Page 54 of Marry the Highland Villain
“Och, ye’re nae very hospitable for a man with a truce to honor, are ye?” Holdenson said, proving that he knew as well as Conoll did what custom demanded.
“A truce doesnae end all grudges,” Conall replied tersely. “It merely means that I cannae act on my ire.” He shook his head. “My brother’s nae so long in the ground that I can easily forgive ye, even if the truce means that I cannae strike ye.”
“Och, well, I see ye’re in nay mood to be reasonable.” Holdenson scowled. “In that case, I will tak’ my leave. But afore that, I wish for a word with my granddaughter. Alone.”
Conall would rather stick his hand in a viper’s nest. “Ye’ve nay reason to speak to her, and I willnae permit it.”
The hand hovering near his sword twitched again. Holdenson was in danger of pushing him too far.
“She’s my granddaughter,” the other man pointed out, with that same, evil smile. “’Tis reason enough, is it nae?”
“I’ll nae send my bride…” Conall began, but he stopped when a gentle hand touched his arm.
He turned to look at Brigid in surprise.
“What are ye doin’?” he asked in a low voice.
“I ken why ye want him to leave,” she said quietly.
“And I understand. But it will be easier and faster if ye let me speak to him. And it will spare yer folk the violence and bloodshed that will surely follow if ye refuse him.”
Brigid’s voice was soothing and calm, but Conall could still hear the slight tremor beneath it, which spoke to her fear.
He gritted his teeth. He’d rather do almost anything other than grant Eric Holdenson’s request, but Brigid was right. Letting her talk to her grandfather was the fastest way to force the bastard out of his castle, and if the man could not be persuaded to leave soon, Conall wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to break the truce and force him to.
“I’m nae certain ye’ll be safe in his presence without guards,” he said, furious to be put in such a position.
“I ken. But we’ll only go to the small servin’ chamber,” Brigid promised. “And if he touches me, I’ll scream for ye. Ye’ll hear me.” She smiled at him, though he could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. “Ye’ll ken if he does aught to me, Conall.”
Just because I can hear ye, just because I’ll ken if he acts, it doesnae mean I’ll be there in time to save ye. I wasnae there in time, and Devon died.
But those were thoughts he could not—would not—voice. Not at that moment.
Conall huffed. “If he touches ye, then I’ll leave him just enough alive for yer sisters to deal with.”
“I kenned I liked yer husband.” Megan, who had been listening intently to this exchange, along with Lily and Valerie, smiled coldly.
“Both of ye, stop. I’m sure he’s nae foolish enough to do me any harm—nae with everyone here.” Brigid shook her head, although, in truth, she was sure of no such thing.
How could she be, when she did not know the man she was about to speak to?
Pushing the thought determinedly aside, she straightened her shoulders and walked sedately and gracefully around the High Table to stand in front of Eric Holdenson.
“I will speak with ye, Laird Auchter,” she said, looking him directly in the eye, with no trace of fear.
Auchter smiled and offered her his arm. Brigid sidestepped it gracefully, then turned and led the way to a small antechamber.
Conall watched them go, wishing with all his heart that he could follow.
Brigid’s hands were shaking, hidden in the skirt of her dress, as she led Laird Auchter to the small, private chamber to the side of the Great Hall. There was a time when she’d dreamed of meeting, or speaking to, any of her kinfolk, including her maternal grandfather.
Now, though, seeing him for the first time, up close, she felt as though she’d approached a hungry wolf. Or an angry serpent. She wanted to flee back to the safety of Conall’s presence and that of her sisters, but she had no desire to see Laird Auchter’s presence causing any more of a disruption to the celebrations than they already had. Only she could put a stop to this ridiculous charade he was forcing everyone to take part in, so she kept her chin up and her back straight, just as her father had taught her.
It was Laird Auchter who broke the silence.
“Ye look well,” he said, looking her up and down as if she were a beast brought to market.
“Ye dinnae even ken who I am,” Brigid replied, shaking her head. “Ye couldnae ken how well I look—ye’ve never seen me before. I’d be surprised if ye even ken my name.”
