His Bonnie Bride, Hannah Howell [best ebook reader for chromebook .TXT] 📗

dangerously. "Eldons have fought MacLagans since first we set eyes upon each other. We have been spilling each other's blood for generations."

"Then 'tis time ye ceased," Storm said loudly, trying to be heard over the sudden swell of voices. "I am certain ye can each find someone else to clash swords with," she said into the equally sudden hush.

"You are an impertinent wench and I did not beat you enough," drawled Eldon, but Storm ignored him.

Glancing around, Storm became aware of a definite mixture of feelings. Men were plainly creatures of habit and the idea of ceasing what they had done for generations was not an easy one to contemplate. Some men looked confused, some looked mildly belligerent and some looked as if they did not care one way or the other, but were vastly interested in the confrontation. There was no real dispute between the families other than one of nationalities. Storm decided it was not too much of a deprivation for the two families to cease hacking at each other.

"Just think on this," she said, looking at her father but speaking to everyone. "An I have a son, your grandson will be heir to Caraidland, a future MacLagan." Again she almost laughed, for the shock on a number of faces showed that not many had thought of that. "Why, if none of your sons has sons, the son I may bear could well inherit both Caraidland and Hagaleah, Think of that." She looked around briefly at the sound of laughter, and saw that its source was Colin and Iain.

"That's enough out of you," growled Eldon.

"I was merely elucidating," she murmured. "These things should be thought about."

"Aye, and speaking of things to consider, you should ne'er have been on a horse."

" 'Twas fine, Papa. We went at a nice, easy pace."

"You should have waited 'til the babe came instead of risking your wretched, impudent neck."

"I wanted a name for my child. It will not be named bastard," she snapped.

"You are as bad as your mother was. She came traipsing o'er from Ireland in the dead o' winter for the same reason. Naturally her daughter must needs gallop o'er the countryside but weeks from her lying in.

She had little defense save the one she had already given, so Storm tried another tactic in hopes of dimming her father's rage. "Ye should not bellow so at a woman in my delicate condition," she said weakly, placing one hand upon her abdomen and the other on her forehead.

"You will get nowhere with that ploy," Eldon scoffed, halting Tavis's concerned move toward Storm. "You are as healthy as a horse. I have had three women bear me seven babes, so do not try to fool me."

Storm recovered immediately. "Leave it to a man to insert boasts of his prowess into every discussion."

She jabbed a finger at Tavis. "Ye and your new son-in-law should compare. He may top ye."

"Now, Storm," Tavis protested, "I havenae had any bairns. 'Tis my first that ye carry."

"Hah! The way ye dabble about, ye probably have dozens."

"Nay. Nary a one. I was muckle careful about that." He immediately wished the words unsaid as both Storm and her father leveled murderous glares upon him.

"Phew!" breathed Sholto. "I think the ale still addles Tavis's brains. He's nay thinking too clearly."

"Nay," Colin agreed in a voice choked with laughter. "The lad's digging a muckle great hole for himself."

"I suppose I should feel blessed," Storm hissed, thinking immediately of all the women he had probably been careful with.

"If ye can save the rest of your anger for a bit, Papa, I wish to go home."

"Storm." Tavis caught her arm as she started to move away. "Stay awhile. We should talk."

"Should have done a bit more talking and a little less of the other," muttered Eldon, but his eyes were studying Tavis and he was swiftly noticing a few things that altered his outlook on the situation.

Wrenching her arm free of his hold and furious over how much even his most casual touch could affect her, Storm snapped, "We have naught to talk about, MacLagan."

With as much haste as she could muster without looking ungainly, Storm headed for the door, her cousins and friends falling into step around her. She wanted to get away as quickly as possible. Just seeing Tavis had brought back all the feelings she had thought she had begun to bury beneath the pain. Every time her baby stirred, she recalled how it had been created. When it happened with him but a step away it only heightened the aching emptiness. She had had enough.

Tavis strode after her and grabbed her by the arm again. "Just a few minutes is all I ask."

Whirling around to face him. Storm's hot words were stopped by the sight of what hung around his neck. "My amulet."

"Do ye want it back?" His hand drifted toward it as if he would prevent its retrieval.

"Nay," she whispered, and met his gaze. "Nay. I want it no longer. Toss it away, Tavis MacLagan. Throw it aside as ye did all it stands for." She yanked free of his hold and strode away.

Lord Eldon paused before Tavis and with one look at the young man's pale, desolate face had his suspicions confirmed. It was not a case of a man using a maid as he pleased, then tossing her callously aside. He had no idea why Tavis had let Storm go, beyond the very obvious, such as who they were, but it was plain that the man loved her. This day's work would not put an end to the affair. Lord Eldon briefly touched the amulet, knowing well what it said about his daughter's feelings for Tavis MacLagan and for an instant recalling where and when he had first seen it. Shaking away a brief sadness for precious things lost, he looked straight at Tavis, seeing clearly the haunted look in the younger man's eyes.

"I should still kill you. Last thing I need 'tis another fool in my