Page 9 of The Chief's Wild Promise
Makenna cut her sister an irritated look. She usually loved spending time with Liza and Kylie. Of all her sisters, she was the closest to them. But this evening, they were both rubbing her up the wrong way. “No.” She was aware then that Kylie had moved closer and was watching her intensely. “He’d bite my head off if I tried.”
She focused properly on her sisters then. Unlike her, Liza and Kylie had guised themselves for Bealtunn. Kylie had painted her face white and her mouth blood red and clad herself in a becoming low-cut green kirtle so she resembled one of the Baobhan Sith—beautiful vampiric fairies known for seducing men and then draining their blood. Liza was also dressed in green, although she wore a headdress with straw-colored hair and goat horns upon her head. She’d guised herself as a Glaistig, the mythological ‘green maiden’.
Both Kylie and Liza looked arresting, if a little intimidating.
“He certainly appears to be in a foul temper this eve,” Kylie noted. “I’d have thought he’d have calmed down by now … especially after some MacGregor hospitality.”
“Aye, well, it doesn’t help that Da continues to goad him.”
Liza cocked an eyebrow. “I thought he was trying to cheer him up?”
Makenna snorted, even as her annoyance swelled. Her sisters were trying to lighten the mood, yet she didn’t want it lightened.Instead, she shifted her attention across the crowd to where her husband-to-be stood with her father and Captain Walker. MacGregor was talking volubly, red in the face after a surfeit of ale. Mackinnon replied with a curled lip.
One didn’t need to hear their conversation to know he still wasn’t appeased.
“I’m sure he’ll warm to ye.” Makenna flashed Kylie a withering look at this comment, but her sister pressed on. “It was an unfortunate start … but ye just need time to get to know one another.”
Makenna cursed under her breath and took a large gulp from her cup. Meanwhile, both her sisters raised their eyebrows. Aye, it was a salty curse—one many of the guards she served alongside used regularly. Had their mother been within earshot, she’d have boxed her youngest daughter’s ears for using such language. However, Carmen was gossiping with friends a few yards distant and didn’t hear her. “He won’t ‘warm up’,” she growled. “And neither will I.”
It was fine for Kylie to make such comments. She was wed to a man who’d healed her cynical heart. She now believed in love again.
A hot and prickly sensation washed over her then. Christ’s blood. She wished she could run away from all of this, but that wasn’t her way. Her throat grew tight, and the back of her eyelids started to sting. Curse it, she’d drunk far too much wine throughout the evening. She’d done it largely to spite Mackinnon but regretted it now. The wine had brought her emotions to the surface.
Clearing her throat, she focused on the roaring bonfire once more. The piper had struck up another rousing tune, and men and women danced alongside the bairns. The scent of woodsmoke filled the night air.
Makenna wished she could enjoy it, but she couldn’t.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she silently counted to ten, mastering herself.
Drawing in a deep breath, she glanced her sisters’ way once more, to find them both frowning, concern shadowing their eyes. Her irritation toward them faded. She didn’t want them fretting over her. “Don’t fash yerselves,” she said huskily. “I shall rally.” She broke off then, dredging up a brittle smile. “And ye are right … perhaps things will improve tomorrow.”Lord, if only it were that easy. “Maybe Mackinnon and I can start again.”
5: IN YER OWN HAND
ALONE IN HIS bedchamber, Bran crossed to the leather satchels the servants had carried upstairs.
Finally.
He dug around inside one of them until he found the scroll he’d brought with him. The urge to rip it open thrummed through him. But, making himself wait, he poured himself a large cup of wine first. He’d refrained from drowning himself in the stuff during supper and the Bealtunn celebrations.
He was already close to storming from Meggernie, and it would take little to persuade him. All evening, the MacGregor clan-chief had shouted in his ear. The man had a hide like a boar too. He’d beendeliberatelyimpervious to every accusation Bran hurled his way. The man was desperate to make this alliance work; that much was clear.
Makenna hadn’t been as restrained with the wine.The lass had downed cups like an alehouse slattern. And by the time her sisters had escorted her back to the castle, her cheeks were apple-red, and she’d stumbled over her feet.
Taking a much-needed gulp of the rich, peppery wine, Bran crossed to where a log of pine smoldered in the hearth. MacGregor had given him a chamber that was comfortable enough, although right now, it felt like a cage. The urge to saddle his horse and gallop away into the night seized him once more, yet he quashed it. Mackinnons didn’t run from their enemies.
Face screwing up, he took another slug of wine. Aye, Macleans surrounded him here, and his father’s killer was sleeping under the same roof. Bran’s grip on his cup tightened. The pirate had been laughing at him tonight. Did he think him a fazart? Maybe he should challenge Rankin to a fight to the death.
Aye, that would help,he chastised himself.As if ye don’t have enough to contend with.
Of course, such behavior would just make him look rash, young and foolish—as would his continued angry outbursts. He had to change focus.
Draining the rest of his cup, Bran untied the leather tie that had been wrapped around the scroll, unfurled the parchment, and lowered himself onto a stool.
He then read the agreement his father had made with Bruce MacGregor.
It hadn’t been written by his father, for he’d have recognized Kendric Mackinnon’s spiky hand anywhere. Instead, the lettering was neater and written with care.The document outlined the force the MacGregors would bring to their aid: three twenty-oar birlinns and one hundred warriors. It had been generous—especially since Meggernie was landlocked and MacGregor had bought those birlinns especially for the campaign—but not without its price. In return, Kendric Mackinnon promised the hand of his son, Bran, to Sonia—MacGregor’s eldest daughter.
His pulse took off at a gallop.Sonia.There it was. He hadn’t been mistaken.