Page 11 of Bride Takes a Laird
“Go then and greet him. I shall be watching. Remember, just one smile, Mistress Kendra, and he is yours for the taking.” Margaret dislodged her arm from hers and waved her forward.
Kendra was about to cross the gleaming floorboards to approach Laird Cameron, but then the double-wide doors suddenly burst open. Servants bustled about the adjacent room and she stood in awe of the great hall’s splendor. Three large candelabras held enough candles to send a glow to the far reaches of the room. Foodstuff in trenchers, baskets, and trays lined the table and the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat filled the air. She whirled around at the sound of music when the first strings of a harpist began playing.
Never had she been at such a feast. Her father had never had the wherewithal to pay for such a lavish event at their manor home and most of the festivals and holy days were spent in Dunbartan’s village. Now there were a good number of people moving about the chamber: servants, family, the king’s attendants, the brides, and the grooms. Kendra felt out of place but she kept her eyes on Laird Cameron andconsidered how best to approach him. In truth, she wished she could fan herself because, honest to God, all the Highlanders were intimidating with their good looks, hard manners, and steely bodies.
Before she could intercept Laird Cameron, a man with light brown hair that reached his shoulders approached. Her breath caught a little at the sight of him. He was extremely handsome, with a lean but muscular body.
“Mistress,” he said and bowed his head. “I am Laird Mackintosh. ‘Shaw’ to my friends.”
“Laird Mackintosh,” she said and bowed. “Shaw.” He had a charming disposition about him and his smile surely could melt a woman’s heart. “I am Kendra of Clan Graham. Are you enjoying the king’s festivities?”
He nodded. “’Tis the truth, I would rather be home butoch, at least ye ladies are pleasing on the eyes and I am not put off from taking one of ye as my wife.”
At that moment, Sorsha drew near. She deftly distracted Laird Mackintosh from attending to Kendra and in a moment they joined the dancers on the floor.
Kendra moved to greet Laird MacKendrick, but he seemed so formidable that she absconded just as quickly and went to meet another of the grooms, waiting for him to finish his conversation while keeping her eye on Laird Cameron. Somehow, she had to figure out how best to fulfill the queen’s request to make him smile—or even meet him—but he had yet to make eye-contact or even glance at her.
Through the open doors of the great hall, she glanced around to locate her father to make certain he’d stayed where she had put him. A slight panic overtook her when she noticed that he was gone from his seat. Before she could move off to find him, another man appeared to notice her and approached.
“Mistress Kendra,” he said as if he’d already been introduced to her, and bowed. “I am Breckin…Laird Buchanan.”
“Laird Buchanan, it is a pleasure to meet you.” Although she wanted to run off to find her father, she had to greet the man to maintain politeness. She lowered her chin and took a breath as she curtseyed. Buchanan was far more intimidating than the rest of the men with his piercing blue-eyed gaze and broad shoulders. Kendra found herself stepping back, just to put a little space between them.
“Do ye wish to dance?” I fear I might step on your toes, but the king insists we join in.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Laird Buchanan, but I must go…” She grabbed her skirts and lifted them a little so she wouldn’t trip and hastened away. Her gaze shifted from one end of the large hall to the other in search of her father. Where was John? He was supposed to be looking after him. A terrible pain twitched her stomach at the thought that he’d gone off again. How would she ever find him in an unfamiliar and extensive castle?
As she roamed the large hall, her eyes darted to the corners and beyond. Finally, she spotted him, lingering behind the buttery with John next to him, and with a great sigh of relief, she approached and took his arm. “Papa, I told you not to leave your seat. Come, and sit back down. Let John get your drink. John make sure he stays at the table, please.” She led her father back to the table and gently pushed him into the seat when they reached it. John hastened after them and set a cup before her father.
“I was but refilling my drink, Dearest.”
“Let John attend to you. Now, promise me, Papa, that you will not move from this spot. I do not need to worry for you when I have other…” Her words trailed off when her father nodded vigorously.
“I will not move,” he said and lifted the cup of ale John had fetched for him.
Kendra searched amongst the revelers and found Laird Cameron. He stood out as he was taller than most of the men and she walked toward him. When she reached him, she turned to face the center ofthe room. “Good eve, My Lord.”
He bowed his head but kept his eyes on the room. Kendra drew a slow steady breath and was disheartened that he wouldn’t even look at her. Gaining his interest would take more thought and courage on her part.
A servant passed by them and offered a drink. The Highlander shook his head.
“Are you not thirsty?” she asked, making small talk.
“’Tis naught but watered-down ale.”
Kendra smiled at the sound of his voice. It was rugged, deep, and affecting. The timbre of it was a little raspy and manly, yet appealing. He didn’t smile but turned his head and finally gazed at her as she asked, “Perhaps you prefer a stronger drink?”
“A strong ale would be preferable, but I doubt there is any to be had.”
She peered up at him. His height put him well over a head taller than her. Like the other men, he was muscular and strong. But he was definitely more pleasing to look upon than Lord Heatherington or the other men who were offered as grooms. In truth, he was probably the most handsome man she’d ever beheld. His light greenish-brown eyes remained on her. The slight frown he wore and the tightness of his lips on his whisker-free face framed by long, thick brown made him appear stern and somewhat intimidating. He rubbed the nape of his neck with his large hand as if he was restless.
Kendra folded her hands in front of her and tried to appear demure and unaffected—a most difficult thing to do in front of this man. “Is that a challenge, My Lord?”
“Laird Cameron,” he said with a genuflect, “‘Magnus’ to ye, lass. And aye, perhaps it is a challenge. If ye find me a good strong cup of ale, I will offer ye my favor.”
“I am Kendra, daughter of Rupert Graham. If I find you a cup of strong ale, will you dance with me?” She raised her eyes to regard hismesmerizing greenish-brown and lingering stare.
“I would—”