He scoured Abigails gaze as carefully as she had his. Finally, satisfaction gleamed in his amazing blue eyes. Your mother deserves death for what she did to what is mine.
He was completely serious. He was not posturing. This was no idle threat to impress the English with his might. He meant it.
She shook her head, glad her muscles no longer ached with the slightest movement. No, please. She believes it is her right to dictate my life and force my will to bend to hers. Abigail was sure it was the same for most parents among the nobility. Regardless, my stepfather does not deserve death. He stopped her. He promised to protect me from a marriage that terrified me.
Abigails throat muscles hurt from all this talking. Sometimes, days and days would go by without her uttering a single word and now she was forced to converse as she once had with Emily. Only she knew Talorc made no effort to read her lips, so she had to modulate her voice to be heard. Even if it was a whisper, it was there.
He would challenge me over the vicious bitch you call mother?
Abigails gasp was not audible to her, but she could feel the expulsion of her shocked breath. Yes, was all she said though.
They will never be welcome on Sinclair land. She hurt you. He should have done a better job of protecting you.
Okay. She did not care if she ever saw her parents again. Emily was another matter entirely. She swallowed for courage. But Emily, she is welcome on your land?
The Balmoral is an ally. His wife is welcome.
I am glad. I have missed her.
Talorc nodded and then spun on his heel and started walking away. Niall didnt leave, however. He took up a guards stance a few feet from the cottage. When she looked over at him, he winked.
She smiled back and mouthed a thank-you.
He jerked, as if surprised, but then grinned back before turning to face the front, his expression gone serious, scary even. A few minutes later, two of her fathers soldiers joined him, but the big soldier did not leave.
When she checked out the front window, sure enough, she had both a Hamilton guard as well as one of Sinclairs soldiers.
Abigail went to sleep, feeling safer than she had in a very long time.
Talorc stood before the English priest in the small chapel. The MacDonald warriors and most of the English barons soldiers had to remain outside. His own warriors, the MacDonald and five of his men, his brides family and a few English soldiers were the only witnesses for the wedding to come.
There were no flowers, no pomp and ceremony for this royally dictated marriage. That should not have bothered him, but the soft-spoken woman he had met the night before seemed to deserve more. Even if she was English. She had been so vulnerable, and yet when he had demanded to know if she planned to marry him, she had taken her time replying.
She had weighed him. He could feel her doing it, and she hadnt been adding up the size of his lands in her head. Shed been judging him personally, and something inside him had refused to be found wanting.
She was nothing like Emily, which was both good and bad. He did not relish the prospect of being likened to a goat by another Englishwoman, but he had no desire
Abigail to get the things.
Niall laughed. His wife will be grateful.
Tis another reason to allow Abigail leeway in this.
Aye.
The Balmoral might now be his ally, but Talorc did enjoy needling the man.
Just when Talorc was considering the possibility Abigail had taken refuge in the cottage rather than merely gathering her belongings, she came out. She was carrying one large and two small bundles.
He glared. Youll not wear English clothes as my wife.
I left all but what I wear now behind, she said, showing more sense than he thought one born a Sassenach might have. These are the gifts, my sewing and other personal things, and herbs for healing.
The English baron and his wife had come out of the chapel and had spent the last few moments haranguing the priest. But even a holy man knew better than to question the will of the Sinclair. He had refused to demand further concession on the wedding vows.
So, now they were shouting at Talorc, demanding to be heard.
Talorc derived marginal pleasure from ignoring them. He looked at the MacDonald. Do you have a woman who can help my wife don my colors?
The laird of the Lowland clan nodded. Aye, indeed.
He waved his wife over and told her what Talorc wanted. The redheaded woman gave Talorc an approving nod before going to Abigail and guiding her back into the cottage, after handing her bundles to Talorcs warriors.
The English baron had given up on the wedding and was now demanding Talorc share the nooning meal with them like a civilized man. As if Talorc desired to be such. Idiots.
Surely you wish to partake of the game you hunted yesterday for just this occasion.
He had hunted to avoid spending more time than necessary with the English. He had given his game to the MacDonald as thanks for the use of the clans holding to host the wedding demanded by their kings edict.