Page 27 of The Handfasting
“Ye know, Sir No?l would be a very good match for ye.” The words were hard to push past her throat. “He comes from a wealthy family. Ye’d live in a beautiful castle. Ye’d have everythin’ ye desire. Servants at your beck and call. All the new gowns ye want. Jewels, furs, falcons. Sir No?l would grant your every wish, I know. And your bairns… They’d be the most beautiful children in all o’ France.”
“That may be.” Cathalin sniffed. “But I refuse to marry such a blind and stupid man.”
She blinked. “What do ye mean?”
Cathalin lifted her haughty chin. “How could the fool have thoughtyewere the most beautiful lass in all o’ Scotland?”
While Ysenda stood with her mouth agape, Cathalin picked up her skirts and stalked off in a vexed huff.
Ysenda could only stare off after Cathalin. She couldn’t argue with her. Thatwaswhat Sir No?l had thought. And once Cathalin’s pride was insulted, there was no way to assuage her feelings.
Hell. Now she didn’t know what to do.
No?l rapped lightly on the door. “Caimbeul?”
There was no answer. But he heard a startled scrape on the other side.
He slowly opened the door, preparing to defend himself if necessary.
Caimbeul was sitting on the floor below the window, scowling up at him.
“I need to speak with ye,” No?l said.
Caimbeul’s frown turned mistrustful.
No?l closed the door behind him. Caimbeul made no move to rise, but perhaps the young man’s twisted frame made it difficult for him to stand. He obliged the lad by hunkering down before him.
“I think ’tis best we speak plainly,” he told him, “so I’d like the truth from ye. Do ye have…feelin’s for my bride?”
Caimbeul’s face twisted. “Feelin’s? What do ye mean?”
“Romantic feelin’s.”
Caimbeul’s eyes narrowed with rage. Before No?l could dodge aside, the young man shot out a furious fist. Fortunately, it missed No?l’s nose, but only because a heavy iron chain around his wrist brought it up short. Still, No?l instinctively recoiled, falling backward onto his hindquarters.
“How dare ye!” Caimbeul yelled. “She’s my sister, ye horse’s arse!”
No?l didn’t know what shocked him more—the fact that Caimbeul packed an impressive punch for a crippled man, that he was chained like an animal, or that he was his bride’s brother. He held up a hand in peace.
“Wait. Ye’re her brother? The laird’s son?”
“Aye,” he ground out.
No?l sat forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He remembered the laird’s attitude toward Caimbeul at the table. He’d never introduced him as his son. And he’d treated him with a distinct lack of respect.
“Is your father the one who put ye in chains?”
Caimbeul didn’t answer. His frown of shame was answer enough.
Why would the laird do such a thing? Was he afraid his son would interfere with the wedding? Maybe Caimbeul thought he was protecting his sister.
“Tell me, man to man,” No?l said. “Do ye disapprove o’ me? Do ye think I’m not good enough for your sister?”
Caimbeul’s eyes burned with silent anger. “Which sister?”
It was a strange question. “The one I’m married to, o’ course.”
Caimbeul stared at him in silence for a long while, as if deciding whether to say anything further. Finally he did. “Ye’re not married to the right one.”
