Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(78)

Men who had risen to join the fight suddenly sat down, unsure of what was happening.

“I am dissolving this union,” William stated.

“No, Father,” Rolfe replied respectfully. “I owe ye many duties, but I have given me word, in the presence of God. If ye insist, I will leave with me wife.”

William was silent for a long moment. “Clearly, ye need time to think the matter through. Properly. I will see ye at supper.”

Rolfe tugged on the corner of his bonnet as his father stood and retired to his private study. Adwin came up beside him.

“That went rather as I expected it might,” the captain muttered.

“Aye,” Rolfe agreed, not caring for how easily his father had named Katherine a witch. For himself, he didn’t care at all, but he’d be a fool to dismiss how many did take such things to heart.

“What are ye thinking, lad?” Adwin knew him well—too well—because the captain recognized the look in Rolfe’s eyes.

“I’m thinking MacPherson land might be the only safe place for Katherine if me own father is going to go so far as to name her a witch.”

“Anything else we can weather,” Adwin responded.

“But no’ witchery,” Rolfe admitted.

And that tore him nearly in two, because he knew he’d do what he had to in order to protect her.

*

“Ye are going to lose this argument.”

Niul waited for his brother to finish snorting before he came farther into the room. William’s study was draped in tapestries, most of them having come with brides who quickly learned that their finery was now the property of the laird.

Just as they were.

“Rolfe is me son,” William stated. “The only one who lived long enough to become a man.”

“It is a fact that he is a man grown, which means ye can nae tell him who to wed,” Niul continued.

William scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “I am laird. The day has not yet arrived when I will no’ be telling him what to do.”

“Think on how well that worked when ye sent him to see Morton.”

There was a long silence. If they had been in the open hall, William would have argued. It was a matter of saving face. Now, in the privacy of his study, he took a moment to stop his posturing and contemplated what Niul was saying.

“Rolfe will have her,” Niul said. “Forbid him, and ye will lose yer son.”

“Well, then,” William said, “I will just have to make sure the wench is the one who leaves.”

Niul wanted to argue but knew he’d only be encouraging William. The man made the word stubborn seem too weak for just how unbendable he was about having his way. Niul hoped Katherine was every bit the hellion she was fabled to be.

Because supper was going to be a true test of her mettle.

*

“Ye’ll sit beside me,” Laird McTavish told Katherine.

She cast Rolfe an uncertain look, but couldn’t really decide on a valid argument against it. Not unless she simply wanted to be perverse. She might not be willing to bend to William’s will, but dropping the subject… Well, that wasn’t too much to do.

So she nodded, earning a pleased look from Rolfe.

Her husband.

She hadn’t really thought about him in those terms before. The idea was a strange one, and it intoxicated her, making her slightly giddy. Ceit was happily making sure the head table was set with enough places. Anne had taken up a position between William and Niul.

To his credit, Niul didn’t seem vexed by being moved down in position. He grinned and raised his glass toward Katherine as she sat down.

The bread was brought to the tables. William took a round as everyone bowed their heads. He spoke a prayer before ripping a portion off and handing it to Rolfe, and then next to Anne.

Katherine felt her appetite dying. His actions were a public declaration of her standing, or lack thereof, in the eyes of the McTavish laird. He dropped the bread onto the plate without offering any to her. Rolfe tore his and gave half to her, earning a narrowing of his father’s eyes.

And so it begins…

She’d be a fool to think that all Rolfe had to do was tell his father they were wed and William McTavish would welcome her with open arms. No, there were going to be more objections from the man.

Supper began as maids carried in platters of food. Conversation started up, but it was hushed as everyone waited to see what might happen at the head table, while trying not to look as though they were anticipating the entertainment of another fight between the laird and his son.

“I have something to say,” William declared as he hit the tabletop with his fist. Those sitting in the hall quieted, giving their laird their attention.

“Me son was right about Katherine Carew.”

There was a ripple of surprise from those watching. Rolfe appeared taken unaware as he glanced back and forth between her and his father.

William looked at Rolfe with a smile on his lips. “She is yer prize and ye have the right, as any Highlander does, to keep what ye steal. I was wrong to try to claim her from ye.”

A hush had fallen over the hall, one Katherine felt down to her toes. There was a look in William’s eyes that promise Rolfe a reckoning.

“And I was wrong to call ye a witch.” Laird McTavish looked straight at her. “I hope ye’ll forgive me. Ye’re English, true, but that is no’ the same as being a cocksucker of Satan.”