“The MacLeod of Lewis.”
She smiled smoothly, betraying nothing of her annoyance. “Father would have ne’er arranged for me to wed the MacLeod. Besides, ye were there when he said as much.”
Colin’s mouth pulled into a sour grin. “I only want for ye to be safe, Sister. Give yourself some time to settle in with the MacDonell. Donna be reckless and start your search for the stone if your husband has yet to trust ye.” He paused. “And if ye ever want for anything, ye need only call upon me and I will be at your side.” She raised her eyes to find him watching her. “I mean every word.”
As if her dormant wits had renewed themselves, she straightened herself with dignity. “I am a MacKenzie. I will do what is required of me. Donna worry. I will make ye and Father proud.”
“I am always proud of ye. Ne’er forget that.” Colin gave her a brief nod and then trotted up next to her father.
One of the many things she would miss about home was her brother. Colin never wanted more from her than she was able to give and basically never expected her to be something she wasn’t. She would sorely miss times like these when he talked to her and spent time with her, when he’d taken her on jaunts in the woods. She’d treasure those memories forever. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to give up any of that. And now she found herself momentarily saddened. This was her family. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would be welcomed into another or kept isolated simply because her last name was MacKenzie. No matter, she would make the best of it. She always did.
Something flashed at the corner of her eye.
A handful of MacDonell guards thundered toward them, the MacDonell tartan whipping in the wind. For a moment, she breathed in shallow, quick gasps. The men looked formidable riding their gigantic steeds, their hands placed strategically on the hilts of their swords. Could it be any more apparent that the MacDonell men did not trust the MacKenzies?
Colin moved protectively to her side. “’Tis only the MacDonell guard. We are now on the MacDonell’s lands. The men will escort us to Glengarry.”
She nodded because words simply failed her.
Sybella continued to study her surroundings—the lochs, trees, anything that would help her escape from her purpose. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t see the bonny sights anyway through her haze of swirling emotions. She suddenly felt ill-equipped to undertake such a task.
As if Colin read her mind, lines of concentration deepened along his brow and under his eyes. He’d flanked her the entire way, and she had to admit, his mere presence made her feel secure. Perhaps he only did it to make certain she would not flee, but she was comforted nonetheless.
Overlooking beautiful Loch Omhaich, Glengarry was an imposing gray stone structure boasting a gigantic L- shaped tower house with a round tower. The castle was somewhat elegant and formidable. Although the beastly MacDonell would need a place large enough to house his big-headedness, his home was not as Sybella had imagined it.
As her father entered the bustling bailey, he was immediately greeted by a wall of MacDonell men. Their untrusting eyes continued to survey him as he dismounted.
“Your new home is quite lovely,” said Mary, her eyes glowing with delight.
Angus lowered his voice. “Here comes your betrothed. Let him assist ye from your mount.”
And there he was.
His kilt rode low on his lean hips, and Sybella would recognize that arrogant swagger anywhere. He had a strong chiseled jaw, blue eyes, and light chestnut hair that was long enough to brush the outlines of his broad shoulders. The muscles under his white tunic quickened her pulse, and his stance emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. Praise the saints. He was definitely not the same boy she had met at the waterfall.
When the MacDonell spotted her, his smile broadened and he walked to her side. He held up his hand to assist her. “Lady Sybella MacKenzie, welcome to Glengarry.” He had the nerve to wink at her when he caught her eye, and then his gaze roamed over her figure as if he undressed her with his eyes.
Sybella couldn’t help herself. She refused to let the man get the best of her—again. She returned a frank and admiring look at him, studying his body unhurriedly, feature by feature. As if he enjoyed her subtle challenge, featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes.
“Sybella!” Mary’s tone was coolly disapproving.
Ignoring the MacDonell’s hand, Sybella shifted her leg and slid from her mount. She would make it perfectly clear that she didn’t need the dastardly man or his help.
A soft gasp escaped Mary, and Angus interjected. “Please excuse my cousin’s lack of—”
The MacDonell chuckled in response. “There is nay need for apologies.” When an older woman with silvery hair walked up behind him and nudged his back, he turned and wrapped his arm around the woman. “Lady Sybella MacKenzie, pray allow me to introduce Lady Iseab—”
The older woman reached out and fingered Sybella’s curls. “Praise the saints. Ye are a bonny lass. I always wished to have honey-colored tresses myself.” The woman brought her hand to her own hair. “Now I am only graced with death-gray. And please donna listen to my nephew. Ye may call me Aunt Iseabail.”
It was hard to believe that the arrogant MacDonell could have an aunt who was kind and free spoken. Sybella sensed a kindred spirit, and there was something warm and enchanting about this woman. She smiled and gave the MacDonell’s aunt a small curtsy. “’Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Aunt Iseabail.” Leaning in close, Sybella added, “I think your silvery tresses are verra becoming on ye.”
The woman’s smile brightened. “Come inside, my dear. All of ye.”
To say there was tension among the people in the room would understate the situation. Granted, it was hard to erase all the years of turmoil and hardship the MacKenzies had caused, but Alex’s clan needed to at least try to make amends. He hoped his impending marriage would open that door and only prayed it wouldn’t close before he had the chance to complete the task.
Pulling himself to his feet, Alex lifted his tankard. Silence enveloped the room and all eyes were upon him. He chose his words carefully. “Let us nae speak of the past, but look toward the future with hope and promise.” An unwelcome tension stretched even tighter among the clans and blank stares continued to gaze back at him. They did not look convinced—at all. Not a smile was to be had, unless he counted Aunt Iseabail. He needed to do something fast.
When he glanced down at his betrothed, she sat in the chair, her thin fingers tensed in her lap. Her emerald gown clung to the luscious curves of her body, and for a moment, Alex had to be honest. MacKenzie or not, the lass had grown into a beautiful woman. He had a hard time keeping his eyes from her. She was still the same wild beauty he had met at the waterfall so many years ago. Back then she was just a young lass, straight as a stick. But now, she had filled out in all the right places and was feminine—very feminine.
He extended his hand and pulled her to her feet. “And let me introduce my future bride, Lady Sybella MacKenzie.” He lifted Sybella’s hand, and when he brushed a soft kiss on her ivory fingers, the MacKenzie men cheered. It was only a matter of time before Alex’s kin followed.
“Now let us all enjoy this bountiful feast and welcome the union of our clans. ’Tis indeed a celebration,” said Alex, his voice laced with pride. He and his future bride sat back down at the table. Damn. The woman had no idea how captivating she was when she smiled.
The tables were covered with meat, cheeses, and breads, and Aunt Iseabail’s flowery touches were placed in bundles on each of the tables. He had to admit that he was rather pleased. Glengarry looked welcoming for the new lady of the castle. He only hoped Sybella felt the same.
“Nicely done, MacDonell,” said the MacKenzie, giving him a brief nod.
Alex returned the same gesture and then leaned in close to his betrothed. “Are ye pleased?”
Her tankard froze at her lips, and a puzzled look crossed her features. “What?” She hesitated and then quickly added, “Pardon, my laird?”
When Alex repeated the question and she still held the same look of confusion, he smiled. “Our clans, they are conversing.” She nodded slightly and then took another sip from her tankard. “Since ye are to be my wife on the morrow, ye may call me by my given name, Alexander. My friends call me Alex.”
“Verra well. If ye insist. The food is verra good,
