Page 17 of Connal

“She’s a fetching thing with those pretty curls and that winsome face. Mayhap he wished bed her.” Goading the seneschal was risky, but Merrick needed to know more before he decided what to do. He also noticed the slight flinch the clansman made at his suggestion. “Ah. So he’s bedded her already. So much for his forever mourning that selfish –”

Fletcher’s fist clipped his jaw, knocking him off balance. Merrick righted himself in time to catch his arm before he landed a second blow.

“I’m king,” he reminded him, rather startled that even in a temper the man would actually dare strike him.

“Aye, and a greedy, oblivious dolt.” The seneschal jerked his arm free. “You’d use one poor lass to needle my brother, who barely leaves his chamber now. Mistress Baker, she’s an innocent who doesnae wish your boons nor promises.”

Merrick shoved him. “I’d hear such from her lips, you blind fool.”

“Need I put guards on the shore?” a deep voice asked.

They both looked over at Connal, who came striding across the sand with Shaw. Behind them, looking frustrated, stood Nyall on the rocks beneath the cliff. Merrick saw a dangerous glint in Shaw’s eyes that matched the same in the glare from the seneschal.

So now he comes and the others would fight, all for the sake of one female. I wonder why.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Fletcher said through his teeth. “The king needed an itch scratched, and my fist, ’twas all I brought with me.”

The laird stopped a short distance away and regarded Merrick with the long-suffering expression of an exasperated parent. “You’re a king. Shouldnae you behave as such, and cease taunting my men?”

Oddly that hurt him more than Fletcher’s heavy fist. “Ysal’s dead, so I’m in a mood.”

“Apologies. I didnae ken you’d just lost a friend.” The laird inclined his head. “You’re still a king.”

“Aye, and you’re a laird. We should speak as leaders, no’ friends.” He walked up to Connal, and got within an inch of him. “Give the female to me, and restore the peace between us and ours. If she doesnae wish join the Selseus, then I shall see her safely to the mainland. I give you my word.”

“No.” The laird’s eyes narrowed. “Fletcher.”

“Permit me beg your forgiveness for my younger brother’s temper, King Merrick,” Shaw said before the seneschal could offer an apology. “’Tis rarely tested, and now you ken why.”

“Fack, Shaw.” The seneschal added a few more curses to that under his breath.

Merrick waved his hand, and decided to push Connal a little harder. “You’ve no use for that woman. She’s fair and sensible. She cannae leave the island, nor return to her home. She’s naught to you, but she can ensure our future and maintain the truce.”

“When I threw Joana’s ring into the sea last year, I vowed I should never again love nor marry until ’twas returned.” As his men stared at him Connal smiled a little. “Valerie brought the ring back to me, so I shall keep my pledge. I shall make the lady my wife.”

The claim sounded so bizarre it might even be true, which gave Merrick pause. “The MacMar dinnae wed mortals.”

“’Tis my clan, and my word, ’tis law on the island. You cannae take her.” The laird leaned so close he nearly bumped Merrick’s nose with his own. “She’s mine.”

He was bluffing, in the way only Connal could, Merrick thought, so he would do the same. “Shall you make me welcome at the feast, then?”

“Ever we welcome the King of the Finfolk join us. I shall send word when ’tis arranged.” With that the laird turned and walked back to the cliff stair, Nyall following after him.

Fletcher and Shaw both frowned as they watched the pair ascend.

“He’d marry that female to keep her from me. An interesting turn.” Merrick became aware of Jamaran’s presence in the waters behind him, and sent a quick thought to tell him to remain out of sight. “Shaw, I accept your apologies on behalf of your dolt brother. Dolt, do send word what gifts I may bring for the wedding feast. From what I remember, she seems to favor pearls.” As the seneschal made a rude sound he smiled. “Unless he lies to me.”

Shaw stepped between them. “Connal wouldnae make such a vow in jest.”

“You look gut-punched, Chieftain.” Merrick cuffed his shoulder. “Take your ease. That woman, she’s exactly what Connal needs now: a distraction from his misery. That he’d wed her, ’tis even better than I’d hoped.”

Shaw’s upper lip curled. “’Tis why you’ve pressed the matter, then. You’re a devious bastart.”

“I’m King.” He met Fletcher’s furious gaze. “Never forget that, or I shall carve it across your hides.”

Merrick turned and waded back into the water, aware that both men still watched him long after he submerged. Having the last word pleased him, as did the opportunities provided by Connal’s proposal. He swam around the edge of the island, heading to a secluded spot where he could think without distraction. There he waded to a stretch of rocky sand where a group of boulders clustered around a small sea lochan.

When he walked up to a gap in the rocks, however, he saw the back of a female bathing.