Page 4 of Highland Seduction

Shouts from what seemed like every corner of the hall were his answer.

“Silence,” he said in a way only a king could do. Tor had never heard so many men quiet so easily, especially after what had just occurred. Alexander called for Royce. “And in the absence of the Shaws’ laird, his second.”

Royce and Giric Shaw stepped forward.

“Ye will both answer for this.”

“I know no’ how the fight began,” Royce said. “But ye’ve the apology of every member of Clan MacRob for it.”

His brother spoke to his own clansmen as much as he did the king.

“And every Shaw,” Giric added. Though he and Royce exchanged a look that said just the opposite. Tor hoped the king did not notice, but it was clear to him, at least, that the apologies were aught but sincere.

“If ye cannae restrain yerself at a wedding feast”—the king’s eyes bulged—“in my presence . . .” He stopped to breathe. The king was angrier than Royce had been when Tor had at first refused to become their clan’s second. To this day, his brother became enraged at the mention of that exchange. Tor had quickly changed his mind, allowing good sense to overtake his fears.

“This feud is aught but over,” the king finished.

Tor said naught to the king but did ask the guards that his arms be freed. They declined.

“I will no’ move from this spot,” he whispered. Again, the guard he’d punched shook his head.

“Ye wrote to me,” the king said. “Each of yer clans. Ye,” he addressed Royce, “claiming yer clanswoman had been murdered. And yer laird,” he said to Giric, “that yer clan had been falsely accused.”

Tor tugged his arms again, becoming increasingly agitated that he was the only one held so.

“It is possible,” Royce said, “there is more to Ian and Marta’s disappearance than we first believed.”

“Enough,” the king bellowed, disinterested in the details, which were, in this case, wildly relevant. “My decree stands. If ye cannae stop this feuding on yer own, intermarrying should breed out the animosity ye hold for each other.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Tor said when one of the guards tightened his grip.

“And since the laird of Clan Shaw and yer sister,” he said to Royce, “married of their own volition, ye’ve clearly no’ met the blunt of the sword I intend to wield over this feud. Another couple will marry before the new moon.”

Tor froze. Did he mean . . .

He pulled his arm free, finally. The guard did not take kindly to his action and attempted to reclaim him until Tor gave him a look that promised retribution, king’s guard or nay.

“Starting with the impertinent MacRob who thinks he is above the king’s law.”

It did not take Tor long to realize whom the king spoke of. Everyone, including Royce, looked at him. Tor addressed the king directly for the first time. “The new moon is passed already,” he said. “And ye’ve yer couple.” He gestured abovestairs.

“Aye,” the king said, his smile turning Tor’s blood cold. “It is passed.”

Royce turned fully toward Tor, away from the king. “Be silent,” Royce whispered furiously.

“Ye have yer couple,” Tor repeated.

“One who married willingly. ’Tis no punishment, that.”

This could not be happening.

“Bring the priest,” the king bellowed. “And none are to leave this hall.”

Tor looked at his brother. Surely Royce would not allow this.

“Yer Grace,” his brother said, once again addressing the king. Tor let out a sigh of relief. “Surely there is no need to rush another marriage with one having been forged this day.”

“No need.” The king gestured to the injured. Like on Tor’s own face, the angry marks of men’s fists connecting with flesh were evident on more than one of his kinsmen. Though more Shaw were wounded, Tor noted with satisfaction, than his own clan. “I would disagree, Laird. Yer brother will be wed this eve.”