Page 40 of The Outlaw's Bride
His father tracked Adaira across the floor as if she was a lamb and he was a wolf. It was a cold, predatory look that made Lachlann’s hackles rise.
Careful,he cautioned himself.What do ye care how he looks at her?
But the truth was he did.
The look on his father's face made Lachlann want to grab him by the neck and slam his face into the table.
Morgan Fraser would ruin Adaira. He would destroy her.
Adaira walked toward the dais, running the gauntlet of hard male stares, and paused before the table. Despite that he sat to his father’s right, her gaze never strayed to Lachlann, not once. He was invisible to her. She bowed her head and made a curtsy. It was a brisk, neat gesture.
“Lady Adaira,” Morgan Fraser greeted her. “How graceful ye look this eve.”
Adaira raised her chin and met his eye briefly before dropping her gaze. She gave the merest nod in response but did not speak.
“What's the matter with her, Da?” Niall spoke up. Lachlann glanced at his brother to see him smirking at Adaira. “Did ye cut out her tongue?”
Morgan cut his son a humorless smile. “Her time in the tower has taught the lass the virtue of silence it seems.”
His comment caused laughter to ripple down the table. Lachlann didn’t join in.
“Lady Adaira.” Morgan Fraser picked up a goblet of wine and turned his attention back to his betrothed. “Come sit next to me. We shall break bread together and speak a little.”
Lachlann’s mouth thinned. Only his father could make a request sound like a threat.
Adaira tensed but obliged. She walked to the edge of the dais, stepped up, and made her way to the chieftain’s side. There she sank gracefully down onto the smaller chair to the chieftain's left.
Around them the Great Hall was still silent. Every gaze was riveted upon the dais, upon Morgan Fraser and his young wife-to-be. This was the first time many of them had laid eyes upon Adaira. News of her had circulated the fortress for weeks now.
With a click of his fingers, the chieftain motioned to the line of servants that stood, backs ramrod straight, against the wall next to the entrance to the kitchen. “Serve the meal now,” he commanded.
Conversation resumed once more: a low rumble, like surf breaking upon a shingle shore. The noise filled the hall, rising up to the blackened rafters above.
This was a special supper indeed, Lachlann noted. The servants brought out swan roasted in butter and herbs, a rich venison stew, tureens of braised leek and kale, wheels of aged cheese, and loaves of fresh bread studded with hazelnuts.
Under other circumstances Lachlann's mouth would have watered at the sight. But tonight the feast that was set before him didn’t appeal. His stomach felt as if a boulder had lodged in the pit of it.
None of his three brothers shared his sentiments though. With grins and laughter they fell upon the meal as if they hadn't been fed in a week. Wine flowed, and they teased and ribbed each other.
In their midst Lachlann remained quiet.
Next to him, his father was serving up some swan to his betrothed.
It was a rare thing to see Morgan Fraser wait upon a woman. Even with Una he hadn't done so. But this was an occasion for ceremony. He was putting on a show for the folk of Talasgair. Tomorrow there would be a handfasting, and they wanted something to celebrate.
Chapter Seventeen
Ill-Tidings
ADAIRA CHOKED DOWN a mouthful of swan.
The meat was rich and smothered in butter. She’d had it once before, at her father and Una’s handfasting feast. She’d enjoyed it then, but the taste sickened her now.
Morgan Fraser was not a garrulous man. He said very little as the meal stretched out, yet his silence made the tension within her grow. He watched her with a vulturine look that made her heart race, her palms grow clammy. Last time she’d seen him, he’d been on his sickbed, recovering from a terrible wound. He’d been frightening then, yet the full force of his personality had been checked.
This evening he appeared completely healed. Clad in plaid and leather, his grey streaked red hair pulled back at the nape, he watched her with hard eyes.
“Malcolm MacLeod took a jewel from me,” he said after a long while.
