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Sorcha was wearing a plaid. The MacLean plaid. Alex’s clan’s plaid.
Beside him came a strangled cry, but when he looked to his sister, her face was a mask of indifference. Still, he noted her pulse beating furiously in her neck, just as his was beating within him. Alex deposited Sorcha at a table where there was an empty seat beside Broch, who looked only too eager to have her near him, and with a lingering parting glance, Alex made his way to the dais and took the seat beside Lena.
Cameron inhaled a long steadying breath before leaning forward to address Alex. “Why is Sorcha wearing yer plaid?” The words came out calm, though he felt anything but.
Alex, too perceptive for Cameron’s liking, narrowed his dark eyes upon Cameron. “I could tell she was feeling as if she dunnae belong, and I had the means to make her feel like part of a clan until she remembers her own. So I did.”
“Did ye nae consider how this would seem to others? To the king?” Cameron growled.
“And how does it seem?” Alex snapped.
“It seems ye declared for her,” Lena said in a low voice before Cameron could answer.
“Aye, it does,” Lachlan agreed, sounding happy about it.
Anger flooded Cameron’s veins. He was sure Lachlan was thinking if Alex declared for Sorcha that would end his need to worry about Cameron and Eolande’s prophecy.
Cameron turned to glare at Lachlan, and as he did, Alex spoke. “And if I did?” he asked, looking directly at Lena. “Would it matter to anyone sitting on this dais?”
“Nae to me, though why ye would declare for a woman who may well be treacherous does baffle the mind,” Lena promptly answered. But as she quickly reached for her goblet of wine, Cameron saw that his sister’s hand was shaking. He frowned. Did she truly care for Alex? His gut hollowed at the thought of what his sister had been through and how it continued to affect her, even after her husband’s death. He wanted to shield her from things that hurt her, but he could not allow her to be cruel to Sorcha. Yet he feared she may feel he was being disloyal to her if he defended Sorcha from her. It was a problem he needed to solve, but now was not the time.
“I’m glad to ken it dunnae bother ye,” Alex muttered, bringing Cameron’s attention fully back to him.
“The king has designs for her,” Cameron said between clenched teeth.
Alex leaned forward once more to look at Cameron. “If I wished to make the lass mine, I would find a way to change the king’s designs, but as it stands, I was simply being kind to her. Nae one MacLeod offered to extend a branch of belonging to a lass who is floating in a sea of lost memories, so I did it. Do ye have a quarrel with that?”
“I dunnae,” Lachlan replied in that same annoying happy tone.
Cameron ground his teeth. Yes, devil take it, he had a quarrel with that! If Sorcha was going to wear any plaid, it would be a MacLeod plaid!
“Nay,” Cameron bit out instead, shoving food in his mouth to avoid further conversation about the plaid and Sorcha. As he ate, all he could think upon were Alex’s words regarding the king and finding a way to change the king’s intentions for Sorcha. What if there was a way to persuade the king in his choice of who he married her to? What if—
Cameron cut the thought off. What was he doing? He was sitting here looking for ways to possibly, what? Allow himself to claim her if he wished it? He had to quit this line of thinking. It was dangerous.
“Sorcha is the second-best archer I have ever seen,” Alex said, breaking the rather tense silence that had descended upon the dais.
Alex’s praise for Sorcha irritated Cameron, though he knew he was being unreasonable. The man could pay Sorcha a compliment if he wished it.
“Who is the best archer ye’ve ever seen?” Lachlan asked.
Alex tilted his head toward Cameron. “The two of them are oddly matched in their superior skills in dagger throwing and archery.” Alex shrugged. “I told her I’d work with her tomorrow again, but in truth, the lass taught me a few things today. To me, it seems wiser if ye work with her, Cameron. Ye’re the only one who could do anything to improve her already impressive skills.”
“I think that’s an outstanding idea,” Marion agreed, her gaze landing on Alex and then on Cameron.
“I dunnae,” Lachlan said. His words earned him a poke in the side from Bridgette.
“I agree with Marion,” Bridgette said. “If the goal is to ensure she has the skills to defend herself in the hunt for the killers, don’t ye want to work with her yerself, Cameron, and give her the best chance of survival?”
He did want to work with her—too damn much—which was why he should not, but Bridgette and Alex had good points. By choosing to stay away from her, he could possibly put her at a disadvantage, not to mention that he had to prove to himself and his brothers that he had the self-control to train her without falling under her spell. “I’ll work with her tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” Alex said. “I’ll train with ye, Lachlan, if ye can abide it?”
“We can all train together,” Lachlan said, giving Cameron a stern look.
Cameron’s felt his anger rising. His brother clearly thought him weak. “I dunnae need ye watching over me as I train,” he bit out, shoving away from the table just as music started to fill the great hall.
Tables were quickly moved to the sides to make room for dancing, and Cameron, seeing Angus, Neil, and Neil’s wife standing with Alanna at the wall by the door, made his way to them. He greeted the others, then asked Alanna, “How fares Rory Mac today?”
