Page 77 of Bride of the Beastly Laird

Arran was being hugged by his mother but he lifted his arm toward Dahlia and she happily ran to him and allowed him to close his strong arm around her while the other arm enclosed a smiling Emilia.

The courtyard was filled with the hubbub of joyful voices and the heartwarming sounds of reunions. The guards claimed their women and slowly the little cavalcade of excited women and back-slapping men made their way into the keep, where the servants were already laying out food to break their fast.

Dahlia, seated between Emilia and Arran, regained her lost appetite. It had been more than a day since she’d eaten.

When they’d finished their meal, Catalina and Sofia came by to escort her to her bedchamber while Haldor asked his brothers and Arran to join him in his study. He stooped before Emilia, holding his arm out for her to take. “I’d like it if ye could join us also. We’ve matters that need tae be discussed before any of us may take our rest.”

She smiled and took his arm as they joined the others on the way to Haldor’s study.

“Come sister,” Sofia commanded. A laughing Dahlia took her sisters’ arms and, together they took the staircase leading up to her chamber.

“I’ve asked the maids tae bring hot water.” Catalina shot a glance up and down Dahlia’s bedraggled form. “Methinks ye could dae with a scrub and something freshly laundered tae don.”

It occurred briefly to Dahlia to protest. Sleep, she craved sleep. She’d lost track entirely of when she’d slept last. Could it have been back at the village when she’d curled so contentedly beside Arran?

By the time she’d bathed, and Catalina and Sofia had washed and dried her hair and brushed it into a waterfall over her shoulders to her waist, she was flagging.

“And then what happened?” Catalina asked, her eyes wide.

Dahlia had already told them of the events leading up to her capture by Bairre and his men and the trick played on Arran by Craig Donald to convince him she’d be safe with him.

She gave a short laugh. “I was tied up, seated in a chair, wondering if I was tae be put tae the sword and me life would be ended soon, when the door was flung open and Arran was at me side, whispering in me ear.”

Sofia clapped. “Thank the heavens. Did yer heart jump fer joy?”

“Of course. It was the most glorious moment.”

“Now that ye’re nae longer betrothed tae Bairre, will Arran be yer sweetheart?”

She felt her cheeks burn. Would they be sweethearts now? Although Arran had asked her to marry him, it felt like a lifetime ago. Would he still feel the same now?

“I’d like that,” she said with a sigh. “But now, dear sisters I think I must sleep, I cannae keep me eyes open.”

They fussed over her, making sure she had a fresh night-shift, and that her bed was strewn with lavender. She climbed under the covers and, after making sure she was comfortable and lacking for nothing, her two sisters at last left her side.

In the briefest of time, she fell into a deep, peaceful, sleep.

Arran and Emilia joined Haldor and his brothers at the oak table in the center of his study. The fire blazed merrily and it seemed to Arran that mayhap last night’s carnage had been nothing more than a nightmarish dream he’d now woken from.

One glance at Haldor’s serious features brought him back to reality. It was a hard reality to face. Recalling the hateful expression on Craig’s face as he held his dirk to Dahlia’s throat, Arran shuddered. Even now it was almost impossible for him to believe that someone he’d cherished as a friend for most of his life had callously betrayed him.

“This will take some explaining to King Robert.”

“How so?” Arne raised a questioning brow. “It is clear enough. Me sister’s life was threatened by Bairre and his henchmen and we rescued her.” He shrugged and glanced around the table. “In the process, Bairre Mackinnon met with a fatal accident.”

“That may well be one way of putting it.” Haldor gave a half smile. “But the king’s desire was for the betrothal to bring about peace between the MacLeods and the Mackinnons. Instead, it ended in bloodshed and the death of the laird.” His fingers plucked at a cloth lining the table and he gazed dolefully into the fire.

Arran could see Haldor’s mind working through the difficult puzzle of how to pass the news to King Robert without his wrath descending on the MacLeods.

“There is something else.”

Haldor looked up, a hopeful light in his eyes. “Ye’ve an idea as to how we could make the best of this?”

“Ye may recall that during Bairre’s six months absence the Clan council made me laird in a temporary post until Bairre’s return.”

“Aye,” Ivar turned to Arran. “Could they dae so again?”

Haldor shook his head. “The council only took that step because they were unsure how long Bairre would be absent. If ye’re naught but a distant cousin, ye have nae blood claim tae the lairdship.”

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