Page 11 of A Merry MacNaughton
“I thought the men would discuss matters after we have eaten,” intervened Ailish, sending a warning glance to her son. “Let’s enjoy the rest of our meal.”
“This has nothing to do with clan politics. Or does it?” At Finley’s question, all eyes turned to Malachi.
“Weel, it depends on how ye look at it.” He shot Peigi an apologetic look and dread lodged in her chest. “I’m offering Calum my most precious possession.”
“And that would be?” asked Angus in a low voice.
“My daughter.” At the collected gasp, he added, “A betrothal between our clans.”
Peigi couldn’t breathe. The knife she held in her hand clattered atop her plate. To her horror, Angus gripped his belly and laughed so heartily that tears came to his eyes. The rigid and silent man next to her only added to the nightmare. She was a joke to the chieftain and an unwanted gift to his son. Standing on weak legs, the chair toppled behind her. Peigi picked up her skirts with as much dignity as possible, addressed her father with a vehement, “Go to the devil, ye piece of cow dung,” and fled the room.
She’d made it halfway up the narrow stairs when she tripped on her skirt. Her knee slammed into the hard stone, and she gripped it with a sharp cry, sinking onto the step. How could her own father betray her like this? Why didn’t he tell her, warn her of his plans?
Humiliation and despair had her cursing at herself, the Craiggs, the MacNaughtons, and life in general. Words she’d only heard uttered from the men in the family spilled out of her mouth. Angry tears streamed down her face. She was no better than a piece of property to be bartered off for something more valuable. The thought of facing any of them twisted her stomach into a tight knot.
The tears subsided. Peigi took several deep breaths, wiped her face and nose with her sleeve, and tried to stand. Pain shot from her knee up her thigh, sending her back down on her bum.
“I’m sorry for that scene in the dining room. It wasna fair to ambush ye like that.”
Her eyes stung again at the sound of Calum’s voice, the gentleness and empathy it held. She could easier withstand his disgust than his pity.
“I’m naught but a woman. I should be used to such treatment.” The resentment was building again, stinging her eyes with unshed tears.
“It’s no’ customary in my family. We cherish our womenfolk.” He laid a warm hand on her shoulder. “May I help ye up?”
She shook her head. “I appreciate yer kindness, but I need to be alone. And dinna act as if ye were no’ ambushed alongside me. I saw the look of panic on yer face.” Peigi stood, balancing on one leg. If he’d just turn around and leave, he wouldn’t see her limp away. She still had a wee bit of pride left. “Now if ye’ll excuse me, I’d like to retire to my room.”
He didn’t leave. Well, she’d wait him out.
“Go on then, my stubborn beauty. Make yer way up those stairs. Two flights, mind ye. That leg will be swelled up like a cow at calving by the time ye reach the top.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned against the wall. “But I’m a firm believer in letting a person choose their own way.”
Peigi grit her teeth. She leaned against the wall with one hand, taking the weight off her bad leg and put her good foot on the next step. With a silent prayer, she hoisted her injured leg up. She gave the irritating man behind her a smug smile over her shoulder. The smile faded when her eyes followed the number of steps before her. Sweet Mary, she was so tired.
Strong arms scooped her up. “No argument, my bonnie little lambie.” He carefully lifted her off the steps, settling her against his hard chest, his breath fanning her face as he spoke. “I willna allow ye to be hurt in my home by stone steps or ignorant men. Ye are indeed a most precious thing, and I’m sorry ye had to go through that.”
And with those compassionate words, the dam broke and she sobbed against his chest. His lips brushed against the top of her hair, and he spoke soothing words to her in a low tone as he carried her up the stairs. Her fingers clutched at his waistcoat, drenching it with her tears. He rocked her gently until she began to hiccup. It was then she realized they had reached her room and they sat on the bed.
“Y-ye are a good man, Calum MacNaughton, just as my father said.” She blew her nose on the cloth she’d been holding to her eyes. Her eyes widened as she realized it was his neckcloth. The tears sprang up again. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffed as she swiped at the mess she’d created.
He laughed, the rumble in his chest vibrating against her hand. The hand holding her legs reached up and pulled off the white material. He bunched it up and dabbed at her eyes. “It’s seen worse than a good cry, lassie.” He held the crumpled linen to her nose. “Go ahead,” he ordered.
She dutifully blew into the cloth, feeling like a little girl again being comforted after a fall. How could she look him in the eye?
As if reading her mind, he tipped her chin up, his eyes crinkling around the corners. A thick lock had fallen onto his forehead, covering one bushy dark brow. Without thinking, she reached up and pushed it back. Her fingers slowly moved of their own accord, down the side of his face to his jaw, and stopped. His head dipped as his lips brushed her fingertips.
Peigi stared into those deep blue depths and watched them darken with…desire? It couldn’t be. Not after her father’s announcement. He couldn’t possibly want—
His mouth covered hers, and her mind went numb. Thoughts of her father, the clan, the pain in her knee disappeared under an all-consuming heat. The velvet touch of his lips created a thrumming in her belly that shot through her core. When he pulled back, she whimpered then sighed as he settled her closer. His tongue teased her lips, and she hesitated, not sure what to do. Her only kiss had been with a village boy whose hard mouth had pressed against hers while his inexperienced hands grabbed at her breasts. This…this was terrifying and divine. She parted her lips and gave in to this unexpected passion. His tongue danced against hers, and she sucked in a breath as a pulse began low in her core. Curling her hand around his neck, she pulled him closer, and heard him moan—then growl.
Chapter Five
An Oath Given, A Heart Stolen
Calum had wantedto throttle both fathers. One for callously using his daughter, and the other for humiliating her with his unabashed laughter. The commotion at supper had turned almost comical when Peigi had fled the room.
“What the bloody hell were ye thinking?” he’d bellowed at Malachi when Peigi ran from the dining room.
“Dinna yell at our guests,” scolded Angus, wiping his eyes. “This is irony at its best, I tell ye. What were we just talking about, Son?”
