Page 43 of Marry the Highland Villain
Emily made an approving noise. “There. Ye see now, Laird MacKane has sent him off, and well he should. So there’s nay more need for snarlin’ and snappin’.”
She cast a warning glance in her husband’s direction, before waving him off.
“Go on,” she said in a tone that allowed no argument. “Go and commiserate with yer brother. Help him make the necessary plans, for ’tis certain the snake will be back before long, since he seems to think he has a right to be here. In the meantime, I need to speak to Brigid. In private, Oliver.”
Brigid bit her lip again. She wanted to go to Conall and ask if that had really been her grandfather, and what he had wanted if so. However, she was also reluctant to approach him with her questions.
Oliver’s fierce temper had reminded her that Conall had a temper of his own, and one that was likely to be little better than his brother’s after the encounter he just had with his sworn enemy. Under the circumstances, it was probably best not to approach him just yet.
However, no sooner had the thought entered her head than she shook it sharply, berating herself. Had she not promised to give Conall the benefit of the doubt just the night before? A poor showing, it was, if she was too afraid to approach him now simply because he might be angered by someone else’s actions.
She might not be as brave as Megan, who hunted wild boar on occasion, or Valerie, who had sailed the seas with their father, but she had courage enough to brave the stares and whispers of the townsfolk at home. She could risk Conall’s temperament, she was sure.
She gave Emily a smile and freed herself from her embrace.
“Actually, Emily, it might be best if ye speak with yer husband and I speak with my betrothed. After all, this is a matter that involves me, and I should get used to speakin’ to him if my grand—if Laird Auchter is determined to disturb us on my account.”
Emily smiled. “There’s a bonny plan. Aye. I’ll speak with ye later about the questions I have.”
Without further ado, she took her husband’s arm and began to steer him toward the castle.
Brigid watched them go, then took a deep breath and went to speak to Conall about the man whose face she’d just seen for the very first time in her life.
CHAPTER 15
Conall stalkedtoward the main doors to the castle, still seething with rage at Eric Holdenson’s audacity in coming here, expecting admittance. He was halfway to the door when a movement in the corner of his eye made him spin around on his heel, his hand moving reflexively to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at any moment. A second later, however, he relaxed, the back of his neck heating with a rare feeling of chagrin.
The movement that had startled him was just Oliver and Emily approaching, with Brigid a few steps behind them. The healer offered him a smile and a nod as she dragged her scowling husband up the steps and into the castle, not giving him a chance to stop and speak to his brother.
Despite his lingering ire, Conall’s lips curled into a reluctant smile. Emily was a good wife to his brother, and good at soothing his wounded temper, even though Oliver would have died rather than admit it.
“Ye look pleased by something.”
The soft observation drew his attention back to Brigid, who had stopped beside him, a look of uncertainty on her pretty face.
“Is everything well? I wasnae sure, goin’ by the way ye looked when ye left the Great Hall.”
“’Tis well enough.” Conall shrugged, attempting to banish the tension in his shoulders. “’Twas some unpleasantness with the visitor at the gates, but that’s over now. And it’s nothing for ye to worry about.”
“I see.”
Brigid’s gaze slid to the gates, and he could tell she was unconvinced by his assurance.
“That man… Was that Laird Auchter? The man who claims to be my grandfather?”
Conall grimaced. “Aye. That was Eric Holdenson, whom most ken as Laird Auchter. He wanted to attend the wedding, but I refused to let him inside. ’Tis my right.”
“I ken. And I’d nae argue with ye.” Brigid nodded.
Conall noted that she was biting her lip in that customary way of hers that indicated distress or uncertainty. He reached up and touched her mouth gently.
“None of that now,” he said softly. “I dinnae want ye havin’ a bloody lip for our wedding day.” He caressed her cheek lightly, marveling at how she leaned slightly into his touch. “What is it that troubles ye?”
“’Tis nothing…”
“’Tis something, or ye’d nae look so distressed.” Conall hesitated, knowing that what he was considering offering was a foolish risk, especially when he knew Auchter had a band of men within a day’s ride of his home. “If ’tis yer sisters, I could send a runner, or mayhap some scouts to see if there’s any sign of them.”
Brigid shook her head. “’Tis nae that. I worry for them, of course, and I’m anxious to see them, but ’tis more…” She paused, then looked up at him, her gaze filled with sadness and resignation. “I forget sometimes that I’m only here because Laird Auchter wanted to use me to secure a truce with ye.”
