Page 20 of Kilted Sins

“Then why did ye claim ye will be robbed?” Thora asked, insisting on the matter. “Dae ye truly think someone might take the gold?”

Under the table, Cillian’s hands curled into fists, his nails biting into his palm, but he hardly felt the pain. Each of his senses was numbed by the anger that threatened to bubble over in front of everyone else and even as he did his best to control himself, he was certain that his thoughts were written plainly on his face. There was no hiding how he felt. There was no hiding his fury or his embarrassment at being accused of such a thing, not with the way his entire face had heated.

“I dinnae think one o’ our people will take the gold,” he said in a measured tone.

“Then dae ye think there will be intruders?” Thora asked, quick as always. “Is the castle nae guarded tae avoid just that?”

“I think perhaps what our laird is tryin’ tae say is that there is nae reason tae risk anythin’ by flauntin’ the gold,” Duncan interrupted, coming to Cillian’s rescue—though a little too late. “There is a reason why every castle keeps the gold hidden, me lady. I’m certain yer braither would be equally reluctant tae show his wealth so brazenly.”

Thora turned a sweet smile towards Duncan, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I see… I think ye may be correct. Well, then there must be even more candles!”

Thora continued to list off all her demands one by one, even recruiting Archibald into noting everything down so that nothing she requested would be forgotten, and she did so without even offering Cillian an apology. After Duncan’s interruption, the rest of the table fell into comfortable conversation, the elders talking among themselves as they enjoyed their dinner. It was only Cillian who couldn’t enjoy any of it, mechanically bringing the food to his mouth and tasting none of it as he half-listened to Thora’s commands.

Each seemed more ridiculous than the last, from the kind of food that would be served at the feast—“We simply must have French dishes!”—to the clothes the soldiers would wear—“They must look as lovely as the nobles! Dress them in purple!”

The more Cillian heard, the more his hand tightened around his fork, until he was white-knuckled and sore. Thora was mocking him. She was trying to embarrass him and anger him and provoke him until he finally broke and caused a scene in front of all the elders and all the servants, but Cillian had decided from the start of the dinner that he would not give her the satisfaction.

Once dinner was over, though, he would have plenty of things to say to her.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Enya congratulated herself silently for a job well done, and not for the first time. Angering Cillian was a much easier task than she would have thought when she first arrived in Jura, and though he still refused to send her back home, sooner or later, he was bound to reach his limit.

The dinner had been a resounding success and once it was over, Enya left the great hall with a certain smugness in her gait, every part of her filled with satisfaction. After this confrontation, she was bound to get a good night’s sleep, she thought, and she eagerly made her way to her chambers, where she could lie in bed and think about the next part of her plan.

Her joy was short-lived, though, and in retrospect, she thought she should have expected it when a hand grabbed her just as she was passing Cillian’s chambers, swiftly pulling her inside. This time, though she was once again startled, she managed to stifle her yelp of surprise, as she knew precisely to whom the hand belonged.

The moment the door was closed behind her, Enya turned to face Cillian with a sour look, hands on her hips as she took in his reddened face and furious frown. She had to admit the sight of him like this gave her a strange satisfaction, but the fact that he had once again dragged her into his rooms without warning overshadowed everything else.

“Can ye nae ask me tae talk instead o’ pullin’ me intae yer chambers?” she asked, already feeling the first prickling of blind rage in her fingers, a tingling sensation that slowly, yet steadily, spread up her arms. “I would think that even someone like ye would have the decency tae use words.”

“Would ye come if I asked ye?” Cillian asked, and Enya supposed it was a fair question. “Or would ye dae somethin’ tae anger me, like refuse tae speak tae me?”

She had no response for that, as telling the truth would mean admitting she wouldn’t, in fact, talk to him. Instead of answering, she remained silent for a few long moments, simply observing him under the soft light of the room.

In the end, she settled for, “What dae ye want?”

“I think it’s quite clear,” Cillian said. “What ye did at dinner was unacceptable.”

I truly should have kent this would happen.

Out of everything Enya had done so far to offend Cillian, this was perhaps the worst and she was well aware of that. She had questioned not only his trust in his people, but also his ability to defend the castle, and it was no surprise that it was this, more than anything else she had said about him, which had finally tipped him over the edge. In the time she had spent in MacDonald Castle, Enya had never seen him so angry before, so impossibly filled with fury that he was practically vibrating with it.

Have I pushed him too far?

But was there such a thing as too far when it came to her sister’s safety and happiness? Even now, Enya knew little about Cillian. She knew of his pedigree and she knew of the ways she could ignite his anger, but most of him was still a mystery to her—a mystery a part of her ached to solve, even as she was in a rush to get out of Jura.

Everything she was doing was for Thora’s sake. Her sister came before Cillian and so Enya was determined to push him as far as she needed to in order to save her sister from this marriage.

“I dinnae understand what ye mean,” Enya said, keeping on the most innocent and naive air she could muster. She had come to figure out that the best way to keep Cillian in a constant state of anger towards her was by feigning ignorance even now that he had confronted her about her plan. “I merely wanted tae understand why ye refused tae bring out the decorations I requested.”

“Because all the gold in the clan isnae decoration! How dae ye nae⁠—”

Cillian cut himself short, lowering his hands from where he had raised them up in the air in exasperation. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath to calm himself, but it didn’t seem to work. Even in the dim light, Enya could see the small vein in his forehead, the blood rushing to his head.

Thankfully, he was young enough that she could find it amusing. Were he a few decades older, she would fear for his health.

“I ken what ye are tryin’ tae dae,” he said. This time, the tone was level, though there was still nothing calm about him. “I’ve told ye this afore an’ I dinnae understand why ye insist on pretendin’ tae be ignorant when we both ken ye are tryin’ tae anger me on purpose.”