The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,15
the air above her knuckles. Pretty or not, he’d be giving this one a wide berth. “M’lady.” He pulled her to her feet, then quickly stepped back and put an appropriate amount of space between them.
“Well, will ye not be offering me yer arm and escorting me to the hall, Master MacCoinnich?” She inhaled deeply, expertly swelling her breasts to strain the limits of her neckline.
This situation’s requirement of mannerly behavior made his arse twitch. He was trapped. At least for now. He held out an arm, swearing to divest himself of this money-grubbing hen as soon as possible. “M’lady.”
Magnus cleared his throat. “I have duties elsewhere. I shall see the both of ye at dinner, aye?”
Sutherland glared at the cowardly bastard. “Aye, I shall speak with ye later.” He’d be having a long talk with the man about deserting him with this bosomy leech.
Lady Culane tugged on his arm. “Come, Master MacCoinnich. Shall we sit and learn more about one another over a glass of wine?”
Teeth clenched, Sutherland managed a smile and escorted the woman down the entirely too long corridor leading to the large room at the heart of the keep. As soon as they entered the massive space filled with tables and benches, he spotted Sorcha pressing a wet cloth to Heckie’s jaw as Jenny held a bowl of whatever medicinal fluid had been chosen to help the man’s injury. They were gathered in front of the largest hearth on the other side of the room. The roaring fire crackled and popped, attempting to fight the damp chill from the air as servants bustled about readying everything for the evening meal.
His heart lifted. This was his escape. “Shall we join Lady Sorcha and her friends?”
Lady Culane made a snorting noise and pulled him in the opposite direction toward a smaller, more secluded table beside one of the smaller hearths. “That would be a most definite nay. Let us sit here in privacy where we can learn more about each other, aye?”
He forced out a strained, “Aye.” After helping the cloying woman into her chair, he seated himself opposite her and waved down a passing maid. “Would ye be so kind as to fetch the lady a bit of wine?”
“And yerself, sir?” the young girl asked with a polite curtsy.
“Whisky. A bottle, if ye please.” This situation definitely called for copious amounts of whisky.
“Ye dinna care for wine?” Lady Culane asked with a flirty giggle that nearly made him gag.
“I prefer whisky or ale to wine, thank ye.”
He had been chased by a great many women in his time, but he’d found none as unappealing as this one, and it had nothing to do with her age or her appearance. She had a vermin-like hardness about her. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she could slit a sleeping man’s throat without batting an eye. He allowed his gaze to wander back to Sorcha and her friends, wishing she would look his way.
A rap on the table in front of him snapped his attention back to the female in front of him.
“’Tis rudeness itself to watch another woman whilst already in the presence of a lovely partner, ye ken?” She tried to make the scolding sound like playful teasing, but her pinched look betrayed her fury.
“Master MacCoinnich. There ye be!” boomed a great voice from across the hall. “’Tis urgent I speak with ye at once, sir.”
Thank the saints. Sutherland jumped to his feet. Belatedly, he turned back and gave an apologetic bow to the scowling Lady Culane. “Pardon me, m’lady. Chieftain Greyloch calls.”
The woman didn’t answer, but her silence cursed him loud and clear. If her glare possessed the power of fire, he would’ve been reduced to cinders. At this point, he didn’t care. At least he was free of her.
He met Sorcha’s father halfway across the hall. “Chieftain?”
Greyloch politely nodded at Lady Culane, then focused his full attention on Sutherland. “Ye mentioned returning to Tor Ruadh tomorrow, did ye not, sir?”
Sutherland mulled over his answer carefully. He and Magnus had initially planned on setting out at dawn, but that was before Sorcha had intrigued him with their delightful repartee. He’d planned on asking Magnus if he minded lengthening their stay, but that conversation had been sidelined by the collision with Lady Culane. “We had talked of leaving tomorrow,” he said, deciding to remain vague to see what the chieftain had in mind.
Greyloch pointed up at the windows on the gallery level, all of them rattling