Page 47 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
His jaw tightened and for an instant she glimpsed the rage flickering in his eyes.
She rose to her feet, her heart fluttering wildly against her ribcage. “I understand the need fer haste Laird Ewan. Now, if ye’ll excuse me, there is much I must see tae if I’m tae wed without delay.”
Reaching for her hand he brought it to his lips and brushed it with a kiss before she turned and fled the room.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Ewan had anticipated, there was much grumbling and dismay at the early morning council meeting. And, of course, the members who had attended the meeting only a handful of days prior, complained bitterly at being requested to attend again so soon.
The slash on his chest was healing nicely, and Ewan was in good spirits, greeting them warmly as they stomped into the banqueting hall, blowing clouds of breath into the cold air, jostling each other for a place at the roaring fire.
“Are those icicles in yer beard, Hamish?”
The big man snorted. “I daresay, milaird. Ye had me up and riding in darkness tae be here at dawn fer this meeting.”
Ewan chuckled. “Nonsense, lad. ‘Tis near enough tae noon already.”
The serving girls buzzed around the tables filling tankards with hot honeyed-mead and providing a small mountain of bannocks and cheese for the councilors to break their fast.
Once all members were assembled – with the exception of Old Jacob who was unwell – they took their seats. The grumbling faded as Duncan stood to speak.
He did not mince words but told them blow for bloody blow what had taken place during the attack they had suffered at the hands of MacDonald’s men.
“We had set extra patrols, yet those who attacked us had somehow evaded our soldiers.”
There were nods at this. One man spoke up. “Our clan lands are vast and rugged. Even wi’ additional lads patrolling we cannae watch every part. There are enough places in the braes and the wooded glens fer men tae live wi’out notice.”
After Duncan had fully informed the councilors of what had transpired, it was Ewan’s turn to speak.
He looked around the faces, unsure of whether they would agree to his plan.
“I’m proposing that me wedding tae Lady Tyra MacNeacail take place without further delay. As long as we remain unwed, she isnae under the full protection of the clan. In me view, that will only encourage MacDonald tae strike.”
There was a rumble of conversation around the table at that. Ewan let them talk among themselves, aware that they needed as much time as he could give them. This was a serious matter. Neither their laird’s marriage nor potential war with another clan could be taken lightly.
Hamish got to his feet. “And what of the MacNeacail? Has he agreed tae our terms yet?”
This was Ewan’s opportunity to read aloud the letter from Edmund MacNeacail. He stood, cleared his throat and proceeded to read it to the Council.
“He’s nae agreed tae our terms.” One of the elders declared once Ewan had finished.
Another older man snorted. “When his sister is wed tae our laird, he’ll have nay choice but tae agree tae therèiteach.”
“While there are great benefits tae our alliance with Clan MacNeacail and the access that will grant tae their trading routes, ’tis the Lady’s safety which is uppermost in me mind.” Ewan stated boldly.
He was surprised to discover that he meant every word. Without him being aware of it, Tyra had become most dear to him. When she’d been threatened by MacDonald’s ruffians, he’d had no hesitancy in becoming her champion. Now, it was her safety more than the advantages of the clan alliance that mattered most to him.
There were nods, folded arms, one or two heads shaken, but when Ewan asked them for a show of hands as to whether they agreed to bringing the wedding ceremony forward immediately, there was unanimous agreement.
“We’ll nae bow down tae threats or bullying from the likes of the Laird MacDonald of Sleat,” Hamish boomed, drawing every eye to him “By attacking ye, he has attacked all of us. Let the marriage take place on the morrow so that he will understand that the lady is one of ours.
He raised his tankard as cheers broke out among the assembly.
“Slàinte mhathtae the laird and his lady. May their lives be filled with joy.”
“I thank ye lads,” said Ewan turning to go. Those that could, would wait at the castle for the ceremony and join in a feast afterwards.
He gave a wry smile. This would not be the usual great celebration of a marriage, but a quick handfasting ceremony where no banns were published. An ‘irregular’ wedding which would not take place in the kirk but in the banqueting hall itself.
