Chapter 18

Kara stood in the doorway of the cavernous hall. Day two--evening. Lord Ewen was dancing, reeling around so fast in the smoky candlelight, a landing in the fireplace and him and his kilt going up in flames, wouldn't have been the least surprising. One skid of the massive boots straining against his partner's shoes was all it would take. Think of the trouble it would save her.

With the devil involved though? Unlikely. Ewen McDunnagh was built like a beached whale, but he danced like a feather. The skirling bagpipes were a taunt from hell when she thought about the wedding feast that was still to come in the life not yet lived. This entire scene was. It was even lit by blazing torches.

Not for the first time her throat clenched, her mind recoiled, that she should, in her life, have come to this sorry reduction where she was considering the happy step of him going up in flames as a means of salvation, when it wouldn't solve anything.

Life was a series of steps to a particular destination. She was happy with the ones she was taking, remember? Even in the darkest night.

Her next step? Into this lion's den, to negotiate it, knowing every eye in the room was on her in starving speculation. Clan royalty and Ewen's trollops. Paradoxically it would have been better if she'd married Ewen two days ago. Then she'd have been filled with such loathing for her husband, it would be no trouble to betray him. She would not be facing evenings like this with a mask fixed to her face, her breath a flutter of moth's wings in the pit of her stomach.

Of course she could escape. She had meant to escape. It had come as a shock to her that could and meant, could become couldn't in the life lived. Why? Because taking that reprieve and running made her a bad person? So she was staying to see this through?

Fixing a smile to her lips she swept through the studded double doors. Thank God for that whiskey she'd sunk earlier. The wine too.

"Good evening, my dearest lord."

Her voice and her curtsey were as amenable as she could make them. While she could fault Ewen McDunnagh on everything else—drinking, card-playing, the dancing that went on day and night, the serving girl she'd seen coming out his room this morning, this god-awful supper come to that—after that first time he'd mauled her he'd kept his distance. This far anyway. Although the surly glances he gave her said he was only biding his time.

"Whaur were ye?" The brutish glare raised such cold prickles on her skin, the room chilled. "In thon damnable chamber o' yours? Settin' yir poncy hair in order? And pittin' on yir fancy Furench purfumes?Weel?"

She straightened her spine, holding his stare. In the castle armory, counting the weapons was not the answer to give here. Not when she desired to reach the chair alive. And after all, before that she had been in her damned chamber. It had taken some time to decide which one of the gowns her father had saddled her with looked the least likely to result in her fiance trying to haul it off. The turquoise one with the neckline around her waist, the cream with no neckline at all, or the pale green with a neckline to her chin but no shoulders to speak of and more ruffles on the skirt than a French pastry? At the end of the day, the pale greenhad seemed the most appropriate. Poncy hair? French perfumes? She'd be so lucky.

"Indeed, I was making myself ready to meet your guests, my noble and greatly desired, lord."

"Weel, they're ah very nearly deed o' stervation. Sit doon, madam, afore it's wakes we're haein', no' weddings."

Keeping her lips curved amenably presented something of a challenge, especially when she could see nowhere to sit. But she smiled anyway. The McDunnagh brothers. What a bloody pair.

"Here, Lady McGurkie." At the far end of the nearest trestle table a man rose to his feet. "Beside me."

Keeping her cool was the same as keeping her lips curved. Archibald Kelty, Lord Mhor McDunnagh's most formidable bodyguard. Perhaps not the last person she wanted to sit beside, that accolade went to her betrothed, but a close second.

He was an old man now. Even so, Archibald Kelty had brokered the deal with her father. He had come to the castle and appeared to run this one—in so far as it appeared to be run. She knew his black eyes watched her like a hawk, for all the shock of greasy hair framing his pox-marked face was gray. So she would squash every impulse but to grasp her skirt and glide forward.

"Thank you, sir."

Anyway, it could be worse. The man she'd really dread sitting next to wasn't here. And he wasn't going to be either.

"Not at all, Lady McGurkie." Archibald waited till she was properly seated before resuming his own. "His lordship's manners are coorse. I would be sorely lacking in mine if I did not prove we are not all like that in Lochalpin."

Kara glanced around the hall. Not much they weren't.

He spread his napkin across his knee. "Especially when we all know you'vemuch to compare our coorse manners with. Ourselves too."

Gleaming black walls. Manacle rings. Yes. Wasn't she the lucky one?

"Oh, Edinburgh was fine in its way. But there's no place like home, is there?"

"Really, my lady? I would have thought so fine a city—"

He could think what he liked, this speech was prepared. She did not even fear speaking of Edinburgh, although she'd sooner not. How could she? She may never have set foot there, but neither had he.

"Of course it's fine in its way, the castle, the parties, because of course, it's a wonderful town. But not when my father wanted me take the place I was schooled for."

"I see. So, tell me--"

"Yes." She offered a dripping smile. "And you know my father--well, even if you don't know him personally--the fortune was not small that he spent on me." No lie. "Far be it for me to disobey him. My sisters had no understanding of the fact, although I think they do now."

"I was just surprised that—"

"Oh, me too. Especially after all the enmity between our clans. No, I won't say I was dancing at the prospect. That might be too great a lie. But I would say, and I'm sure you agree, we all need peace … the one this wedding will bring. That's why, knowing I could not possibly be your first choice, as Ewen wasn't exactly mine, I want to thank you, not just for brokering the deal,for this welcome, for arranging this great feast in my honor."