Chapter 15

Dinner that evening unfolded with all the grandeur and splendor to follow the McLaren Highland Games. The dining hall was filled with the scent of roasted meats and bubbling pots of stew, enticing the guests to get seated quickly to whet their appetites.

Arran sat at the head of the banquet table, his board shoulders squared and his gaze fixed on the scene before him. The sight of the clansmen gathered and sharing a grand, theatrical retelling of their own perspectives of the day caught his attention. Their shadows cast on the walls by the bright torchlights, and their laughter mingled with the light music playing in the background. He was ready to get the dinner started, but he was missing one key piece of tonight's event.

Where is she?

As if sent from above, Scarlett emerged from behind another clan banner.

Tsk… Lost again, lass…

The O'Neills were seated at the head table already, next to him, and he watched her silently as she stood by the chairs they sat in the night before.

As if pulled by his stare, her blue eyes landed on his. She was clad in another stunning gown, a woolen piece dyed in a deep shade of midnight blue that set off the blue of her eyes, making them look like jewels. It was another masterpiece of Highland craftmanship. Every aspect had been carefully tailored to accentuate her natural beauty, and Arran couldn't keep his eyes off her.

Christ Almighty, her curves are delectable.

The bodice of her dress had intricate, dark embroidery that shimmered subtly in the torchlight. The neckline dipped low, revealing a hint of her creamy, smooth skin, and her sleeves were long and fitted. The crest of her clan was carved into the silver buckle that rested on her large sash. Her skirts fell into soft, flowing folds that were hemmed with delicate Celtic knotwork.

Arran watched as a blush crept up her neck once she noticed where she would be sitting that evening.

That's right, lass. Right here, next to me.

He waved over the service hand, who pulled back the empty chair for her to sit in once she made her way up to the banquet table. Arran's mouth was already watering from the anticipation of eating his favorite foods, and Scarlett did nothing to dampen his cravings.

She rolled her shoulders back and moved through the center of the dining hall, her figure drawing more and more stares as she glided effortlessly closer to him. His sister sat on his left, with Felix and Lily next to her once more. Laird and Lady O'Neill sat on Scarlett's right.

Her presence at the table added to the jubilation of the evening, and Arran leaned in as she sat down. "Scarlett, I hope I'm nae the only man to tell ye this tonight, but ye are enchanting."

"Thank ye," she whispered quietly, and he offered her the venison stew, which she accepted heartily.

He smiled and set the bowl back down after serving her, and in her zeal to eat, she forwent propriety, which was impressive to him.

Scarlett sat up straighter, and he knew that Sienna must have nudged her to correct her posture. The innocent gesture lit a fire within him.

"Relax, Scarlett. I'm nae going to leave ye. We'll still be handfasted at the end of this week even if ye scarf down yer food."

His sharp voice was loud enough for her mother to hear.

Scarlett laughed. "Are ye sure? I dinnae think ye are."

"There ye go, doubting me again. Shall I remind ye…" He paused. "Again?"

Arran's leg stirred as he watched her mouth open slightly and her breath hitch before she spoke again. "That willnae be necessary, Laird McLaren. Thank ye for yer concern, though."

She looked up and noticed that there were several pairs of eyes staring back at her, beholding her as Arran had done.

* * *

"So, what's yer plan for the evening, Laird McLaren?"

Arran waved his hands toward the clans, as if to explain his plan.

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. "I meant about announcing our marriage to the clans."

"I ken well enough what ye meant, but we dinnae require an announcement. Just ye sitting up here is enough."

"Nay, we dinnae work that way. Ye need to announce it."

Arran stood up to address the hall, and the music died down.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" He twisted and waited for the remaining conversations to pause. "I have organized tonight's hearty meal to make an announcement of great significance to us all."

The guests all turned toward him, clearly understanding what was to come next, but Scarlett held her breath. Her eyes fixed on his face as he spoke. She finally sensed the gravity of the movement and the inescapable weight of sharing responsibilities that rested solely on his shoulders.

"As many of ye ken, our lands have long been divided by ancient feuds, one of which we all just returned home from." He let them men voice their agreement. "Tonight, I stand before ye to declare that negotiations have been well underway for all of us to reopen trade routes and forge new alliances."

