Chapter Nine #3
Evie halted, eyeing the men loitering in the archway who’d, thankfully, not yet noticed her. “I hope I don’t have to mingle. I wasn’t good at small talk in my time.”
“Silent. Aloof. Mysterious.”
“Three words that have never described me,” Evie said under her breath.
Morganna nudged her, gently shoving her toward the meeting area. “Go.”
“Don’t push. I’m going.” Evie held her head high, just like Grandmama had always taught her.
She swept into the large, two-storied room as if she owned it.
The place swarmed with males dressed in tunics, short pants that just reached their boot tops, jackets, and cloaks, again making her wonder why nobody in this time wore a kilt. Were they not invented yet?
She made a mental note to ask Morganna later. For now, men’s fashion was the least of her worries.
The chatter filling the room evaporated like morning mist chased away by the sun. Their stares burned into her as they shuffled to one side, parting like the Red Sea so she might pass.
“Lady Evie, please join me at my table.” The authoritative boom of Drummond’s voice echoed across the crowd, showing her the way, since her five-foot-one-inch frame seemed even shorter here.
The throng of men closest to the center aisle smiled and nodded as she passed, but Evie wasn’t fooled.
There wasn’t a friendly face in this mob.
The hawkishness in their eyes gave them away.
Except for Murdoch. Thank heavens for big, burly Murdoch, the bear of the Highlands.
Compassion and loyalty gleamed in his smile as he elbowed his way forward and offered his arm to her.
“Come, Lady Evie. Allow me to escort ye to Lord Blackmorrow.”
“Who?” she whispered through a strained smile as she rested her hand on his arm.
“Yer Drummond, lass,” he whispered back, his bushy beard hiding his words. “He is addressed as the Earl of Blackmorrow—Lord Blackmorrow—since the old chief has yet to turn loose this life and move on to the next.”
“That’s right. I forgot.” She huffed out a sigh and held tighter to him while trying to climb the steps of the raised area at the end of the room where the head table was located.
Going down steps in this garb had been difficult enough; going up them was worse.
“I’m going to break my freaking neck in this costume,” she muttered.
“Shh!” Morganna flanked her on her other side. “Mind yer tongue. Ears are sharp here.”
Drummond rounded the table with his hand extended to take her from Murdoch.
His expression was a mixture of relief, victory, and pride.
“M’lady.” The touch of his warm, calloused fingers reignited the powerful energy of their connection, rippling through her as if she’d hit a bare electrical wire.
“It pleases me greatly that ye chose to join me.” His gaze swept across her, setting off even more dangerous tingles. “Ye are loveliness itself.”
“Thank you.” She didn’t add that she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass him or herself. Silent. Aloof. Mysterious. The words played through her thoughts on a continuous loop of survival.
He helped her sit, then took his place beside her to the right.
Morganna sat to her left, and Murdoch seated himself on Drummond’s other side.
Evie glanced up and down the table, noting the other empty seats before turning to Morganna and whispering, “I thought you said Clan Heberdy might already be here?”
Morganna gave a nonchalant twitch of a brow. “It is better this way,” she whispered back. “If ye’d not arrived when ye did, that conniving Merelys would be sitting where ye are.”
“Not feckin’ likely,” Drummond said, leaning forward to fix a hard look on Morganna.
“And mind yer voice. It carries.” As he returned his attention to Evie, he slid his hand under hers and laced their fingers together.
“Yer presence sends the message I wish to share with both the clans.” Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he pressed a tender kiss to the back of her hand.
Lost in the intensity of his dark-eyed gaze, Evie found it difficult to breathe. But then a stirring in the gallery that looked down upon the great hall drew her attention upward. “I think your guests are coming down to join us.”
“Good for them.” He smiled and remained focused on her. “They will be given a fine meal and all the respect their clan deserves.” With a subtle nod, he leaned closer. “But they will see that their trip was in vain.”
Trying not to listen to her heart or her libido and still feeling slightly guilty about ruining this possibility for him, she squeezed his hand. “I still haven’t made my choice. You realize that, right?” Heaven help her, she was such a freaking coward, but medieval Scotland? Holy crap.
Morganna grumbled something under her breath, then snatched up her goblet and downed its contents.
“Ye know the choice ye should make, my own.” Drummond kissed her hand again while keeping her imprisoned in a gaze that stripped her soul bare and made it impossible to hide. “We have enjoyed each other through many a lifetime. How can ye deny our chance to travel through this one together?”
Murdoch interrupted with a clearing of his throat and aimed a pointed nod at the trio of men at the far end of the room. The three stood with their chests thrown out and shoulders squared, waiting to be recognized and invited to come forward. “M’lord? Our guests.”
Drummond rose. “Clan MacMuirrow welcomes Clan Heberdy.” His tone was questionable, even though he spread his arms, then motioned to the seats at the head table. “Join us. We have prepared a feast to celebrate the powerful alliance our two clans have always shared.”
Evie almost cringed. Drummond sounded as though he really wished they’d just turn tail and leave. She clutched her hands in her lap and tried to keep her expression blank.
The younger two of the trio of men stepped aside and brought forward the woman who was waiting behind them. The blonde beauty linked arms with the oldest of the three and fixed Drummond with a brazen I’m going to eat you alive smile.
Evie snorted. There was no misinterpreting that one’s intentions.
“I’ll not deny our happiness when we received yer invitation, m’lord,” the older man said as he escorted the girl down the aisle, up the steps of the dais, and helped her into her chair.
The family resemblance was unmistakable.
Long, aquiline noses. Full lips. Even the closeness of their eyes.
These two were most definitely father and daughter, and were on a joint, agreed-upon mission to conquer all.
Thank heavens for Murdoch. Evie smiled at the Scottish bear, counting on him to stay between Drummond and that scheming hussy.
Murdoch reassured her with the faintest nod.
“Aye, Heberdy,” Drummond said as he settled back into his seat. “My father’s council thought it high time we met to celebrate the peace we’ve always maintained along our mutual border.”