Chapter 7

"After this, ye will get changed for dinner," Sienna Paton whispered.

"Aye, Mrs. Cameron let me ken that we will all go up after the minstrel and change for dinner. Why, though? Seems wasteful."

"Scarlett, dinnae speak that way. It is how things are done."

"I ken that well enough, Maither."

"Besides, ye will be running a clan like this someday. Ye will have to get used to it, whether ye are entertaining or nae."

"Someday," Scarlett scoffed and rolled her eyes.

Little did she ken that ‘someday' was ‘this week.'

"The minstrel had been specially invited by Laird McLaren himself. Sent a carriage to go get him and everything, Scarlett," Sienna whispered behind her glass of Rhenish wine. Scarlett joined her in taking a sip and then let the chalice rest on her lap.

"I know, Maither," Scarlett whispered back. "Mrs. Cameron told me that this morning as well."

"I see. Well, did ye ken the Laird is looking for a wife?"

At this news, Scarlett resisted the urge to whip her head around. "Nay, I didnae ken that. How do ye ken that?"

"Maithers know these things," Sienna said with an arched eyebrow and lowered her chalice.

"Does the Laird ken that he's looking for a bride this week?"

"Scarlett Paton! What has gotten into ye?" Sienna shook her head, and Scarlett leaned away from her in an effort to end the conversation.

Great. If he's made his intentions kenned, now every faither here will be trying to make an alliance with him. What about our deal?

Scarlett chanced another glance around the hall to find him, but he hadn't come down from his rooms yet.

The minstrel continued to set up his instrument, and more of the guests appeared. Sienna was adamant about them all being down on time to get the best seats for the show. Laird O'Neill was conducting business with Laird Donaldson, and Scarlett hoped that it wasn't about Reuben.

"Maither?" she whispered inconspicuously.

"Aye?"

"What's Laird Donaldson saying?"

Sienna's face creased into a disappointed frown, but she recovered quickly. "They're discussing how young Buchan is ill and wouldnae be joining us for dinner tonight."

Recalling the sight of Reuben's blood pooling around him on the surgery table last night, Scarlett blanched slightly, which her mother thought was poor-mannered.

Scarlett quickly folded her hands in her lap to avoid the chastising wrist slap her mother was sure to dish out, and asked casually, "Och, he's ill?"

"Apparently," Sienna said with a discerning glance at the chalice Scarlett lifted again, "and ye ken well enough to watch your drink, or else ye will end up the same."

"Och, aye… so it's the foggy head, then?"

"I dinnae ken, Scarlett. I only heard Laird Donaldson say young Buchan was ill. We all saw him last night acting pished all over the great hall. Embarrassing his faither in front of Laird McLaren."

Scarlett hummed in response, clearly not as invested in the travesty as her mother, which finally earned her a firm slap on her wrist.

"Ouch, Ma!" Scarlett hissed and pulled her arm to her chest. "I only meant to say that at least I dinnae have to worry about him and his skullduggery tonight."

"Scarlett Paton, that is enough! He might well be yer intended by the end of this week. Ye will have to get used to it," her mother scolded quietly so as to not catch the attention of her faither or Laird Donaldson.

"I was hoping ye'd say ye talked to faither for me. He's dangerous, Ma," Scarlett nearly whined, but she knew better than to let her tone slip into desperation.

Her mother may have understood where she was coming from, but she had never stood for ill-bred blithering.

"Nay, yer faither is set on this match, me heart," Sienna said with resolve. "Ye will have to live with it. Love will come later. Ye'll see."

"I cannae love that monster," Scarlett declared. "I will fight this, even if ye wouldnae."

"Ye dinnae ken what I have done," Sienna said sharply.

Scarlett sucked in a deep breath, knowing she had just crossed a line. "Maither, I am sorry. I only meant that I would keep fighting this match even if ye cannae."

"Scarlett, this alliance helps our clan greatly, ye ken. Ye dinnae have the luxury to marry for love or choose yer partner. Look around, none of ye young lassies have a choice. ‘Tis done," her mother hissed and waved her hand in a halting way to end the conversation.

Shite…

The plan with Laird McLaren was now her only hope, and Scarlett needed to make sure he was going to keep his word. He hadn't yet spoken to her father, so she could only assume that he was delaying for a reason.

As she thought about last night, she ran their conversation through her mind again to figure out what could be in the way of their plan. She landed on his frustration with her as his words rang in her ears.

"Ye vex me, woman."

She must have done something to offend him, or else he would have made good on the deal she agreed to. She had to figure it out.

The mood in the hall shifted, as the minstrel took a phantom cue to seat himself with his instrument on the stage. Scarlett followed the turning heads and refocusing glances around the hall until her eyes landed on a fiery pair of emerald-green eyes.

