Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

S ophia .

There she was. Right in front of him.

He had not noticed it before, but her eyes were not onyx black as he always saw them to be. They were a dark, golden shade of brown. He swallowed hard trying to calm himself. It should not have been so hard to stand before her, but it was. She was there , and beautiful, and only a few inches away from his face. Her plump, cherry lips were moist and tempting.

"Aye, milaird." Sophia scrambled away from him. "I must apologize. I did nae see ye approach."

Her voice grounded him. It was not a fantasy, nor a dream.

"My lady, it delights me to see ye once again." He fought back the dark excitement that lurked beneath the surface. "I am sorry for how I left earlier."

She blinked and flashed red. "How have ye been, milaird? I imagine a laird keeps well," she said, her gaze low.

He had not been well. He had missed her.

"Aye, my lady, I have been well," he managed to mutter. "I trust ye have been fair as well."

Sophia nodded and returned her gaze to him, with a forced, angry smile. It was new, formed in the years he had not known her. "Oh, I have, milaird."

"Have ye had something to eat?"

"I shall help myself to something." Her coolness instilled something in him that he had never felt before. She must have despised him. The concept itself was eating him alive. He understood she had every right to loathe him for what he had done. He hated himself as well.

"Tonight, milaird…" She trailed off, tilting her head to the small crowd. "Forgive me. I must have been out of my mind to speak of such things. It does nae concern me." She turned away from him, heading for a tippling table.

He followed after her, catching her arm. "Sophia…" It was not proper, he told himself, and released her. There was no point trying to win her over when he had already made up his mind to not be with her. It was not an easy decision, and she would not understand. She didn't have to.

Sophia picked up a glass of something clear and sparkling. "I should return to my sister now, milaird." He wanted to hold her back, to shout to the hall at large how much he wanted her—how much he desired her to be his wife—but he found no words.

"Milaird," Logan called out to him from behind. "For God's sake, where were ye?"

He rolled his neck. Logan always chose the wrong time to pester him. "I told ye—I needed time to think."

"Ye must have thought a lot!" his uncle howled. "Look at Gregor! The poor man cannae hold down his dram. An' his daughter, well, I suppose it's a miracle she did nae eat the table itself before ye came back." Logan chuckled, which meant he was not mad at all.

Kendrick looked down at Sophia. She was sipping at her glass, listening.

He did not want to entertain his uncle any more than he had to, it was not his jesting that angered him. The feast would come to an end soon, and he would have to announce his bride—a bride that did not interest him.

And Reed would make a proposal to Sophia as soon as he found out she was unchained.

Reed will make a proposal to Sophia. The words suddenly made more sense to him. There was no way that would happen ... But what if it did? He would not stop them; he had no real reason to.

"Reed!" Sophia cried happily. Kendrick turned and saw him standing there even though he said he wouldn't attend. Why had he changed his mind?

"Oh! I have missed ye, Reed," Sophia continued. "What happened to yer arm?"

Reed shrugged, beaming. Kendrick rolled his eyes. Rolling one's eyes was not for men—it was a thing the lassies did out of jealousy, but he was not jealous. Still, something niggled at him. He leaned a little closer to them.

"I saved a wee lad from a horse," Reed replied, grinning so much it must have hurt.

"Ye've always been a gentle and kind man, Reed." Sophia pressed a hand to her cheek. "I have missed seeing ye."

For all Kendrick knew, Reed was nothing close to a gentleman. He knew better than Sophia where he spent his nights, and with whom.

Who am I to talk? Reed is much better than I will ever be. At least his father is no murderer.

"Milaird," Reed said, gesturing Kendrick over. He pretended not to have heard, but there was no escape. Reed excused himself from Sophia and dashed up to him.

"Ye said ye would not return, didn't ye? How are ye faring?" Reed asked.

"I dinnae have a choice," Kendrick explained. "Ye wouldn't understand."

"Ye are a laird ," Reed argued. "There is nothing ye must do if ye choose not to."

"Aye, I suppose that is why I am being forced to snatch a bride," Kendrick retorted. "Ye're older and naeone bothers ye about such things."

"Tis true, milaird, but it's a small price a laird has to pay," Reed insisted. "Made up yer mind yet?"

"I would rather ye ask if I will marry Sophia," Kendrick suggested. "But we ken what I will say." No doubt, she was the reason Reed had come after all. His friend was doing nothing wrong, yet all Kendrick wanted was to keep him away from her—to keep all men away from her.

"Aye, we ken," Reed interjected. "Sophia turned out a very bonnie lass, did she nae?"

"I did nae notice." Kendrick tried to hold back a smile.

"She talks like a real bright lass, too," Reed added. "Very few lassies in the clan can be that clever, I tell ye."

"Did ye come to taunt me about lassies and Sophia?"

"Does it bother ye?"

"Does what bother me?" Kendrick shrugged.

