Page 28

28: A FINE MESS

“I brING FINE news from Stirling, daughter,” Colin Campbell announced, his mouth curving.

“I have secured ye a husband.”

The hall of Kilchurn Castle fell silent.

Like everyone else seated at the laird’s table upon the dais, Bonnie’s gaze settled upon Davina Campbell.

In truth, she hadn’t paid much attention to Campbell’s daughter during supper.

Instead, she’d been wondering what had passed between Iver and Lennox.

The brothers glowered at each other across the table.

And judging from the red welt on her husband’s set jaw, just above the fading bruise Sutherland had given him, and Lennox’s split lip and swollen cheekbone—they’d been fighting.

She’d wondered earlier why Iver hadn’t come upstairs to fetch her for supper—and now she knew.

Nonetheless, Colin Campbell’s statement made her shift focus, to the slender figure seated opposite.

Clad in a lovely grey kirtle trimmed with fur, Davina’s elfin face was pale, bordering on ashen.

She also bore dark shadows under her eyes.

The steward had said the laird’s daughter had been abed with a headache earlier; indeed, she didn’t look that well.

Like her father, the lass had raven-colored hair and blue-grey eyes.

Yet the physical similarity between father and daughter ended there.

She didn’t have her father’s pugnacious jaw or aggressive bearing—and Bonnie guessed she’d favored her mother in looks.

Colin was onto his third bowl of stew, while his daughter picked at her meal like a sparrow.

Davina’s slender jaw flexed now, her shoulders tensing.

“What?” she asked huskily.

“Take the wool out yer ears, lass,” Campbell replied with a snort.

“Murray MacPherson is prepared to overlook yer past … it’s a fine offer indeed.”

Beside Bonnie, Iver inclined his head.

“The MacPherson clan-chief?”

Campbell flashed him a broad smile.

“Aye … like me, he’s a widower … and wishes to father a few more sons while he still has the strength in him to do so.” The Lord of Glenorchy paused then, his gaze glinting.

“That’s why I lingered in Stirling for a few days after the council. I was husband hunting for dear Davina.”

A brittle hush fell over the table once more.

Meanwhile, the warriors seated at the tables beneath the dais had stopped eating and drinking and were observing the exchange between the laird and his daughter.

“MacPherson must be nearly thrice her age,” Iver pointed out after a lengthy pause.

“Aye.” Campbell’s smile faded, irritation flaring in his eyes.

“What of it?”

“I shall not wed him.” Davina’s voice, high now, intruded.

All gazes shifted back to her.

Campbell’s dark brows crashed together, his thick fingers clenching around the stem of his goblet.

“His age matters not, lass. He’s a clan-chief … an influential one.”

“I don’t care who he is,” she replied, a nerve jumping in her cheek.

“I shall not wed Murray MacPherson … I shall not wed anyone .”

Campbell slammed his goblet down.

“Enough of this nonsense, Davina. Ye aren’t going to remain unmarried, and that’s final.”

She swallowed.

“Send me to Iona, father. I wish to take the veil.”

“Not this again,” he muttered.

“I’ve already told ye, I’ll not hand ye over to those nuns. Yer fair face will make me a strong alliance with one of my neighbors.”

“Then ye shall be waiting forever for that day.” Davina pushed aside her bowl of stew and rose to her feet.

Her slender body vibrated.

“For I shall not take a husband. Ye robbed me of the only man I will ever love.”

A weighty silence fell after these words, rippling across the hall.

Bonnie’s gaze roamed over Davina’s taut features.

Surprise and curiosity rippled through her at such a bold declaration.

What was this about?

Campbell was the first to recover.

“Sit. Down,” he bit out.

However, his daughter was hell-bent on defying him this eve, it seemed, for she merely turned and walked away.

Bonnie watched her descend the steps from the dais to the main floor, her long, graceful back rigid as she made for the door.

“Davina!” Campbell roared.

“I didn’t give ye permission to leave!”

But she ignored him—and moments later, Davina exited the hall.

Breathing hard, the laird glared after her.

His face had turned red, and a vein pulsed in his temple.

Bonnie tensed, waiting for him to yell to one of his men—to instruct them to haul his errant daughter back to the table—but to her surprise, he didn’t.

Instead, he grabbed his goblet of wine and sculled it in one long draft.

“Infuriating wench,” he muttered under his breath.

“She gives me no end of trouble.”

