Page 6 of Sinbound to the Highlander
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Standing in a lovely room, furnished with padded chairs, thick carpets, and a finely stitched tapestry of a forest over the fireplace, Evan dared not fidget under the eyes of the man who was soon to be his father-in-law. He stuck his hand out to Laird Lobhdain, who shook it with a firm grip.
“Please, take a seat, Laird Ruthven,” the Laird, clad in his great kilt of red and green tartan, said, gesturing to a seat.
“Thank ye for havin’ me,” Evan said, and rearranging the golden brooch and pin resting heavily on his shoulder of his gray and blue plaid, he felt the cold steel of his dagger in his boot. “I ken the situation is nay the best desired for courtship.”
“Nay, it certainly isnae,” the older man said, stroking his beard. “But I do understand. And I must say it will be a good alliance for us in more ways than this war.”
“I believe so,” Evan said, glancing at the door, hoping to see Miss Milleson soon.
When he had arrived with his mother, they had been received by both Laird and Lady, but Lady Lobhdain had whisked his mother off so the two of them could talk. Or to plan the wedding day.
“However,” Laird Lobhdain leaned in to press his point, face set in a no-nonsense and no-wavering mien, “This will nay be a rushed wedding, Ruthven. Me daughter has longed for this almost all her life, and will be torn if ye dinnea put any effort into it. I will nay be handing me daughter over to be married and put aside like a vase. I need ye to care about this courtship with all the care and attention ye would give when ye had in times of peace.”
Evan stopped himself from gritting his jaw. He was too close to the man, and a sign of frustration like that would worsen his cause. The man had all the right to state what he needed from him as a potential son-in-law.
“Aye,” Evan replied with a single nod. “I fully intend to do so.”
Satisfied, the Laird sat back, “Now, I need ye to understand that Elspeth is a sensitive soul, Laird Ruthven, she’s strong in many ways but very vulnerable in others. She will nae take to any inattention or disloyalty.”
Evan knew what he meant—that Elspeth needed constant devotion—and began to doubt if he could give her that. The second part, about disloyalty, was a not-so-subtle warning that there would be no philandering on his part. Which he felt was an insult to his honor. He would never marry the girl and take his attention elsewhere when it came to marital fidelity, but it was war; he had to focus on that.
How could he devote most of his time to courting a lady when he had to prepare for something that would be devastating?
Hopefully, Miss Milleson will be reasonable and allow me to share me attention both ways.
“I will never be unfaithful to yer daughter,” Evan declared, a little annoyed the man would think so.
“I deanae ken ye would as I’ve noticed, however from afar, how ye go about all yer affairs with integrity but…” he rubbed his face, “ye have to understand, and it's hard for me to let her go outside of our care. We’ve tried to shield her from the harshest realities of this land, ye ken. And to have her leave in a time of war…it’s just hard.”
Not being a parent himself, Evan did not know what it felt like to raise a child, but he thought that they should not have cosseted the lass so much. His mother and father loved him, but he remembered his father just looking at him, when he had fallen, and the dirt horribly skinned his tender knees.
Evan had cried for a while, but his father had not moved. His father had just stood there, looking at him, silently urging him to get up by himself—and he had. Had Miss Milleson ever had lessons like that, something that taught her to manage for herself at times? Probably not. If she was as protected as her father implied, she might have had a dozen maids at her beck and call.
“And ye say she’s never been courted before?” Evan confirmed.
“Aye,” the older Laird confirmed. “She professed a need to be educated first, kennin’ that only a man on the same adept level would court her.”
“Rather canny of her, I’d say,” Evan noted. “The Bible does warn us about unequal yolks.”
“My daughter is wise, a little guileless and sheltered, but she did have the wisdom to ken that she would be the wife of a Laird someday, so she prepared for it,” Laird Lobhdain said proudly. “I’ve told her the situation underlyin’ this arrangement, Ruthven, and she kens it’s nay a normal courtship.”
A servant woman pushed the door in and stepping aside, held it open for three women to come in; his mother, Lady Lobhdain and, behind them, Miss Milleson.
She was beautiful. Her face, a soft oval where delicately arched brows curved perfectly over large verdant eyes, rimmed by long, dark lashes that brushed her cheeks as she blinked. Dark-auburn hair spilled artistically around her chin and shoulders, and the cut of her deep-blue silken dress accented her nipped-in waist.
Men would have worshiped at her feet if they had been allowed to see her.
Evan bowed, as she came forward and dipped out a curtsy, “I’m honored to meet ye, Miss Milleson.”
“Likewise, Laird Ruthven,” she said in a cultured, musical voice.
“Please, sit,” he said and held her chair.
His mother gave him a look of approval while she sat near to Lady Lobhdain. He did not feel overwhelmed as he had acted calmly with more eyes on him, but not in this situation.
“Miss Milleson, I ken yer Faither has told ye about the reality of this marriage, how it is a measure to merge our clans to protect ourselves from the war. I ken it is nay the situation any Lady would have wanted to be courted in, but that daenae mean I will not extend to ye the same treatment I would have done in times of peace.”
