Forbidden Night With The Highlander. Michelle Willingham

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СКАЧАТЬ words cast silence over the clan, and he continued. ‘Lianna, make the arrangements for the burial of these men. I will meet with my council and with the Normans.’

      Her eyes flooded with hot tears, and her stomach clenched. The Normans could burn in hell for all she cared. She stared at the horses bearing the bodies, and nausea twisted her stomach. Her maid Orna approached and said, ‘I will help, Lianna.’ The older woman motioned to several of the others, and she took the reins of one of the horses.

      Lianna wanted to follow, but her legs would not move. With a fleeting glance towards the Normans, she wondered which one was Rhys de Laurent. All wore conical helms and chainmail armour. They appeared fully prepared for battle.

      There was only one consolation that distracted her now—her father could not possibly demand that she marry the Norman. Not when these men had killed Sían. With a leaden heart, she followed Orna and reached for the reins of a second horse.

      ‘Hear me,’ her father called out to the clan members, and Lianna turned back to listen to him. ‘I will not risk our clan’s survival based on the lack of judgement from my son. I did not order this attack, and Sían’s defiance resulted in tragedy. No one here will raise a hand against our Norman guests—or you will be exiled from us.’ His grey eyes were the colour of iron, cold and unforgiving. He met the gazes of his men, who looked ready to engage in fighting.

      Lianna saw murder brewing in the eyes of Eachann and Ross. The fierce Highlanders were among the strongest fighters remaining. They needed a means of releasing their anger, and she stepped towards them. ‘Will you help dig the graves of your kinsmen?’

      They didn’t move, until Alastair said, ‘Do as my daughter bids you.’

      She stepped up, facing each of them. Tension stretched thin until finally Ross muttered, ‘We will bide our time.’ Then they stepped back to fetch shovels to begin digging the graves. Lianna chose two more men to help them, and then sent for the priest.

      She was grateful for the many tasks that had to be done. It occupied her time, allowing her to push back the wave of emotion threatening to drown her. Sían had been her only brother, the laughing young man who had believed himself invincible. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she could not cry now. Several women were openly weeping at the loss of their sons and husbands. Lianna busied herself with helping them, asking them to gather linen for the burial shrouds.

      But as the Normans departed with her father, she could only think that her freedom had been won at a terrible cost.

      She led the horse bearing her brother’s body, taking him back towards the stone kirk. There, she would prepare him for burial, and perhaps indulge in a moment of grief.

      But, without warning, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She froze in place, wondering what had disturbed her so suddenly.

      She turned and saw that one of the Normans was staring at her, his expression intent. There was a hint of familiarity around him, though she could not place it. From this distance, she could barely see his face and his hair was hidden beneath his helm.

      It must be Rhys de Laurent.

      Lianna lifted her chin in defiance, staring boldly back at him. Let him look. For he would never have her as his bride.

      * * *

      Rhys followed the clan chief into a private gathering space, accompanied by his men. Two other Scots joined them, and there was no denying the cold fury that permeated the demeanour of every man here.

      He said nothing but waited for Alastair to speak. His own anger was raging, that they had come here in peace to fulfil the bargain, and the man’s own son had dared to attack.

      ‘Sían acted of his own accord,’ Alastair said quietly. ‘I gave no orders for a raid.’

      Rhys stared back at the man in disbelief. Did he honestly think that he would believe such a statement? His gaze was hard and unyielding, but there was melancholy in the man’s eyes.

      ‘I am old, and my time here grows short,’ Alastair said. ‘My son coveted my position as chief, and time and again, he was wanting me to step down and let him lead.’ He glanced at his companions. ‘But such was impossible. Sían was too impulsive, believing he was always right. He often acted without thinking, and more than once, I’ve had to atone for his reckless actions.’ He met Rhys’s gaze evenly. ‘As I am prepared to do now.’

      ‘You broke our bargain of peace,’ Rhys said coolly. ‘I have the right to drive every man, woman, and child from Eiloch. These are Norman lands now, inherited by my father from the chief before you. And now they belong to me, as his heir.’

      ‘They belong to both the Normans and the Scots,’ Alastair corrected. ‘Your grandfather saw that he would be needing protection for Eiloch one day. When he married your Norman grandmother, he made that bargain to guard us from outside threats.’

      ‘You forfeited our treaty when your son tried to kill us,’ Rhys said. ‘I will not marry your daughter now. But I will seize command of Eiloch.’

      Alastair closed his eyes and fell silent for a long moment. Then, after a long pause, he continued, ‘I grieve the death of my son. Sían was my flesh and blood, and no father should outlive his child.’ His hand closed in a fist. ‘But Lianna is no’ like her brother. She has the heart and the intelligence to lead this clan. Had she been a boy, I would have made her the leader, for she is a good woman who puts the needs of others before her own.’

      Alastair poured mead into a silver mazer cup and lifted it high. ‘I don’t want war between the Normans and my people. They will struggle to survive this winter, and we need Norman aid to provide enough food for them.’ He drank from the cup. ‘I offer you this cup of peace. I will forgive you for killing my son, if you do not bring vengeance against our people.’ He passed the cup to his advisors, who drank in turn, and then the cup was given to Rhys.

      He hesitated, for he was uncertain whether to accept this offering. Sían MacKinnon might well have acted without his father’s permission. Given the haggard expression on Alastair’s face, he did appear to regret his son’s actions.

      This was a man who valued peace, above his own personal tragedy. And that was something to be respected.

      ‘I will not drive your people out of Eiloch yet,’ Rhys said quietly. ‘For now, I will wait and use my own judgement. If they dare to raise a hand against any of us, they will die for it.’ He drank the mead and passed it back.

      ‘If any of my people strike back at you or your men,’ Alastair answered, ‘I will order their deaths myself.’ He set down the mazer cup and leaned back in his chair. ‘Lianna will not want to wed you—I must be honest about this. But she does understand the needs of our clan. She knows how dire our circumstances are, and if I command it of her, she will obey.’

      Rhys wasn’t certain he wanted to wed under these circumstances. But he did need to be honest with Lianna MacKinnon and tell her of his true identity. She deserved that much.

      ‘I will speak with her this evening,’ he said. ‘In the meantime, I will inspect your crofters’ homes and learn more about Eiloch.’

      Alastair nodded. ‘My men will accompany you to ensure your safety.’ He rose from his chair and said, ‘Under most circumstances, I would join you and Lianna on your journey back to Montbrooke for the formal betrothal. СКАЧАТЬ