Page 72 of The Laird’s Sinful Claim

David forced himself to circulate through the celebration, accepting congratulations and making conversation with clan elders who wanted to discuss trade agreements and harvest yields and a dozen other topics he couldn't quite focus on.

His attention kept drifting back to Elinor. She was near the garden entrance, speaking with a group of women who seemed to be offering her advice about something based on the animated gestures.

She looked happy. Engaged. Like she belonged there.

Like she was home.

The thought had barely formed when David noticed four men approaching her. They moved with the confidence of warriors, and something about the way they walked made him look closer.

They had Elinor surrounded now, their backs to him, and she was laughing at something one of them said.

David was moving before conscious thought caught up with action. He crossed the hall in long strides, his hand going automatically to where his dirk would normally rest—except he'd left it in their chambers because one didn't wear weapons to one's own celebration.

"Step back," he said as he reached the group, his voice carrying the full authority of a laird who'd just seen a threat to what was his.

The four men turned as one, and David found himself face to face with⁠—

"Euan?"

Euan MacLeod stood there, his scarred face breaking into a wide grin.

"What—" David's brain struggled to process. "What are ye daein' here?"

"What daes it look like?" Calum MacKinnon stepped forward, pulling David into a rough embrace. "We came fer yer celebration, ye daft bastard. Did ye really think we'd miss it?"

"But how did ye ken? I didnae even send an invitation."

"Word travels fast in the Highlands." Archibald MacRae clasped his shoulder. "Especially when a Covenant braither suddenly gets married."

"Aye." Lachlann MacNeil was grinning. "We heard ye'd taken an English bride and decided we had tae meet her. See what kind of woman finally convinced David MacDonald tae settle down."

David looked at Elinor, who was watching this reunion with obvious confusion. "These are⁠—"

"Your brothers from the Covenant," she finished. "Yes, they explained. Though I have to say, I'm still not entirely clear on what that means."

"It means," Euan said, his tone gentling as he addressed her, "that these four fools and I have been braithers in everything but blood since we were bairns. We grew up taegether. Trained taegether. Survived things taegether that should have killed us." He bowed formally. "It's an honor tae meet ye, Lady MacDonald. Any woman who can capture David's heart deserves our respect."

"I'm not sure I captured anything," Elinor said, but she was smiling.

He moved to Elinor's side, his hand finding the small of her back automatically. "Elinor, I apologize fer nae introducin' ye properly. These are me braithers. Euan MacLeod, Laird of Clan MacLeod." He gestured to each in turn. "Calum MacKinnon, Laird of Clan MacKinnon. Archibald MacRae, Laird of Clan MacRae. And Lachlann MacNeil Laird of Clan MacNeil."

"It's wonderful to meet you all," Elinor said warmly. "David's told me about the Covenant. About how you all grew up together."

"Has he now." Euan's eyes never left David's face. "I wonder what else he's told ye."

"Not nearly enough, I suspect." But Elinor's tone was light. "Though I'm hoping you might fill in some gaps. What was he like as a child?"

"Stubborn," Calum said immediately.

"Serious," Archibald added.

"Always thinkin' he kent best," Lachlann finished.

"So exactly the same as he is now." Elinor smiled. "That's oddly comforting."

They all laughed, and some of the tension eased. David caught Euan's eye, saw the promise of a conversation—probably an interrogation—to come later.

But for now, for this moment, his brothers were here. His wife was safe and smiling. And the celebration continued around them.