Chapter 20

Leaving Lyla standing in the garden was more difficult than he'd imagined it would be. The sight of her woke feelings – urges – that he had a hard time suppressing. It was difficult to turn away from her and walk toward the council chamber, when what he wanted to do was scoop her into his arms and carry her to his rooms, to pleasure her until they were both spent.

That would have to wait, however. Duty called, and he'd promised the council his answer today. Daemon scowled, the good mood Lyla had put him into fading as he contemplated the council's likely response. He knew they were hoping for the alliance, as well as the wedding and the promise of heirs. He also knew that he wouldn't be giving them the real reason why he refused, which would anger them even more.

It didn't matter. Honor demanded he speak to Lyla's father first. He could endure the council's displeasure.

He entered the chamber to find everyone else had already arrived. Cai and Ryan immediately came to stand behind him in a silent show of support, and Daemon felt some of his irritation ease. Whatever else happened, he had the support of his most trusted friends.

"So." The word came from one of the Elders, Gavin Rourke. "What is yer answer, me laird?"

"Aye." Another of the elders spoke. "'Tis a good match me laird, and the sooner ye have a wife and heirs, the better."

Daemon drew in a deep breath. "Aye, ‘tis a good match. And MacLachlan could be good allies for our clan. However, there will be nay arranged marriage between me and Laird MacLachlan's daughter. If the alliance is formed, ‘twill be with other arrangements."

The room exploded into a chorus of shouts. Denials and angry demands for an explanation flew thick and fast. Daemon stood, waiting patiently for the furor to die down. When the room finally quieted, he spoke again. "I choose nae tae enter a second arranged marriage. Me reasons are me own, until I choose to share them. But even were I willing, there couldnae be any talk o' wedding until we've handled matters regarding Clan MacLean. I'll nae wed a lass when we're about tae go tae battle, and risk leaving a widow."

"Even so, ye could betroth her."

"But I dinnae choose tae dae so. As I said, I'll nae have an arranged marriage fer a second time." Daemon spoke the words calmly. It helped to remember Lyla, her sweet smile and her welcoming warmth.

"Ye've been a widower fer over a year. Ye need a wife and heirs, fer the sake o' the clan."

Daemon kept a hold on his temper. "Even so, when and who I marry is mine tae decide, nae anyone else's. Nae even this council. And I say, as both yer laird and as Daemon MacMillan, the man, that I'll nae be wedding Kathleen MacLachlan just tae satisfy the clan's need fer heirs or alliance."

Another outburst, but Daemon was tired, and the lowering sun indicated it was near to supper time. He raised a hand, commanding silence. "I ken ye're nae happy with this decision, but ‘tis still the one I'm making. I'll write Laird MacLachlan tae tell him so, and if he's angered, so be it."

Before anyone could argue any further, he turned and left the room, signaling the end of the council. He had no more inclination to listen to the elders trying to demand that he change his mind.

He arrived at the Great Hall to find Alyn already at the table. She greeted him with a smile. "Lyla's gone tae wash up, but she'll be joining us fer supper." Her smile broadened. "We've been working hard on yer planned festival, Daemon."

"I ken. I've seen ye working." Daemon relaxed in the face of his cousin's enthusiasm. "I look forward tae hearing what ye plan tae dae in celebration."

"I dinnae want tae say tae much afore Lyla arrives, but ye should ken, ye'll be expected tae give a speech afore the meal. And there will be dancing, and I'll expect ye tae take part."

A fortnight ago, he would have scowled, anticipating a night of boredom and frustration, as well as facing the prospect of having to pretend to be interested in his partners, or at least courteous. Now however, thoughts of dancing led him to thoughts of Lyla, and of being able to hold her in his arms without worrying that questions might be asked.

"'Tis good tae see ye with a smile on yer face." Alyn's comment brought his attention back to his cousin. "I was worried fer a time that'd ye'd forgotten how."

Daemon blinked. "Surely it wasnae that bad. I ken I've been brooding o' late, but…"

"Ever since Rowan passed, ye've been immersed in yer grief, wrapping it around ye like a strangling vine. It seemed as if ye were determined tae let it choke all the life and light out o' ye. But now ye're smiling again and allowing yerself tae relax. Ye look as if ye've found yerself again."

Daemon sighed. "I've been hearing that a fair amount recently."

"I'll wager. ‘Tis more than just me who's been worried by the way ye were acting."

"I ken. I've spoken with Ryan and Cai, and heard much the same."

"Lyla too." Daemon nearly choked on his drink.

"What o' me?" Lyla arrived at the table, her hair in a shining braid, fresh from a bath. Her skin held a rosy glow of good health, and the faintest of sun-kissed reds.

