Page 60 of Promises to Keep

I glanced over his shoulder, Lady Mairead entering the room, but swiftly rushing out again.

Lizbeth said, “You let go of Madame Kaitlyn Campbell right now!”

He let go of my chin with a little shove and then yanked my chair even closer, so that his knee was shoved between mine. He locked eyes with me and pushed his knee forward, obtrusively. I was really frightened.

He said loudly, to the man on the table. “John, continue with the poetry, I do enjoy it.”

The man continued reciting his terrible poetry, the room got cold, the light waning —what time was it? Late afternoon?

Why the fuck was I in the Great Hall with Campbell men, with strange Campbell men? While all the familiar Campbell men were out for the day, God, what if they were delayed?

Lizbeth strode for the door, I was hoping and praying for her escape, but one of the men stepped in her way. She raised her chin, her best impression of Lady Mairead. “Remove yourself.Now!”

He laughed at her.

My heart sank.

I had, yet again, no weapons. I had gotten up hungover and had used my dagger in the storeroom and hadn’t put it back in its sheath.

It was lying beside a sack of oats.

Not that I could get to it anyway, with this man’s knee pressed against my skirts. He’d have it from my hands in a half-second.

He languidly watched me, the expression on his face best described as pleased with himself, he was a fucking awful person. He said, “What are ye worried upon, Madame Kaitlyn? Wondering about yer husband? I heard a group of men were detained near Fortingall, the rain making the river difficult tae cross. They wouldna make it tae Balloch by nightfall, a few hours more, I suspect. And we, of course, are just paused for a rest, we will have some ale, then ye will show me tae yer room. I am sure ye can be verra hospitable.”

He snapped his fingers at the man near him, and he was passed a hunk of bread. He ripped off a chunk and chewed it lustily. “Then we’ll leave, yer husband won’t even notice we were here.”

“Is that because you’re so wee? He won’t notice because you’re so small?”

He chuckled maliciously. “Ye’ve got the mouth of a brazen witch.” He grasped my knee and pushed it aside. I tried to stand and he shoved me back in the chair.

Lizbeth shrieked, but then, from my peripheral vision, the door opened and men strode into the hall, Magnus at the lead, sopping wet and covered in mud. Sean and Liam right behind him.

A man slammed the doors shut.

Sean bellowed, “Man, ye best get off the table.”

The men with Arran backed away into the corner. The man on the table sheepishly climbed down.

Mangus’s face went from curious to concerned to stormy in the eight seconds it took him to stalk across the room to Arran’s chair.

Arran tried to stand, but Magnus was on him — Magnus grabbed the wooden arms of his chair and slid it back away from mine, then grasped Arran’s linen shirt, Arran cowering under him. “Ye will unhand m’wife.”

Arran put his hands up, “We were just havin’ a meal in the Earl’s Great Hall. We were invited.”

“Ye werna invited tae frighten Madame Lizbeth Campbell, tae offend m’mother, tae hae yer way with Madame Kaitlyn, my wife! Ye are takin’ liberties with the women of Balloch! Ye are a scoundrel and a fool — what say ye tae the charge that ye hae come here, under false pretenses, pretending tae be family, but actin’ as a scoundrel touching another man’s wife?”

“I dinna ken she was yer wife!”

Magnus picked him up from the chair and shoved him so hard he fell to the ground. “Ye dinna hear her say it? Kaitlyn, did ye tell him ye were married?”

“Yes. I told him.”

“Did ye tell him ye were married tae Magnus Campbell?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ken I was away from the castle for the day?”

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