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“How foggy?” Drostan crossed his considerable arms and cast a hard stare to the outsider.
“I… compromised her.” He threw without preamble. “Thoroughly.”
Lachlan, the youngest and with the shortest temper, came on to Taran and grabbed his shirt collar. “You stained her with your filthy McDougal paws?” He shook the giant.
McDougal did not move as his gaze took the other man fully. Neither would back down from a fight.
“Ease.” Drostan intervened.
Both men did not move for several seconds until Lachlan decided to listen to his elder brother, released the fabric, concrete face, and paced back to his corner.
“You ravished her?” Wallace, until then calm, acquired a livid posture.
He was unable to undo the sardonic expression covering his face, despite the tension in the room. “I would object as to who ravished who, Laird McKendrick.” He said cautiously. “Though I prefer to keep my silence.”
A glance at Aileen showed her face bright red with a thunderous goggle at him.
“Aileen?” Came Lachlan.
She turned serious to her brother. “Nobody forced me to do anything, if that is what you are asking.” Taran admired her directness and honesty, even in dire circumstances.
“We went before the priest.” Taran made a point to say quickly. “She said no.”
“Excuse me?” Drostan frowned at Aileen.
She shrugged dismissive. “The priest wanted me to promise to obey him!”
The four McKendrick men sprouted a mocking stance.
“Weird idea.” Fingal, eyes low mimicking comprehension.
“What a calamity.” Lachlan shook his head feigning inconformity.
“Unthinkable.” Scorned Drostan.
Taran eyed each brother together with the hidden smile on her father’s mouth. And thought he and his future in-laws would get along nicely.
Like a house on fire.
“That bad, is it?” McDougal completed.
“You have no idea.” Fingal.
“I believe I do.” He returned.
Witnessing their conversation in such tones, Aileen made no secret of her disapproval. “Will you stop this fellowship of the brutes?” The witch asked vexed.
To avoid her rising wrath, the five men struggled into a grave appearance.
“There is no turning back, Aleen.” Wallace sobered. “You must marry The McDougal.”
Mahogany irises wide, she glared each brother as if seeking an ally to counter it. None found.
When they focused on Taran, his brows arched, challenging her to go against five.
To which challenge she rose. “You cannot be serious.” She hissed.
“We are.” Drostan emitted stonily.
