Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Christopher sat at the head of the long wooden table, his expression unreadable as he studied Laird Albert and his daughter, Hilda. Albert had the look of a man desperate to secure an alliance, and Christopher knew exactly what that meant.
Albert cleared his throat and gestured towards Hilda.
“Laird McKie, me daughter is a fine lass, well-mannered and skilled in the ways of a proper wife. She embroiders beautifully, plays the harp, and is well-versed in household management. She’d make ye a dutiful and obedient bride, tendin’ to yer every need without question. ”
Christopher barely spared Hilda a glance before shifting his gaze to Edward, who stood at attention near the chamber’s entrance. Edward smirked slightly, clearly amused by the situation.
Christopher exhaled through his nose, then turned his attention back to Albert. “I’ve little interest in what Mistress Hilda brings as a wife, Laird Albert. What I wish to ken is what ye bring to Clan McKie.”
Albert hesitated, his smile faltering for the briefest moment.
“Ah, well, our lands may be small, but we are well situated near the loch. The waters are rich with fish, and we’ve a fair hand at preservin’ them with salt.
If we were to forge a marriage alliance, Clan McKie would have a steady supply of fish through the winter months. ”
Christopher leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in thought. “Salted fish,” he repeated, his tone flat.
Albert swallowed hard and continued, his voice a shade more nervous than before. “Aye, and our men, though few, are loyal. If ye ever had need of warriors, we’d send what we could spare.”
Christopher arched a brow. “What ye could spare?”
Albert shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Aye… we daenae have many fightin’ men, but those we do have are well-trained.”
Christopher let the silence stretch between them, watching as Albert fidgeted under his gaze. The laird’s position was weak, and he knew it. A marriage to Hilda would benefit Albert’s clan far more than Clan McKie.
Finally, Christopher spoke. “I appreciate yer offer, Laird Albert, but Clan McKie doesnae need a weak alliance. I’ll nae wed for a few barrels of salted fish and a handful of men who may or may nae answer me call.”
Albert’s face paled. “But surely, ye’d reconsider? Hilda would be a fine lady for yer household—”
“I’ve nay interest in takin’ a wife to bolster a clan that cannae stand on its own feet.” Christopher interrupted.
Christopher nodded to the maid, Maggie, who hovered near the door, beckoning her to enter.
With a soft smile on her lips, she moved forward gracefully, her auburn hair neatly tucked beneath her cap.
As she set the tray down, Christopher caught Edward winking at his wife in a silent exchange of affection.
A brief sting of envy settled in Christopher’s chest. Edward had found something precious, a love built on trust and understanding, something Christopher dared not dream of for himself.
Maggie carefully poured the tea, her hands steady as she reached to serve Hilda first. Just as she handed the cup to the young woman, her fingers slipped, and the delicate porcelain crashed onto the table before shattering on the floor.
The steaming tea splashed across the wooden surface, some of it landing on Hilda’s fine skirts.
The room fell silent for only a heartbeat before Hilda shot up from her seat, her face twisted in fury.
“Ye daft clumsy cow!” Hilda shrieked, glaring down at Maggie as if she were filth beneath her boot. “Are ye blind as well? Ye’ve ruined me gown with yer fumblin’ hands!”
Maggie gasped, immediately dropping to her knees, her hands scrambling to gather the broken pieces. “I’m so sorry, Mistress Hilda! I dinnae mean to—”
“Mean it or nae, it doesnae change the fact that ye’re a useless, bumblin’ wench!” Hilda sneered, stepping back as if Maggie’s mere presence offended her. “What kind of maid cannae serve a cup of tea without makin’ a disaster of it? If I had me way, ye’d be tossed out for yer incompetence!”
Christopher shot up from his chair, his voice thundering across the chamber. “Enough!”
The entire room froze. Maggie flinched, her fingers tightening around a broken shard, while Hilda stiffened, her lips parting in shock. Christopher’s glare was as sharp as a blade, his jaw set with barely restrained anger.
Edward had already taken a step forward, his muscles tensed, and his hands clenched at his sides. He was holding himself back, but Christopher saw the fire in his eyes. He knew Edward would not stand by and allow anyone to speak to Maggie in such a way. Neither would he.
Christopher’s voice was laden with anger as he addressed Hilda. “Ye will hold yer tongue, Mistress Hilda, or I’ll see ye in the dungeons of this keep before the next breath leaves yer lips.”
