Page 24 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
“Oh.” She looked up, her eyes anxious, her hand at her throat.
“There was agreement of sorts. Their approval is contingent on yer braither’s acceptance of our terms.” Tyra gave a vague nodand he continued. “I’ve dispatched one of me birlinns tae Skye with a missive fer Laird MacNeacail. It is but a few short sail from the castle to Scorrybreac and I anticipate we will nae be waiting long fer his response.”
He turned and together they retraced their steps toward the keep.
“Oh. I see.” She nodded gravely but did not ask him for details of the Council meeting or the contents of the letter he’d sent to Edmund. “And if me braither agrees, and therèitachmeets with the Council’s approval, when would our wedding take place?”
“If we wait fer the banns to be published, it cannae be sooner than one month’s time.”
She drew in a sharp breath, her brow wrinkling.
Ewan studied her face. It was clear to him that there was something untoward pressing on her mind.
“What ails ye, lass? Methinks something daesnae sit well on ye?”
She looked away for a moment, her fingers plucking distractedly at the brooch fastening her cloak.
“It’s me fear…” She trailed off as if unwilling to reveal something to him.
He paused his steps while she gathered herself with a deep breath.
“I believe Harris MacDonald still poses a great danger. He is a resourceful man and there are many who will provide him information if he plies them wi’ gold.”
Ewan shook his head forcefully as they walked on. “Dinnae fash, Lady Tyra. Ye are here under me protection. Our betrothal will make it clear to all that MacDonald hasnae claim on ye. Yer betrothal was dissolved according tae the Church and the King.”
She huffed despairingly. “I fear that will have nay meaning tae Harris MacDonald. If he believes he has a right tae me life, he’ll nae be stopped from him wreaking his vengeance.”
“If he should attempt any harm tae ye, I will consider it tae be an act of war between our clans and he will be met wi’ the full might of the Mackenzies.” He spoke with a steady assurance and was rewarded by a slight smile from the lady.
“I have confidence in yer resolve, Laird Ewan. I am greatly relieved by yer words and heartened by the knowledge that I am under yer protection.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The banquet hall was a hubbub of voices when Tyra entered on Ewan’s arm. She’d done her best to brighten her clothing with a brooch, a pearl necklace and gold ear bobs. Isla had kindly lent her a gold embroidered girdle which cinched in her tiny waist and brightened the dull brown color of her gown.
They had spent time together in her chamber, Isla dressing her hair with little braids that framed her face and the rest brushed in a cascade down her back.
There was some satisfaction in the look of admiration she glimpsed in Ewan’s eyes as he greeted her at the foot of the main stairs and guided her toward the hall.
That evening’s feast was in her honor and it marked the occasion when she would be formally introduced to the members of the clan Council.
Before they were seated, he held up her hand and silence fell over the hall. All eyes were on them.
“I wish ye all tae welcome me guest, the Lady Tyra MacNeacail, tae Eilean Donan.” He turned to her and assisted her to the seat at his right.
She was only too well aware of the close scrutiny of all those in the banqueting hall as she began her meal. She tasted little of the roast venison, or the pies, she was far too self-conscious to enjoy the delicacies presented.
One by one, individual members sidled up to Ewan, waiting to be introduced. The warmth of their greetings buoyed her spirits, going a long way to reassure her that she would be accepted by the clan, regardless of her history, which was such a source of deep shame and embarrassment to her.
As they evening wore on, she became aware of one of the kitchen maids, who had been serving platters of food but, was now ensuring that tankards and goblets were kept filled with ale and wine.
She was a bonnie lass, with a mane of red curls tumbling down her back which she tossed over her shoulder every time she bent to her task.
It was impossible for Tyra not to notice that the lass appeared to make a point of topping up Ewan’s goblet even after he’d only had a sip or two of the liquor.
And here she was again, hovering beside Ewan’s chair.
When he smiled at the lass and held his goblet to be refilled, Tyra caught her breath.
