Bride of Ice (The Warrior Daughters of Rivenloch #2) - Glynnis Campbell Page 0,88
woman making her way over. She must be Hallie’s mother, Deirdre, the Laird of Rivenloch.
She was tall and commanding, almost as beautiful as Hallie, with the same piercing sky blue eyes and fair hair, though her golden strands were shot through with threads of silver.
“This is him?” She swept him with a swift but thorough scrutiny, as if she were sizing up a pig for butchering.
“Aye,” her husband replied.
“He’ll do.”
He’ll do? What did that mean?
Gellir sighed and addressed his mother. “The negotiations were unsuccessful?”
“What?” she asked absently, her attention elsewhere. “Not that one! ’Tis cracked!” she shouted to a squire pulling a shield from the wall. She pointed to another. “Try that one!”
“The negotiations with the mac Giric,” Gellir repeated. “They failed?”
“Failed?” she asked, mildly irritated at the interruption. “Nay.”
Gellir and Colban exchanged puzzled glances. Then he asked the question they both wanted to know. “Then why are we going to war with the Highlanders?”
She frowned. “Rauve!” she called out to the burly guard. “Who’s assembling the archers?”
Pagan shook his head and gave his wife a gentle nudge toward the soldiers, where she was most needed. “Go!” Then he turned to Gellir. “Now what did you want to know, son?”
Colban answered. “Why are ye attackin’ Creagor?”
Pagan blinked. “We’re not attacking her. We’re defending her.”
“Against my clan?” he asked.
“Your clan?” Pagan smirked. “Nay. Against the English.”
Colban felt like Pagan had smacked him on the back of his head and rattled his brain.
Gellir sheathed his dagger. “I guess I won’t be needing this after all.”
“The English?” Colban echoed woodenly.
“Aye,” said another nobleman who joined them, his mouth curving up into a mischievous grin. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them? They’re a gang of troublesome folk that live just the other side of the border.”
“Colin!” A woman with thick honey hair and a smoky gaze thumped the man on his chest. “Don’t tease the man. ’Tis his clan they’re after, and our Jenefer’s in danger.”
Jenefer. The fiery lass who’d been fighting naked in the moonlight with Morgan. So she was still Morgan’s hostage.
And Creagor was under siege.
Colban’s confused thoughts finally resolved into sharp focus.
Bloody hell. The English were after Creagor.
His heart turned to stone.
Morgan was no match for the English, who had armies of thousands. Not with a bare bones retinue. Few provisions. And no experience fighting foreigners.
“Take heart, Highlander,” said another nobleman, giving him a friendly wink and clapping him on the back. “The warriors of Rivenloch never lose.”
A small, dark-haired woman beside him said softly, “Thank goodness, our clever Feiyan escaped in time to alert us.”
These were the parents of the lass who’d tried to kill him? Strange. They seemed too kind to have raised such a bloodthirsty daughter.
“You!” Laird Deirdre barked, tossing a coat of chain mail at Colban and almost knocking him down. “This should fit.”
He frowned down at it.
Rauve pushed his way forward, thrusting a shield at Colban. “Well, what are you waiting for, lad? Are you coming or not?”
This wasn’t a skirmish between clans.
It was a war between countries.
They would be fighting on the same side.
“Fetch me my claymore,” he ground out.
Chapter 30
A battle was just what Hallie needed. It gave her something to focus on. Something other than the loss of the Highlander she’d begun to love. Something besides her bleak future with a stranger. There was nothing like clashing with the enemy to exorcise the frustration from one’s soul.
Though she knew there was little chance the skirmish with the English would come to Rivenloch, her responsibility in times of war had always been to prepare the castle for attack.
Brand was old enough now to take command of the keep. But she needed to leave it in the best possible shape for siege when the army left and he was in charge.
So she surveyed the great hall from atop a trestle table, directing the castle folk as they brought the livestock within the castle gates and the foodstuffs into the keep.
The clan executed the defenses with expert care, weaving between one another as smoothly as warp and weft on a loom.
Only one anomaly—Isabel skulking about the great hall—caused Hallie concern. The lass had never exactly promised to keep the indiscretion between Hallie and Colban secret. And she seemed to be seeking an audience with anyone who would listen.
Of course, that was the least of Hallie’s concerns at the moment. It had been a long while since anyone had dared cross the Rivenloch clan. She hoped her combat skills hadn’t grown rusty.