“Perhaps ye should heed Davina’s wishes, Campbell,” the steward murmured, meeting his eye across the table.

“Why don’t ye let her take the veil?”

Campbell scowled at MacNab, his grey-blue eyes narrowing.

“No,” he growled. “And the last thing I need is ye to take her side.” Sitting back in his seat, he heaved in a deep breath, clearly seeking to settle his temper.

The laird cast a glance in Iver’s direction.

“Apologies for my ill-mannered daughter, Mackay.”

Iver nodded.

“The lass seemed upset,” he replied.

“What hapwepened to the man she spoke of?”

Campbell’s heavy jaw tensed.

“He overstepped … and paid the price.”

The warning in his voice was clear, and Iver heeded it, dropping the subject.

They’d clearly borne witness to a delicate family matter.

After a moment, Campbell poured himself another goblet of wine and sat back in his chair.

“We shall not let my daughter’s outburst ruin our evening,” he muttered.

“How about a game of Ard-ri after supper? I’ll then take ye lads out boar hunting in the morning.”

“I take it Lennox and ye had a fight?” Bonnie put down the hog bristle brush she’d been using to comb out her hair, her gaze fixing on where her husband stood by the fire, watching her.

She’d spoken gently, yet Iver stiffened, giving Bonnie her answer.

“Was it about me?” she asked softly.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

Her brow furrowed.

“Aye, it does.” She paused then, tensing.

“I don’t want to come between ye.”

“Ye won’t,” he replied, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Lennox and I needed to be honest with each other … and now we have been.” Iver huffed a sigh, dragging his hand through his hair in a gesture she’d come to recognize as frustration.

“It wasn’t just about ye, lass … Lennox had some grievances he wished to share about some of my other decisions.”

Silence fell between them, tension replacing the easy atmosphere that usually filled the room when they were alone.

Eventually, Bonnie shattered it.

“Such as?”

Iver’s mouth pursed.

“I’ve known for a while that Lennox doesn’t enjoy his work as bailiff … yet I hadn’t realized he was angry I made Kerr the Captain of the Dun Ugadale Guard and not him.”

“And why didn’t ye?”

Her husband huffed out an irritated breath.

She could tell he didn’t want to talk about this, yet she did.

If they were to be happy together, he couldn’t just sweep uncomfortable subjects aside.

Iver had told her that he planned to make some changes upon his return home—and it sounded as if his relationship with his brother sorely needed addressing.

“Kerr is younger than Lennox by two and a half years,” Iver replied after a heavy pause, “but he’s always had a sensible head on his shoulders. Lennox can be impulsive and reckless … not great qualities for a captain.”

Bonnie considered his words.

“Sometimes people don’t show us what they’re capable of … unless we give them a chance,” she pointed out, with a small smile.

A stubborn expression settled upon Iver’s face then.

“Aye, well, Len is going to have to accept the way of things,” he muttered.

“Brodie’s our broch’s blacksmith and doesn’t complain about it.”

“If Lennox dislikes being bailiff, maybe ye could appoint someone else to the role,” she suggested.

“Perhaps he’d be better suited to another position.”

Iver’s brow furrowed.

“Lennox and I shall work out our differences, Bonnie … we always do, in the end.” There was an edge to his voice now, a gentle warning not to push any further.

Bonnie heeded it. Even so, her chest tightened.

This was a side of her husband she hadn’t seen before—Iver Mackay could be bull-headed, it seemed.

He didn’t like compromise.

“So, ye are going hunting tomorrow?” she asked, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel into her voice.

Iver nodded. His expression was shuttered now.

Bonnie looked down at where she’d draped her new shawl over her lap and stroked its fine weave with her palm.

“What do ye think about the situation with his daughter?”

He gave a soft snort.

“It sounds like a fine mess.”

“Campbell won’t force Davina to wed anyone, will he?”

“I doubt it … he’s more of a blusterer than a brute. Nonetheless, the battle of wills will continue for a while yet, I’d wager.”

She glanced up, her attention settling upon Iver once more.

“I wonder what happened to make her so sad.”

“So do I … although I doubt anyone will tell us.” He pushed himself off the mantelpiece then and crossed to the bed, lowering himself down next to Bonnie.

Iver then caught her hands in his and squeezed gently.

“Don’t fash yerself, lass,” he murmured, his mouth curving into a soft smile.

“Everything will get sorted between Len and me.”