Chapter 5

Elayne could taste none of the food the servants had placed in front of her. She could hardly eat it and instead she only tried to appear like she did, pushing it around idly on the plate.

Her stomach turned itself into a knot the moment she had stepped foot in the great hall. No one had told her Laird McCoy would be there. No one had warned her of his presence, and seeing him in front of her brought her to a halt just as she was entering the room, Dunn freezing right next to her.

Now they all sat around the table, Dunn next to her as her father and Laird McCoy occupied each end. Laird McCoy’s advisors sat at each side of him, all of them looking just as displeased as the man himself, while her father was flanked by his own men, all of them tense and careful. At least Blaine was there, too, a friendly face among all the people who seemed to want to have both Dunn’s head and her own.

The tension around the table was thick, the silence heavy. All Elayne could hear were the scrapes of cutlery against plates, the polite coughs of those around her. No one seemed to know what to say or how to act, the entire table trapped in a prison of politeness of their own making.

That was the case, at least, until Laird McCoy spoke.

“This matter o’ the weddin’ seems very suspicious tae me,” he said.

Elayne had feared this moment would come when people would begin to question the validity of her claims. Even she had to admit that to an outsider, it had to seem strange. Anyone who knew her would have to wonder how she had come to the decision to marry Dunn so quickly, without even getting her father’s approval, but she hoped she could chalk it up to love and a late rebellion against her father.

“What, precisely, dae ye find suspicious, Laird McCoy?” asked Dunn, swiftly coming to Elayne’s rescue. She supposed he had more to lose than she did here, but she was still grateful that he took the lead. “I dinnae see what is so suspicious about it. Like we told Laird Macgillivray, we met, we fell in love, an’ we decided tae wed. How is it any different from what every other couple does?”

“Ye hardly ken each other,” Laird McCoy pointed out. “Ye only met recently, correct?”

“Aye, but that doesnae change anythin’,” said Dunn. “Many have fallen in love quickly.”

“An’ many have fallen out o’ love just as quickly.”

Elayne glanced between Dunn and Laird McCoy as they stared each other down. They were both smiling, but it was more like a baring of teeth. There was no warmth in it, no kindness, nothing but a dare for the other to take it one step further.

“Let us all hope that willnae happen with us,” said Elayne quickly, just to break that strange tension in the room. All the eyes in the room turned to her then, though, and she balked under the sudden scrutiny.

Everyone blamed her for this. Everyone knew she had been the one who had been foolish enough to marry Dunn, and though it was Dunn they were after, they would never let her forget her own sins.

A long silence fell over them all once more, but this time no one pretended to eat. Instead, some looked away, while others, like Laird McCoy, continue to stare at Elayne. She tried her best to meet his gaze, unflinching against the intensity of it. It would do no good to show weakness now.

“So ye are married,” the man said, and though it didn’t sound like a question, Elayne nodded.

“Aye, we are.”

“An’ ye have consummated the marriage?”

Elayne almost choked on air at Laird McCoy’s question. He had phrased it so casually, as if it was perfectly natural to ask such an intimate—and frankly rude—question in front of his entire council, in front of the servants, even in front of her father. Heat rushed to Elayne’s face, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes and threatening to spill, though she was determined not to let them. She didn’t want Laird McCoy or her father, or really anyone in the room, to see her cry. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“I dinnae see how that is any o’ yer concern,” Dunn said. When Elayne looked at him from the corner of her eye, he looked murderous, as though he was about to leap over the table and kill Laird McCoy right then and there. “Nor is it proper tae ask a lady such a question. I willnae let ye insult me wife like this.”

“I think it’s a valid question,” Laird Macgillivray said from the other side of the table. He gave Elayne a small shrug, seemingly not bothered at all by the insult. “This is somethin’ we must all ken tae understand how tae move forward, dinnae ye think, Elayne? Answer the question.”

Elayne could hardly hear what her father was saying. Her stomach dropped at his command—and a command it was, she knew, as he had left her no room to refuse—her bottom lip trembling uncontrollably as she stared at the far wall, trying to gather her wits about her. Distantly, she felt Dunn’s hand on her forearm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Ye dinnae have tae tolerate this,” he whispered to her.

But what other choice did she have? Neither her father nor Laird McCoy would let it go now, and if she didn’t answer them, they would take it as an admission that she had lied.

Drawing in a deep, steeling breath, Elayne turned to look at Laird McCoy in the eye. She clenched her teeth, letting her hatred for the man wash over her like a wave instead of trying to look past it, to shove it far enough down so as to appear polite.

