The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,49
McKay Retainers turned to watch him spoke volumes about his standing within their ranks.
“I did no’ say I was,” Faolan declared.
The public agreement earned a sharp nod from Yestin. The bulk of the McKay Retainers had clustered around them, squeezing in tight to hear.
“Cora Mackenzie is wed to Buchanan,” the priest spoke up clearly. “If there are three witnesses who will swear the union is not consummated, I can perform an annulment.”
“This is not the place,” Faolan answered quickly. It was another of those instant reactions he seemed to have for matters concerning Cora. He caught a quick glimpse of her eyes widening.
“Agreed,” Yestin said. “Let us leave the dead before debating the future of the living.”
The McKays turned toward the stronghold. Faolan leaned close to Brawley. “Get the others and keep a watch on Cora.”
“I need to be at yer back, Chief,” Brawley argued in a low tone.
“Gainor will suffice.”
Brawley didn’t agree. Faolan shot the man a deadly look. “See to my woman, Brawley.”
Cora overheard him. She gasped. He reached out and hooked his arm around her body. One tug, and she tumbled against him. He pressed her words back into her mouth with his lips. Kissing her firmly while holding her in place against him.
It was wrong.
Or at least less than proper.
Faolan discovered that he simply didn’t give a damn.
*
Brawley and Clement were outside her chamber door. Cora paced as she tried to decide what to do.
Are ye hiding then?
She stopped and pondered the question.
More like are ye a scared little girl?
That thought stung her pride. Yet there was no escaping the fact that she was in her chamber in the middle of the day.
Cora turned toward the doors. If she’d been sent to the Grants to fulfill her contract, she’d have had to face up to the women of the household or suffer being nothing more than a mare.
So, she wouldn’t be hiding anymore.
“Mistress.”
She took Brawley by surprise when she opened the outer door and went past him.
“The daylight is wasting,” Cora informed him as she took to the stairs and started toward the ground floor.
“The chief charged me with seeing to yer well-being,” Brawley called after her.
By the time they made it down, the Retainer wasn’t willing to try and reason with her anymore. He leapt forward, so he could block her.
Cora propped her hands on her hips. “Faolan made it plain that I am his wife.”
Heat teased her cheeks. Brawley’s lips twitched as he recalled how his chief had kissed her so very publicly.
“So, I will be getting on with me responsibilities,” Cora said. “Yer chief will need all the support he can get, and do nae be forgetting that every one of those Retainers has women kin.”
Brawley shared a look with Clement. When the two Retainers returned their attention to her, there was something new in their eyes. It was a glitter of respect. Cora recognized it from the first night at the tower when her efforts had been noted by the small band of men banished there with Faolan.
“Right then.” She nodded with satisfaction. “Let’s find the Head-of-House.”
*
A clan didn’t always follow bloodlines when they took a new laird.
The McKay hall was packed with Retainers as word spread of Malcolm’s death. Every man would have a vote.
Faolan recalled clearly the way that vote had gone before.
Of course, the difference was there was no other clear successor. Malcolm’s senior captains were clustered together as they contemplated putting out a name to be considered against Faolan.
“The Mackenzie lass spoke wisely,” Yestin said. His voice silenced the low rumblings of the McKay. “Internal strife will weaken the McKay. We need to make a firm decision today.”
“What is the point of a vote if there is only one candidate?” one of the Retainers demanded.
“A vote tells us how many approve of our new laird,” Yestin answered. “If there is not a majority, those who disagree will be pressed to name their candidate.”
A low rumble went through the hall.
“If one of ye wants to speak against me,” Faolan said, “do it here. Do it now. I have no tolerance for dark-corner scheming.”
There were many approving nods.
“Are ye keeping Cora Mackenzie as yer wife?”
The question gave birth to another round of whispers. Faolan waited a moment before he answered.
“I have no taste for dishonesty,” Faolan said. “The union is not consummated.”
There were nods in response.
“But an alliance with the Mackenzie would be advantageous for the McKay,” Yestin remarked. “A laird must marry, and the lass is here.”