Tyra let out a little despairing cry, and stood, attempting to push past Harris.
He raised a hand and went to shove her back into her seat. “Ye’ll stay where ye are until I tell ye tae leave.”
Everyone at the table sat, momentarily frozen, save for Annora.
Annora had been watching Harris interact with Tyra for days. Whenever she spoke, he looked at her with utter contempt, as if she was far below his lofty status.
Annora had burned silently, watching Tyra become chastened, shrinking smaller into her seat with every admonishment.
Now, by God, despite his bullying, Tyra had defied Harris in front of everyone and he had reacted in exactly the way she’d expected of him. He was clearly nothing but an abusive bully who thought nothing of picking on someone who was smaller and weaker than himself.
Her cheeks were on fire as she leaped to her feet and reached for Tyra’s hand, glowering at Harris, who was red in the face now, and blustering.
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, lifting her head and raising her chin. “How dare ye speak tae the Lady Tyra in such a way.”
She trembled inside as he turned his attention to her, his scowl intensifying.
“Ye!” he bellowed. “Ye are impertinent. D’ye ne ken I am the Laird MacDonald.”
Annora stood her ground, refusing to allow this man to diminish her the way he’d done with Tyra.
“Indeed, I ken ye are a man wi’ power. ‘Tis a sorry thing that ye use that power tae browbeat and sorely disrespect women.”
He made a sound like a deep growl in his throat. “‘Tis naught tae dae wi’ ye, but it is between meself and me fiancée. I suggest ye look at yer own behavior and dinnae act the shrew with me.”
At that, to her great delight, Edmund rose, his face flushed with anger.
“Watch yer mouth, MacDonald. Laird or nae, ye should mind yer manners and ne’er speak tae a lady as ye’ve done tae the Lady Tyra and the Lady Annora.”
Her heart swelled at Edmund’s defense of them. He stood half a head taller than Harris, his chest heaving mightily, his hands curling into fists at his side.
She knew this exchange would only exacerbate the feud that bubbled between the two men like an underground stream, but she had nothing but admiration for Edmund as he drew in a breath and released it, his lips set in a grim line.
Tormod got to his feet.
“Laird Harris, ye must apologize fer yer behavior. It is nae seemly tae speak tae anyone as ye’ve done when we are assembled here, peacefully enjoying our supper.”
Harris grunted and looked around. The Elders were frowning, and Edmund had clenched fists. Tyra was quietly sobbing.
Annora slipped into the seat and clasped an arm around Tyra’s shoulders.
“Dinnae cry, lass. Ye’ve done naething wrong. ‘Tis Harris who spoke out of turn.”
Tyra said nothing but turned her face into Annora’s shoulder and clung to her hand.
Harris drew himself up and glanced down at Tyra and Annora. He grunted the words “I apologize,” to no-one in particular, threw down his fork and napkin and strode out of the hall.
Tyra rose to her feet, wiping her eyes, and made to follow him. Annora stood and laid an arm at her shoulder.
“Come, Lady Tyra,” she whispered, “Mayhap it’s best fer the Laird MacDonald tae spend some time alone so that he may let his anger subside. I shall escort ye back tae yer chamber. Ye need tae rest.” She glanced at Tormod. “Can we arrange fer supper tae be sent tae the lady’s chamber?”
Tormod was already on his feet, his face drawn with concern.
“Of course.”
Tyra was a trifle unsteady, but she mustered whatever dignity and grace she could, squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, allowing Annora to lead her toward the arched doorway.
As the lasses departed from the hall, Annora heard the rumbling of shocked conversation.
