Bound by Wish and Mistletoe (Highland Legends, Book 1.5) (15 page)

In the hall’s decorated wonderland, laughter accompanied personal stories and commentary. She quietly ate beside her new husband among a clan that, for the vast majority, seemed like a protective, tight-knit family. The atmosphere was far different from any meals she’d witnessed growing up—tense and focusing on the next battle to conquer the weak or ill-deserving. Even the unwelcoming women had distanced themselves and engaged in bright banter among their friends. Perhaps Donalda was right—given time they
would
accept the loss of Robert.

Jovial chatter faded as a bard joined in the celebration, sitting beside the hearth, opposite the Christmas tree. He regaled them with tales of heroics in the age of King Arthur as he plucked the strings of a lyre with his right hand, his left securing it upon a knee.

The bard shared versions of the fabled adventures she’d not heard before. With the amount of good spirits in the room, that they cast stories in a brighter light didn’t surprise her. Her past,
her former clan
, merely happened to be darker than most, she decided. Surrounded by the protective clan, her new family, she realized she could do what she had vowed to do before this clan and God. For the first time, she began to believe that she could embrace forever with a man.

A sudden crash directly across the table snapped her attention forward. Brigid had slammed her plate down, sending her food flying across the table.

“Brigid, I feel him, too. Leave it be.” Isobel warned her friend.

Susanna looked between the two women, uncertain what the provocation was about.

“Nay.” Brigid growled and stood. “My appetite is gone.” Brigid looked at her and Robert, giving them a tight smile. “I’m verra happy for the two of you. Please ignore my irritable mood and enjoy your meal.”

Susanna’s heart clenched for Brigid when Isobel intimated the cause of her unknown distress was a
him
. She opened her mouth to console her, but adequate words never came as she silently watched Brigid turn and disappear down the shadowed hall. All the while, the bard sang and played his music, and everyone carried on their conversations, oblivious to the trouble at the head of their table.

“Weel, you heard her, you two. Eat,” Robert said.

Susanna turned to find Robert glancing between her and Isobel with arched brows. He waited until she put a large bite of pheasant in her mouth before his heated stare eased and he continued eating.

“Lady Isobel, tell us more of your Christmas,” Robert said.

“Oh, let’s see,” Isobel began. “
My
Christmas was nothing like the grandeur of what Clan Brodie now has; we had no snow. Beaches, sunshine, and buying a Christmas tree in a mall parking lot were my experiences.”

“Isa,” Iain chided. “Tell them of what an ideal Christmas would be. Embrace your inner storyteller.”

They finished their meal to Isobel’s stories of families at Christmas spending time together in celebration—much like their joyous occasion tonight—and strayed to stranger topics like carolers going door to door, Secret Santas, and something about a white elephant gift at a university. While the handful still at their end of the table talked, more than half the people in the room had taken to dancing, the bass sounds of a large drum and the chords of a lute creating a lively rhythm.

Susanna’s mind, however, lingered on all the curious things Isobel had shared. Based on the colorful descriptions, she understood carolers to be a group of bards bringing songs of cheer to people’s homes
, and Secret Santas was a game of gifts where the identity of the giver was unknown. She had no idea what a mall parking lot was, or a university, or...

“What is an
elephant
?” Susanna asked, glancing beyond Isobel’s shoulder at a dancing couple who swung wildly around and around to the squealing lass’s delight.

Isobel’s brow furrowed. “Oh,” she said quietly. Isobel glanced at Iain as her mouth fell open, wordlessly.

“Doona look at me, Isa. You started this Christmas affair. ’Tis all on you,” Iain said, smirking.

“Well, a white elephant gift is what we call it when—” Isobel’s eyes dropped to the table. She stared at the heavily grained wood before lifting to meet her gaze again “—we play a game with presents
...”

“And an elephant?” Susanna asked again.

Iain chuckled.

Isobel sighed. “It’s a very large animal
...from another continent...ah...country.”

“Bigger than a bear?” Robert asked.

“Yes. Bigger than a bear,” Isobel replied. “It stands taller than two bears atop one another and is about the size of six or seven bears put together.”

“Och, you jest!” Robert said.

“Nay,” Iain interjected. “She speaks the truth.”

Robert laughed and tugged Susanna up. “Come, Susanna, I want to dance with my bride.”

She stood into the strong grip of his arms. His captivating scent wrapped around her as she looked up into his eyes.

Such a strange thing, to be held by a man.

Dark and more deadly than any man she’d known, Robert’s very existence made her wonder at the quick turn of recent events. How could Mama not have told her that some men were capable of kindness and love? Had Mama’s papa been a tyrant, too? Had she never known of a man like Robert? Surely she couldn’t have, else she would’ve mentioned the difference.

As Robert pulled her toward the center of the wooden floor, a piercing crash echoed from beyond the room. They all turned toward the kitchen as another loud clang, a resounding clatter, and a tinkling smash echoed out from beyond the shadowed doorway.

Five people burst from the kitchen, fleeing in various directions.

“Oh, hell,” Isobel said loud enough for the entire room to hear.

Iain scowled and sprang up from the bench, glaring at the commotion, but Isobel laid a hand on his forearm to stop him, imperceptibly shaking her head.

Something smaller shattered, its sound half that of the one before. Susanna tore her eyes from the direction of the disturbance and stared at Iain and Isobel, who apparently knew the reason for all the destruction.

The deafening crash of a much larger object rang out from the kitchen, and the musicians finally stopped playing, all conversations ceasing.

“I guess she couldn’t leave it alone,” Isobel muttered, her tone somber.

“You lied!” Brigid’s shouted accusation came from the unseen battlefield of the kitchen followed by her growl of frustration that escalated to a high-pitched scream.

