Page 124 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

“In moments such as that,” she said quietly, “yer authority is absolute.”

His quill paused for the smallest fraction of a breath. Then he shifted the evening patrol forward by half an hour.

“Two men at the eastern tower instead of one,” he told the waiting captain. “And nae horn is sounded again until movement is confirmed from a second post.”

He offered no answer to her observation. Yet Donaldina saw the faint color rise beneath the scar along his jaw before he bent more closely over the orders.

The first wedding guests reached Dun Ard before the morning mist lifted from the sea. They came with gifts, armed escorts and careful smiles. Dun Ard received them beneath the joined banners of MacIver and MacNicol.

Donaldina stood beside Roy near the entrance to the great hall. The first delegation bowed before them.

“Laird MacIver. Lady Donaldina.”

“We welcome ye tae Dun Ard,” Donaldina replied. “Yer chambers have been prepared in the western tower. The hearths should already be lit.”

The young MacRae heir glanced between her and Roy before inclining his head. “Ye receive us together, then.”

The remark appeared harmless. Roy heard too many harmless remarks spoken before bloodshed to mistake it for one.

Donaldina smiled politely. “It would seem discourteous for either host tae remain absent.”

The young man bowed more deeply. Roy said nothing.

They continued through the arrivals in the same manner. Donaldina remembered names, old disputes, and which elderly chief required a room without stairs. Roy noted how many armed men each guest brought, where their horses were stabled, and which envoys looked toward the joined banners before offering their greetings.

Some arrived sincerely pleased. Others came to witness whether the alliance would endure long enough to become useful or collapse before the vows were spoken.

Laird Eòghan of Glen Torra was among the latter. He was perhaps five years younger than Roy, fair-haired and finely dressed, with the pleasant confidence of a man whose battles had mostly been fought by older relatives. He kissed Donaldina’s hand with ceremonial care.

“Lady Donaldina,” he smiled. “Dun Ard appears more beautiful each time I see it.”

His gaze lingered upon her a moment too long before moving toward Roy.

“And tomorrow two powerful houses become one.”

“Two houses remain two houses,” Roy corrected. “They merely stand together.”

Eòghan’s smile sharpened slightly. “An important distinction.”

“Aye.”

Roy held his gaze until the young laird looked away. Donaldina waited until the man had been escorted toward his chamber before speaking beneath her breath.

“Ye frightened him.”

“I answered him.”

The corner of her mouth moved.

By midday, Dun Ard had become crowded with servants, musicians, horses and guests attempting to discover which alliances might be formed before the wedding feast ended.

Roy knew the nature of such occasions. A wedding joined more than two people. It altered trade, inheritance and the direction in which men might be expected to draw their swords. Young heirs studied Donaldina’s authority. Older chiefs measured Roy’s control. Minor clans watched for any sign that MacIver and MacNicol unity might leave them excluded from the power taking shape along the western coast.

Donaldina stood beside him through all of it. She did not defer when questions concerned Dun Ard. Roy did not interrupt when she answered, although his answer was needed more often. Neither of them seemed to mind.

Time passed slowly, but eventually evening arrived and brought with it music that began in the great hall. MacNicol pipes opened the gathering with an old coastal melody, soon joined by a MacIver drum whose deeper rhythm shook softly through the floor.

Ale passed freely. Restraint did not.