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“Niven, have ye seen the messenger lad named Finn?”
Niven waved at her, sporting a silly grin. “Hello, Lady Fia. Nay, I havena seen him since early this mornin’. Why do ye ask?”
“I sent him on an errand and was curious if he’d returned yet.”
“Well, what do we have here?” asked Brohain. “The little bride-to-be is all alone and lonely.” He stood and staggered since he was so drunk.
“Why dinna we keep her company tonight?” Rhodric was at her side, just as well in his cups as Brohain.
“Leave her be.” Niven stood up, but Brohain pushed him away, sending him crashing into a few knights talking by the fire.
“I’m surprised to see ye are no’ by Alastair,” said Brohain. “Perhaps he isna man enough to keep ye in his bed. How about ye try a real man like me instead?” He reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on the lips. The rancid taste of his mouth on hers almost made her retch.
“I want a kiss, too,” said Rhodric. “Or mayhap a squeeze of those perky little breasts.” He reached out with both hands to touch her. She fought back, trying to push him away.
“Leave me alone,” she cried.
Niven came to help her once again, and Brohain kicked him in the stomach and then turned back to her. “Why should Alastair have everythin’ guid?” asked Brohain. “I think we’ll help ourselves to a little taste of what the wench has to offer.”
“I think no’!” Alastair appeared behind her wearing just his plaid, no tunic or shoes. However, he did have his sword in his hand, and it was pointed right at the men. The tip of it came up, scraping the skin under Brohain’s chin. Brohain and Rhodric backed away with their hands in the air. “I should kill ye both for even thinkin’ ye could go behind my back and try to assault my bride.”
“I tried to help her, my laird,” Niven called out, bent over and holding his stomach.
“Now that my faither is dead, I see no reason to keep the two of ye in the clan any longer. Brohain and Rhodric, gather yer things and leave right now. Ye are never to set foot back in Cluny Castle, or I swear I will kill ye both, do ye understand?”
“We were just havin’ a little fun,” complained Brohain.
“Ye canna blame a man for tryin’ with a wench who looks like Fia,” added Rhodric.
“Out!” Alastair shouted, nodding and bringing over two of his men. “Earc and Fearchar will see ye to the gate. And I warn ye; I never want to see yer ugly faces again.”
“Come on,” grumbled Fearchar pulling Brohain and Rhodric to the door. Earc helped him.
Fia threw her arms around Alastair and clung to him. She had been so afraid that she was about to be raped. “Thank ye for comin’ to my rescue.”
“No bride of mine is goin’ to be roamin’ the castle while I’m sleepin’ alone in my bed. Now, I am here to take ye back to my bedchamber. I will no’ hear any objections, and that is final.”
