Corinne shivered, only in part from the blast of icy wind blowing in from the open doors.

The barrel of a man charging into the hall could be none other than Laird MacDonnell—the man who could end his clan’s alliance with the Mackenzies thanks to Reid and her marriage.

The Laird wore a red plaid slashed with green, his graying hair windblown and his beard twitching with anger. His brown eyes were so wide with rage that Corinne could see the whites all around them.

Alain and a handful of Mackenzie and MacRae guards darted into the great hall behind the Laird, closing the doors against the frigid wind.

“Laird, would ye like me to restrain him?” Alain said even as the MacDonnell Laird continued charging toward the raised dais.

Reid waved Alain and the other warriors off with a gesture, planting his feet and squaring his shoulders to the enraged man approaching.

“Greetings, Laird,” he said in a loud, even voice. “I hope this season finds ye well. I’m sure—”

Laird MacDonnell came to a halt directly in front of Reid. Though the dais made Reid more than a head taller, Laird MacDonnell pushed so close that his deep chest nearly bumped Reid.

“Dinnae act as though ye didnae hear me,” Laird MacDonnell snapped, pointing an accusing finger right under Reid’s nose. “I ken what ye did, and I willnae stand for it.”

Corinne held her breath. Judging from the nigh deafening silence that stretched in the great hall, so did everyone else present. Reid stared down at Laird MacDonnell for a long moment. This close, she could see that a muscle ticked in his jaw behind his dark stubble, yet the rest of his demeanor remained controlled.

“I’m glad to welcome ye to Eilean Donan as a friend,” Reid said pointedly. “And I am happy to explain aught that ye may have heard.”

“Oh, I have heard plenty,” Laird MacDonnell seethed. His finger swung to where Corinne sat behind the table, and she involuntarily curled back into her chair. “Foremost that ye have replaced my beloved Euna with this English wench!”

Reid’s face suddenly dropped into a hard glower, his eyes like sharpened steel. “Kindly lower yer finger from my wife’s direction,” he ground out.

Laird MacDonnell dropped his hand but rounded on Reid once more. “Ye have disrespected Euna’s memory with such an act. Ye’ve shamed my younger daughter Adelaide by passing her over like some milkless cow. And ye’ve destroyed my faith in ye—and the alliance along with it. Ye will soon learn what a terrible error ye’ve made in crossing the MacDonnells, man.”

Reid had passed over the Laird’s other daughter? Confusion swamped Corinne, but before she could puzzle out what Laird MacDonnell meant, he charged on.

“If ye think I will let this pass without—”

“Laird MacDonnell,” Reid snapped, cutting the man off. His composure was visibly slipping. Now his hands were clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned white. “Do ye wish to have an explanation for the situation we find ourselves in, or do ye wish to shout yerself into an early grave?”

“Is that a threat, Mackenzie?” the Laird growled.

“Nay, man,” Reid replied through clenched teeth. “Merely an observation that ye are turning as red as yer plaid.”

Reid turned and moved behind the table, taking up his chair at Corinne’s side. Into the taut silence now filling the hall, he spoke. “Ye ken that I have been away much of late, for the King has requested that I give him aid in the Borderlands in the fight against the English.”

Laird MacDonnell gave a single nod, his face screwed up into a scowl.

“On my most recent mission, he asked that I kidnap a certain Englishwoman,” Reid said, slightly inclining his head toward Corinne, “to thwart a marriage alliance that would have united two English border lords against the King. To ensure that Lady Corinne couldnae be taken and forced into a marriage ever again, the King ordered that I wed her.”

Corinne stiffened at that. His blunt words stung her pride, just as they had when he’d announced their marriage to his clan upon arriving at Eilean Donan. He’d painted an accurate enough picture, but all that talk of orders and duty made her feel small.

To her shock, though, he reached out and took her hand. “Though I was obliged to marry Lady Corinne at the King’s command, I have since come to learn that it is a great privilege to be her husband.”

Surprised murmurs rippled through the hall. Corinne felt her face grow warm, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment—nay, it was from a feeling expanding in her heart that she wasn’t quite ready to name yet.

