The Bard (Highland Heroes #5) - Maeve Greyson Page 0,9

nod.

“Master MacCoinnich?” Sutherland took her hand and kissed it, peeking up at her with a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Not Master MacCoinnich, m’lady. Not after the kiss we shared. I beg ye call me Sutherland so I might replay the sound of ye saying my name in my dreams.”

“Take care, Sutherland,” Sorcha warned. “Ye’ll have me searching for my boots again to wade through such empty flattery.”

He rumbled out a deep laugh, all the while maintaining a hold on her fingers. “As ye wish, m’lady.” He kissed her hand again and released it with what appeared to be certain reluctance. “Let there be only genuine conversation between us, agreed?”

“Agreed,” Sorcha said, clasping her hands together to savor the feel of his touch. Belatedly remembering her manners, she inclined her head toward her friend. “Ye remember Mistress Jenny?”

“Aye.” Sutherland gave a polite nod, then motioned Magnus forward. “Ye met Magnus de Gray during our last visit to Castle Greyloch, did ye not?” he asked Jenny.

“Aye, I did.” Jenny bounced a quick curtsy. “’Tis good to see ye both again. Will ye be staying long this visit?”

“That depends,” Sutherland said with a look that sent more thrilling heat through Sorcha.

“On the weather?” Sorcha supplied, determined to appear polite but nothing more.

“Aye, dear ladies,” Magnus interjected with a glance toward the window. He shot a pointed look at Sutherland, then turned back to Sorcha and Jenny. “The weather and the preparation of the documents by yer clan’s solicitor.”

“I shall be certain the solicitor knows their importance over any other matters at hand.” She maintained a detached air. Sutherland needed to think she would like him out of the keep as quickly as possible.

“No hurry, m’lady,” Sutherland assured her. He moved closer. “No hurry at all.”

“Did ye get to see the chapel yet?” Jenny asked like a child excited to show off a new plaything. “It wasna quite finished when last ye were here.”

“I, for one, would love to see the chapel.” With a gallant nod, Sutherland offered his arm to Sorcha. “M’lady?”

Jenny gave Sorcha a look she understood all too well. Jenny planned to lure Magnus away, then Sorcha and Sutherland would have the chapel all to themselves. What better place to plant the seeds for future matrimony?

Magnus held out his arm to Jenny. She accepted it with a giddy smile, then pulled him forward and took the lead.

“Did yer father not say he built the chapel in honor of yer mother?” Sutherland asked as they followed.

He remembered. Womanizer or not, the man had remembered what her father had told him a year ago about the elaborate structure he had ordered built around her mother’s tomb. Sorcha nodded. “Aye. The cornerstones were placed just three days after she was laid to rest.”

“I am sorry about yer mother’s loss,” he said in a tone she had never heard him use before. The man sounded genuine. All his flirtatious pomp had disappeared. Left in its place was the kindness of a concerned friend.

“Thank…ye.” This newest tactic caught her off guard. She knew how to counter the empty words and fawning gestures of a rogue. But kindness and caring could be deadly to any counter moves she possessed in her arsenal.

“Forgive me if I’ve upset ye,” he hurried to say. “Yer father still seems quite filled with grief as well.”

“Their love was rare and strong,” she said quietly. “Even now, he struggles without her at his side.” She quickened their pace as they entered the long covered corridor leading to the massive chapel behind the keep itself.

Most clan chapels were modest, dwarfed in size compared to other structures in the collection of buildings usually found within a fortress’s walls. Not Castle Greyloch’s chapel. More a cathedral than a small structure for worship, its vaulted roof rivaled the height of the keep itself. It was a wonder the building had been completed in two years. The place stood as a true testament to just how much the clan loved their chieftain and his lady.

“Majestic,” Sutherland said in a hushed tone once they stood inside the nave.

The place smelled of holiness, peace, and hope. The lingering fragrance of the incense the priest burned added to the reverent air. A quietness stood guard like a gathering of unseen angels. The waning sunlight of the early spring day struggled to filter through the stained glass windows, casting a rainbow of colors across the polished floor. The windows had cost the clan dearly, but they had borne it without complaint,