Niamh Williams had changed out of her blue dress from this morning and into a deep green one. It was an enticing shade of green that made every man in the hall catch their breath in awe, reminded of the rolling Highland hills. Niamh had always been an object of men's attention, and yet she still remained off limits. Scarlett could only attribute this to the brooding man standing next to her.

It was Niamh's gaze, though, that froze Scarlett in her spot. The women held each other's gazes for what felt like a million years, and it made Scarlett feel as if Niamh was trying to tell her something. The intensity of Laird McLaren's stare was impossible to ignore as well, and she suddenly felt like they knew something she didn't.

It was as if she had been the topic of their secret conversation, but she couldn't look away. Then Niamh's eyes flicked almost imperceptibly to Scarlett's dress before meeting her own again.

While Niamh's countenance and expression were indecipherable, her brother's were dark and predatory.

The blue, oh nay… It's the dress…

Scarlett felt like she should crawl back to her rooms and disappear, and even tried to hide behind her unaware mother. Her mind went wild with desperate escape plans as Laird McLaren led his sister down the aisle, his gaze shifting between the guests on the other side of the hall and then back to her.

Mrs. Cameron warned her about the formidable pair, but it wasn't clear whether she was warning her against wearing that color today. Laird McLaren was wearing dark grey and clan colors. As Scarlett followed their walk into the hall, she noticed that all of the lairds and ladies were wearing their clan colors as well. She was the only lady in blue. It was as if everyone was told ahead of time to not don that color, and her mother had set her up for failure.

Her mother, Mrs. Cameron, the maid who helped her—everyone had set her up for failure.

Scarlett was grateful to be scheduled for another dress after the minstrel's performance. Mentally kicking herself, she tried to come up with a plan to speak with Larid McLaren about their agreement.

What made things worse was the second glance she received from Niamh as they passed her row. Even Lady O'Neill turned, but instead of concern, she expressed a sense of pride in what a lovely lady her daughter was to have caught the eye of the Laird's sister.

Clearly, she missed the memo because if looks could kill…

* * *

"Braither, did ye see Lady Scarlett tonight?" Niamh asked her brother slyly as they took their seats at the front row. "She wears Maither's colors well, nay?"

What is she up to?

"Aye, she's a bonny lass," Arran said gruffly, looking at her sideways.

Her sudden keen interest in the two of them was suspicious, but he gave her nothing else to feed on as he leaned away from her to stand up and address the hall.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends, thank ye for joinin' us this evening. Yer presence warms our hearts and lifts our spirits." He paused and gave an encouraging nod to his sister and his clansmen, who were sitting behind him, before continuing, "Tonight, I have the honor to introduce a dear friend who is not only a cherished comrade in arms and trusted confidante, but a minstrel whose talents and melodies will echo in our hearts long after the night fades. To friendship, to music, and to our fellowship. Graham McCormack, we're ready for ye."

He raised his chalice to the minstrel and then to his clansmen, who all yelled out, "Slàinte mhath!"

The rest of the hall echoed the toast, and the minstrel started playing.

The small man was delicate with the tune. The melody lamented on from his flute as he led the hall through a ballad that recounted the valorous deeds of legendary warriors. He had sung this song to Arran out in the fields of war one night a few years ago, and the haunting lyrics stirred deep emotions in Arran. He had been moved to tears of sadness for his fallen friends then, but not tonight. Tonight he maintained a stoic expression. Though it was not lost on him how the song affected Niamh. She had been moved to tears, and he reminded himself to ask her about it later.

He chanced a glance at Scarlett and also caught her glassy blue eyes focused on the minstrel. Her small hand raised a chalice, and Arran twisted further to watch her lift it to her perfectly plump lips. Something stirred inside of him when her gaze turned to his and then quickly away. The dress she wore was cut low, and her white blouse was sheer over her breasts. She rolled her shoulders back, and the blue of her bodice was captured by the afternoon light.

Christ, this party issnae ready for Scarlett Paton in that shade of blue.

He looked away, but thoughts of her kept distracting him from hearing any more of the music. There was something about the night before that hadn't sat well with him. He needed to know if she was really just desperate to get out of a situation with Reuben Buchan, or if she was drunk, or if it was a bit of both.

Why did she agree so quickly?

Arran wrestled with his thoughts for three more melodies until the sounds of applause caught his attention. Frustrated, he joined the rest of the room in a standing ovation. He had matters of business to take care of, and lusting after an intoxicated lass was not one of them. In an effort to not let her distract him further, he made up his mind as his friend took a bow.

If Scarlett Paton remembered anything from their tryst last night, she would have to make the first move.