Page 9 of Bound to a Scot
“Maybe this mysterious stranger is a good man and yer husband is goin’ tae give ye tae him.”
“Aye. Maybe he’s the bleedin’ King of the Fae and we’re goin’ tae live among them.”
Kenna laughed. “Maybe yer husband just wants tae dine with his beautiful wife tonight.”
Emmeline rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Ye cannae even say that with a straight face.”
“Well, ye should probably get down tae the dinin’ hall,” she said. “Yer husband will be waitin’ fer ye.”
Emmeline groaned. Just when she’d started to relax a bit, knowing that her husband had summoned her for supper erased it all. Tension crept back into her shoulders and her stomach churned wildly. What could this be about? She reluctantly got toher feet and let Kenna help her finish dressing and getting ready. Despite his disdain for her, Burchard still demanded she look perfect when in his presence.
When she was done, Kenna escorted her down to the family dining room. She gave Emmeline a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“’Tis goin’ tae be fine,” Kenna whispered. “Ye’re strong enough tae endure. Remember that.”
Emmeline watched her walk away, her heart sinking a little deeper with her every step. Once she was alone, she took a deep breath, held it while she counted to five, then let it out as she opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Unlike the formal reception hall, the family dining hall was smaller. More intimate. The wall to her left was dominated by an oversized fireplace that filled the chamber with bright, flickering light and blessed warmth.
A long table sat in the center of the room with a dozen chairs around it. Oil paintings of his ancestors hung upon the walls along with a variety of weapons that had their own famously bloody histories. The clan’s coat of arms hung on the wall to Emmeline’s right. Burchard sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, his back to the fire. He glared at her coldly as she walked in.
“So nice of ye tae join us,” he said, his voice as cold as his gaze.
“Emmy!”
Cecilia jumped up from her chair at the table and dashed around it, throwing herself into Emmeline’s arms, making her laugh. Emmeline loved the girl with everything in her and she knew Cecilia felt the same, although their relationship was more sisterly than like mother-daughter.
“I missed ye,” Cecilia said.
“I missed ye too.”
“Cecilia, take yer seat,” Burchard intoned imperiously. “Ye’re a bleedin’ woman now. Try tae behave like it.”
“Be nice tae her, she’s still a lass,” Emmeline said.
Burchard glowered at her, no words needed to convey his displeasure with her for speaking up. She gave Cecilia another smile and a kiss on the top of her head.
“Go on, lass. Take yer seat, like yer faither asked,” she said quietly.
Her back to her father, Cecilia made a face and rolled her eyes. It was all Emmeline could do to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. But the girl walked back to her seat and dropped into it heavily, pointedly refusing to look at her father. Emmeline took her own seat, directly across from Cecilia. Serving girls immediately moved in and poured them all glasses of wine. Burchard picked his cup up and took a drink.
“I’m sure ye’re wonderin’ what this supper is fer?” he asked.
“Aye. I wondered.”
“We have a guest with us,” he said. “This supper is in his honor.”
“Aye. I heard.”
A disapproving frown flickered across his lips. There was little more the man hated than gossip making its way around the castle. Especially when it preempted his announcements. He took a drink of his wine then cleared his throat.
“Laird Maddox MacLachlan is stayin’ with us fer a few days.”
“Why?” Emmeline asked.
Burchard didn’t answer at first and when Emmeline cut a glance at Cecilia, she noticed the girl was shifting in her seat uncomfortably, a strange expression that looked somewhere between guilt and nausea on her face.
“What’s happenin’ here then?” Emmeline pressed.
“I have found a suitable match fer Cecilia. She will be married,” Burchard announced.
