Page 41 of Marry the Highland Villain
The gates were open, but the guards all had their weapons drawn and pointed loosely at the men standing just beyond the walls.
The figure at the head of the group, standing there with a cold, snake-like smile on his face, was familiar, and the very sight of him made the blood in Conall’s veins boil.
Eric Holdenson, Laird Auchter, the man who’d sent Brigid here without so much as a second thought.
The guards let him through, and Conall stopped just in front of him but well back. From where he stood, he could see that Laird Auchter and all his men had their sword hilts bound with thongs, signifying peaceful intentions.
Let’s see if they actually mean it.
“What do ye want?” he demanded, taking a step forward and refusing to allow Auchter to approach any further.
“A bit of respect would be a good start,” Auchter replied with a shrug. “Am I nae a laird too, Laird MacKane?”
The man was thin and slightly stooped, with long, graying hair and dark green eyes that glittered coldly in his lined face. Despite his age, he faced Conall with an air of assurance that only served to increase Conall’s hatred.
“Ye may be, but it doesnae explain why ye’re at my gates, uninvited and unannounced,” Conall snarled. “Ye’re nae wanted nor welcome here. So, if I were ye, I’d either state my business or be gone.”
“Is that any way to speak to a man who’s about to become yer kin by marriage?” Auchter sneered, arrogant and far too sure of himself for Conall’s liking. “I’m here for my granddaughter’s wedding, of course. To make sure ye honor the terms of the truce between our clans.”
“Ye werenae invited. An’ ye never would be,” Connor spat, stunned by the sheer arrogance of the man.
“My granddaughter might have requested my presence. It would be only natural, would it nae, for her to want some of her kin at her wedding?”
Conall snorted contemptuously. “I’ve spoken to yer granddaughter, old man—which I’m given to understand is more than ye ever did. Ye dinnae care for her feelings. If ye did, ye would never have sent her here. An’ for tellin’ such a lie, Iought to tak’ yer head and give it to my future wife as a wedding present. And that’s to say nothing of what ye did to my brother.”
“But ye cannae harm me, can ye?” Auchter replied, a mixture of triumph and cold disdain on his weather-beaten face. “Ye took my granddaughter and agreed to wed her. A life for a life. Ye have nay right to draw so much as a drop of my blood. If ye so much as try, ye’ll trigger a war between our clans.”
“Mayhap. But it doesnae mean I have to welcome ye to my home, either,” Conall replied, his voice steady.
“I have a right to attend the wedding, to see that the bond is honored and that my granddaughter is bein’ well looked after.”
Conall’s lip curled in disgust at the audacity of the man in pretending that he cared for a woman he hadn’t even met.
“Ye dinnae give a wooden farthing for her sake,” he replied tightly. “Ye’d never have sent her to me if ye did—nae without bargainin’ for her safety first.”
“I still have a right to attend the wedding,” Auchter said, unperturbed. “For the sake of my clan.”
Auchter started toward him, but, at a signal from Conall, the guards surrounding him stepped forward at the same time, weapons at the ready.
Auchter stiffened. “Ye cannae deny me entrance. I have a right to be here, MacKane.”
“I can deny ye anything I like,” Conall retorted. “The wedding’s been delayed until my betrothed’struekinfolk arrive. I dinnae expect that to happen today, and thus I dinnae have to let ye set one foot on the stones of my home.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Go. If ye’re still here within a quarter candlemark, I’ll have my archers send ye on the way with arrows in yer arse… or somewhere else. An’ if I see ye at my gates again, then I’ll consider it an attack.”
“Ye cannae?—”
“Aye, I can. And I will. Appear at my gates again, and I’ll have nay option but to do whatever’s necessary to protect my clan. And then ye’ll be a dead man—peace and kin ties or nae.”
Eric Holdenson—Conall had no desire to consider him a laird at the moment—scowled. But Conall’s men refused to step aside, and Conall himself had no intention of relenting.
Eventually, the older man took a step back. “Ye cannae deny me access to my kinfolk,” he repeated, sounding less sure of himself this time.
“If she wanted to see ye, she’d have already been here, I think,” Conall replied, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.
That wasn’t strictly true, of course. Brigid had no idea who was at the gates, and who was to say how she’d react if she did? However, he saw no reason Holdenson had to know that.
“Now, get ye gone,” Conall told the older man, his eyes narrowed. “Yer time’s almost up.”
