Page 37 of Married to the Icy Highlander
Neil had the feeling that whatever words were about to come out of the man’s mouth were not only going to be something that he didn’t want to hear but also something that would drive him to violence. He arched an eyebrow, and Donald scratched the back of his head.
Donald glanced around as if looking for his friends to approve the conversation that he was attempting to have.
“If whatever ye want to say to me is makin’ ye look so constipated, then might I suggest that ye dinnae say it at all,” Neil warned.
But curiosity killed the cat—at least that was how he thought the saying went.
“I… well, the boys and I were worried when we heard about yer braither,” Donald continued, an inquisitive look on his face. “Such a shame. Jiltin’ his bride and all. Fortunately, ye were there to pick up the pieces, eh?”
Neil sighed. This was just another thing that he did not want to deal with. At least not yet. He didn’t think that he needed to explain himself when the situation so clearly spoke for itself.
“It was a rushed wedding, was it nae?” Donald probed, his eyebrow almost rising to his hairline. “Nae for any… unsavory reasons, I suspect?”
Now he had Neil’s full attention. “Of course nae. What are ye implyin’?”
“Well, there’s been some talk around the village. The people want to ken why it was so important for the lass to marry so quickly. It wasnae as if she hadnae received at least a dozen offers at one point or another. But she rejected them all. Then, she decides to marry the Laird’s braither, and then the Laird?”
Neil narrowed his eyes at him, waiting for the accusation to come. “Sounds like whoever is spreadin’ such lies is a very jealous, miserable bastard.”
If the man knew what was good for him, he would stop talking. He would certainly stop sticking his foot further into his mouth and angering his Laird. They were fishing for information when the only thing—the only important thing—they needed to know was that he had taken her as his wife.
“Well, I heard?—”
“Ye arenae givin’ these rumors power by spreadin’ them yerself, are ye?” Neil asked, cutting him off. “Because the lass that ye speak of is me wife, and I willnae tolerate anyone speakin’ ill about me wife.”
Donald smiled awkwardly, clearly having not expected to be met with reproach, least of all in the middle of a festival. But whatever rumors there might be, Neil wanted them shut down, and now. He wasn’t going to have dissent following him back up to his castle either. He worked too hard for something so silly as that to stand in his way.
These were things that Blaine was supposed to handle. He was the friendly one. He knew the villagers better than Neil did. He was the one who had spent so much time down here so Neil could focus on official matters and keep the clan running smoothly.
It was exactly why Neil always took Blaine with him to collect the rent. His brother was a people person—or at least he had been.
Perhaps this was why he and Ceana were very close friends—to quell the rumors about her.
However, it did make Neil wonder what her life here in the village must have been like. It wasn’t surprising to him that, with a face like hers and her fiery temper, other men had sought her out. But why did she turn all of them down? What was she waiting for, and why did it suddenly change?
It had to be more than just her family’s debts. No doubt there was at least one man here who would have been willing to support them financially. Most of all when the woman in question was as tempting as Ceana.
Neil could perhaps ask her another time, when his patience wasn’t being pushed to its limits by insipid questions.
Where was his wife, anyway?
Perhaps if he had gotten very, very lucky, she would have already found Jeanie and the two of them were dancing again. Then, he would be free to indulge in a dram.
Simple pleasures for a simple man.
He looked around Donald, only to spot her without her brother or Jeanie. Now, she was standing next to her mother, which wouldn’t have been such a concerning sight were her mother not clinging to her arm as if she were the older woman.
Ida’s head was downturned, but even from this distance, he could see how red her ears were. Ceana looked like she was about to throw Myrtle at the man in front of her—a portly fellow Neil recognized but didn’t much care for. He always came to the castle, attempting to disparage Ceana’s whiskey every chance he got, and then threw a tantrum like a child when he didn’t get the contract for the year’s whiskey.
“Excuse me,” Neil said somewhat rudely as he pushed past Donald to join his wife. He hadn’t even made it ten steps when he heard the man’s slurred accusations.
“The wench thinks that she’s too good now? That she’s too proud? Suddenly ye have morals just because ye went and married the Laird?!” the man scoffed, spittle flying from his mouth and clinging to his chin. He jabbed a thick finger at Ceana as if he were going to shove her with it.
Neil would break that finger clean off if he dared to touch his wife with it.
Ceana’s lip curled, her nose scrunched up in disgust as she flinched away from the man. “If ye ken what’s good for ye, ye’ll go home, Ferguson,” she shouted right back. “Ye’re too deep in yer cups, and ye’re talkin’ nonsense! Go! Now! Before I really lose me temper!”
Any other time, Neil might have been impressed by the fact that his wife seemed to have no problem whatsoever going toe to toe with a man twice her size. He didn’t miss the way she pushed her mother behind her as her voice rose. She had very strong protective instincts, it would seem, and he liked the hell out of that. A warrior in her own right.