“So ye see,” Reid went on. “I didnae intend to marry. I didnae plan on endangering our alliance. But now that both have come to pass, I’d like to discuss how we might move forward.”

Laird MacDonnell’s eyes darted from Corinne to Reid and back again. “Ye cannae expect me to accept that.”

Reid’s hand tightened on hers.

“Ye’ve replaced my Euna as if her death meant naught,” the Laird continued.

Reid released her hand, his fist coming to rest on the table. “Enough,” he bit out.

“Ye broke our agreement that Adelaide would be yer wife when she came of age—”

“We never finalized such an arrangement.”

“—and now ye expect me to forgive all just because ye were following orders? Nay, ye cannae just marry some English chit and—”

“Silence!” Reid roared, slamming his fist against the table so hard that Corinne’s ink well bounced and tottered precariously before coming back to rest safely. Corinne jumped as well, and several in the hall sucked in a breath.

“Disrespect my wife again, and I’ll have ye thrown from the top of the keep into Loch Duich, Laird or nay,” Reid growled.

Laird MacDonnell clamped his mouth shut, though he seethed red with anger.

Reid rolled his neck, letting a long breath go. “Clear the hall,” he ordered. “And bring us bread and ale. We arenae through here, Laird.”

Laird MacDonnell’s face flickered with surprise before he hardened his features once more. “I’ll make no promises that ye can convince me no’ to end the alliance,” he said warily.

“Fair enough,” Reid replied, his mouth set in a stubborn line. “And I will promise to fight tooth and nail for this alliance, just as I did the first time.”

As the others began to file out of the hall and a servant brought fresh bread and a pitcher of ale, Corinne tried to rise inconspicuously.

“Nay, wife,” Reid said, catching her hand. “Stay. Ye are part of this, too.”

Reluctantly, she sank back into her chair, eyeing the disgruntled bear of a Laird across from her.

Reid waited until another servant had brought three mugs and a chair for Laird MacDonnell before lifting the bread and symbolically tearing it, handing a chunk to the Laird and Corinne before biting into his own piece.

“Now,” he said, pouring the ale. “Where would ye like me to begin?”

 

*   *   *   *

 

As the afternoon stretched into evening, Reid had to resist the urge to shove back from the table and thrash something. He’d always known Arthur MacDonnell was a stubborn old badger, but the man had put up less of a fight in handing his eldest daughter to a bastard-born Laird in marriage than he did now.

Reid had explained twice more—in detail—his mission from the Bruce to kidnap Corinne and his subsequent order to marry her. He’d assured MacDonnell that he’d argued with the King against such an arrangement for the harm it would do to their clans’ alliance.

To his surprise, Corinne spoke up as well, confirming that Reid had fought valiantly against their union, as had she. This seemed to catch MacDonnell off-guard, for his bushy gray eyebrows shot up when Corinne described her own multiple attempts to escape.

“Ye’ve got a wee bit of fire in ye, dinnae ye, lass?” MacDonnell had said, eyeing Corinne. “Do ye have any Highland blood in yer veins?”

“Nay,” she’d replied, flushing. “Only English, as far as I know.”

“Hmph. That hair says otherwise.”

Though the man seemed open to Corinne’s words, he would inevitably turn cold when Reid spoke. As the evening wore on, Reid repeated over and over that his marriage to Corinne was in no way an act of aggression toward the MacDonnells. When those assurances seemed to do little to convince the Laird, Reid reminded him that his own mother, Brinda, was a MacDonnell. Blood already bound their clans together, as did Reid’s first marriage to Euna.

“She hasnae been forgotten, nor replaced,” Reid said for the third or fourth time, barely containing the desire to toss his hands in the air and give up. Nay, he wouldn’t be bested so easily. He would fight for this alliance, for it meant his people’s security, and he refused to—

“I have a question,” Corinne said, cutting into his frustrated thoughts.

Laird MacDonnell lifted his mug of ale. “Go on with ye then, lass.”

Corinne turned to Reid. “You didn’t tell me you’d already arranged to marry Laird MacDonnell’s other daughter.”

Though she was clearly fighting to keep her voice even, a tart edge sharpened the words. The memory of her barging in on him in the bath, demanding to know why he hadn’t told her of his previous marriage, rose in his mind.

