Page 21 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“’Tisn’t a lie. ‘Tis a stretch o’ the truth.”
“And what will ye tell Sir No?l when this Highlander arrives?”
“He’ll be long gone. Your husband seems very keen to get home.” He toasted her with the vial, took a generous swig, shuddering at the bitter taste, then stuck the cork back in. “Ye know, ye should count yourself lucky, lass. In France, ye’ll be a proper lady.”
“But Sir No?l will find out I’m not Cathalin.”
“Not unless ye tell him.”
Her thoughts raced. “And what if I tell him now?”
“Oh, I don’t think ye’ll do that.”
“And why not?”
“Because I’m holdin’ that hunchback pet o’ yours, and ye don’t want to see anythin’ bad happen to him.”
Ysenda clenched her hands at her sides. She wanted to think he was bluffing, that he wouldn’t do anything to harm his own flesh and blood. But she knew better. The laird had been wanting to get rid of his embarrassing son from the moment he’d first seen him.
Laird Gille chuckled. “Ye know, ye’re just like your ma. Strong-willed and weak-hearted. Don’t think I don’t know about your sneakin’ in tutors to teach that halfwit.”
“He’s not a…” She managed to stop herself, but only because she knew it was hopeless.
“Ye’ll do fine in France. And if ye get too headstrong for Sir No?l’s taste, he has an army o’ braw lads at his command to keep ye in line.”
If he was trying to scare her, it wasn’t working. She trusted Sir No?l completely. What she couldn’t anticipate was his reaction when he discovered he’d been gulled by her father…and by her, for that matter. Would he believe the truth—that she’d been in fear for her brother’s life? And if not, what would he do to exact revenge? Would he toss her aside and demand his true bride? Would he make war on the clan and lay siege to the keep?
A voice came from beyond the door. “Good morrow?”
Ysenda sucked in a quick breath. It was Sir No?l.
Her father arched a brow. “Your husband’s callin’ ye.” He smirked. “Probably comin’ for somethin’ ye forgot to give him last night.”
“Cathalin?” No?l called.
Ysenda winced.
Her father snickered.
“In here,” she called back, swinging open the door.
No?l was even more magnificent than she remembered. He’d finger-combed his hair. His face was freshly scrubbed. He was dressed again in his dark blue surcoat, which set off his sparkling eyes.
Unfortunately, he looked nothing like a man who’d been forced to spend his wedding night in unrequited passion. And the memory of what they’d done washed over her like a warm wave, heating her cheeks.
“Ah. Good morn…son,” her father said. Somehow he managed to make the word sound like both an insincere welcome and an insult. He’d never called Caimbeul “son.” Not once.
“My laird,” No?l replied with a nod. Ysenda got the distinct impression No?l didn’t care to call Laird Gille “Father” either.
Already there was animosity between them. If Lord No?l found out that the laird had tricked him, it would get ugly. She couldn’t afford to let that happen, not before Caimbeul was safe.
“Have ye broken your fast, Sir No?l?” she asked, taking his hand, eager to separate the two men. “Are ye hungry?”
* * *
“Aye.” No?l was hungry, to be sure. He wanted to feast on his wife’s lovely body again.
His wife. He loved the sound of that. And to think he’d been dreading meeting his Highland bride.
