Page 16

Iver of the McColl sat next to his uncle at the head table before the blazing hearth.

The clamor in the hall was heavy all around them while the food and the drink flowed plentifully.

When the laird's wife had come through the door carrying the tray with foodstuffs and the pitcher of ale, she immediately caught his attention.

He admitted he could not keep his eyes from her and he watched her through his lowered lashes.

There was much to learn of the Chattan and his mission to understand the clan would most certainly include an insight into the mistress of the keep.

When Iver saw his own man Nachton grasp the Lady Gwyn and handle her with such familiarity, his body stiffened and he would have acted as violently as had the laird.

However, when his own uncle moved quickly to gain his feet and shouted of his rage, he refrained himself.

He stayed seated and remained silent. He realized it was not his right to react and especially in the presence of the laird.

From his place at the high table, he watched everything unfold before him.

Iver could not blame what his own clansman had done since the lady of the keep was stunning.

It was also very obvious Nachton had no idea whom he had just accosted.

The drink had been flowing heavily for these last few hours and the young servants in the hall seemed rather welcoming of his men's attentions.

And there was nothing about the Lady Gwyn's person to mark her true identity.

Even though her dress did not necessarily set her apart from the rest, it was obvious to Iver of her breeding. To any of his men she was just another woman in the holdings. He understood his fellow clansman had no idea it was the lady of the keep he held.

Neither could he fault the laird of the Chattan for his reaction. It was his duty to protect his wife. Or at least step in to uphold her reputation. However, it was the lady's reaction that most astonished him.

"Holy hell!"

She had actually defended the ill reputed actions of the McColl. He had no idea as to what made her make light of the situation and defend one of his own and to someone she knew so very little. It was clear to everyone within the room the falsehoods she so vehemently spoke.

'For some reason she sought to maintain peace, regardless of the assault upon her person.'

He did not speak the words aloud but he considered them silently.

One thing Iver realized immediately was that nothing here was as it appeared on the surface or anything like his home with the McColl.

While he knew he had been blessed with more strength then most men possessed, it was the reasoning of his mind he relied upon most. This more than anything had served him well over the years and had kept him safe and well liked by his peers.

'Why, Lady Gwyn, would you do this? What motives do you have?'

As Iver watched while the laird's wife downed the last of the ale as any of his men would have done, he warmed to her.

He would concede she was a very beautiful woman, indeed, but it was her quickness of her tongue and wit that intrigued him the most. As he gazed at her from across the room, he had to wonder at what were her secrets.

He had known immediately that theirs was not a love match, recognizing the tension in the air around the laird and his wife almost immediately.

And then there was the son that his uncle had sired…

The young lad Durell, was rather unique.

He looked nothing like his father and had gleaned most of his traits from his mother.

He had very light brown hair and large green eyes and the exact same shade of the Lady Gwyn's.

While it was still early to tell, he was already proving to be a tall and broad one and with the appropriate instruction could grow to be powerful.

He found it rather odd that in the entire time he was in his presence, not once had the lad spoken to his father.

Nor had the laird acknowledged his son's presence.

It appeared his mother's company is whom the young lad always sought.

This was so unlike his own home where when he was his age, every waking moment he shadowed the laird.

He sought to learn from him, laugh with him and always desperately sought out his approval.

'How strange are the Chattan's ways.'

"More ale, my laird?"

Iver was drawn from his own thoughts and back to the present to gaze upon the intriguing lady of the keep as she stood on the opposite side of the table and before the laird.

While her dress was rather plain and unadorned, he recognized immediately how she filled it out quite nicely.

From her lovely face extended the most slender of ivory necks that seemed to stretch on forever.

Iver could not help himself as his eyes were drawn down to the creamy white skin at the tops of her generous breasts.

They appeared warm and inviting and Iver had the sudden urge to take one of them within his own hands.

'Holy hell, what am I thinkin g ? She is my uncle's wife!'

This was someone he would never pursue. In the deepest part of his being, he was absolute in his stance.

'No one upon this earth will ever sway me from my future.'

And especially, no woman. He knew in his heart it was his destiny to lead and this was his only chance. He would be damned to hell if he could not control his own lusty thoughts regardless of the temptation.

