Page 19 of Marry the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #1)

CHAPTER 19

Conall rose to his feet as soon as Eric Holdenson entered his hall. His hand was on his sword before he realized that all three of the men were unarmed and wearing the colors of peace.

He forced himself to remain calm. Surely not even Auchter was foolish enough to attempt anything when he was so badly outnumbered and thus attired? Surely he wouldn’t risk his life in such a fashion, not even to try to provoke Conall into acting dishonorably and attacking an unarmed man? It would be sheer madness—which did not, of course, mean that it would not happen.

I must be wary. There’s nay tellin’ what a man like Holdenson is capable of doin’.

He lowered his hand from his blade but remained ready to grab it at the slightest provocation.

“What do ye want, Holdenson?” he growled, aware that every eye in the room was upon him—friend and foe alike. “I told ye just yesterday that ye werenae welcome in my hall—or anywhere on MacKane lands, for that matter.”

Laird Auchter smirked at him. “Och, and I told ye that I would attend my granddaughter’s wedding, whether ye want me to or nae. Ye have nay grounds to refuse me. I have every right to be here both as kinsman to the bride and because of the marriage truce.”

Conall cursed inwardly. He had given orders to keep Eric Holdenson out of his castle, but the guards knew as well as he did that honor demanded he show courtesy to the man under the flag of truce. By arriving unarmed and truce-marked, Laird Auchter had made himself impossible to refuse entry to.

Curse the man.

“The ceremony is over. Ye’re too late.”

“And what of it? I’m still permitted to offer my blessings, as the lass has nay other male kin to do so.”

The man gave an evil smile, and Conall’s hand twitched by the hilt of his sword.

“Very well, ye’ve offered yer blessings,” he said curtly. “Now, leave.”

Conall knew he was being rude, but he didn’t care. However, he also knew that etiquette demanded he allow Eric Holdenson to stay if the man broke bread or shared a drink in his hall. He was not of a mind to permit either, let alone to house such a snake within his walls.

It was not to be borne. He would not allow it.

“Och, ye’re nae very hospitable for a man with a truce to honor, are ye?” Holdenson said, proving that he knew as well as Conoll did what custom demanded.

“A truce doesnae end all grudges,” Conall replied tersely. “It merely means that I cannae act on my ire.” He shook his head. “My brother’s nae so long in the ground that I can easily forgive ye, even if the truce means that I cannae strike ye.”

“Och, well, I see ye’re in nay mood to be reasonable.” Holdenson scowled. “In that case, I will tak’ my leave. But afore that, I wish for a word with my granddaughter. Alone.”

Conall would rather stick his hand in a viper’s nest. “Ye’ve nay reason to speak to her, and I willnae permit it.”

The hand hovering near his sword twitched again. Holdenson was in danger of pushing him too far.

“She’s my granddaughter,” the other man pointed out, with that same, evil smile. “’Tis reason enough, is it nae?”

“I’ll nae send my bride…” Conall began, but he stopped when a gentle hand touched his arm.

He turned to look at Brigid in surprise.

“What are ye doin’?” he asked in a low voice.

“I ken why ye want him to leave,” she said quietly.

“And I understand. But it will be easier and faster if ye let me speak to him. And it will spare yer folk the violence and bloodshed that will surely follow if ye refuse him.”

Brigid’s voice was soothing and calm, but Conall could still hear the slight tremor beneath it, which spoke to her fear.

He gritted his teeth. He’d rather do almost anything other than grant Eric Holdenson’s request, but Brigid was right. Letting her talk to her grandfather was the fastest way to force the bastard out of his castle, and if the man could not be persuaded to leave soon, Conall wasn’t sure he could trust himself not to break the truce and force him to.

“I’m nae certain ye’ll be safe in his presence without guards,” he said, furious to be put in such a position.

“I ken. But we’ll only go to the small servin’ chamber,” Brigid promised. “And if he touches me, I’ll scream for ye. Ye’ll hear me.” She smiled at him, though he could see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes. “Ye’ll ken if he does aught to me, Conall.”

