Amanda Scott Read Online Free Page B

guess what he was thinking, but she could tell that Macleod’s cross-questioning had begun to annoy him.
    Having taken as much stew as he wanted, he turned to his host and said mildly, “As it is his grace’s business to which I attend, sir, I’m certain you must understand that I cannot divulge the details to you here at the table.”
    “Sakes, lad, lest ye’ve forgotten, I serve as a member o’ his grace’s Council o’ the Isles. Therefore, I’ve every right to ken his business if it has aught to do wi’ the Isles, as I suppose it must.”
    “I have not forgotten your position,” Hector said. “I will be happy to discuss it privately with you at your convenience, but ’tis not a topic for bairns’ ears.”
    “Och, aye, then,” Macleod said, glancing up and down the table as if he had just remembered that his daughters were present.
    “But that’s not fair,” Mariota protested. “I’m not a child, and I want to hear your adventures, sir. I’m sure you must have had exciting ones, and I shall die if I cannot hear them. Can you not send the children off with Aunt Euphemia, Father?”
    Much as she would have liked to call Mariota to order as she had Isobel, Cristina held her tongue, knowing that scolding her would serve no purpose since Mariota would ignore her. However, seeing Isobel open her mouth to protest, she shot that young lady a minatory look that kept her silent, then turned back as Hector said with a smile to Mariota, “Anyone with half an eye can see that you are not a child, my lady.”
    “Well, you need not say that as if you want only to placate me, my lord,” Mariota said archly, fluttering her ridiculously long, dark lashes.
    “I was agreeing with you, lass,” he said.
    Mariota tossed her head. “You said you want to marry me, but surely you do not think I’d marry a common messenger, even if he rides for the Lord of the Isles.”
    “Mariota!” Cristina exclaimed, unable to restrain herself this time. Shooting a hasty glance at their father, to attempt to gauge his temper, she added, “My dear, truly, you should not speak so to a guest.”
    Macleod gnawed a mutton bone, apparently undisturbed by Mariota’s impertinence. Hector seemed unperturbed as well, for he said only, “Is that what you think, that I am but his grace’s messenger?”
    Mariota gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m sure it is nothing to me what your position is or whom you serve. Your clan is a sadly unknown one—to me, at least—and therefore most likely not a suitable one with which to ally myself.”
    “Sakes, lass, I’d think that being laden with eight daughters for whom he must find husbands—even as beautiful as you all are—your father would not be so hard to please.”
    “’Tis I, not he, who is hard to please, sir,” she said, tossing her head. “After Cristina marries, I shall have dozens of offers from which to choose—offers from the very best families, too, I promise you.”
    “’Tis true,” Macleod said complacently. “The lass will ha’ her pick o’ the Highlands and Isles, so she needna take the first upstart son of Gillean that wants her. She’ll take a man what kens his history, one as
has
a history farther back than a few odd generations or so.”
    “With respect, sir, I warrant that our Clan Gillean history is as ancient as your own,” Hector said.
    “Nay, now that canna be,” Macleod said, “for we Macleods ha’ been in existence since the beginning o’ the world. I warrant ye’ll no be telling me that any Maclean lived afore the Flood now, will ye?”
    “Which flood would that be?” Hector asked.
    “Aye, sure, I’m no surprised ye dinna ken the Bible as well as I do, for all that yon Macleans claim to be one o’ the learned clans. Still, I expect I ken that good book well enough for us both. I’m speaking o’ the great Flood that drowned the entire world, save that lad Noah, and his family and flocks,” Macleod said.
    “That Flood, eh?” Hector said.