Scottish Highlands Winter 1072
He was gaining on her.
Resisting the urge to peer over her shoulder, Helene MacKail quickened her pace toward Domhnaill Keepâs massive great hall where Twelfth Night festivities awaited guests hailing from all over the Highlands. If only she could reach the throngs of revelers before Léod mac Ruadhán caught her, she might slide into a seat beside her mother and avoid conversation with the brooding Scots laird.
The man sought more than her hand in marriage. He required her lands, her wealth and her body. And he wished to dominate them all absolutely.
âLady Helene.â The deep tone of his voice would surely carry over a war-torn battlefield at the height of mayhem. It reverberated now down the long, narrow corridor of an old tower with ease.
If she pretended not to hear him, she would offend the most influential clan leader in all of Scotland. Word of it would surely reach her fatherâs ears. But to speak to the warrior hereâalone in a remote part of the drafty old keepâmade her heart race unsteadily. Léod mac Ruadhán had been known to turn on his own knights, keeping his men in a heightened state of readiness fueled by fear so they might fight for him at naught but a momentâs notice.
Sheâd heard enough tales of his cruelty. And not justtoward his own men. She also knew that his insatiable appetites had sent his last wife running to the furthermost outreaches of the Highlands until she perished from the inhospitable winter. Unfortunately, Heleneâs father had been more concerned with Mac Ruadhánâs ability to protect the people of the clan MacKail than with his unsavory reputation with women.
Perhapsâknowing she could end up wed to the brute in the springâshe would do well not to earn even darker levels of animosity than his last bride.
For that reason, she slowed her step on the cool stone floor.
âMy lord.â She faced him in the darkened corridor lit only by two sickly tapers sputtering at either end of the long expanse.
Was it possible he loomed even larger and more threatening than she recalled from previous meetings? He stood far closer than sheâd realized when sheâd been hurrying to increase the distance between them. The leather of his boots was heavy, yet his step had been surprisingly light. Agile. Stealthy, even. She could envision him prowling about the Highland forests at night, personally gutting any man or beast who dared to threaten his stock of fat sheep or his stables of coveted horseflesh.
It helped that his hair, black as a ravenâs wing, would blend with the shadows. A strong jaw and prominent cheekbones made him appear as though he were carved in granite, an illusion upheld by the impossible breadth of his shoulders. A gray wool cloak drapeed him now, the fabric held by a heavy silver brooch at one shoulder, though most swept down his back like the folded wing of a great predatory bird.
Or perhaps she merely thought as much since she felt as nervous as a mouse about to be carried off in the grip of steely talons.
âI see you are in some haste to dine.â He offered her his arm.
To escort her? Or to squeeze the breath from her with one careless touch?
Memories of the more graphic tales sheâd heard came to mind. A maid in her fatherâs hall had confided that the lairdâs dead wife had rattled the rafters with her screams on their wedding night. One of the lairdâs grooms had bragged to all her fatherâs men-at-arms that his lordâs⦠endowments⦠were the stuff of legend, as disproportionately large as the rest of him.
Helene had nightmares for many days hence.
âMy lady?â Léodâs voice pierced her inappropriate thoughts. âWill you join me to sup?â
Her cheeks flushed with warmth as an expression of annoyance sent his dark brows swooping downward. A frown curled his lower lip. Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of what he might do to women who displeased him.
She hadnât heard that he would eat them for dessert, but that did not mean she couldnât be the first.
âI am sorry.â Flustered, frightened and angry that her father would give her to such a man, Helene executed a ridiculous little curtsey that would better befit a kitchen maid or a wine server. âI have forgotten my knife in my chamber.â