“Aye, we have,” she said. “Plenty, in fact. An’ if ye need tae ascertain it, perhaps ye could come an’ watch us consummate it again tonight.”

The effect of her words was instantaneous. Whispers spread around the room, followed by giggles from the servants. Laird McCoy, though, looked at Elayne with such hatred that, as satisfied as she was by his reaction, a jolt of fear ran down her spine, making her blood run cold. He had tried to humiliate her, but Elayne had made him fall in his own trap, and the man clearly wasn’t pleased.

“How dare ye?” Laird Macgillivray said, his voice low and dangerous. Elayne turned slowly to face him, dreading the moment their gazes would meet. “How dare ye speak this way tae our guest? Tae yer betrothed? Is this how I raised ye?”

There were several things Elayne could have told her father in that moment. She could have told him Laird McCoy wasn’t her betrothed anymore, that he couldn’t be now that she was supposedly married to Dunn. She could have told him Laird McCoy’s insult had been much more severe, and yet he hadn’t thought of defending his own daughter against him. She could have even told him that he wasn’t the one who raised her at all. After her mother’s death, the only love she had known had come from her governess and the servants. He had only spoken to her when necessary, and after a certain point, Elayne hardly ever saw him.

She said none of those things, though. Her father would never change, and she had long since stopped expecting anything of the sort from him. Trying to reason with him would only be a waste of breath.

“Did anyone else see the sheet?” Laird McCoy asked, forcing Elayne to look at him again, only this time she frowned in confusion. She didn’t know what to say to that or even what Laird McCoy meant. In the few seconds that they stared at each other in silence, she was certain he could tell she had been lying this whole time.

Before Laird McCoy could say anything else, though, Dunn slammed his hand on the table, making everyone around him flinch. His lips were curled back as he glared at Laird McCoy, and Elayne could see a small vein in his forehead jumping under his skin to the pulse of his heart.

“Enough,” he barked.

“I dinnae think this was the original purpose o’ this gatherin’,” said Blaine calmly, looking at the three men around him. “We have other matters tae discuss, as I am certain ye all ken.”

It did nothing to lessen the tension between Laird McCoy and Dunn, but at least they no longer looked as though they were about to attack each other, and Elayne was grateful for that. Blaine was clever and he knew how to handle her father, so he could also handle Laird McCoy. It was Dunn she feared wouldn’t be controlled, but after a few moments, he leaned back in his seat, letting it go, much to Elayne’s relief.

She didn’t like any of this any more than he did, but the last thing they needed was bloodshed at the dinner table. They would simply have to bear it until the end of the meal; until they would be free to leave that room and everyone who was so eager to humiliate them.

For a while, the conversation drifted to safer topics and Elayne allowed herself to tune it all out, catching only a few words here and there. It was a skill she had perfected for those rare times her father insisted she dine with him and his company, and this time was no exception.

It was only when she heard her father speak about water that she began to pay attention once more, lifting her gaze to discreetly look at him.

“I dinnae understand how it happened,” he said. “One has tae be an imbecile tae drown.”

Elayne’s fork dropped from her hand, clattering against her plate. Quickly, she picked it up once more and brought a tiny bite to her lips, acutely aware of the fact that everyone was watching her once again.

Was he talkin’ about me maither? Was he talkin’ about me? About someone else?

It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that it was a cruel thing to say, something he had known would hurt her. Perhaps he had meant for her to hear it or perhaps he couldn’t care less. Regardless of his original goal, though, he was now looking at Elayne with the kind of irritation he reserved for the times he thought she was being ridiculous.

It doesnae matter. His words cannae hurt me.

Only his actions can.

Dunn didn’t know how he managed to get through the dinner without attacking anyone. It had been a close thing, the urge always simmering there, just under the surface. He knew he couldn’t give in to it, though, not if he wanted to survive that night.

It didn’t help that Elayne had decided to insult Laird McCoy and her father like that, though Dunn couldn’t deny he had found it amusing; impressive even. For someone who seemed to be so shy all the time, Elayne could certainly bite. On the other hand, it had been rather foolish of her to antagonize them, though he couldn’t say he blamed her. How could he? He had been perfectly happy to antagonize them as well.

He was glad for Blaine’s presence in the room. The more he learned about the man, the more he came to see him as a potential ally or at least as someone in that castle who was sane enough to want to do the right thing, even if Laird Macgillivray had no such intentions.

But how much power does Blaine have? He is the Captain, but everyone will listen tae the laird before they listen tae him.

