Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends #1.5)(39)

“Nay,” Iain interjected. “She speaks the truth.”

Robert laughed and tugged Susanna up. “Come, Susanna, I want to dance with my bride.”

She stood into the strong grip of his arms. His captivating scent wrapped around her as she looked up into his eyes.

Such a strange thing, to be held by a man.

Dark and more deadly than any man she’d known, Robert’s very existence made her wonder at the quick turn of recent events. How could Mama not have told her that some men were capable of kindness and love? Had Mama’s papa been a tyrant, too? Had she never known of a man like Robert? Surely she couldn’t have, else she would’ve mentioned the difference.

As Robert pulled her toward the center of the wooden floor, a piercing crash echoed from beyond the room. They all turned toward the kitchen as another loud clang, a resounding clatter, and a tinkling smash echoed out from beyond the shadowed doorway.

Five people burst from the kitchen, fleeing in various directions.

“Oh, hell,” Isobel said loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Iain scowled and sprang up from the bench, glaring at the commotion, but Isobel laid a hand on his forearm to stop him, imperceptibly shaking her head.

Something smaller shattered, its sound half that of the one before. Susanna tore her eyes from the direction of the disturbance and stared at Iain and Isobel, who apparently knew the reason for all the destruction.

The deafening crash of a much larger object rang out from the kitchen, and the musicians finally stopped playing, all conversations ceasing.

“I guess she couldn’t leave it alone,” Isobel muttered, her tone somber.

“You lied!” Brigid’s shouted accusation came from the unseen battlefield of the kitchen followed by her growl of frustration that escalated to a high-pitched scream.

Suddenly, a shiny object spiraled into the room and smashed into the stone wall beside the Christmas tree, shattering into tiny glittering fragments before they rained down in sparkles. A low-timbered, masculine voice rumbled from the vicinity of the battle, but the words were indecipherable. Susanna swallowed hard, trepidation quickening her heart, her mind racing over the distraught Brigid and the man at the root of her anguish.

Robert pushed Susanna back with an extended arm, moving them both away from the danger. A large platter sailed through the air and hit the same exact spot before it too exploded into pieces.

“She has superb aim,” Robert remarked.

Susanna snorted, more from nervousness than amusement. She’d never seen a woman more enraged, other than herself.

Another growl from the kitchen turned into shouted unintelligible words. More crashing and shattering happened for an extended period of time to a completely silent great hall.

Robert’s gaze flew to Iain, and he took a step toward his laird. Susanna surmised Robert’s first instinct was to protect his clan, even if it was from one another.

Iain shook his head, setting his jaw and clenching it. “My furious sister seems to have broken every piece of glass we’ve acquired.”

Robert stayed his action, waiting. Everyone else did the same. With the tension in the great hall growing nearly as thick as the battle in the kitchen, no one dared utter a word.

Brigid burst from the kitchen, her copper hair flying in a blaze around her head as she rushed through the room in a blur. The standing crowd shrank out of her way, parting out of instinct and self-preservation.

Fast on her heels, the dark angel stormed after her, his scowl far surpassing the one Brigid wore. The glare in his shining eyes threatened to set the rest of the world on fire. Susanna had no doubt he could.

Beside Robert, Father John stepped forward, far too close to the path of danger. The man of God gaped at the dark, winged creature as if he confronted a hound from hell, and he crossed himself. Twice.

Skorpius glared at Father John as he passed him, those astounding black wings arching up higher. “Not. One. Word. Priest.”

The angel shot a searing look Robert’s direction, as if Robert would be the next to challenge him, and Susanna swore she felt the scorching heat of the creature’s glare. Robert, however, remained where he stood, unflinching.

Skorpius never broke stride. His arrival and departure happened in a few of the rapid heartbeats that thundered in Susanna’s ears.

Total silence lingered in the wake of the mayhem. No one moved.

Susanna realized she’d forgotten to breathe and sucked in a lungful of air. At witnessing another woman suffer at the hands of a man, a cold familiar fear licked up into her heart, freezing all the warmth until a chill racked through her body.

Iain addressed the priest in a surprisingly calm tone from where he remained at the table. “Pray for us, Father. Pray our dear Brigid doesn’t kill that angel before I’ve had a chance to. And pray to God Brigid dinna toss the silver plates and goblets into the ovens.”

Isobel burst into laughter, along with the room. The tension-filled crowd needed the unexpected release. The humor didn’t reach Susanna, though. She did her best to breathe through her escalating terror.

“Iain, help me up. I’m going after her,” Isobel said.

“The hell you are,” he growled.

Isobel patted his arm as she rose, and Iain helped her in spite of his crass reply.

“Iain, I’ll be fine. This isn’t a dark back alley in Los Angeles. It’s our home. That isn’t a hardened criminal going to jump me. It’s Skorpius. Remember, he saved your life and this clan. Do find a way to have confidence in my judgment.”