Highland Defiance - By Sky Purington Page 0,32
it slid down her throat. Instead of talking to his men, Bruce said, “Iosbail told me who you are.”
Mildred froze with a spoonful of food halfway to her lips and looked at him. “Oh really?”
What else could she say?
His ‘too clever’ eyes had been watching her closely. Whatever he’d seen didn’t seem to turn his expression all that more sour.
“Aye.” Bruce drank deeply from his goblet then said, “You’re the daughter of a laird, lowland laird, but a laird all the same.”
Oh no. Iosbail went too far. Mildred forced the spoon to her mouth and chewed her food in what she hoped was a thoughtful manner. After swallowing the nasty bit, she gave a small smile and said, “Aye, I am.”
Bruce sat back and continued to eye her. “Are the MacLomains so high and mighty that one of their women would truly have a laird’s daughter as their second?”
Mildred took a sip from her goblet, doing her best not to choke as the burning liquid slid down her throat. With a calmer voice than she anticipated, she responded, “The Brouns are, after all, only a lowland clan.”
Bruce arched a brow in immediate resignation and shook his head. “Aye, true.”
What a flop! But she managed to keep that emotion tucked way deep down inside.
The MacLeod laird contemplated her for several long seconds before he nodded his head and stood. “Hear me, clan! I’ve something to say!”
Hundreds turned silent in an instant.
Though she tried not to, her eyes slid to Adlin. His eyes were locked firmly on Bruce, a grim expression marring his handsome features. It was almost as if he already knew what the laird would say.
A sharp chill ran down Mildred’s spine.
Bruce continued in a loud, crowd-consuming voice. “’Tis been far too long that the MacLeod’s chieftain has been without a bride. No more. Today I announce my betrothal to Mildred of the Broun clan.”
Hand on her suddenly queasy stomach, Mildred closed her eyes. Please let this be part of some wicked nightmare. When the crowd roared with approval she opened her eyes. This was no nightmare. Her eyes found Adlin. His smile was clearly forced, his frosty eyes still on Bruce. When she looked up at Bruce it was to find his eyes not on his clan but on Adlin.
It was then that Mildred realized how much danger she was in. Whether or not Bruce had believed anything she said—which she doubted—he had her now. There existed little doubt in her mind that she had any choice. After all, she hadn’t even been asked.
Frustrated, she looked Iosbail’s way only to find the woman smiling at the crowd. How dare she ignore her? She’d all but landed her here!
“What do you do, lass?” Bruce suddenly asked.
“What?” Mildred asked, thrown off by his sudden attention.
“With your finger?”
Mildred immediately pulled her hand from her mouth. She’d been biting her nail. Who could blame her.
“My laird, if I may?”
Their attention swung to Iosbail’s soft but far-reaching voice as she stood.
Bruce’s eyes narrowed but he nodded his head once.
Iosbail said, “I’d like to invite you and Mildred to be married at my husband’s, your brother’s, holding. I request the honor of the bride to travel with me.”
The hall went silent. Mildred swore she saw a dark cloud form over Bruce’s head. Her eye’s skirted briefly to Adlin only to find his eyes glued to Bruce. Meanwhile, the MacLeod’s eyes were skimming the hall, clearly gaging his clan’s response.
What was she missing?
When at last Bruce’s eyes met Iosbail’s, he offered a reluctant grunt of approval. His clan exploded with excitement. In response, the laird drained his goblet and nodded to a servant to refill. With what was obviously a frustrated movement, he sat and leaned back.
Mildred took a small sip from her drink and focused on her food. Whatever the dynamics between Bruce, Adlin and Iosbail, she knew better than to get involved. At least for now. Quite frankly, the foreign land, time and people were becoming less and less an oddity when compared with these three.
Yet she knew they all were closely tied with her destiny.
Because one way or another, her destiny was here and now.
Soon enough the food was cleared and the dancing began. Though she prayed that meant she could leave, it proved to be the furthest thing from Bruce’s mind. As the pipes trilled throughout the tall, expansive recesses of the MacLeod clan’s great hall, their laird drank down two more goblets of ale and watched the crowd with a hauntingly