Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,63
who fell asleep on his watch.
Nonetheless, there was wisdom in what he suggested. If she wished to negotiate peace, she would do well to tamp down her outrage and treat him with deference.
“Fine,” she decided. “What is your condition?”
He took a deep breath and exhaled it. “I’d like a bath.”
“What?”
“I’ve been here for half a week. Before that, I was travelin’ on the road for a fortnight. I stink to high heaven. I’d like a bath.”
She hadn’t noticed. To her, he smelled like the outdoors. Of pine forests and wood smoke. For a moment, she was stunned by his curious request.
At her silence, he prompted, “Ye do take baths in the Lowlands?”
“Of course.”
A bath? Why would he request a bath? Could he intend some trickery? Some ingenious scheme for escape requiring a tub full of water?
Her hesitation amused him. “’Tisn’t too much to ask, is it? A hot bath to ensure peace between our clans?”
He’d forced her hand. But she had to conclude there was no mischief afoot. “Fine. I’ll have Bart bring up a tub this even.”
“Peace ’tis then.” He extended his right hand again.
She stared down at it a moment longer before accepting his offer. As she slipped her hand into his, she felt curious warmth, as if a coal was enclosed between their palms.
His clasp tightened. His eyes smoldered into hers. And she had a sudden misgiving about the peace they were brokering.
She no longer felt in control. Unable to resist his dark, compelling, heart-melting eyes, she was also in no hurry to withdraw from the reassuring grip of his hand. Her command was slipping away from her, moment by moment. And yet that felt deliciously dangerous.
“Aye,” she managed to murmur. “Peace.”
Yet as they continued gazing into each other’s eyes, sharing desire through the conduit of their joined hands, she felt anything but peaceful.
Colban suddenly realized the solution. It was in the rallying cry of Rivenloch. Love conquers all. The way to dispel hate was through love.
He’d told Hallie he’d fight anyone who tried to take away what was his. All the mac Giric men felt that way. The answer to peace between their clans was obvious. They needed to bind the two clans together by marriage. Find one Rivenloch lass willing to serve her clan by sacrificing herself to a mac Giric.
Colban was fairly confident the king was going to rule in Morgan’s favor. By blood and by rights, Creagor belonged to the mac Giric clan. The Laird of Rivenloch may have petitioned the king for ownership of the keep. But Rivenloch already possessed a generous holding. Indeed, too much control of the border by a single powerful clan could be seen as posing a threat to the king’s authority.
According to Ian, his parents had been expected to return three days ago. Their delay indicated trouble with the negotiations. Colban suspected they were having difficulty convincing the king to award Creagor to them.
It was tempting to think of that as a victory for the mac Girics. But Colban wasn’t so sure.
What would happen when the king failed to yield to Rivenloch’s demands? When he instead awarded the keep to Morgan?
Creagor was miles away from the throne. A vengeful Rivenloch could wreak havoc upon Morgan and make minced meat out of the mac Girics ere the king could intervene to enforce his will. Hell, they might even blame the casualties on the English.
Colban needed a way to ensure Morgan’s continuing safety at Creagor. A way to guarantee there would be no heated battle for the castle. No question of ownership. And no animosity between the clans.
The two clans needed to forge a lasting alliance. One that couldn’t be broken. One that would ensure ongoing peace for generations.
For that, the king had to be convinced that a marriage between the clans would strengthen the border alliance and keep the English at bay.
But first, he had to persuade Hallie it would be good for Rivenloch.
At the moment, she looked highly persuadable. There was a soft glow in her eyes and a yielding pressure in her hand.
But she had a streak of loyalty and willfulness in her that would always make her place the clan’s needs above her own. Her warmth would vanish in an instant if she perceived Colban as a threat to Rivenloch, if she saw him, not as a gallant diplomat, but as a coarse Highland barbarian.
Convincing her of his worth and his wisdom required him to be at his best. Responsible. Capable. Devoted. And smelling a