Page 17 of Scot of Desire
“And who are these guests?” Laird Gilroy asked with a warm smile, though Bran could see a hint of something more in his gaze. He was uneasy for he did not know who they were.
“This is me sister’s dearest friend in the world, Lady Catreena,” Tad gestured to Catreena first, who curtsied. “Younger sister tae Laird Mackintosh.”
Both Laird Gilroy and Cillian’s eyes widened in surprise, their similarities all the more noticeable because of it.
“I wished me friend tae come with me tae see me… new home,” Ilyssa said hurriedly. Hearing her call it home made Bran’shands ball into fists again. There was nothing at all about this situation that was to his liking.
“And I unfortunately, cannae go anywhere without me own escort,” Catreena interjected happily, gesturing to Bran beside her. “One of me braithers, Bran.”
Bran inclined his head, feeling Cillian’s and Laird Gilroy’s gaze cutting into him.
“Well, any friends of Laird Tad’s are certainly friends of ours. Come, come, inside. Ye must be freezing after yer journey in all this snow.” Laird Gilroy beckoned them toward the doors of the keep.
Cillian offered his arm to Ilyssa to escort her inside, but Bran stepped forward and conveniently put himself between the two of them, so that Cillian could not touch her. They followed the rest of the group inside, hovering in the entrance hall as the maids followed with the trays of mead.
“Here, take some refreshments,” Laird Gilroy urged. “Then ye will be shown tae yer rooms where ye can rest up before our dinner tonight. We shall feast!” he declared happily, holding his arms open wide. “In honor of our guest.” He walked toward Ilyssa.
To Ilyssa’s credit, she held her ground and did not cower away in fear. She matched his smile and curtsied in acknowledgement of the compliment he was trying to pay her.
“Ye are most welcome indeed tae our home, me lady. We have longed fer yer arrival fer some time. Have we nae, me son?”
“Indeed, we have,” Cillian said smoothly. He moved toward Ilyssa and bowed to her, at all times maintaining eye contact.
A searing shot of anger flashed through Bran and he suddenly had the desire to punch Cillian in the nose and break it the way he had done to the drunkard in the tavern the night before, but Cillian stepped out of his reach too quickly.
“Ye will stay fer dinner, will ye nae, Laird Tad?” Laird Gilroy asked Tad most particularly.
“Aye, I will. There is much we need tae discuss.” There was a glimmer in his face, a hint at what he wished to discuss.
“I look forward tae it.” Yet it was plain Laird Gilroy was no longer listening. His eyes, like Cillian’s, were back on Ilyssa.
“Oh dear,” Catreena whispered behind her tankard of mead, so only Bran could hear her. “They are looking at her like she is some prize, are they nae?”
“Aye. It’s what sort of prize they believe her tae be that makes afears me,” Bran confessed, as his sister nodded heartily in agreement.
What dae they have planned fer her?
CHAPTER SIX
“Careful, Ilyssa,” Catreena called as she tripped on the bottom step.
Ilyssa felt a hand come up and catch her own, long before she would fall flat on her face. She had a ridiculous gown on that Tad had suggested she wear. His reasoning was that any woman who wished to at least consider marrying Cillian would dress up for their feast, though she had not cared about this. Now she had tripped on the hem of this overly fussy red gown, only to be caught by Bran.
She looked up into his face to see him staring back at her. He took her other hand and helped her stand straight.
“Ye all right?” he asked, looping one of her arms through the crook of his elbow.
“Aye,” she murmured breathlessly.
Here it is again.
Briefly, she felt as if she was back in Bran’s bedchamber the night before, quite alone with him. All day, they had avoided talking to one another. Ilyssa had made conversation solely with Catreena on her journey, though she knew she could not avoid him forever.
“Come on ye two,” Catreena called from up ahead. “Our hosts will be wondering where we are.”
At Catreena’s words, they both looked away, and Bran led Ilyssa into the room. Her hand held onto his elbow most determinedly, reluctant to let go, and he showed no sign of trying to shake her off.
As they entered the great hall, Ilyssa saw at once that no expense had been spared in the preparation for the feast. The long oak table was lined with joints of pork and crackling, stuffing that smelled strongly of rosemary and sage, long trenchers of fresh fish, and great flagons that were golden hued with spicy mead. It was an impressive affair, and at the head of the table sat Laird Gilroy, making sure he looked quite commanding and regal for he sat high above the others.