* * *

Lyla hadn't meant to startle Daemon with her arrival. It was an effort not to try and soothe his coughing as he regained his composure, and to listen to Alyn's response. "I was telling Daemon how we were all worried for him, the way he was so sunk in his brooding and seeming unable tae get past his grief."

Lyla met his eyes and blushed. "Och, well… 'tis better now. Mayhap the mood was a function o' the weather." She paused. "That reminds me, dae we want tae consider taking the celebration outside? ‘Twould make decorating easier."

Alyn considered. "It might, but then we'd have tae trust the weather, and that's a chancy business with a Highland spring, and this year more than most, it seems. And with what happened tae ye and Daemon the last time ye were outside the keep walls…"

"Aye. I hear ye." Lyla nodded. "But mayhap we can leave a door open tae go tae the gardens fer those that wish it."

"'Tis a good idea. And the fresh air will surely be welcome, so long as there's nae rain blowing through the door."

Daemon had recovered from his coughing, and leaned forward, his eyes alight with interest. "What are ye planning?"

"A ceilidh. With the night being given tae woman's choice, so the lasses can choose their own partners, instead o' waiting tae be chosen." Alyn smiled. "We'll have a number o' the summer and spring reels played, the ones that were used tae celebrate feminine aspects o' life in the old religion."

"Sounds well enough. Are ye thinking tae have a feast?"

"Aye, and we'll be serving wine and tisanes instead o' the usual mead and beer." As if to punctuate the statement, the servants brought out the supper plates, including the flagons of beer and mead that would be served for the evening meal.

"Sounds well enough." Daemon sipped from his tankard. From the look on his face, he wasn't overly fond of wine, or herbal tisanes, but Lyla was certain he could manage for one evening.

On the other hand, he might be more amiable if he knew that there was another option. Lyla smiled at him. "Dinnae fret. We'll also be offering whisky fer the men."

From the flicker of relief that crossed Daemon's face, that was welcome news. "And what o' the food?"

"Spring vegetables and cross buns, as well as lighter meats, like fish and fowl. Nae the heavy types o' things that men hunt, but the sort a farming lass or a lady might take sport in chasing. Like pheasant or rabbit."

Daemon nodded. "I understand. Hunting is the sport o' men, in general."

"We'll also have sweet breads and little cakes, with fruit, or honey glaze or rose petals dipped in sugar water. And each lass who comes will have a sprig o' heather and a flower o' her choosing, as well as a ribbon tae wear in her hair." Lyla grinned.

She'd been the one to find the extra fabric for the ribbons. The fabric had been in a little-used storage room that she'd wandered into during their game of hide and seek. Likely it was something that had been left behind by a previous Lady MacMillan, for it was finer fabric, and in better condition, than the typical cloth used by servants to make their sturdy outfits for working. She, Alyn and her two maids, along with a couple of seamstresses from the nearby village would see that the ribbons were cut and ready for the planned festival.

Daemon smiled. "It sounds like a nice way tae dae things. Is there anything else ye'll be needing?"

Lyla and Alyn shared a glance. Then Alyn nodded. "I'd like tae borrow a few guards, tae collect fresh heather and wild flowers the day o' the feast, fer decorations."

"I'll see what can be done, though ye ken most men are either preparing tae leave, or preparing tae take over the duties o' those going tae MacLean Castle."

"We ken. And if need be, we can dae with fewer flowers, and gather only what's close tae the walls." Lyla spoke up.

Ryan, seated on Daemon's other side, spoke up. "I'd be happy tae escort the ladies, fer whatever they plan tae dae. The captains o' the guard can manage without me."

"Mayhap, but that doesnae mean ye're free tae wander off. There's other duties ye have that need looking after – and I dinnae ken that I'd trust a pair o' ladies like me cousin and Lyla tae a rogue like ye in any case. Ye've a roving eye, and they're nae lasses ye can flirt with, at least nae without dealing with me."

Lyla opened her mouth to intervene on Ryan's behalf, then she saw the look on Daemon's face. His eyes were bright with suppressed mirth, and there was a faint smile teasing the corner of his mouth. She glanced at Ryan, and realized that, far from looking chastened, he looked as if he was enjoying a good joke. He grinned back at his laird. "Och, I willnae deny that I appreciate a pretty lass, but ye've naught tae worry about in regards tae these two, and well ye ken it. If naething else, ye can rest assured that I look on Alyn as a sister, or as close as I've ever come tae having one."

Daemon opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment, there was a commotion at the hall door. Seconds later, a youth dressed in farmer's garb came staggering into the Great Hall, and straight toward the main table.

Daemon was on his feet before the lad had made it halfway across the room, with Alyn, Lyla, Ryan and Cai not a breath behind. The young man stumbled his way close, then managed to gasp out a message between panting breaths. "Me laird... the village... 'tis... 'tis under... attack... please... help!"