Page 13 of My Highland Bride

That’s when Moray’s smile returns.

“She will not like it. Reyne believes in love,” he scoffed like the idea was absurd. “And has been resistant to the idea of marriage. I fear that my wife and I are to blame.”

All know the Morays’ marriage was a love match, which is why his disdain for his daughter’s wishes is curious.

“And I’ve been indulgent since . . .”

He stops, but I know what he meant to say. Since Fara’s death.

“It is time.”

Was I really going to agree to such a thing? I did not come here to bargain for a wife, but one such as Reyne might be welcome. My father would be angry at first, but even he could be made to see the wisdom of uniting our lands. And this one act would win the Highland lords’ support for Cettina. And not just on this one issue, but for all time.

There is only one answer in the end.

“I will do it.”

“Ah. . .” Moray waves his finger in the air. “I did not explain my stipulation yet. One you’ll find difficult to meet.”

“Which is?”

Moray appears even more amused than ever.

“You will have to get Reyne to agree first.”

6

Reyne

“Is Father acting strangely today?”

Warin appears less comfortable here in the market than he did earlier, attempting to cut down fellow Highlanders. I will admit, though I enjoyed my first full day at the tourney, I was not prepared for the violence of the games.

I’ve seen our men train many times. But this was different. While they fought with blunted weapons, they wielded them with a vigor that had made me nervous for my brother.

“I don’t believe so,” Warin answers.

As we stroll through the wooden market stalls erected for this tournament, passing everything from fruits to fabrics, Warin doesn’t seem to notice the appreciative glances the ladies are giving him—their attention more on him than the wares. A handsome man, he has never before mentioned marriage, although as the eldest sibling and heir to Blackwell, he will be duty bound to marry someday.

“Have you thought of marriage lately?” I ask.

It isn’t something we’ve discussed in a long while, given Warin has spent so much time away on his quest to “discover the Isle.”

“Rarely,” he says, giving me a look brimming with curiosity. “What makes you consider such a thing? Has Father mentioned it?”

I stop at a stand with two women behind it. Their table includes many things, from wax to jewelry, which is obviously handmade.

Since I cannot admit that the subject occurred to me after my encounter with Erik Stokerton earlier that day, I shift my focus to the vendors and inquire about their hair pins.

“I would like this one,” I say, picking up a lovely bronze pin topped with an intricate carving. “Is this what it appears?”

The younger of the two leans forward to see which one I’ve chosen.

“Aye, that is the Kona,” she responds. A closer examination reveals she is correct. Which is when I notice the small gem in the woman’s nose. Saying nothing more than asking for the cost, I hand her a coin and take the pin with me.

“They were Garra,” I whisper to Warin, trying not to look back.

He does not seem to be as impressed as I am.