Highlander Enchanted(28)

She pursed her lips.

“Or are ye jealous, lass?” he asked. “I’ll wed ye both, if it please ye.”

“Your treachery is not appreciated, Laird Cade,” she snapped.

“Go and do what ye do. Ye ‘ave my authority and if anyone disobeys, send ‘im to me,” he said and motioned to the people before them. “Take care of my guests, lass.”

Flustered, Isabel spun and stalked away, trailed by one of his younger cousins, who regarded her with nothing sort of awe. By the time she reached the door, she had seven of his clan members in tow and was issuing orders to Brian, who glanced towards him in surprise.

Cade lifted his chin, indicating his cousin should go with the small Englishwoman he had placed in charge of running his keep.

He caught himself smiling before his attention shifted to Laird MacDonald.

“Pretty lass. Too bad she’s English,” the elderly laird said and leaned heavily on the table before him.

“Words have ne’er been truer.” Cade poured him warm wine and sat beside him.

“Now my lass, there’s a woman to keep a man straight.” The old man’s eyes glowed as his gaze fell upon someone.

Cade looked with some dread, relieved when he saw Laird Hugh’s daughter was not the woman he had heard of, at least in appearance. With dark red hair, brown eyes and a tall, slender body, she was pretty in a way very different than Isabel’s refined beauty – and nowhere near the size of a wagon as he had heard told.

“Doona look so. She isna yer wife yet.” Laird Hugh smacked Cade’s arm. “It is ne’er good t’be run out of yer keep, but perhaps ye’ll cease stalling and sign the contract if I’m in yer home.” He gave a hoarse laugh.

Cade said nothing, unwilling to upset the man seeking refuge in his walls, the one he suspected he would have a blood feud with by the time he left.

The redhead approached.

“Laird Cade, my daughter Siobhan,” Laird Hugh said proudly.

“Father, Laird Cade,” his daughter said and dipped into a deep curtsey. “’Tis an honor t’meet ye at last. My pa speaks well o’ye.”

“And ye,” Cade replied.

“Ye may be hand-fasted this very night,” Laird Hugh said with a wheezing laugh.

Hesitating, Siobhan looked Cade over, a flicker of uncertainty on her features. His size was as fearsome as his reputation, and he thought even better of her to know she had some sense about her. He was accustomed to being appreciated by any woman who saw him, and her unhappy expression struck him as odd. Was it possible she did not look forward to the match made by her father?

“Not this night,” she said. “Ye need yer rest, Father.” As she spoke, her eyes drifted to the crowd, as if she sought someone.

“An old man can hope,” came the warm response.

“D’ye no’ have a place for him to rest?” Siobhan asked Cade with some disapproval.

“We didna expect so many guests,” he said defensively.

“He is too old t’be kept wet and tired!”

“I will see to it myself.”

“There ye see?” Laird Hugh said with glee. “Yer as good as wed!”

Before Laird Hugh could force them into a hand-fast, Cade left.

The crowd parted for his large form as he headed to the door and ducked into the quieter hall. He paused and peered back into the room, taking in the crowd, the elderly laird dozing where he sat, and the woman who was supposed to wed him.

Siobhan would grace his hall well but had not seemed at all anxious to warm up to her potential husband. If anything, she had been angry. Cade sensed it was more than the state of her father, and his gaze lingered on her.

She was searching for someone once more among those in the Hall, one hand resting protectively on her father.

Dread trickled through him. What was it about women laden with secrets suddenly entering his life? He had not yet unraveled Isabel’s story, but to have two potential wives deserving of scrutiny under one roof?

He signaled the lute player and harpist to enter the Hall. Seillie music, laden with magic to calm those present, would do well for the anxious members of clan MacDonald.

He shook his head and started toward the kitchens, intent on ensuring they had meat enough to feed twice as many clan members as usual.

Lady Isabel was at the door of the kitchens, quietly issuing orders to the kitchen servants before turning to Brian and speaking to him. Cade watched her, once more drawn in when he was not yet certain how safe it was to trust one word the ethereal Englishwoman spoke.

Brian nodded at her instruction and turned, passing him with a faint smile.

“Laird Cade,” Isabel called.

“Yea, Lady Isabel.” He approached. The cluster of servants and clan members melted out of his path.

“You have not the bread or meat for your guests. I have sent Brian out to gather what warriors he can for a morning hunt.”

“The rain, my lady,” one of them said with a quick glance at him.

“I am fairly certain you can stop the tempest, can you not?” she asked him archly.

At least three of his clan members around her gasped, and everyone stared first at her then at him.

“Yea, my lady,” he said.

“You have your instructions,” she said and turned to another of the servants. “Quickly!”