Page 125 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

Roy sat beside Donaldina at the high table as conversation grew louder around them. Guests who had spent the afternoon measuring every word now laughed with their heads thrown back. Warriors challenged one another to drinking contests. Several younger clansmen had already begun a dance near the lower hearth, though none seemed certain of the proper steps.

Donaldina watched them with amusement.

“The MacIvers dance as though fighting invisible opponents,” she observed.

“They are cautious men.”

“One just struck his cousin in the mouth.”

“He may have seen something.”

Her laugh was soft, but Roy felt it beneath his ribs.

They remained seated only briefly. Guests came to greet them, offer blessings and ask questions disguised as compliments. Roy endured discussions of grazing routes, coastal levies and the remarkable speed with which Dun Ard’s defenses had improved since his arrival.

Donaldina received more attention. That should not have surprised him. She drew people without seeking to. Her authority did not lessen the warmth of her conversation, and her intelligence made even idle remarks feel worthy of consideration. Young lairds who might have dismissed another woman’s political judgment listened when she spoke.

Eòghan of Glen Torra approached while Roy was answering an elder’s question concerning the northern road. By the time Roy turned back, the young laird stood beside Donaldina with a cup in one hand and an expression of practiced charm upon his face.

“Me faither spoke often of yer brother,” Eòghan was saying. “He claimed Lachlan could drink three men beneath the table and still remember every word spoken in council.”

“He remembered the words,” Donaldina replied. “Whether he understood them after three cups was another matter.”

Eòghan laughed. Roy disliked the sound immediately.

“It is fortunate Dun Ard retains someone with a clearer head,” the young laird said.

His gaze rested upon Donaldina. Roy set down his cup. The elder beside him continued speaking, but Roy no longer heard the words.

Donaldina looked toward him.

Eòghan followed her gaze. “Laird MacIver, we were discussing whether Lady Donaldina inherited her brother’s tolerance for drink.”

“Ye appear determined tae discover it,” Roy replied.

The young man’s smile faltered.

Donaldina lifted her cup. “I have had half of this since the music began.”

“Wise,” Eòghan said. “A bride should remember the evening before her wedding.”

Roy’s fingers tightened once against the edge of the table. Donaldina noticed that as well.

“I assure ye,” she told Eòghan, “there is little danger of me forgetting it.”

Another guest called the young laird’s name. He bowed and allowed himself to be drawn toward the musicians.

Roy watched him leave. Her eyes warmed with amusement.

“Would ye have him searched for weapons?” she asked playfully.

“He carries several upon his person already.”

“His sword?”

“His vanity.”

Donaldina turned away, but not before Roy saw her smile.