"And more foodstuffs, my laird? The mutton is fresh and from a young buck and is sure to be tender."

Gwyn chided herself for the shake to her hand as she placed the tray upon the table.

She could not figure out what was wrong with her.

She had just stood up not moments before to her husband and lied blatantly before everyone within her gathering hall.

While the falsehoods that slipped so easily from her tongue were said with conviction, she knew no one had believed her even though there were no voices who contradicted her.

Now, when she stood across the table and just two paces away from the nephew of her husband, it was here she would be nervous.

Almost angrily, she drew in a deep breath as she moved to stand before the laird's nephew and attempted to look him squarely in the eye.

"And you, Iver? Would you care for some more ale?"

Pulling from the deepest depths of her being, Gwyn raised her eyes to the dark haired Highlander as she smiled forcefully. When he simply touched the base of his glass then moved his gaze to the laird next to him, she was relieved knowing she could finish her task without his heavy gaze upon her.

When her trembling hands had filled his cup, slowly, she made her way down the table. Next, she filled the tankard of Iver's cousin who was sitting next to his side.

"Donnan?"

"Yes, my lady, please. I will say it is a fine table you serve. So many and so unexpectedly."

Gwyn could not help her smile or the feeling of ease before him. Wanting nothing more than to maintain the welcoming spirit, she humbly accepted his praise.

"Thank you, it was truly a pleasure to serve you."

Not wishing to be too familiar, she quickly spoke.

"To serve all of you."

Donnan smiled warmly as he spoke.

"Of course, my lady."

Quickly, Gwyn moved on down the table to her own of the Chattan and the two she knew as Balfour and Caddock.

When she reached the final chair of her own son sitting at the end of the table, she gazed upon him with love.

She spoke to him gently, knowing he had a day unlike any other before.

While his eyes shown brilliantly with all the wonder of the night, he was clearly exhausted since the hour had grown exceedingly late.

"It is now time, Durell. Long past time for you to retire for the eve."

"But mother! I am not yet ready and there is so much I have yet to ask and to learn!"

As Gwyn chuckled at his words, it was an unfamiliar voice from down the table who spoke next that startled them both.

"Mind the lady, for mothers always know what is best for their sons."

Gwyn's attention was averted to its source and she found herself staring into the darkened blue eyes of Iver. She nearly halted her breathing as his deep voice floated across the slight expanse of the table.

"We will have plenty of time to do all that you wish and for you to learn all you will. If you do as your mother instructs without question, on the morrow I will give you a ride upon my steed if the weather permits. And of course, if that is acceptable to your mother."

When the boy smiled brilliantly, Iver continued.

"I noticed how you were admiring my beast in the bailey before our sup. He is quite magnificent, is he not? My own da presented him to me upon my twenty-first year."

Gwyn's heart nearly plummeted within her breast at the promise that was now spoken.

She was completely convinced Durell would now do exactly as she had bid.

Her only fear was the clansman would not fulfill his end of that promise.

Too many times, her son had been disappointed and left to deal with the loneliness of being discounted by the laird.

For each and every one of those occurrences, it had been only she who was left to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

Durell moved quickly to a standing position as he nearly shouted out for all those close to hear.

"Then it is good eve that I bid to all of you. I will be ready on the morrow, my dear cousin and whenever you see fit to summon me!"

As the young lad began to sprint across the floor, the breath caught further within Gwen's throat. It was entirely obvious he was enamored by this new Highlander who now graced their presence. She could only hope he would not be disappointed yet again.

As she saw his little retreating back suddenly halt in his tracks and watched as he turned and rushed back to her side, those thoughts were now forgotten. His eyes were nearly dancing as he raced near and stopped abruptly before her as he spoke.

"Good eve, dear mother. I wish you pleasant dreams."

With those words spoken, he reached forward and grasped her just below the shoulders.

Before all, he stood up on the highest part of his toes to place a tender kiss upon her cheek.

He moved one step back as he gently bowed his head before he turned from her side and was running yet again across the gathering hall and up the opposite stair.

Gwyn could only shake her head as a smile appeared upon her lips. Her little son was growing up. She thought almost absently, 'and when during this last full day did that occur?'