Suddenly, a shiny object spiraled into the room and smashed into the stone wall beside the Christmas tree, shattering into tiny glittering fragments before they rained down in sparkles. A low-timbered, masculine voice rumbled from the vicinity of the battle, but the words were indecipherable. Susanna swallowed hard, trepidation quickening her heart, her mind racing over the distraught Brigid and the man at the root of her anguish.

Robert pushed Susanna back with an extended arm, moving them both away from the danger. A large platter sailed through the air and hit the same exact spot before it too exploded into pieces.

“She has superb aim,” Robert remarked.

Susanna snorted, more from nervousness than amusement. She’d never seen a woman more enraged, other than herself.

Another growl from the kitchen turned into shouted unintelligible words. More crashing and shattering happened for an extended period of time to a completely silent great hall.

Robert’s gaze flew to Iain, and he took a step toward his laird. Susanna surmised Robert’s first instinct was to protect his clan, even if it was from one another.

Iain shook his head, setting his jaw and clenching it. “My furious sister seems to have broken every piece of glass we’ve acquired.”

Robert stayed his action, waiting. Everyone else did the same. With the tension in the great hall growing nearly as thick as the battle in the kitchen, no one dared utter a word.

Brigid burst from the kitchen, her copper hair flying in a blaze around her head as she rushed through the room in a blur. The standing crowd shrank out of her way, parting out of instinct and self-preservation.

Fast on her heels, the dark angel stormed after her, his scowl far surpassing the one Brigid wore. The glare in his shining eyes threatened to set the rest of the world on fire. Susanna had no doubt he could.

Beside Robert, Father John stepped forward, far too close to the path of danger. The man of God gaped at the dark, winged creature as if he confronted a hound from hell, and he crossed himself. Twice.

Skorpius glared at Father John as he passed him, those astounding black wings arching up higher. “Not. One. Word.
Priest.
”

The angel shot a searing look Robert’s direction, as if Robert would be the next to challenge him, and Susanna swore she felt the scorching heat of the creature’s glare. Robert, however, remain
ed where he stood, unflinching.

Skorpius never broke stride. His arrival and departure happened in a few of the rapid heartbeats that thundered in Susanna’s ears.

Total silence lingered in the wake of the mayhem. No one moved.

Susanna realized she’d forgotten to breathe and sucked in a lungful of air. At witnessing another woman suffer at the hands of a man, a cold familiar fear licked up into her heart, freezing all the warmth until a chill racked through her body.

Iain addressed the priest in a surprisingly calm tone from where he remained at the table. “Pray for us, Father. Pray our dear Brigid doesn’t kill that angel before I’ve had a chance to. And pray to God Brigid dinna toss the silver plates and goblets into the ovens.”

Isobel burst into laughter, along with
the room. The tension-filled crowd needed the unexpected release. The humor didn’t reach Susanna, though. She did her best to breathe through her escalating terror.

“Iain, help me up. I’m going after her,” Isobel said.

“The
hell
you are,” he growled.

Isobel patted his arm as she rose, and Iain helped her in spite of his crass re
ply.

“Iain, I’ll be fine. This isn’t a dark back alley in
Los Angeles. It’s our home. That isn’t a hardened criminal going to jump me. It’s Skorpius. Remember, he saved your life and this clan. Do find a way to have confidence in my judgment.”

Iain sighed and gave his wife a heavy look but said no more. She kissed Iain’s cheek and went off down a darkened corridor.

“I’m goin’, too,” Susanna whispered to Robert. She needed to see Brigid, to prove to herself the fiery woman hadn’t suffered physical harm.

Robert grasped her forearm as she stepped away. “Susanna
...”

“Robert, I must. Brigid’s now my friend too.” She stared down the corridor as Isobel disappeared from view, desperately needing the comfort only another woman could give her.

He released her arm, and she didn’t look back; the rising panic in her chest commanding her very effort to breathe.

As she rushed after them, fragments of statements and events crisscrossed through her mind until everything tangled together. Her pulse raced as she ran, heartrending memories of Mama’s distress at the hands of her father flooding her mind.

Along the dark corridor, a pool of yellow light shimmered, cast from a torch in an iron fitting. She pressed into the unknown darkness from the small comfort of the light, alarmed by the confusing thoughts spinning in her head: Iain mentioned her being imprisoned here; Brigid had been upset by the angel, who wasn’t a man, but was clearly male—and had hurt Brigid; and Robert had been possessive with her from the moment they’d met, took her body as if it had been fated, and authoritatively claimed that she belonged to him. Now she did belong. In marrying him, she’d become another man’s possession. Yet they’d not truly argued about anything of consequence. Would he show his true colors, proving himself to be like all other men, if they vehemently disagreed?

She paused in the middle of the hall in the darkness, willing herself to breathe as pins and needles spread through her chest and the floor tilted. After a few moments, the nauseous feeling passed, and she continued, spurred onward by the quiet conversation drifting down the corridor.

“I’m
happy
he’s gone.” Brigid’s tortured sob echoed off the stone walls. “Vanished into thin air like Fingall. Like the
children
.”

“I know, Brigid. I’ve no idea why any of those things happened. The rules of his world make no sense in ours, yet we suffer the price of their puzzling actions, regardless.”

A heavy sigh was followed by a stuttered hiccup. Brigid murmured a string of unintelligible words.

“I wish I could do something to make your pain go away,” Isobel replied softly.

Pain? Is Brigid injured?
Susanna’s lungs knotted again.

When she rounded the next corner, Isobel and Brigid were huddled in each other’s arms in another golden pool of torchlight. They glanced up as she approached. Tracks of tears ran down Brigid’s face, but she made no move to wipe them away. A quick glance over her body showed no visible marks. But experience told Susanna clothing hid many things.