Page 18 of The Devil in Plaid
Chapter Seven
Fiona sat at the high table with her father on one side and Alasdair, the captain of the MacDonnell warriors, on her other.
The trencher she shared with her father went untouched.
She reached out and squeezed his hand. “Da,” she said softly. “Ye must eat. Ye will not serve yer clan by starving.”
He turned to look at her, a soft smile curving his lips. His faded blue eyes crinkled at their corners. “I could say as much to ye, but I will not, because I doubt ye could eat any more than I.” He released her hand and patted the slight roundness of his belly. “A few missed meals when my table has never known shortage will not hurt me.”
She lifted her shoulders unable to argue her point further. Even the idea of biting into a simple bannock twisted her stomach. She was a bundle of nerves as they waited…but for what?
Another attack from Ranulf MacKenzie?
For Jamie MacLeod to take advantage of their weakened state and raid what remained of their stores?
She shivered, imaging the fierce MacLeod standing in front of his men, his hair in tangled disarray, his fierce brow furrowed, his sword raised high as he declared war against her people.
“No word as yet from Robert?” her father asked, his words thankfully dispelling the unsettling images from her mind.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
Although her father had sent Robert to CastleLàidirwith the authority to form an alliance that would unite their clans against Ranulf MacKenzie, she placed no hope in that arrangement. Tears stung her eyes. She choked down the despair that fought to unravel her control. Jamie MacLeod was a hard, hateful man who would never consent to an alliance. She had no reason to hope at all.If she were honest, what they were waiting for…was the end—for they were doomed.
A flurry of activity outside the doors to the great hall drew her gaze. Her body tensed. A guard rushed into the room. “The MacLeod has arrived. We told him to wait in the courtyard but—"
“Get out of my way,” a booming voice shouted outside the hall.
She gripped the table. Both her father and Alasdair lunged to their feet.
A breath later, Jamie MacLeod’s towering figure thundered into the room. He was even more fearsome looking than when she met him just a fortnight before in the woods. His dull hair hung in even thicker tangles about his shoulders. Filth smeared his face and chest and streaked his legs.
He stormed toward the high dais, his muscles flexed with tension, his head tilted down but his eyes lifted and glaring at her.
Her heart quaked. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alasdair motion to several warriors to move in. They raised their swords, forming a line to block the MacLeod’s way.With a growl he reached behind his back and withdrew his sword. “Ye send a messenger to my keep, asking for my help, and this is how ye welcome me,” he snarled.His nostrils flared. Up close, she could see that his hair was matted and dirty.
Despite her fear, Fiona could not believe his audacity. He was still one man surrounded by half a dozen MacDonnell warriors.
“What kind of welcome should ye receive when ye arrive in the state ye’re in?” she admonished.
His eyes shone bright amber against the streaks of soot sullying his face. “If my appearance offends ye, my lady, then mayhap I will leave, and ye can face the might of Ranulf MacKenzie alone.”
“That will not be necessary,” her father called out. “Stand down,” he ordered his men before casting Fiona a look of warning.
When the warriors stepped back and parted their swords, Jamie MacLeod stood for a moment with his blade still raised high. He turned in a circle, his scowl plain for all to see. Then he slowly lowered his weapon, although he did not return it to the sheath strapped to his back.
Pushing past one of the guards, he crossed the room and stood in front of the high table. He did not bow, nor did he dip his head in greeting. His eyes locked with Fiona’s and did not waver. Hatred pulsed from his gaze, stealing her breath. Even when he had found her trespassing on MacLeod land, he did not look at her with such naked aggression.It was all she could do to maintain her seat and not race from the hall. She now wished more than anything that she had held her tongue about his appearance. As much as she wanted to be brave and meet his gaze without fear, her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
“Ye’re welcome in my home, Laird MacLeod,” her father said. “I am glad and grateful that ye’ve come. I bid ye invite yer men inside. They are welcome at my table.”
Although it was her father who spoke, the wild Highlander’s gaze remained fixed on her. “I have come alone,” he said. “My men wait for me beyond yer outer wall.”
“Then ye have come to make peace?” her father asked, his tone hopeful.
Fiona shifted in her seat as Laird MacLeod’s eyes grew increasingly hostile. If looks could kill, she did not doubt her heart would have stopped beating the very moment he entered the hall.
Jamie put away his sword and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have come to make an alliance between our clans, but ye see, the problem is that I do not trust a MacDonnell.”
Grumbles of protest rose up from the tables.
