Page 4 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
“Aye,” said Arya. “Ye’re the Lady of the Clan. Ye can do what ye wish.”
The thought had never once occurred to River. No one talked much to her, other than the three people in the room with her and her personal maid. The eastern wing was her whole world, and whether she was ignored or simply not disturbed, the result was the same—she didn’t often speak to other people.
River glanced at Finlay, only to find him already looking at her. They didn’t need to exchange words to know what the other was thinking. Colby, though, was glancing back and forth between them, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, waiting impatiently to hear her answer.
“Well, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough!” she said as she pulled herself to her full height. “Until then, I think it’s time for ye to capture the dragon!”
Raising her hands and shaping her fingers into claws, River let out a thunderous roar. Within seconds, Colby was rushing to the other side of the room, half-screaming and half-giggling, with Arya on his heels as River chased them both around the room.
“Ach, I suppose I must save the princess!” said Finlay, pushing his auburn hair back off his eyes and his body off the wall where he had been leaning. “But I daenae have me sword. Sir Colby, will ye lend me yers?”
“I daenae need a knight to save me!” said Arya, crossing her hands over her chest indignantly. “I shall fight the dragon meself!”
“A brave lass, indeed!” said Finlay. “If only more knights had yer courage, perhaps we wouldnae lose them to sword and drink!”
“Finlay!” River protested, giving him a sharp look.
But Finlay only tutted at her. “Dragons daenae speak the common tongue, me lady.”
A knock on the door stopped River before she could respond that she, as a dragon, could speak the common tongue just fine, thank you very much. She straightened just as the door opened without the intruder waiting for an answer from her, and shesaw none other than Keir there in all his haughty, windswept glory.
The sudden, sharp, even hateful look that he gave River, though, was certainly a surprise.
Keir had never been fond of her, ever since River had walked into that castle in her soft blue bridal gown, brought to Laird O’Douglas like a lamb to the slaughter. River had never understood his dislike for her—they had hardly spoken at all, and when they did, she was nothing but polite to him. But now, standing there by the door as his gaze was trained right on her, what she saw was not mere dislike.
The man despised her.
“Keir,” she said, a small frown appearing on her face. “Is everythin’ alright?”
“Nay,” said Keir. “I suppose it isnae.”
River chanced a glance at Finlay, who was stepping closer to her, as if to put himself between her and Keir. She caught Finlay’s fingers twitching by his thigh, close to where he kept his hidden knife, and River was quick to speak, if only to stop Keir from getting stabbed.
“What can we do for ye?”
“Where were ye Friday night?”
“Friday night?” River asked, her frown deepening. “Five days ago?”
“Aye.”
“Where do ye think she was, ye bampot? The tavern?” asked Finlay, and River watched as Keir had to almost physically restrain himself from approaching the other man. Finlay had this effect on people—certain people, at least. Most of all, he had that effect on Keir, and it wasn’t helping that he was insulting him, too.
“I was here,” said River, before Finlay could stoke the fires of Keir’s rage even more.
“Anyone who can attest to that?” asked Keir, slowly dragging his gaze back to her.
“I can,” said Finlay.
“I daenae wish to hear from ye.”
“The bairns,” said River. “They were here with me.”
“Is that so?” asked Keir, entirely unconvinced. “Do ye take me for a fool? Do ye think I’ll believe what the bairns have to say?”
“They’re bairns,” said River coldly. Whatever patience she had for Keir’s antics was quickly evaporating, replaced instead by a steady irritation. “Why would they lie?”
“To protect ye,” said Keir. “What were ye doin’ here?”