"Ye ken—that I will propose to Sophia if ye dinnae," Reed whispered.

"Nae, that does nae bother me." It was not a total lie. Kendrick didn't care if Reed asked for her hand. He would care if she said yes .

Who are ye lying to? Ye go mad just from the idea of them together.

"There are three lassies of interest at the feast." Reed glanced over the room, clearly not dissuaded by Kendrick's sourness. "If Sophia is nae an option, who else?"

"Who do ye think?" He eyed Lorena.

"She is her sister. It may upset Sophia if ye propose to her," Reed muttered. "And the other lass—heard her name's Beth. I dinnae think she'll be a braw match for ye."

"I think she will be just fine," Kendrick suggested. "She may become the Lady of the MacNeil."

"Are ye not teasing me?"

"Aye, she may just be perfect for me." He slugged back the last of his drink. With one last look back at Sophia, he turned away. "I have made a decision about my bride," he declared. The entire hall swiveled to look at him. "Ye may all return to yer homes and wait till I inform ye o' what I decided. I declare this feast come to term."

Kendrick looked over the guests. Angus' frowned, most likely convinced the evening had been a cruel jape. Despite himself, Kendrick turned back to Sophia. There was something sad and angry in the way she looked at him.

And there was nothing that could have prepared them for what would come next.

The guests began trailing out of the hall; among them, Beth, and her father. While the servants cleared the great hall, Kendrick decided he would speak to Angus.

"Angus," he called out to Sophia's father. "If I may, I would like a word with ye outside.

"O' course, milaird."

They made their way out of the hall, their footsteps sounding on the thick stone floors of the keep.

"Yer daughters, Angus," Kendrick started. "Which do ye think is best suited to marry a laird?"

Angus blinked. "Milaird, I—"

"Ye heard me." Kendrick turned to face him. "Which of yer daughters will ye choose to be my lady?" He needed to ask Angus. He needed to be sure he wasn't making a mistake.

"Do ye hold either dearly?" Angus came back at him. "Whom ye must marry is up to ye to decide, milaird."

"All right then." Kendrick paused. He could not look at Angus as he murmured, "I shall marry Lorena."

"B-but milaird," Angus stammered. "Are ye sure it is Lorena ye wish to marry?"

The way his eyebrows shot up to his receded hairline was enough for Kendrick to understand that Lorena was not the name he had expected to hear.

"Aye, it is Lorena whom I desire."

"I do nae wish to question my Laird's decision," Angus said mumbling, "However, I thought it was Sophia whom ye desired for a time, was it nae?"

"It was nae, Angus," Kendrick replied, but he knew his expression was hardly convincing. What if Angus saw my face and read my thoughts? "I've never wished to marry Sophia."

It was not a complete lie, of course. He longed for Sophia; he hungered for her, and he was sure that he loved her… but she would never be his wife. It was a decision made by fate and necessity.

"Ye played together as friends for years."

"Sophia was a friend, aye." The more Kendrick denied his affection, the easier he thought it would be to say, "She was a dear friend and naething more."

A dear friend and naething more , he repeated inwardly.

"It was my mistake, milaird," Angus apologized. "I assumed wrong. I would ask we dinnae make an official announcement till we are prepared."

"It is settled then," Kendrick agreed. "I am to take Lorena as my wife."

"Are ye listening, Lorena?" Reed asked.

Sophia was sure her sister was lost in thought.

"Aye, Reed." Lorena smiled. "I am."

"So, what says ye?"

Lorena fell silent. It was quite evident now that she was speechless. She may have heard him, but she did not appear focused enough to make sense of what he was saying.

"Perhaps we should continue talking another time."

"Aye. Another time then."

"Sister," Lorena whispered. "Pray tell—are ye afraid the Laird will nae choose ye?"

"A wee bit," Sophia confirmed. "The fear brews in me."

"He will. I'm sure o' it," Lorena said.

Sophia wondered how Lorena could be sure. "I cannae help it, Lorena. I was so sure before we left home, but now… I have no confidence in his affection for me."

Lorena shot Reed, who was quietly seated beside her, a glance. He quickly moved his eyes away, and Sophia guessed he was worried as well.

Lorena turned back to Sophia. "Did something happen? I saw ye two talking."

Sophia remained silent. Suddenly, Kendrick walked into the hall with their father. Neither of them had a hint of happiness on their face. They almost seemed like they had been attending a burial.

Kendrick motioned to Angus. "Ye should inform them," he said.

Angus nodded back in agreement. "After speaking with the Laird," Angus heaved a sigh, "He has decided to make Lorena his wife."

Well, there it was.

Sophia's body froze over. Her head swirled so quickly to Lorena that she could almost hear her neck crack. Her sister's eyes were wide and pleading.

"There must be a mistake," Lorena protested. "I cannae marry the Laird when—" She cut herself off. "I cannae marry the Laird," she repeated. "I do nae love him."

No one said a thing.