Page 87 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
“Once King Robert has seen fit tae dissolve the betrothal between ye and me sister, I will release ye,” he’d told him, not without some relish. “But ye will be banished fer all time from MacNeacail land.”
Harris had sneered, doing his best to look as if it mattered not a jot. Yet Edmund was well aware how bitter MacDonald was at the failure of his well-laid plans, and his fury at being captured.
Edmund departed, leaving the man to enjoy the dungeon for a little longer to contemplate the wicked foolishness of his greed.
In his lifetime, there would always be enmity between the MacDonalds of Sleat and the MacNeacails of Scorrybreac, butif luck was with them, King Robert would impose certain conditions that would at least keep the peace between them.
“Word will soon arrive from King Robert, granting ye yer freedom, Tyra.”
She nodded, touching his hand lightly. He could see she was still pained by her lover’s betrayal. Yet she flitted off, smiling, seemingly free of care, as a troubadour took up his lute.
The young man caught the eye in his tunic of two bright colors, blue and green, and his rolled-brim hat. He strolled between the rows of revelers, sweetly singing a long, recently-composed ballad. The song told of the love story between the fair Lady Annora from the east, who, bewitched by the fae, had fallen in love with a handsome western prince, and defied her father to be with the lad.
Annora listened with glowing eyes. He described the lady with her long yellow hair, and the red roses she had woven into it for her lover, the prince from the western isles, who fought demons for her and, at last, won her hand in marriage.
She sighed and reached for his hand. “Such a beautiful story.”
“Och, it says naught about a half-drowned lass wearing raggedy clothes, with hair the ravens would refuse to nest in.”
She slapped his shoulder.
“Why, ye’ve nay romance in yer soul MacNeacail.”
He leaned over and kissed her lips.
“Why, milady, ye are quite wrong about that.”
But there’s more…