It was only when he entered Elayne’s chambers that he allowed himself to relax a little, even though he couldn’t get the events of the dinner out of his mind. In fact, there was a lot more than that plaguing him, most of all his decision to agree to this plan. Whatever he managed to get out of it, it surely wouldn’t be enough to justify all the fury and humiliation he would have to endure while he stayed there, not to mention the danger he was in. He had half a mind to put an end to all this, to tell Elayne that he was terribly sorry to disappoint her, but that he couldn’t do it anymore. The only thing that stopped him was the fact that he had witnessed first-hand the cruelty of which Elayne had spoken. He had seen now how her father treated her, how Laird McCoy treated her. If they acted like this in front of polite company, then he didn’t want to know what they would do to her behind closed doors, where no one would see; where no one could defend her.

Elayne followed close behind, closing the door firmly. Once that barrier was between her and the rest of the world, she let out a heavy sigh and dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, though Dunn could see no tears.

She hadn’t shed a single one during the whole dinner, no matter how much Laird McCoy had tried to embarrass her, though Dunn didn’t know if it was a sign of strength or stubbornness.

“Elayne, dae ye have a close friend here?” he asked, walking over to the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress. “Anyone to whom ye feel comfortable speakin’.”

Elayne blinked in confusion. “Aye. Isobel is a good friend. Why are ye askin’?”

For their plan to work, everyone had to believe that they were truly married and after what had happened earlier that night at dinner, Dunn knew there was only one way to put everyone’s suspicions to rest.

“Ye must talk tae her about us,” he said. “Ye heard Laird McCoy tonight. He was askin’ all these questions an’ I’m sure ye saw fer yerself that he wasnae convinced. We will have tae spread rumors.”

“Rumors?” Elayne asked, still unable to comprehend. “About us?”

“Aye,” said Dunn. “Ye must confide tae yer friend about our couplings.”

“Couplings!” Elayne’s voice neared a shout, and she glanced over her shoulder as though she expected someone to be there. “Couplings?” she repeated, this time in a much lower tone.

“I understand it’s embarrassin’,” Dunn said. It was rather embarrassing for him, too, though he was used to such talk. The idea of a whole castle discussing his abilities in bed was far from appealing, but some things needed sacrifices. He could do this if it meant keeping his head. “But it’s the only way. Ye have tae make up some stories about us an’ speak tae yer friend when there are servants around. Ye ken how rumors spread. If ye dae this, nae one will be able tae claim we havenae consummated the marriage. Nae one will believe them if they have heard the details directly from ye.”

Not for the first time that night, Elayne’s cheeks turned a bright red in the candlelight. She looked uncertain, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve and wringing her fingers.

“But… I dinnae ken about such things,” she said. “How am I supposed tae speak about it if I have never done it? I havenae even kissed anyone but ye!”

I was her first an’ only kiss?

It was difficult to believe that someone as pretty as Elayne had never been kissed, even sheltered as she had always been as the daughter of a laird. Dunn let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. That would certainly be an issue, he thought. Elayne was so innocent that she seemed to have no idea of what happened between a man and a woman.

That’s alright. I will teach her.

If there was one thing he knew, it was his way around a woman’s body. He had slept with many women, and so he could tell Elayne all about what the two of them could have done in bed had she truly been his wife.

“Alright,” he said decisively, slapping his hands on his thighs as he stood and approached her. “I will tell ye what ye can say tae yer friend.”

Elayne sputtered, her lips seemingly incapable of making anything other than incoherent sounds as she took a few steps back, putting some distance between them. Dunn hadn’t thought it possible, but now her cheeks were burning an even brighter red, the way her eyes widened as she looked at him almost comical.

“What dae ye mean?” she asked in alarm. “We cannae discuss such things. It’s nae proper!”

“Calm yerself, lass,” Dunn said with a roll of his eyes, though he had to admit he was rather amused by Elayne’s reaction. “Ye must learn these things. Ye are supposed tae be a wedded woman now. I wouldnae speak tae ye about such things under other circumstances, but I doubt Laird McCoy will end his interrogation here. If he continues tae suspect us, we will both be in terrible trouble, an’ I would very much like tae avoid that.”

It took a few moments for Elayne to let her guard down, perhaps convincing herself that Dunn was right. It would be an uncomfortable conversation for him, too. It was one thing, talking about his sexual exploits with his friends, and an entirely different thing talking about them with a woman, especially a woman like Elayne. If she had been more experienced on such matters, perhaps Dunn wouldn’t have had such an issue bringing up the subject, but now he found himself unable to speak, hesitating even when he knew it was necessary to explain these things to her.

Elayne took a deep breath and slowly came to sit on the bed, close to the pillows. When she was settled, she looked up at Dunn, nodding.

“Go ahead, then.”