was equally unwelcome. She might have been forced to open her gates to him, but she didn’t have to be gracious.
‘I’m afraid you’ll find nae respite here,’ she said. ‘Or did you know we have been recently ill-treated?’
He smiled then. That easy, carefree smile she hated and in reflex her arm drew back on the string.
Never lowering his eyes nor his voice, Bram said, ‘Then perhaps you’ll accept our humble offerings.’
With another courtly gesture, he turned towards the gates. Within moments, Colquhoun clansmen ceremoniously carried upon their shoulders planks of wood laden with food.
A whine in his throat, Dog restlessly lifted his front paw at the overwhelming smells and sights. Roasted boar, turnips, onions, parsnips, glazed over with...butter. All from the supplies Bram brought.
Her own men held on to their weapons, but their arrows now pointed down. None of them looked to her, their eyes were wide on the feast being carried into the keep; it would all need to be set down on—
She stopped short. Her Hall. The planks of wood would never fit. Then there was the filth and damp. She couldn’t be in there today of all days. She’d conceded too much of her position to the Colquhoun today. She wouldn’t give in any more.
She was just about to order them to stop when more Colquhoun men brought in trestles to support the heavily laden planks of wood. As if at her request, they set them down in the centre of the courtyard. They couldn’t have travelled from the Colquhoun land with them.
So his men hadn’t been idle these past weeks. She’d watched as they made the spiked fence and crafted additional arrows, watched as they trained and trained again. But secretly, surely, they’d been preparing for this banquet as well.
Returning her arrow to her belt, she looked to Bram, who was carrying a thick wooden bench as easily as if he carried an armful of kindling. He said something to his clansman and they laughed as they gathered the other benches.
The morning was mild and it hadn’t rained for days. She opened the gates, food appeared and now even the weather cooperated with this man.
Dog certainly was cooperating. Someone had thrown a hunk of venison against the furthest wall and he was busily dragging it outside the gates. She didn’t know when she’d see him again.
When the food was all set, what would be expected of her? She was used to being alone, not surrounded by people with expectations. She hated these questions and doubts. Her weaknesses conceded even more power to Laird Colquhoun.
‘He’ll be done soon.’ Aindreas stepped closer to her. ‘Will you accept it?’
The food? Bram said nothing about it. But now that her clan saw it, she couldn’t refuse. ‘It’d be a waste, since the clan is hungry.’
‘I doona like the way he looks at you,’ Aindreas said.
She knew what he meant. Even though Bram organised the feast before her, it felt as if he was assessing her every move and emotion. Knowing him, he’d use it to his advantage. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘Aye, and I doona believe you,’ he said. ‘Still, whatever did happen, I didn’t expect an apology from him.’
‘Is that what this is?’ She couldn’t imagine Bram apologising. This had to be more of his famed diplomacy and negotiation. Perhaps he expected her to let down her guard with his generosity. Ha! Generosity! More like strategy.
‘He’s doing this here, but also down in the village.’
She gasped. There was more food?
‘You need to let the villagers know whether you accept his apology.’
The villagers had looked to her for leadership since her father’s death. She tried to lead them, but failed, and when the English had ravaged, ordered, stripped away every—
She clamped down on her anger and helplessness. The English were gone now, just as the Colquhouns would be soon enough.
Aindreas’s expression darkened and she knew Bram approached from behind her. She wouldn’t have the strength to stop a fight.
‘Go, tell them to accept the food and see what Donaldo has baked,’ she said.
There would be precious little bread, but there would be some. They couldn’t have the Colquhouns controlling the entire feast. The Fergussons might be poor, but they had their pride.
With a look over her shoulder, Aindreas headed out of the gates.
‘Tell them what?’ Bram said.
She turned. He was closer than she thought and she barely stopped herself from stepping back. This close she was all too aware of his height, the way he held himself, the way he was just...there. She shook herself. ‘That your apology is accepted.’
‘I am grateful,’ he said, but there was an undercurrent, some hidden meaning she didn’t want to think about. He was always hiding something and resentment roiled within her.
She wasn’t used to being around people, wasn’t used to hiding her feelings or emotions, but if it kept her clan protected from the Colquhoun, she’d learn fast.
‘It’s easier that way, isn’t it?’ she said.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘Aye, easy.’
So he didn’t like her reply. She didn’t like anything about this. She didn’t like that this close, and in the sunlight, his features weren’t glaring, but vibrant. Alive. This close she heard, but also felt, the low timbre of his voice.
The Colquhoun laird was handsome. No, more than that. Aindreas was handsome. Bram was more. It was the way he held his powerful body and those unearthly eyes that pierced right through her skin. Like now. She felt that fluttering again and knew it had nothing to do with hunger and weakness.
It was him.
‘Do you need to talk to your council?’ Bram pointed over her shoulder. ‘You couldn’t have had time to do so before now.’
Lioslath glanced behind her. Everyone from the keep was standing in little groups. Bram was gazing at the group of elders.
‘I’ll take care of your siblings,’ he said. ‘While you go and talk.’
‘My siblings?’
‘Aye, your brothers, who are already grabbing food, and your sister, admonishing them as she usually does.’
Despite the tension in the courtyard, and her men pointing arrows at his heart, he noticed the children. She felt a pang and knew it had nothing to do with hunger. In the mere moments he’d spent with her brothers and sister, he knew them better than she. Even after all these months, she still didn’t know how to approach or talk to them.
Chuckling as Gillean barely missed Fyfa’s reach, Bram answered, ‘I’ll make sure they get enough before they scamper outside the gates.’
Was that what they wanted to do, to scamper? Maybe so. They
