“We are the council of this clan,” McKellen threatened. But despite his attempt at a menacing stance, his voice still shook. “We will protect our people fromeverythreat, including that of a philanderin’ laird.”
Anger surged through Arthur, and his fists clenched so hard he felt his nails digging into his palms.
I wonder how fast the others could move if I ran McKellen through with the sword still strapped to me side.
CHAPTER TWO
“There ye are, me darlin’ braithers.”
A high-pitched, lilting voice sliced through the tension like a knife as Ayla breezed into the room. She beamed at her brothers, completely ignoring the councilmen who stood in the room with them.
It was only when she got closer, pulling both Arthur and Joseph into a tight hug, that Arthur noticed the tightness around her eyes and felt the tremors in her shoulders. Ayla had noticed the tension in the room and had chosen to ignore it.
“We’re dirty,” Arthur grunted, a half-hearted protest as his sister wrapped her arms around him.
“Ye’re always dirty.” She chuckled. “As long as I can remember, ye’ve always been covered in dirt or muck. Hasnae stopped me before.”
She pulled back, holding Arthur at arm’s length as she studied him. He wondered what she saw on his face, the new scars and a new level of hardness that many years of war had wrought.
Ayla dropped her arms, her eyes flicking to Joseph before she moved and wrapped her arms around him. While she was busy fawning over him, Arthur turned his attention back to the councilmen.
His anger, which just moments ago had threatened to get the better of him, had ebbed. He fixed an icy gaze on them.
“I will summon ye when ye’re needed.”
He stared the men down, daring them to say more, pouring every bit of confidence and power into his gaze that he could muster.
Thankfully, the councilmen said nothing further.
One by one, they began filing past, the swish of their kilts and the stomping of their boots on stone filling the air as they made their way toward the door.
McKellen was the only one to stall. He regarded Arthur with an openly curious expression.
What will he do when, in a week, I dinnae present a bride?
But Arthur made sure those doubts did not cross his face. His shoulders remained squared, staring back at McKellen until he finally followed the other council members and exited the castle.
The tension in Arthur’s shoulders immediately eased. But just as the sigh of relief escaped his lips, Ayla was on him again.
“Where is she? When can I meet her?” she asked, the words tumbling from her lips almost faster than he could make sense of them. “How did ye meet? Oh, I’ve dreamed of this day, of finally havin’ a sister, for so long. I bet she’s bonnie. Is she bonnie?”
Ayla stared at him, her blue eyes shining brighter than the sky. All Arthur could do was cock his head at her and give a very clear, very eloquent, “What?”
His sister’s eyebrows knitted together, and she cocked her head. “Yer bride,” she answered, her tone indicating that she thought it would be obvious.
But last time Arthur checked, he didn’t have a betrothed.
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze landing immediately on Joseph. For what it was worth, his brother looked just as confused as he was.
Joseph shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling as if to say that he was just as lost as Arthur was.
Turning his attention back to Ayla, Arthur found her still staring. Her grey eyes darted between him and Joseph, noting their confusion and staring at them as if she were trying to work out all of Heaven’s secrets.
“Ye dinnae have to pretend,” she said. But for the first time, a flicker of doubt joined the confusion written so clearly on her face. “We’ve seen the letters. We ken all about her.”
“What letters?” Arthur asked, shaking his head to clear the muddied thoughts that had taken root. “Ayla, I dinnae ken what the council was on about. There is nay bride. I’ve been at war for five years—when would I have had time to court a lass?”
It was Ayla’s turn to shake her head. “If there isnae a bride, how do ye explain these?”
