seeing those neglected around them.
‘A frivolous activity,’ she said echoing her thoughts, as he guided her to the stairs.
‘Only if you’re not doing it right.’
The noise from below grew deafening as they descended the steps. Kenzie forced her fingers to rest lightly on Lachlan’s arm instead of clinging. He didn’t need to know she was again nervous about facing his people. He didn’t need to know his presence soothed her churning stomach and gave strength to her trembling knees. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt more secure when he was close. And yet there was always a feeling of danger, too. How could she feel safe and threatened at the same time?
The puzzling thought disappeared as Lachlan halted in the pool of light at the bottom of the stairs. The noise of the rowdy banter slowly faded. Benches scraped across flagstones as men, women and children stood.
Knees locked, back straight, Kenzie held her chin high. Her gaze skimmed the tops of a hundred heads while she bore their inspection.
‘My fair and mighty people. I give you your new lady, my wife, Kenzie Elliot.’
A roar of approval rent the air, threatening Kenzie’s flimsy composure. Her fingers tightened on the muscular forearm she held. A large palm covered her white-knuckled hand and gently squeezed. She looked up into Lachlan’s ever-present smile. He winked. Her jaw dropped, and then her feet were moving across the floor to where two men, one old, one young, waited at the end of the laird’s table.
‘Kenzie,’ Lachlan said drawing to a stop. ‘This is my brother, Caelan.’
Kenzie nodded at the young man, who she gauged to be around fifteen summers.
‘Welcome to the clan, Kenzie.’ Caelan took her free hand and bowed over it as he spoke. Hair the same hue as his older brother’s surrounded a similarly shaped face, but his eyes were dark brown and the muscles about his mouth had to work before a smile graced his lips. ‘Father would be pleased,’ he added as he straightened.
‘Aye, he would,’ Lachlan said, still smiling. But the bronzed flesh beneath her fingers hardened to granite.
‘And about time, too,’ said the older man, stepping forward. ‘I am Murdoch, Clan Elliot’s steward.
She acknowledged the steward with another nod and read happiness in his faded blue eyes. Deep lines marked his kind face, and although his hair was thinning, it still held most of the dark colour of his youth, with only a light sprinkling of grey at his temples.
‘I suggest we sit and let the feast begin,’ Lachlan said, guiding her to one of two high-backed chairs positioned in the centre of the long trestle.
‘A good suggestion, Lachlan,’ Caelan said, following them to his place beside his brother, ‘else I fear the clan will storm the kitchens.’
Lachlan pulled out a heavy chair, assisted her onto the padded seat and pushed it closer to the table. He clapped Caelan fondly on the back. ‘You’re right. The smell of roasted mutton and deer has nae doubt set their bellies to growling since dawn.’
The moment Lachlan found his seat beside her, there was much scraping of benches and many sighs of relief as the entire clan resumed theirs. A string of servants flowed out of the doorway to the right and, under Murdoch’s direction, set steaming platters of meat, assorted vegetables, thick-crusted pies and baskets of dark, doughy bread on the laird’s table. Once this was done, the servants marched in and out of the kitchens delivering their goods to the remaining trestles in the vast chamber.
Delicious smells filled the air. The sight of juices trickling down the thick slices of venison sent Kenzie’s hands to her middle to silence her stomach’s pending growl.
‘Hungry, wife?’
Despite the heat filling her cheeks, she met her husband’s questioning look. ‘A little.’
‘Not long now. It isn’t often we have a priest at Castle Redheugh,’ he said, tilting his head to indicate the man chatting to Murdoch.
‘A frivolous activity,’ she said echoing her thoughts, as he guided her to the stairs.
‘Only if you’re not doing it right.’
The noise from below grew deafening as they descended the steps. Kenzie forced her fingers to rest lightly on Lachlan’s arm instead of clinging. He didn’t need to know she was again nervous about facing his people. He didn’t need to know his presence soothed her churning stomach and gave strength to her trembling knees. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt more secure when he was close. And yet there was always a feeling of danger, too. How could she feel safe and threatened at the same time?
The puzzling thought disappeared as Lachlan halted in the pool of light at the bottom of the stairs. The noise of the rowdy banter slowly faded. Benches scraped across flagstones as men, women and children stood.
Knees locked, back straight, Kenzie held her chin high. Her gaze skimmed the tops of a hundred heads while she bore their inspection.
‘My fair and mighty people. I give you your new lady, my wife, Kenzie Elliot.’
A roar of approval rent the air, threatening Kenzie’s flimsy composure. Her fingers tightened on the muscular forearm she held. A large palm covered her white-knuckled hand and gently squeezed. She looked up into Lachlan’s ever-present smile. He winked. Her jaw dropped, and then her feet were moving across the floor to where two men, one old, one young, waited at the end of the laird’s table.
‘Kenzie,’ Lachlan said drawing to a stop. ‘This is my brother, Caelan.’
Kenzie nodded at the young man, who she gauged to be around fifteen summers.
‘Welcome to the clan, Kenzie.’ Caelan took her free hand and bowed over it as he spoke. Hair the same hue as his older brother’s surrounded a similarly shaped face, but his eyes were dark brown and the muscles about his mouth had to work before a smile graced his lips. ‘Father would be pleased,’ he added as he straightened.
‘Aye, he would,’ Lachlan said, still smiling. But the bronzed flesh beneath her fingers hardened to granite.
‘And about time, too,’ said the older man, stepping forward. ‘I am Murdoch, Clan Elliot’s steward.
She acknowledged the steward with another nod and read happiness in his faded blue eyes. Deep lines marked his kind face, and although his hair was thinning, it still held most of the dark colour of his youth, with only a light sprinkling of grey at his temples.
‘I suggest we sit and let the feast begin,’ Lachlan said, guiding her to one of two high-backed chairs positioned in the centre of the long trestle.
‘A good suggestion, Lachlan,’ Caelan said, following them to his place beside his brother, ‘else I fear the clan will storm the kitchens.’
Lachlan pulled out a heavy chair, assisted her onto the padded seat and pushed it closer to the table. He clapped Caelan fondly on the back. ‘You’re right. The smell of roasted mutton and deer has nae doubt set their bellies to growling since dawn.’
The moment Lachlan found his seat beside her, there was much scraping of benches and many sighs of relief as the entire clan resumed theirs. A string of servants flowed out of the doorway to the right and, under Murdoch’s direction, set steaming platters of meat, assorted vegetables, thick-crusted pies and baskets of dark, doughy bread on the laird’s table. Once this was done, the servants marched in and out of the kitchens delivering their goods to the remaining trestles in the vast chamber.
Delicious smells filled the air. The sight of juices trickling down the thick slices of venison sent Kenzie’s hands to her middle to silence her stomach’s pending growl.
‘Hungry, wife?’
Despite the heat filling her cheeks, she met her husband’s questioning look. ‘A little.’
‘Not long now. It isn’t often we have a priest at Castle Redheugh,’ he said, tilting his head to indicate the man chatting to Murdoch.
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