Just because I can hear ye, just because I’ll ken if he acts, it doesnae mean I’ll be there in time to save ye. I wasnae there in time, and Devon died.

But those were thoughts he could not—would not—voice. Not at that moment.

Conall huffed. “If he touches ye, then I’ll leave him just enough alive for yer sisters to deal with.”

“I kenned I liked yer husband.” Megan, who had been listening intently to this exchange, along with Lily and Valerie, smiled coldly.

“Both of ye, stop. I’m sure he’s nae foolish enough to do me any harm—nae with everyone here.” Brigid shook her head, although, in truth, she was sure of no such thing.

How could she be, when she did not know the man she was about to speak to?

Pushing the thought determinedly aside, she straightened her shoulders and walked sedately and gracefully around the High Table to stand in front of Eric Holdenson.

“I will speak with ye, Laird Auchter,” she said, looking him directly in the eye, with no trace of fear.

Auchter smiled and offered her his arm. Brigid sidestepped it gracefully, then turned and led the way to a small antechamber.

Conall watched them go, wishing with all his heart that he could follow.

Brigid’s hands were shaking, hidden in the skirt of her dress, as she led Laird Auchter to the small, private chamber to the side of the Great Hall. There was a time when she’d dreamed of meeting, or speaking to, any of her kinfolk, including her maternal grandfather.

Now, though, seeing him for the first time, up close, she felt as though she’d approached a hungry wolf. Or an angry serpent. She wanted to flee back to the safety of Conall’s presence and that of her sisters, but she had no desire to see Laird Auchter’s presence causing any more of a disruption to the celebrations than they already had. Only she could put a stop to this ridiculous charade he was forcing everyone to take part in, so she kept her chin up and her back straight, just as her father had taught her.

It was Laird Auchter who broke the silence.

“Ye look well,” he said, looking her up and down as if she were a beast brought to market.

“Ye dinnae even ken who I am,” Brigid replied, shaking her head. “Ye couldnae ken how well I look—ye’ve never seen me before. I’d be surprised if ye even ken my name.”

“Ye are Brigid, my youngest granddaughter,” Laird Auchter said, cocking his head as he eyed her. “Even so, I am surprised ye look as well as ye do. Laird MacKane isnae kenned for his gentleness.”

“And ye’re nae kenned for carin’ for yer kin, yet here ye stand, claimin’ ye are here to offer yer goodwill and blessings,” Brigid retorted, anger making her brave.

Anger was usually an uncomfortable feeling for her, but right now she welcomed it as a shield against the sly, conniving presence of the grandfather she’d never known—and never wished to.

“Say what ye like.” Laird Auchter—Brigid decided at that moment that she would never think of him as her grandfather again—waved a hand dismissively. Then, he reached into his sporran and pulled out a small earthenware vial, which he offered to her. “But tak’ this, and if ye’re wise, ye’ll be sure yer husband takes a dose of it.”

Brigid took the vial he handed her, unstoppered it, and sniffed the plants inside delicately. Instantly, she recoiled at the all-too-familiar scent.

“’Tis monkshood,” she said, her eyes wide. “This is poisonous.”

“Aye. And if Laird MacKane takes it, then ye’ll be sure he cannae harm ye.”

Brigid shook her head. “I could never give him this. Ye must be mad if ye think I’d poison my own husband.”

She tried to push the vial back into his grasp, but Laird Auchter scoffed.

“Och, and why nae? A fortnight ago, ye didnae even ken his name or his face. Why such loyalty to him now?”

Brigid’s mouth twisted as fresh anger shot through her. “I could say the same about ye,” she pointed out. “I have nay reason to be loyal to ye, either.”

“Lass…” Auchter began, but Brigid shook her head, interrupting him.

“Nay. Nay. Of the two of ye, Laird MacKane didnae kidnap me, nor threaten my kinfolk or neglect his kinfolk. I may nae ken him very well, but I ken enough to ken I can trust him. And I ken enough to ken I despise ye .”