The guests murmured their surprise, and then Arran continued, "I am also pleased to announce that after careful consideration and reflection, Lady Scarlett Paton and I have decided to marry. Please join me in a toast to the lovely lass next to me."

He lifted his chalice, and the entire room bellowed, "Slàinte mhath!"

The room burst into applause, and Arran reached across the table to shake Mack's hand and then kissed Sienna's knuckles. A ritual he would be sure to never forget to do this week if they were going to be in any way successful in carrying out the ruse.

As the applause died down, the musicians started up the music, and Scarlett and Arran were sitting close to each other once more.

"Quite memorable, though not quite romantic. Nae one part of this has been romantic."

"Aye, ye want romance, Scarlett?"

"It wouldnae hurt, Arran," she scolded, before forking on a large slice of the savory roast in front of her.

Clearly proud of herself for speaking to him in that way, he let her gleefully finish her dinner in peace.

The Cranachan arrived shortly afterward, and the two indulged in the pastry that his cook had made for him since he was growing teeth. It almost brought a small, childish smile to his face when he tasted it.

Suddenly, the game masters stood up and demanded the room's attention. The men waited for the dining hall to fall into complete silence before announcing the winning clan.

"Caber toss, McLaren," the master began, and the McLaren clansmen banged their chalices on the table, shouting words of praise to each other.

Another master stood up. "Hammer throw, McRae."

The McRae clansmen hollered.

"Stone putting, Crawford."

"Tug-of-war, McLaren and Drummond."

"Highland dancing, O'Neill."

"Foot race, McLaren."

The head game master stood up to declare the winning clan overall. "Clan McLaren wins!"

The roars in the dining hall rattled the windows, and the music from the great hall became louder. Arran, the triumphant leader, stood up and offered his arm to Scarlett. The same enchanting melody that she had danced to during the Games enveloped them, by his request, and he led them into the great hall to start the first dance.

Arran interlaced his fingers with hers as he led her around the great hall in perfect sync. The tension between them was palpable as their eyes met.

"How was yer dinner, lass?" he asked.

"It was delicious," Scarlett replied as he twisted and turned with the cadence of the music.

"Good. Now, explain what ye were so afraid of earlier."

She stiffened slightly, but the pressure of his hand on her back reminded her of his lips crashing down onto hers, and she relaxed into him. "I cannae explain it, I was just scared. He's a violent man who favors getting his way. I guess I just find it hard to believe that he just took that information and accepted it."

Arran pulled her closer in a protective embrace as the music swelled. Her heartbeat picked up at their closeness.

So close… just like our first night in front of me rooms… I thought he would kiss me then, would he kiss me now?

Her thoughts coaxed a light blush to form across her cheeks, and Arran's chest vibrated.

"Dinnae fash about him, Scarlett. Ye are mine now," he growled into the small space between them, "He willnae get to ye. I promise, ye are safe."

His words washed over her like a warm wave, banishing her doubt and uncertainty. At that moment, all she could think about was the warmth of his body as they moved in perfect harmony.

The song came to an end, and he led them both off the dance floor to meet with her parents. His sister came up to join their conversation as well.

"Laird O'Neill, Lady O'Neill," Arran greeted them both and then stepped aside to let his sister greet the group.

"Aye, how are ye enjoying the feast?" Niamh asked charismatically, pulling their attention away from him.

With the group sufficiently distracted by whatever his sister was talking about, he stepped behind Scarlett and whispered in her ear, "How's this for romance?"

He watched as she rolled back her shoulders to hide the delicious shiver that ran down her spine, and she followed his voice. Arran kept her hand in his as she spun around and placed something in her palm.

"A promise, Scarlett Paton," he said in a low voice, and he wrapped her fingers around her hand.

Scarlett turned to face him, and in the dim torchlight in the great hall of Castle McLaren, she lifted the dark blue box.

The conversation behind them stopped, and she heard her mother's gasp as she lifted the lid and pulled out an ornate oath stone in their clan colors.

She met his gaze. "Arran…"