Hilda’s face flushed red, though whether from anger or humiliation, Christopher couldn’t say. She opened her mouth as if to protest, but quickly snapped it shut at the look in his eyes. He would not tolerate cruelty within his walls, least of all towards those who served with loyalty and dignity.
“I’ll nae take a wife who looks down on those who serve with honesty and care. If ye cannae show even the smallest kindness to the folk of this household, then ye are nae a woman of worth to me or anyone else.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. Hilda’s face twisted with indignation; her hands clenched into fists at her sides, but it was too late; Christopher was finished with her. He turned his back on her without another word, his focus now on Edward and Maggie, making sure she was unharmed.
He then turned to Albert, his expression cold. “Ye and yer daughter may leave. There’ll be nay agreement between Clan McKie and yers.”
Albert’s face turned pale before shifting into a forced smile. “Laird McKie, surely ye cannae be serious? Hilda was simply caught off guard. A woman of her station isnae used to such clumsy mistakes—”
Christopher’s glare darkened, and he took a slow step forward. He did not speak, nor did he need to. The intensity of his silent anger permeated the air in the room, making Albert falter.
Albert swallowed hard, his hands wringing together. “Now, there’s nay need for bad blood,” he muttered uncertainly.
Christopher said nothing, his expression one of carved stone.
Albert let out a nervous chuckle before clearing his throat. “Come, Hilda,” he snapped, grabbing his daughter’s arm and yanking her towards the door and out of the room.
The way Hilda had spoken to Maggie made his stomach churn with anger.
He had no use for a woman who looked down on others, no matter her breeding or wealth.
If he were ever to take a wife, it would be someone with a strong will and a kind heart, not a spoiled woman who thought herself above those who served.
Christopher exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Salted fish and a bitter tongue—what a grand offer that was.”
Edward let out a quiet chuckle, though his arm remained around Maggie’s shoulders. “I reckon that’s the end of that, then.”
Christopher nodded and watched as Edward knelt beside Maggie, murmuring soft words meant only for her. The sight made Christopher’s chest tighten; not with jealousy, but with a longing for something he had yet to find. With a deep breath, he stepped forward, his voice gentle.
“Maggie, are ye all right?”Maggie stood quickly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Aye, Laird, I am. Just a bit shaken, is all.” She offered a small smile. “Thank ye for standin’ up for me.”
Christopher crossed his arms over his chest. “Nay one talks down to anyone in me clan, nay matter their station.” He glanced between Maggie and Edward, his voice softening. “Ye are like family, Maggie.”
Maggie’s lips quivered, but she steadied herself and nodded. “That means more than ye ken, me laird.”
Christopher reached out and clapped Edward on the shoulder in a gesture of thanks and reassurance. Edward gave him a grateful nod, his fingers still resting lightly on Maggie’s arm.
With a deep breath, Maggie gathered the shattered pieces of the cup onto her tray. She dipped her head in respect before hurrying from the room, her shoulders squared despite the tremble in her hands.
Edward shook his head, walked over to the table, and took a seat in the closest chair.
The door suddenly swung open with a loud creak, and Liam stormed into the room, his face flushed with anger.
The council member's usual calm demeanor had disappeared, and a scowl now covered his face.
His boots thudded heavily against the stone floor as he approached Christopher.
The tension between the two men heightened as Liam came to a stop.
“Ye cannae keep refusin’ every bride that comes yer way, Christopher,” Liam said in a strained voice.
“If ye daenae settle soon, there’ll be nay women left for ye to choose from.
Yer refusals are makin’ the council furious.
” He jabbed a finger in the air, his words sharp like a dagger.
“Ye’ll be lucky if they daenae force yer hand and marry ye off to Eleana Boyd, whether ye like it or nae. ”
Christopher’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he slowly rose from his chair. His formidable frame loomed over Liam, casting a shadow that made the council member take a hesitant step backward .
“Mistress Hilda wasnae for me,” Christopher growled, his voice deep and dangerous, carrying an edge that seemed to vibrate through the walls. “I’ll nae be threatened by ye, Liam, or anyone else.”
Liam swallowed hard, clearly rattled by the laird's imposing presence.
“Ye must make a choice, lad," he said, voice quieter now, almost pleading. “The council will nae wait forever, and yer clan needs an heir. If ye daenae choose a bride soon, the peace we have formed among the clans will be at risk, and there’s nay tellin’ what may come of it.” He took a step back, his eyes darting nervously around the room.