Page 43 of The Rogue's Bride
Caitrin went still. Chieftain MacNichol was one of her suitors? She remembered then her brief conversations with him during his visit to Duntulm—and the interest she’d glimpsed in his eyes.
Across the table Caitrin saw Alasdair MacDonald stiffen. While Gavin had indicated an interest in Caitrin during his visit to Duntulm, Alasdair obviously hadn’t imagined he’d take it further.
“What if she doesn’t like any of them?” Caitrin’s younger brother, Iain, asked. A sallow-faced lad with sharp features and a mop of auburn hair, he was watching his father, a gleam in his grey eyes.
Caitrin frowned. She didn’t like the evident pleasure Iain took in asking this. She’d had little to do with the lad over the past few years, but Rhona had warned her about his vindictive streak.
“My daughter will do her duty.” MacLeod rumbled before turning his attention to Caitrin. She stiffened at the hard look in his grey eyes. The events of the past year hadn’t softened him it seemed; he still saw his daughters as his pawns. “If she refuses to make a choice, I shall do it for her.”
MacLeod raised his goblet to his lips and took a large gulp. He then shifted his attention to Alasdair, his expression lightening. “Will ye stay on in Dunvegan awhile, MacDonald?”
Caitrin froze.No … Da. Please don’t.
Alasdair inclined his head. “I should really return to Duntulm.”
MacLeod snorted. “What’s the hurry? Stay on for a few days and enjoy some fine MacLeod hospitality. I’ve got a boar hunt organized for tomorrow.”
Silence fell at the table. Caitrin held her breath. She stared down at her meal, willing Alasdair to refuse. However, when the hush drew out, she raised her gaze and looked at Alasdair. He met her eye briefly, before he shifted his attention to MacLeod and smiled, raising his goblet to the clan-chief. “Why not? I like a good hunt.”
Caitrin caught up with Alasdair in the entrance way outside the Great Hall once the noon meal had ended. Hurrying ahead of him she stepped into his path, forcing him to stop.
Alasdair halted, while Darron and Boyd continued on.
“Why are ye staying?” she demanded, rounding on him.
He cast her an infuriating smile. “Yer father insisted.”
“Ye could have refused.”
“It seemed rude.”
Caitrin drew in a sharp breath, fighting the anger that made her want to slap his face. “Twisted bastard—ye are remaining here to spite me,” she accused. “To gloat when I am forced to wed.”
He barked out a laugh. “Ye give yerself too high an importance, Caitrin. I’m staying to appease yer father, and for no other reason.”
She stepped close to him, drawing herself up as tall as she could. Even then, she still had to angle her head back to meet his gaze. Alasdair stared back at her, a challenge in his eyes. He was goading her, and she hated him for it.
“Ye are an unwelcome guest, MacDonald,” she snarled. “Ye might fool my father with yer smiles and flattery, but I know what ye are. Keep out of my way.”
Chapter Nineteen
First Impressions
CAITRIN STOOD IN her bed-chamber, nervously smoothing the skirts of her sky-blue kirtle. It was the first time since Baltair’s death that she’d worn any color besides black. She felt naked without her somber clothes.
Heaving in a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder at her sister’s hand-maid, Liosa. “So, they’re all waiting for me in the Great Hall, are they?”
The maid paused in brushing Caitrin’s hair. “They are, milady.”
Caitrin swallowed, nervousness rising in her breast. She wasn’t ready for this. “Have ye seen them?” Although Caitrin had already met Gavin MacNichol, she had no idea what her other two suitors looked like.
“Aye … I was in the bailey when they rode in.”
“And?”
Liosa’s green eyes grew round. “Ye are fortunate, milady. They’re three fine warriors.” She sighed then. “I can’t decide which of them is the most handsome.”
Caitrin cast a look over her shoulder at where Rhona perched upon a seat near the window.