MacDonnell snorted into his ale. “I like yer spirit, lass,” he said. “Dinnae try to convince me ye got that in England, too.”

Corinne spared him a glance before turning back to Reid. “Well?”

Christ, if he’d thought it was bad facing Laird MacDonnell in a fit of rage, he didn’t stand a chance with Corinne joining the old codger’s side.

“We didnae have an official agreement,” he said, narrowing his eyes on MacDonnell. “Isnae that right, Arthur?”

The Laird shifted, making his chair groan. “Well, nay, no’ exactly an official arrangement. More like an understanding.”

Corinne still stared at Reid expectantly.

He scrubbed a hand along his bristled jawline. “After Euna passed, Laird MacDonnell suggested that in a few years’ time, when his younger daughter Adelaide was of age, we might…renew our clans’ commitment to the alliance with another marriage.”

“Ah,” Corinne said, a frown lingering around her mouth. “And how old is Adelaide?”

“She is seventeen, but we thought to wait a wee bit longer,” MacDonnell supplied. He grunted. “Offense no’ intended, but I think the lass was rather relieved when news arrived that ye’d wed, Mackenzie. What lass wants to marry her older sister’s husband?”

“In any case,” Reid said, redirecting the conversation. “Another marriage alliance was merely a suggestion, an idea proposed rather than a solid plan.”

One of Corinne’s red eyebrows arched and she pinned him with her gaze. “Shall I expect any other bits of news from you? Do you have a third wife, or mayhap another engagement?”

MacDonnell coughed into his ale, but it sounded suspiciously like a bark of laughter.

“Nay, I dinnae have any more surprises,” Reid said, shooting a withering look at MacDonnell. He turned back to Corinne. “I ken I havenae been…forthcoming with ye, Corinne, but I vow that I am no’ keeping ye in the dark about aught anymore.”

He reached out and gently tucked a loose lock of flame-red hair behind her ear, holding her gaze so that she could see the truth of his words in his eyes.

As the moment stretched, he felt MacDonnell eyeing them. At last he broke their look to turn back to the Laird.

“I think I see what ye mean about counting yerself lucky in yer union, Mackenzie,” MacDonnell said grudgingly. He planted both hands on the table, his face drawn in contemplation. “I ken now that ye couldnae go against the King’s orders. And though ye dinnae ken who yer blood sire is, yer mother was a MacDonnell, as ye say.”

Reid stiffened, sensing that the stubborn Laird was about to yield his anger and drop his earlier claim that the alliance was off.

“We need allies now more than ever,” the Laird went on, tugging on his graying beard. “The MacVales continue to grow bolder along our eastern border. Just a fortnight ago, we lost more than a dozen sheep to them. My men cannae keep up with their attacks.”

This was his opportunity to bring MacDonnell fully back around and seal their alliance.

“Mayhap I can help,” Reid said, propping his elbows on the table. “Ye ken Cedrick is one of my best warriors. Yet without another battle beneath the Bruce’s banner in sight, his skills will go to waste behind Eilean Donan’s walls.”

“Oh, aye?” MacDonnell said, feigning indecision.

“I have a few others I could send as well,” Reid went on, thinking of Galen and the men who’d listened to him badmouth Corinne. “Capable warriors, of course, but men who would do well to be away from the clan for a wee while.”

MacDonnell pursed his lips. “I suppose that might help.” He sighed as if Reid were taxing him greatly. “And I suppose there is naught to do about that fact that ye’ve married an Englishwoman. But if it must be an Englishwoman, better to have her be as bonny and spirited as this one, eh?”

To Reid’s surprise, MacDonnell looked up at Corinne and actually winked at her. Corinne’s whole face suffused with red, but she smiled back at the older Laird, lifting her chin. “I seem to have charmed you, Laird MacDonnell, though I confess you haven’t seen a fraction of what I am capable of.”

“Ha!” MacDonnell roared, slapping his hand on the table top hard enough to make the ale jump in their mugs. “There’s that spirit! Now that matters are settled, when will we put aside this bread and weak ale in favor of a real meal and some of that Mackenzie whisky?”