do ye ask?”
“Because she’s been seen driftin’ around the hall with some young blond guardsman. I could nae even find out his name, only that he’s nae a guest but a soldier.”
Hamish. Ryder felt a ripple of annoyance. He should have known that Hamish would sneak away from his duties and Alaina would sneak away from hers so that they could meet.
I should have expected nay less, really. I ought to have been more strict with them.
Too late now, though. If a rumor went around the clans that Alaina was smitten with a common guardsman and had snuck off with him in plain view of everybody, it would damage her reputation. She wouldn’t be able to find a decent husband when she was old enough.
That husband would not be Hamish, Ryder was sure of it.
Nobody stayed in love with the person they fancied when they were sixteen.
In another year, Hamish would get tired of waiting, and his eye would be caught by some bouncing, buxom farmer’s daughter.
He’d go running off with her. Maybe Alaina would be a little hurt, maybe even peeved for a while, but she’d get over it.
“Thank ye for tellin’ me. Which way did ye see them go?”
“The northeast corridor, the one with the red-and-white tapestries on the wall. Ye daenae look surprised.”
“Aye, well, lassies will be lassies,” Ryder responded, smiling weakly. “They are always more ferocious than people think.”
“As a father of daughters, I’m inclined to agree.
Yer sisters are sweet girls, Laird MacCulloch, and our clans have ever been allies.
I’d warn ye to keep a close eye on the lassies in all respects.
It’s nae just their physical well-being ye must protect.
Ye must protect their hearts and reputations, too. ”
Ryder wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to this. Was Draco advising him to make Alaina break things off with Hamish? He doubted that he could accomplish that, and in any case, his opposition would only make Alaina more desperate to be with him.
But he couldn’t let things go unchecked. Not now, not when something terrible could happen at any moment.
The guards were on the alert, and so was Ryder. So far, nothing bad had happened; the party still had hours remaining.
“Thank ye, Draco,” he answered at last, clapping him on the shoulder. “I appreciate yer advice.”
“Glad I could help,” Draco replied, giving him a nod and moving away.
Ryder strode across the room, forcing smiles at important guests. Everybody shifted to get out of his way. He had to find Alaina and tell her to leave Hamish alone. He’d tell her that…
He caught a glimpse of shiny red hair, braided with flowers, through the crowd, and froze in place.
Megan was talking to a tall, thin man with a beaky nose and nearly no hair left on his age-spotted, leathery scalp.
Ryder recognized the man as another Black councilor, a rather sleazy man named Armitage.
He was English-born and had hastily picked up a Scottish accent once he settled in the Highlands.
He wasn’t popular, not least of all because of how he treated the wives and daughters of his colleagues.
At this moment, he was standing just a little too close to Megan, his long, yellowed fingers wound around her hand.
He was saying something, smiling widely down at her.
Discomfort was written all over Megan’s face.
He kissed her knuckles several times in a row before she snatched her hand away.
This did not seem to disconcert him. He had a plate of food in his hand, mostly fried chunks of liver and pieces of bread.
Fury swept through Ryder’s chest. How dare he look Megan up and down in that way, leering so openly? Couldn’t he see how uncomfortable and irritated she was getting, even though she was struggling to stay polite?
He took one step toward them, but a hand landed on his shoulder before he could storm over.
“Easy,” Ewan said pointedly. “It’s goin’ to be all right. Watch, Flora is comin’ to save her.”
“What is Flora goin’ to do?”
“Just watch.”
Sure enough, Flora elbowed her way through the crowd, meeting Megan’s eye. Something unspoken passed between them. She laid a hand on Megan’s arm, and both of them turned to smile sweetly at Armitage.
“Unsettlin’, that is,” Ryder mumbled.
“She’s goin’ to tell him that the smell of his fried liver is makin’ her feel queasy,” Ewan whispered. Flora was talking rapidly, her free hand fluttering between them. She patted her belly and then gestured to the liver. A look of unease passed over Armitage’s face.
“So what? He will tell her to leave.”
“She’s goin’ to tell him now that she could vomit at any time,” Ewan added. “Mark me words, he is the one who’ll be leavin’.”
Flora paused, frowning, and gagged openly.
Megan wrapped a concerned arm around her shoulders, while Armitage looked plainly alarmed.
Flora retched once more, and the man clutched his plate and fled.
Once the crowd had swallowed him up, Flora stopped gagging and grinned at Megan.
The two women whispered together, giggling and shaking their heads.
Ryder found himself watching Megan in particular, her face bright and easy, her eyes crinkled up from laughter. The two women linked arms and made their way off through the crowd. He watched them until Megan’s narrow back disappeared.
A lump formed in his throat and would not go away, no matter how firmly he tried to swallow it down.
He felt eyes on him and glanced over to find Ewan watching him almost as intently as he’d been watching Megan.
“When all of this is over,” Ewan remarked, almost idly, “ye could keep her, ye ken.”
He snorted. “Keep her?”
“Aye. This betrothal is considered real. Our allies have accepted it, have accepted her, and so the hard part is done. Ye have the council’s backin’. Yer sisters like her, and more to the point, ye like her. Ye could simply carry on with the betrothal and wed the lass.”
Ryder stared at his friend. “Ye cannae be serious.”
Ewan shrugged. “Why nae? We’ve done wilder things in our lives, havenae we?”
“Wilder things? Like what?”
“Like makin’ the gallop from Tattersea Pass all the way to Roofglade Keep, just the two of us, to warn Laird Roofglade of danger.”
“Well, we made it. We outran the wolves.”
“Aye, but it was touch and go whether we would.”
Ryder shook his head. “This isnae like that. This isnae warfare. It’s nae a feat of strength. It’s… It’s somethin’ else.”
“What else?”
“I daenae ken! Look, Megan would never agree to stay with me.”
Ewan folded his arms. “How do ye ken that? Ye havenae asked her.”
“I wouldnae ask it of her. She deserves better.”
“Better than a laird?”
“Better than me.”
There was a brief silence after he’d spoken. Snorting, Ryder shook his head.