AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He heard her sharp intake of breath before she very gingerly placed her small hand into his. He felt her entire body tremble with each step she took, yet she kept moving forward.
She was delicate and fragile, a tiny bit of a thing. The top of her veiled head barely reached Gavin’s shoulder. As they walked the length of the great hall to the raised dais, he shifted his gaze to glance at her face, surprised at what he beheld.
She had the same startling gray eyes as her brother, a bow-shaped mouth, and a healthy dose of blushing pink color on her cheeks. Her hair was hidden beneath a linen veil, but he swore the few wisps that had escaped were a deep auburn color.
Yet it was her age that puzzled him most. Why, she was no more than fifteen or sixteen. Was this the hot-tempered McKenna lass whose fiery tongue had skewered many a man with the sharpness of a blade? It hardly seemed possible.
Aside from her youth, the lass had the distinct sheltered expression of a female raised within convent walls. Clearly, Connor’s information about the McKenna lass was wrong. Gavin’s jaw hardened, wondering what other unpleasant surprises awaited him.
“Please, milord, I would prefer to sit here among my attendants,” the lass said softly, stopping at the table closest to the dais.
Gavin paused. His conversation with her brother would be far more private if she were seated away from them and would spare her the humiliation of being spoken about as though she were an item to be bartered instead of a person of worth.
He almost said as much to her before catching himself.God’s wounds, when did I become so aware and concerned about a woman’s feelings?Shaking off the notion, Gavin agreed to her request. But only because it gave him an advantage.
With a fluttering breath, the McKenna lass perched herself on the very edge of her seat. Shrugging at the uncomfortable position, Gavin moved to the dais and sat in his chair, then motioned for the laird to take the seat on his left.
McKenna took to heart Gavin’s offer of making himself welcome. The young man lounged comfortably in his chair, tankard of ale in one hand, elbow of the other arm resting on the wooden arm of the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him.
But Gavin was not fooled by this casual attitude. There was focus in McKenna’s expression and a keen observation in his eyes as they scanned the great hall. Missing nothing, Gavin decided.
There was no need to struggle with polite conversation; McKenna drained his tankard, refilled it, then spoke. “Tell me, do ye still have a great affection for Robert the Bruce?” he asked.
“I do. And what of ye, McKenna? Will ye support yer king?”
McKenna cocked his head to one side. “I might, with the proper enticement.”
Gavin raised a brow. “Is freedom from the English not enough fer ye?”
McKenna shrugged. “We are a long way from being separated from the harsh rule of England. Those who are on the wrong side when this war ends will suffer harsh reprisals, most likely losing everything they own, and very possibly their lives.”
“Aye, the stakes are high. That’s why we must win.” McKenna leaned back, folding his arms across his wide chest. “The Bruce is a man greedy fer power. Why should I trust that he will treat us any better than the English if he succeeds in keeping his crown?”
“He shares our blood,” Gavin replied smoothly. “Many talk of the differences among Highlanders and Lowlanders, but there is no denying that we have more in common with each other than the damn English.”
“Ye believe he will do what is best fer Scotland, yet I have my doubts,” McKenna said bluntly. He speared a piece of cheese with the tip of his knife, pulled it through his teeth and began chewing. “However, a union between our clans would go a long way toward easing those doubts.”
Gavin went completely still, determined to appear as though he were considering the notion. “I confess, I have heard some rather . . . uhm . . . outrageous tales about the redheaded McKenna lass.”
“Yet ye still opened yer gates and bid me welcome?” McKenna hooted so loudly with laughter he began to cough. “Ye’re either a very brave or very desperate man,” he finished hoarsely.
“Neither,” Gavin said dryly as he refilled the laird’s tankard. He glanced over at the women. McKenna’s sister had finished her food and drink and now sat with her fingers tightly intertwined, precisely as one did when praying. A quick glance at the scheming expression on her brother’s face made that seem a wise precaution, though it was impossible to tell what the lass was asking for with her prayers. “Tell me about her.”
“The rumors about my sister are all true,” McKenna said in an almost cheerful voice. “She’s a shrew of a female; disobedient, willful, and defiant to the end. A man could lose his mind trying to reason with her, and that’s a fact. Truth be told, I wouldn’t wish her upon my most despised enemy.”
“Yet ye are offering her hand to me in marriage?” Gavin asked, astonished at McKenna’s bluntness. He didn’t seem to be a fool, yet it was a ridiculous approach for a man trying to negotiate a match.
McKenna smiled, revealing a row of large, even teeth. “My sister, Caitlyn, the hellcat, has run off with a landless knight; a French mercenary she professes to love with all her heart.” McKenna scoffed in disgust, a hard edge entering his voice. “’Twill be a rude awakening when her new husband discovers she’s forfeited her dowry by defying me and marrying without my permission. I’d like to see how much he loves her then.”
Gavin took a healthy sip of his ale and waited for McKenna to continue.
“The lovely lass that is seated in yer hall is my younger sister, Grace, who is the very picture of womanly virtue and obedience. She was promised to the church, but since Caitlyn has disgraced our clan by refusing to do her duty and make a strong marriage alliance, Grace must now take her place. I fetched her from the Convent of the Sacred Heart three days ago. Thankfully, she hadn’t yet taken her final vows, which leaves her free to become a bride of a Scottish lord, instead of a bride of Christ.”
Gavin couldn’t believe what he was hearing. McKenna sounded desperate. It was no small act of defiance going against the church. Men had been excommunicated for such treachery, their souls damned for eternity.
Then again, the young laird did not seem the type to be overly concerned about his soul.
Gavin glanced at the young woman in question. His assumption about her cloistered upbringing was correct. She was not the hellcat, but rather the saint. Yet still not for him.
