announced, his voice brooking no argument. "They will be fair and good."
Munro glared at him. "What do you know of cattle dealing?"
"I know more than you suspect."
Striding up to the table, Jamie nodded to Lady Juliana, then poured himself a healthy measure of ale, draining it in one long draw before setting down the cup with a loud clack .
He dragged the back of his hand over his mouth, his gaze fixed firmly on his father.
His bride looked far too fetching in the soft glow cast by the well-doing dais fire and he couldn't allow such a tempting distraction - not with the image of that dread wet plaid looming in his mind.
But he did wish to distract his father. Only so could he squeeze more than rants, splutters, and snorts out of the man.
So he took a seat, snitching a bit of cheese from a platter and tossing it to Cuillin. Then he got comfortable and launched his assault.
"Anyone who can afford blazing log fires in every hearth can also allow a bit of openhandedness when selling cattle to a long-time ally."
Just as he'd expected, his father tightened his lips and frowned at him. And said not a word.
"I hope, too," Jamie went on, circling a finger around the rim of his ale cup, "that you've laid an equally fine fire in your bedchamber? It's a chill night and I wouldn't want you catching an ague."
Munro gripped the table edge and leaned forward. "Since I willna be sleeping in that room again, there's no danger of me taking ill there."
Gesturing for Morag to replenish his ale, he sat back in his throne-like laird's chair and treated Jamie to a rare smile.
A smug smile.
Tight-lipped and defiant.
"Indeed," he continued, his self-pleased stare still riveted on Jamie, "I just decided I shall sleep in your chamber. You can have mine."
Refusing to be baited, Jamie didn't even blink. "As you will. Truth be told, I am much relieved as I'd heard you'd meant to make your bed in the hall and I would not have allowed that. Too many men spread their pallets here and I'd not see your night's rest disturbed."
Not when one amongst those men might wear two faces.
And a sopping wet plaid.
Sure of it, Jamie reached across the table, laid strong fingers atop his father's age-spotted hand. "Tell me," he said, speaking low, "when Neill came to you this last time, was he swathed in his burial shroud or wearing his plaid?"
"His plaid, you buffoon!" Munro snapped, yanking back his hand. "His drenched and dripping plaid." He twisted around and shot a glare at Morag. "As everyone in this hall knows!"
"Then I shall offer him a new and dry one if he dares make a repeat visit," Jamie declared, bracing himself for his da's next outburst. "And you shall indeed quarter in my bedchamber. You and two trusted guardsman."
"'Two trusted guardsmen'!" Munro mimicked, glancing around. "There's not a soul under the heavens can hold back a flood once the waters start rushing. I near drowned in my bed, and no muscle-armed, smirking guardsmen woulda been able to help me had the waters not receded when they did."
"But such treacherous waters as the Garbh Uisge can be rendered harmless if one avoids them." Lady Juliana picked up a platter of jam-filled wafers, setting it in front of Munro, but turning a sharp eye on Jamie. "There are many who would sleep with greater ease if you vowed to avoid the Rough Waters," she said, something in her expression making Jamie tense.
"Trust me," he said, "I've no wish to go there. If e'er an ill wind blew through these hills, that's where it is. But I do mean to examine the damaged footbridge,"
he added, feeling every eye at the high table upon him. "The bridge will have to be repaired."
"That devil-damned monstrosity canna be repaired," Munro grumbled, and bit into a wafer. "I've sent every last bit of it to the flames o' hell where it belongs!"
"'The flames o' hell'?" Jamie exchanged glances with Aveline, but she looked equally perplexed.
"Och, aye. Straight to Lucifer himself," Munro snipped, reaching for a second wafer.
"He means he's burned it," Beardie gibed, elbowing his way through the throng.
"The whole footbridge. Every last piece."
Burned it. Every last piece.
The words circled in Jamie's head, an unpleasant inkling taking seed as Beardie came closer and the red, pulsing glow from the dais fire edged his great, bumbling form.
Jamie looked from his cousin to his father and back again. "Dinna