Laird Auchter’s lip curled in derision. “Och, ye’re as foolish as yer mother was, lass. Ye’ll make the same mistakes she did if ye’re nae careful. Mark my words, she would have wished for ye to learn from her mistake, rather than repeat it. And she’d weep to ken that ye’d married such a dangerous man.”

“And how would ye ken that?” Brigid demanded fiercely. “Ye never spoke to her after she wed my father.”

She forced herself to remain calm, but even so, she could feel a small seed of doubt sprouting inside her.

Her mother’s final rule. Had she regretted her marriage to a man as notorious as Magnus Blackwood?

She couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t allow herself to listen to Laird Auchter’s poisonous words. If she did, she would only regret it—of that much she was certain.

“My mother loved my father,” she said staunchly. “And he loved her.”

“Och, mayhap.” Laird Auchter’s lip curled again, and Brigid barely restrained herself from slapping him when she saw the contempt on his face. “I would have thought her ashamed to be wed to such a man, but she bore all of ye, so she must have cared somethin’ for him. Even so, she died because of her marriage to him. I’ll nae let another of my blood die from marryin’ the wrong man.”

“Ye dinnae ken that…” Brigid began, but this time it was Laird Aucher’s turn to interrupt.

“I ken more about Laird MacKane than ye,” he said. “And I ken he has a foul temper. He killed afore, with little provocation, and I’ll nae let him do the same to ye.”

He shoved the vial of monkshood into her hand and curled her fingers around it once more before she had a chance to object. “Keep that for yerself, in case ye need it,” he said. Then, he turned and stalked out of the room, followed by his guards.

Brigid remained where she was, frozen in place and staring at the vial in her hands. She heard footsteps and instinctively shoved the vial into the belt pouch she wore, just as Oliver appeared in the doorway.

“Were ye harmed?”

“Nay, I wasnae harmed. He just wished…” Brigid trailed off, knowing she couldn’t tell Oliver the truth but unsure what she should say instead.

“He wanted to greet me and give me some advice,” she said, at last. “And now that he’s done it, he’ll leave.”

Nae that I have any intention of takin’ his advice. As soon as I can get rid of this ‘gift’ of his, the happier I’ll be.

She offered Oliver what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then hurried back into the hall and to her sisters. The three of them were watching for her with worried expressions, so she did the only thing she could think of. She reached out, grabbed Lily and Valerie’s hands, and dragged them toward the dance floor.

“We should dance!” she cried, sounding happier than she felt.

“But Brigid,” Lily protested, a frown creasing her kind face.

“What happened in there? We were so worried when ye disappeared wit’… wit’ that man. What did he say? Did he harm ye?”

“Ye have too many questions,” Brigid replied, forcing herself to smile at her sister. “And ye can see for yerself that I’m absolutely fine. Laird Auchter meant me nay harm. I ken it’s hard to believe, but I think he just wanted to pay his respects.”

Lily frowned again, unconvinced. “But?—”

“But nothing,” Brigid interrupted firmly. “Auchter is gone. I’m here, I’m well, and I want to celebrate my wedding with my sisters. Now, are ye going to dance, or are ye nae?”

Lily and Valerie exchanged concerned glances. After all that had happened, it was hard for them to believe that it was as Brigid said, and that Laird Auchter had simply wished her well. And yet here she was, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkling, begging them to dance with her as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Ye should be dancin’ with yer husband,” Valerie protested, trying to shake off the feeling of unease that had fallen upon the company as soon as their grandfather had entered the room.

“I will,” Brigid assured her with a smile. “But right now, Conall doesnae wish to dance, and I do. So we should dance together.” She twisted around, her eyes finding Megan in the crowd. “Ye too, Megan!” she called merrily. “Come and join us.”

Megan made a face that suggested she was every bit as confused as her sisters were about the events that had just transpired. But Brigid was clearly not prepared to take no for an answer.

As the first strains of a Highland reel began, she linked hands with her sisters, stepped forward in time to the music, and tried to put her encounter with Laird Auchter out of her mind.

And, after a second, Lily, Valerie, and Megan followed her.