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“We’re all right, Faither,” Olivia said, skirting Ó Riagáin to go to him. “We’re unharmed.”
Anger and worry still rested on his face, but Niel stepped away. “Ye must understand, Olivia is the only daughter, me only close family. If those men had harmed her, I would have tracked them down and slaughtered them one by one.”
Ó Riagáin rested his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, “Ye needn’t worry, McKoy, yer daughter handled herself quite well in the skirmish, as best as one of me men, I’d say.”
One of the elders cleared his throat. “Pardon?”
Turning to them, Ó Riagáin told them about the ambush and how Olivia had fought like the best of them. The more he spoke, the more Oliva wanted to step forward and hold her head high even though the urge to shrink away and hide rested heavily on her chest—but she kept still by his side. At the end of his recount, she felt half of the elders staring at her while the other half were stone-faced.
Do I dare hope some of them are more agreeable to me now?
A man stood, reached for his cane and came to her side. He took her hand in his wizened one, “Welcome, lass, I am heartened to ken ye have looked away from the feud we had in the past and can defend one of ours.”
“Thank ye—”
“Elder Aengus,” Ó Riagáin supplied.
“Thank ye, Elder Aengus,” Olivia replied, relieved.
A few other elders gave their appreciation but others held their reserve and Olivia found no issue with that. After all, she was the daughter of an enemy clan, ordered to marry into theirs—she expected it would take some time and many acts of fealty to her new husband for them to change. It would not happen overnight.
“Hmph,” another man said, as he came closer, his dark eyes boring into hers. “When that dratted king sent that order, I’d had a mind to go see him in his castle and ask him what sort of fool he was. But I just might be changing me mind.”
“This is Elder Sionn O’Bernei,” Ó Riagáin said, his eyes darting to her and then back to the older man. “He is me closest advisor.”
“Pleased to meet ye,” Olivia said quietly.
“Shall we eat then?” Ó Riagáin looked around the room and at their assenting nods, he then ordered a footman to tell the kitchens. “McKoy, ye are free to stay if ye wish?”
“I—” her father looked around the room and from the reticence on his face, it was clear he was going to decline, “—another time, Ó Riagáin. An’ I apologize for the abrupt disturbance. Olivia, take care, lass.”
With a nod, he left the room, and Olivia felt more than saw the tension began to abate. The footmen came with trays of food, loaves of flaky brown and white breads and bannocks, smoked beef, and fowl with stewed mutton meat pies. Olivia kept quiet and ate, preferring to observe than speak.
She saw how the blind elder did not need help to eat, using her knives without any difficulty, just as she saw two of them whispering to each other while shooting disgusted looks at her—she acted as if she had not seen them. Ó Riagáin spoke mostly to Elder O’Bernei, but he answered any question anyone else had for him.
With the meal ended, Olivia believed she would be free to leave without any more uneasiness or tension, but as she stood to leave, a lone man who had never spoken before, glared.
“And what are ye going to do about our Laird’s missing maither and sister? Are ye going to convince yer traitorous faither to give them up?”
Stunned, Oliva found her mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. She had to say something—as the expectant looks trained on her body urged her—but what? What could she say that wouldn’t be thrown back in her face?
Chapter 4
“Elder Balloch!” Ó Riagáin said, standing. “With all due respect, ye cannae—”
“It’s all right,” Olivia said calmly, resting a hand on his tense arm—and an unexpected shudder ran through him. “I’ll answer. Sir, while I ken about the suspicion that me faither or me clansmen had taken his lairdship’s kin, I assure ye, we had nay hand in it.”
The man snorted, “So ye ken who did it then?”
“Sadly, nay,” Olivia said calmly, her tone even. “But me faither and I have assured Laird Ó Riagáin that we will assist him in finding his family, nay matter what.”
She knew her words rang light with little to no comfort at all, but it was all she could offer. Before anyone said another word, Ó Riagáin turned her to the door. “Go to yer rooms, lass. I’ll be along shortly.”
His order was clear, but Olivia still hesitated, uneasy to leave him in such a tense—possibly volatile—setting, but Ó Riagáin’s golden eyes narrowed a touch and she bowed out. “Good day.”
Hurrying out, she headed to her room, forcing herself not to stop and turn back. Ó Riagáin knew his people more than she did—if anyone could get them to understand it would be him. She arrived at her chamber and tugged her hair free. When the locks cascaded over her shoulders, she began to pace. It was odd that was fretting about a man she hardly knew but she found herself doing so anyhow.
It was a cruel thing that had happened to his mother and sister, but she was assured her father and her clan had nothing to do with it. Finally, she found a chair and slumped into it, nibbling a corner of her bottom lip.
