Page 29 of The Winter Laird
“I appreciate you waiting for me,” Nioclas said as he sat next to her. “I see that the others hadn’t any patience.”
“No.” Bri noted the other three hadn’t even acknowledged his presence yet. “I don’t think they did.”
“I am laird here,” Nioclas said, filling the trencher. “I do have some who respect me.”
“And some that fear you,” Brianagh added with a slight laugh. “I’ve heard. Lady Maguire filled me in.” At his furrowed brow, she clarified, “Erin told me.”
“Ah.” He finished filling the tray and signaled for his own wine. “Listen not to what she says. ’Twas all Aidan’s fault.”
“You can’t blame it on me forever,” Aidan said around a mouthful of food.
“Blame what on you?” Erin wondered aloud.
“Everything,” Donovan replied, heaping more food onto their trencher.
Brianagh felt a laugh bubble up inside of her, and with it, a glimmer of hope. Perhaps these people were ones she could trust.
She took a large sip of wine, allowing herself to relax a small bit. She’d get home. It was just going to take some time to get there.
Chapter 9
Brianagh leaned into Nioclas. “I need to stop drinking the wine.”
His brows lifted. “Oh?”
“It’s making me hot, and this dress is, I think, made of wool.”
He kept his expression neutral, but she could tell he was amused. “I am not one to follow fashions, my lady, but I believe that most of your clothing is made from wool.”
“Even my summer ones?” Fanning herself, she shook her head. “That’s insane. These things are hot. And restrictive.”
“I wonder what the women wear in your country. Does it not get hot?”
“Oh, it does,” she replied with a slightly off-balance nod. “But we wear less clothing than this. I’m pretty sure I’d die if I had to wear this in the middle of the summer.”
Nioclas took in her dark hair, curling madly about her face as some of the locks escaped the knot on top of her head, her blue eyes luminous. The dress she spoke of pushed her chest upward; the expanse of skin looked unmarred and softer than his own. Cinched about her waist, the dress flared out over her hips and thighs. Nioclas drank in the sight of her, his breath catching as he thought of her in less clothing.
She was laughing at something Erin had said. He caught the sound and held onto it a minute longer than was wise. She was different from the other women he had been with. She was artless in the sweep of her arm as she discussed something, but graceful in step as she walked. Her presence was a strange mix of confidence and vulnerability.
Intriguing.
He hadn’t been intrigued by a woman in years. And especially not as intrigued as he was currently, his eyes narrowing when his brother gave his bride yet another kiss.
The only man kissing those lips will be me.
The thought took him by surprise. He had never been a jealous man, especially with women. He was content to have them while they were willing, then walk away when either was done. But there was something about Brianagh. Maybe it was because she so strongly resembled the woman from his dreams all those years ago, before the weight of the clan became so difficult to bear. Or maybe it was her beauty. Her radiance almost hurt his eyes, and he desired it more than he’d ever desired anything before.
Or maybe, he wondered,it was because she is now my wife.
As he watched her take another sip of the wine, then bestow a sweet smile on one of the clan elders, he allowed himself a small smile of his own. She would do her part, and in three months, he would do his.
All would be well.
* * *
Brianagh watchedwhat she suspected was something Nioclas rarely allowed himself: he seemed relaxed with his friends and family. When she added in the pretty fantastic kissing and all that it evoked, she could lose herself very quickly if she didn’t remind herself that it was all a ruse.
The room quieted as one of the clan leaders stood from his seat. “Clansmen. ’Tis a very great time to be a MacWilliam. Our clan is strong and prosperous. We are at peace, and we have the MacWilliam—the most powerful laird in Eire—to thank for that.” Cheers erupted.
