Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) by Vonda Sinclair Page A
Authors: Vonda Sinclair
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you're well-recovered from your injuries."
"I thank you."
Behind MacRury stood four women.
"This is my wife, Lady MacRury, and my daughter, Lady Ophelia," Chief MacRury said, motioning to the two well-dressed females, both dark-haired. Saints! Surely the petite lass could not be old enough to marry. She looked as if she was barely out of the nursery.
Staring at Neacal's face, she blanched and curtsied, her dark eyes wide. 'Twas his scarred face which frightened her. He ground his teeth, though she couldn't be blamed. She was practically a child, after all.
What nonsense!
Ignoring her reaction, Neacal bowed. "A pleasure, ladies."
The MacRury then introduced a few of his prominent clansmen and Neacal shook their hands.
"Supper has started. Please, join us." Walking beside the other chief, Neacal led the way into the great hall. Since the girl appeared terrified of him, surely she would tell her parents she wished for a less damaged husband. Hopefully, he would think of some fathomable excuse to let her father know he wasn't interested… without angering him.
At the high table, servants rushed to bring the newcomers food and ale.
During the commotion, Neacal slipped in behind Bhatar's chair. "I need to speak to you, uncle."
The older man pretended not to hear, blast him. He was not deaf. In fact, his hearing was almost as good as Neacal's.
He tapped his shoulder. When Bhatar glanced around, Neacal motioned with his head toward the library.
The man reddened and dropped his gaze.
"Now," Neacal growled low, then strode to the library to wait. He'd had it with the meddling elders.
Once Bhatar joined him, he closed the library door. "You sent for that young lady?"
"Not just me, all of us. Did you see how bonny she is?" His blue eyes twinkled like a mischievous elf.
"Damnation," Neacal growled low. "I told you I am not yet ready to be saddled with a wife."
"But sometimes a pretty face can help you be ready." Bhatar winked.
" Cha toir á bhòidhchead goil air áphoit. Beauty won't boil the pot. Is that not what you always say?" Neacal snapped.
"Aye." Bhatar grinned. "But it never hurts."
Neacal had the urge to hit something… or choke someone. He turned away, lest he throttle his elderly uncle. "I meant what I said. I have no intention of marrying now. If her clan is offended by my lack of interest, 'tis on your head."
"Och. You must learn how to be diplomatic, Neacal," he said in a cajoling tone. "You let your fiery temper rule you."
If Bhatar had been tortured he would no doubt have a bad temper, too.
Neacal wished he was mild-mannered and charming, more like he used to be. But wishes and reality were often miles apart.
"I have good reason," Neacal grated. Besides, he had improved over the past few months, he thought. And he would be even better if people, like the elders, didn't intentionally provoke him.
"Mayhap so, but I've always known you to be a wise man. Be careful you do not allow anger to rob you of that."
Sounded like something his da would've said. Neacal lifted a brow, eyeing his great uncle. As for the current situation… he did not want to make enemies of the MacRury clan.
"This is only a meeting, naught more," Bhatar said in the placating tone that riled Neacal even more. "If you don't like her, we'll send them on their way."
"Does the chief know this?"
"Of course. In order to ken who you wish to marry, you must meet a few acceptable young ladies."
Warning flashed through him. "A few? What the devil does that mean?"
Bhatar simply gave him a wee toothless grin.
"You've sent for more ladies? How many?" Neacal could not help that his voice blasted out that last question.
"Only two more, lad. Surely you can meet three bonny young ladies and be civil to them for a few days. If you dislike them, we will send them away."
"I don't need this right now." Neacal paced, irritation crawling along his nerve endings. "I have enough to deal with in rebuilding the garrison with loyal and skilled
"I thank you."
Behind MacRury stood four women.
"This is my wife, Lady MacRury, and my daughter, Lady Ophelia," Chief MacRury said, motioning to the two well-dressed females, both dark-haired. Saints! Surely the petite lass could not be old enough to marry. She looked as if she was barely out of the nursery.
Staring at Neacal's face, she blanched and curtsied, her dark eyes wide. 'Twas his scarred face which frightened her. He ground his teeth, though she couldn't be blamed. She was practically a child, after all.
What nonsense!
Ignoring her reaction, Neacal bowed. "A pleasure, ladies."
The MacRury then introduced a few of his prominent clansmen and Neacal shook their hands.
"Supper has started. Please, join us." Walking beside the other chief, Neacal led the way into the great hall. Since the girl appeared terrified of him, surely she would tell her parents she wished for a less damaged husband. Hopefully, he would think of some fathomable excuse to let her father know he wasn't interested… without angering him.
At the high table, servants rushed to bring the newcomers food and ale.
During the commotion, Neacal slipped in behind Bhatar's chair. "I need to speak to you, uncle."
The older man pretended not to hear, blast him. He was not deaf. In fact, his hearing was almost as good as Neacal's.
He tapped his shoulder. When Bhatar glanced around, Neacal motioned with his head toward the library.
The man reddened and dropped his gaze.
"Now," Neacal growled low, then strode to the library to wait. He'd had it with the meddling elders.
Once Bhatar joined him, he closed the library door. "You sent for that young lady?"
"Not just me, all of us. Did you see how bonny she is?" His blue eyes twinkled like a mischievous elf.
"Damnation," Neacal growled low. "I told you I am not yet ready to be saddled with a wife."
"But sometimes a pretty face can help you be ready." Bhatar winked.
" Cha toir á bhòidhchead goil air áphoit. Beauty won't boil the pot. Is that not what you always say?" Neacal snapped.
"Aye." Bhatar grinned. "But it never hurts."
Neacal had the urge to hit something… or choke someone. He turned away, lest he throttle his elderly uncle. "I meant what I said. I have no intention of marrying now. If her clan is offended by my lack of interest, 'tis on your head."
"Och. You must learn how to be diplomatic, Neacal," he said in a cajoling tone. "You let your fiery temper rule you."
If Bhatar had been tortured he would no doubt have a bad temper, too.
Neacal wished he was mild-mannered and charming, more like he used to be. But wishes and reality were often miles apart.
"I have good reason," Neacal grated. Besides, he had improved over the past few months, he thought. And he would be even better if people, like the elders, didn't intentionally provoke him.
"Mayhap so, but I've always known you to be a wise man. Be careful you do not allow anger to rob you of that."
Sounded like something his da would've said. Neacal lifted a brow, eyeing his great uncle. As for the current situation… he did not want to make enemies of the MacRury clan.
"This is only a meeting, naught more," Bhatar said in the placating tone that riled Neacal even more. "If you don't like her, we'll send them on their way."
"Does the chief know this?"
"Of course. In order to ken who you wish to marry, you must meet a few acceptable young ladies."
Warning flashed through him. "A few? What the devil does that mean?"
Bhatar simply gave him a wee toothless grin.
"You've sent for more ladies? How many?" Neacal could not help that his voice blasted out that last question.
"Only two more, lad. Surely you can meet three bonny young ladies and be civil to them for a few days. If you dislike them, we will send them away."
"I don't need this right now." Neacal paced, irritation crawling along his nerve endings. "I have enough to deal with in rebuilding the garrison with loyal and skilled
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