Page 50 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Marian scoffed, her chest rising as she folded her arms, her eyes shooting daggers at him and the smug smile on his lips.
Voices rose from the lower hall, followed by the heavy thuds of boots on stone.
Finn exhaled, lifting his hands slightly, just as the tension between them was about to snap. “Me Laird… Me Lady…” He glanced between them. “I think the clansmen have arrived.”
Lachlan blinked, finally breaking eye contact with her.
“Perfect,” he said, closing the book in front of him. “Ye’re comin’ with us. And ye’d better be ready to speak for yerself. In Gaelic.”
The Great Hall was already filled by the time they entered.
The air carried the scent of smoke, sweat, and ale. Tankards littered the long table as the clansmen gathered around it, their voices reverberating through the castle walls as they cheered and talked over one another.
And yet, the moment Marian stepped into the hall behind him, the air shifted. The men stared at her, whispering between themselves as they watched her with open curiosity.
Lachlan did not slow his stride as he led her forward.
“She sits with us today,” he said plainly, taking his seat at the head of the table.
One of the younger men shifted uncomfortably. “Me Laird, ‘tis nae proper for a lady to?—”
“She has a claim,” Lachlan cut in, his tone brooking no argument. “She’ll hear what’s said of it.”
A wave of murmurs rippled through the room, and Lachlan leaned back slightly, resting his hand on the armrest.
This is goin’ to be interestin’.
He began the meeting after a short moment had passed, purely in Gaelic.
“Tha sinn an seo an-diugh air sgàth na cùise seo,” he said, his tone even and deliberate.We are here today because of this matter.
A few of the men nodded immediately, and across from him, one of them spoke. “Chan eil i a’ tuigsinn facal, a bheil?”She doesnae understand a word, does she?
Lachlan did not look at Marian.
“Chan eil sin na chùis,” he replied coolly.That isnae the concern.
Then he continued in English, saying just enough for her to understand that the discussion was about her. “She claims the right to Glen Carrick and parts of MacLeod land.”
The men erupted in another round of murmurs, boots scratching against the stone floors, tankards thudding on the table in protest.
Lachlan glanced at Marian, his chest tightening slightly at the look on her face. Her eyes held a hint of something he couldn’t decipher, but her posture remained straight and poised amidst the chaos.
She needs to see what she’s askin’ for.
She met his gaze from across the table, her hands curling into fists.
Aye. The lass is irritated.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as the men continued to speak, throwing question after question in Gaelic, all directed at her and her claim.
“Ma tha i airson fuireach an seo,” one of the older men said slowly, eyeing her, “feumaidh i dearbhadh cò i.”If she wishes to remain here, she must prove who she is.
A murmur of agreement followed.
Lachlan nodded once. “Aye.” Then, deliberately, he turned toward her, asking in Gaelic, “Dè tha agad ri ràdh air sin, a bhean-uasal?”What have ye to say to that, me Lady?
The moment the words left his mouth, her expression shifted.
