Page 36 of Unchain the Highlander's Heart

“You do look very pretty,” he said, hoping to break the cold demeanor which Murdina had adopted.

It was as though she was determined to show herself in the worst possible light in the hope that no man would find her attractive. For despite her dress, the look on her face detracted much from her beauty.

“Freya forced me to wear it. It belonged to our mother,” Murdina replied, pushing aside her plate with a sigh.

“You do not have to go through with this,” Kin said, but Murdina only shrugged and took a sip from her wine glass.

“And what other choice do I have but to dae so? I have had a narrow escape in Murdoch thanks to ye, but are ye to expose every suitor here as a traitor? I think nae,” she replied.

Kin fell silent. It was clear by her words–if not directly–that she, too, was planning the moment of her escape. He wondered about the possibility of taking her with him, the passionate moment they had shared enough to bring a particular attachment, one which would not easily be discarded.

“I am sure they are not all traitors. But… there are some good men,” he said, and she turned to him and gave a weak smile.

“Aye, even if they cannae be beaten in a sword fight,” she said, winking at him.

At that moment, he saw beyond the mask of her sad demeanor and witnessed instead the spark of her true self, the self which he had so passionately embraced the evening before. He smiled at her and glanced back towards where Cillian was sitting–or rather slumped–a tankard of ale clasped in his hand.

“It is certainly proving a merry evening for all,” he remarked, wiping his mouth with a napkin, and rising from his seat.

“Where dae ye think ye are goin’ to?” the laird asked, and Kin gave a curt bow.

“I must… relieve myself,” he said, and the laird–who had also drunk a great deal that night–laughed and banged his fist down on the table.

“Aye, go to it, lad,” he said, shaking his head and raising his own tankard to his lips.

Kin knew this would be his one and only opportunity to escape. The castle guards would be feasting, too, the gates left open for straggling guests, and the great hall awash with drunken clansmen whose sore heads would last long into the following day. He nodded to Murdina and, though feeling a pang of guilt at leaving her behind, hurried quickly along the side of the great hall and up the stairs towards his chambers.

* * *

Murdina was bored. She had no time for the feast or her father’s intentions for her. Freya and Ella were giggling at the far end of the table, and the laird had invited several Jacobite leaders to join him at the high table. Kin had slipped out, and Murdina was left alone, swilling the last of her wine in her glass and feeling thoroughly despondent.

“Freya, I want ye to meet Iver Doherty, laird of his clan,” Murdina’s father was saying, and Murdina looked up to find a tall man with jet black hair and a pointed beard approaching the dais.

Freya rose to her feet, her face flushed red with excitement, and she curtsied to him, holding out her hand for him to take. He bowed before taking her hand and raising it to his lips.

“I am charmed, my lady,” he said, and Freya giggled.

“And I am charmed to meet ye, too,” she replied.

But as he spoke, the laird’s eyes fell on Murdina, and he smiled at her and nodded.

“And what beautiful sisters ye have Freya,” he said, turning first to Murdina and then to Ella.

“Well… aye, they are,” Freya replied, her tone sounding somewhat now subdued.

“Murdina and Ella,” their father said, and Murdina had no choice but to rise to her feet and acknowledge the laird, who bowed again.

“A pleasure. I have journeyed far to be here this night and to find myself in company with nae one, but three beautiful women is a joy I can hardly repay,” he replied.

Murdina had little time for such pleasantries, but for Freya’s sake, she played along, trying to direct the laird’s attention back to her sister rather than to her.

“I hope ye have found our hospitality to yer pleasure, laird,” Murdina said, as their guest smiled at her.

“I have, aye, and I hope I shall find it so in time to come,” he replied.

“Ye are always welcome here on the Mull of Kilchurn. My hall is ever hospitable to friends and allies,” Murdina’s father said.

“And tell me, laird. What of yer prisoner–yer guest–the one sitting here but a few moments ago. Is he friend or foe?” Iver asked.

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