Page 12 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
The laird offered a slight, though Olivia caught the subtle mischief behind his eye. “Aye, that we should, Mam. That we should.”
Breakfast finished in a timely manner, with Nathan heading out on patrol while Flora busied herself with book. Olivia, meanwhile, was forced to follow between Laird MacDonnell and his mother, being led throughout the twists and turns of the castle while her food soured slightly from the nerves in her stomach.
“Me son’ll make sure no harm’ll come to ye,” Elspeth reassured, offering her hand for Olivia to take. She was more than happy to oblige, needing something desperately to ground herself to before she walked into a room filled with enemies.
Eventually, the trio found themselves within the council’s study, a number of older men sitting around the table with the head chair remaining empty. Laird MacDonnell was quick to fill the seat, leaving his mother and Olivia to wait near the entrance until the appropriate time.
The men spoke in length about various subjects–housekeeping, Olivia reasoned–until eventually, their conversation led to the laird’s most recent conquest.
“Excellent job with the Anderson clan, m’laird,” one of the councilmen congratulated.
“That square o’land will be perfect for raising workbeasts,” another beamed.
“Aye, and some for slaughter,” a third piped up. “It’ll be nice to have our own supply of meat that isnae fish.”
The councilmen chuckled at this, though Laird MacDonnell remained carefully neutral. It was a strange sight, seeing him appear so…emotionally distant. Olivia couldn’t help but marvel at the sight; he really did deserve his reputation as fearsome laird.
“A shame yer talent fer war isnae the same for bedding a wife, though,” a councilmen lamented.
“Aye! When will we be treated to the sound of wee bairns’ feet patterin’ about the keep?” another complained.
“Yer not gettin’ any younger, m’laird,” yet another teased, followed soon after by a round of boisterous laughter.
Again, the laird remained quiet, hands folding against the table as he leaned forward in his chair. Olivia watched as, one by one, the councilmen fell silent, an obvious tension quickly filling the air. One of the councilmen awkwardly cleared his throat, unable to break the silence that hung for a good ten seconds between them all.
Finally, the lair sat upright, face still unable to be read. “That topic is the main reason I had ye called in today.” He immediately captured the council’s interest, and their looks of nervous shame quickly turned to cautious intrigue.
A hand gestured toward the back of the room, and Olivia felt herself pulled forward by Elspeth, similarly bemused and bewildered by her son’s declaration. She gently released Olivia’s hand, which the laird quickly took into his own, and he held it upright for all to see. Nerves jumped from her stomach and skittered across her skin, and she turned to Laird MacDonnell, whose smile was far more smug than she believed he meant to reveal.
“Friends, this here is my betrothed; Olivia MacLarsen, once-member o’clan MacCulloh.”
7
As expected, his council erupted in a flurry of questions, concerns, and minor outrage. Arthur had learned long ago to let the older men have their moment of chaos, as it made it far easier to rein them back in with an unreadable look from their laird.
And it was the same here, as eventually, his council quieted down, looking as sheepish as a child caught red-handed with sticky scones smeared across their faces. The only one he couldn’t control, of course, was his mother. Who, understandably, looked as taken aback as the rest of their kin.
“Aye, Arthur?” she inquired, looking rather dubious at the claim. “Ye pair decided on that awful quick.” She gave a glance Olivia’s way, and Arthur wondered if, perhaps, his wee little selkie would crack under the pressure. But to her credit, Olivia offered a beaming smile in return, going as far as to free her her hand from his and wrap it around his arm instead.
“I’m sorry we didnae tell ye right away,” Olivia apologized sheepishly. “There was so much that happened last night; we thought it’d be best to tell ye once I had a good night’s sleep.” Her gaze trailed up to Arthur’s, the lovey-dovey glow in her eyes somewhat diminished by the obvious disdain she held for being forced to lie.
“It was my decision to do so Mam,” Arthur insisted, deciding to offer a bit of support to his partner in crime. “A lot had been spoken of during our ride home, and I said we needed a moment o’peace to speak it out properly.”
Olivia’s expression softened, clearly grateful he’d spoken up for her. Though, that quickly flipped to repressed outrage as he continued on.
“Aye; my wee selkie was so very grateful to have been saved, and she couldnae help but have feelings right away. She was so flustered during our ride, I had to make sure she was thinking straight before we announced it!” He repressed the urge to laugh as Olivia squinted her eyes at him, brow wobbling as she fought not to scowl.
“Of course,m’eudail!” she replied, voice oozing with love and the barest hint of contempt. “But ye can hardly blame me; the moment ye pulled me from that tarn, why, the look on yer face took me aback!” She cozied up to his arm further, eyelashes fluttering as her innocent grin held an air of mischief beneath it. “I never though the enemy laird of me clan could look so–so smitten! He wrapped me in his cloak an’ arms and stayed upall night to ensure I was well–aye, ye can hardly blame me fer falling as quickly in love as I have.”
She twittered out a girlish laugh, easily swaying the council to her side as they, too, joined her in her revelry. Arthur fought to keep his own smile from curling, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Smitten, was I?”
Olivia’s chin tilted, acting as if she’d just heard him whisper sweet nothings to her. “Aye; if I must play the part o’lovesickness, so must ye. Grateful as I am, I will not be made a fool fer yer entertainment, m’laird.”
Arthur allowed himself a chuckle, delighted at how venomously she’d spat out his title. The sudden urge to throw her over his shoulders and take her to bed nearly won out, and he fought to ignore the rise against his trousers. A goddess of the sea, indeed; he would not be tempted to try and tame such a force of nature. For his sake, and for the sake of her future.
“Ye were right to put a ‘no touching’ rule in our deal,” he mumbled disappointedly under his breath.
Olivia stood patiently–lovingly–by the laird’s side as they were bombarded with questions, particularly ones pertaining to the wedding. She had been nervous about being interrogated due to her lineage, but Laird MacDonnell had quickly put his council at ease from the start.
