Page 40 of The Finest Scottish Fate

Dammit. Evie squared her shoulders, determined to fix this. “So you’re saying you came here to marry the old chief and become his widow in a few weeks instead of becoming the Earl of Blackmorrow’s powerful countess—right? Because Lord Blackmorrow signed no marriage contract.” At least, she thought the wives of earls were called countesses. Holy crap, she hoped she got that part right.

“Who are ye?” Lady Merelys asked, her tone leaving no doubt of how little she thought of Evie.

“Forgive me,” Drummond interrupted. Once again, he rose from his seat and pulled Evie to stand at his side. “Allow me to introduce Lady Evie, my wife. We only just returned to Dubh Tower today.”

His freaking wife? Evie forced a smile while biting the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming at him that this was not how this was supposed to go down.

“We have a betrothal contract between yerself and my daughter,” Chief Heberdy sputtered. “Else we would not have come. We heard of yer rejections of the other clans and never would have wasted the resources to make such a trip without certain…security.” Standing now, he raised his voice to an insulting volume. “When did the two of ye marry? What priest heard these vows? The betrothal contract is dated over a fortnight ago, yet ye say ye only just returned with yer wife this verra day? That makes yer marriage null. The betrothal to my Merelys came first.”

Morganna groaned, then leaned close and whispered in Evie’s ear, “A betrothal contract would not necessarily have to be signed by yer Drummond. He should never have said ye were already married.”

“You think?” Evie glared at the fairy who needed to throw some pixie dust around and make this problem go away. Ready to run in case things got even uglier, she gathered her skirts above her ankles and sidled out from between the chairs and away from the table.

“I refuse to stand here and be insulted,” she told the clan chief and his daughter, for whom she kind of felt sorry. Apparently they’d been duped just like Drummond. But it couldn’t be helped. Both her heart and her conscience insisted that she take care of Drummond. After all, he’d been nothing but good and kind to her. Even with her weak background in history, she realized that a cruel, beastly sort of man could’ve been the one to find her on that sidhe hill, and her circumstances would have been so much worse. “Drummond and I have been bound since the beginning of time,” she told Chief Heberdy and Lady Merelys with a stamp of her foot. “Beat that date.”

A blinding flash of lightning exploded through the windows, then ear-splitting thunder shook the keep so hard that dust sprinkled down from the rafters. Once the racket quieted, all those gathered in the hall straightened from cowering, then turned and stared at her with their mouths ajar.

Holy crap. What had she done? This was not good. She could almost see the clan’s thoughts. A date with a stake in the middle of a bonfire was surely in her future.

Chapter Ten

“Witch!” Heberdy stabbed the air with a shaking finger, aiming it at Evie.

Drummond drew his dagger and lunged for the man, barely holding back when the tip of his steel touched the chief’s throat. “Ye dare insult my wife?”

Lady Merelys screeched and jumped aside, taking shelter behind the pair of guards flanking her father.

Murdoch unsheathed his blade as well and stood shoulder to shoulder with Drummond. “’Tis a sorry day indeed when a visiting clan hurls insults at the future chief’s wife at his own table.”

Heberdy flung a hand at the tall, arched windows lining one side of the great hall. “She called down fearsome lightning and made the earth quake. Ye all saw it. Felt it.”

“If I were a witch,” Evie said while peeping around Drummond, “wouldn’t I have aimed that lightning at you and made it count?” She jerked a disgusted nod at Merelys. “Or her.”

Even though Heberdy’s insult filled him with rage, Drummond’s heart and soul soared. Not only had Evie acknowledged their connection, but she had also made her choice and opened the way for the ancient bonding oath that would reunite their souls in this life. Even without the binding ceremony, they were now man and wife. He had declared it so in front of witnesses, before the entire clan, and she had confirmed it with her agreement. By Scotland’s irregular marriage laws, they were as legally wed as if they’d exchanged vows at the altar in the kirk.

He pressed the tip of the dagger harder into the fleshiness of the Heberdy chief’s flabby double chin, daring the man to make a poor decision that would get his throat cut. “Did ye not arrive during a storm? Are ye so blasphemous as to claim that a mortal woman caused it rather than the Almighty Himself?”

Heberdy bared his teeth like a cornered animal while frantically glancing sideways in search of his guards. “Then why did she speak of a bond that smacked of the auld beliefs?”

“Because I’m not from around here,” Evie said. “Can’t you tell by the way I talk?”

Her voice trembled, warning Drummond that she was about to panic. He tried to tuck her back behind him. She needed to let him take care of this. Did men allow their women to speak for them in her time?

“She is from far to the west,” Mistress Martha said. “They often speak like minstrels with a romantic turn of phrase.”

Drummond would deal with that one later, even though he had her to thank for bringing his heartmate to him. He blinked, struggling not to see her as the young, vibrant Morganna. Thankfully, everyone else appeared to see her as the bent, old healer.

“Apologize to my wife,” he told Heberdy with another nudge of the dagger.

“Clan Heberdy may be smaller than MacMuirrow, but we are mighty in our own right and refuse to accept the insult of this day.” The chief, his face scarlet with his ill temper, backed away from Drummond’s blade and drew his daughter to his side. “The betrothal contract was sent to us. Our agreement and our presence at Dubh Tower were requested. Why would such a thing be done if the son of MacMuirrow was already wed?”

“Apologize to my wife.” Drummond advanced on the chief, determined to establish dominance not only for Evie’s sake but for the good of the clan. Lightning flashed again, and more thunder followed, but not nearly as loud this time. “Do ye mean to call me a witch now?”

The hall went deathly silent. All waited to see if blood would be spilled.

After a long, tense moment, Heberdy flinched and gave a curt nod. “Fine, m’lord. Rash words in the heat of the moment.” He shifted his glare to Evie and gave her a stiff bow. “Apologies, m’lady.”

She opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut and nodded.