Ilysa’s heart dropped a little lower as Connor introduced the two tall, golden-haired guests. Deirdre looked like a Nordic princess with her full, red lips, high cheekbones, and wide blue eyes. At the moment, she was squinting those lovely eyes ever so slightly, as if she was curious why she was being introduced to the mouse at the end of table.
After Connor finished reciting Deirdre’s lineage all the way back to the first Lord of the Isles, he and his guests fell into conversation again.
“Delicious dinner,” Niall said as he speared another hunk of venison. “This smells like heaven and tastes even better.”
Ilysa was proud of the meal and the honor it brought to the clan. Cook was a master. But her pleasure waned when she noticed how Connor’s gaze kept returning to Deirdre. No wonder. While nothing could have hidden Deirdre’s beauty, the wine-colored gown showed off her fair hair and voluptuous curves to great advantage.
Ilysa looked down at her own plain brown gown, not looking for spots this time, but truly seeing it. Normally, she gave her clothes little thought. Her mother had drilled into her from an early age to be inconspicuous, and it had always served her well. But just this once, she wished she had something pretty to wear.
Ach, as if a pretty gown could make Connor look at her with lust in his eyes as he was looking at Deirdre now.
***
“Has your father accepted the Crown’s offer?” Connor asked James after they had withdrawn to his chamber for a private discussion.
“Not yet, but I’m certain he will,” James said.
He would be a fool not to. The Crown had been remarkably generous, considering the prominent role James’s father had taken in the rebellion. Like prodigal sons, the clans that had joined the rebellion were being treated better than some of the clans—such as Connor’s—that had not fought against the Crown.
“With the rebellion behind us, or nearly so,” James continued, “there is no reason our clans cannot renew the close friendship we had before.”
Connor was pleased that James was the first to raise the subject. He paused to take a sip of his whiskey. He did not wish to appear to be as anxious as he was for the alliance.
“The Crown gave Alastair MacLeod a royal charter to my lands here on Trotternish for turning against his former allies,” Connor said. “I take a commitment to an ally more seriously.”
“As does my father.” James drummed his fingers on the table, then stopped and raised an eyebrow. “I’d say your worst problem is not the charter, but that the MacLeods control your lands.”
That was the God’s truth. Connor shrugged noncommittally, though they both knew he needed a strong ally like James’s father to push the MacLeods out of Trotternish.
“’Tis a shame ye have this new trouble as well,” James said.
Connor kept his face blank, though he had no notion what new trouble James was referring to. Whatever it was, it had made James confident.
“Your uncle Hugh has done the same as Alastair MacLeod,” James said. “He captured two other pirate leaders and turned them over to the Crown.”
Connor resisted the urge to throw his cup against the wall and took a slow sip of his whiskey instead. “Did he now?”
“Hugh pledged to quit pirating—or at least to stop plundering lands belonging to the Crown’s allies.”
“And who would be foolish enough to trust Hugh’s pledge?” Connor asked.
“The regent and the council,” James said. “From what I hear, the Campbell chieftain, as the Crown’s deputy here in the west, is less inclined to bring Hugh into the fold. Still, this can’t be good news for you.”
Connor had intended to seek a marriage alliance at the gathering, which was only a few weeks away. In light of this news, he might do better to take advantage of the opportunity before him.
“My father has been approached by several chieftains seeking a marriage to my sister.” James paused and smiled. “I suspect her beauty rivals my father’s fleet of war galleys in fueling their desire for an alliance with us.”
Deirdre had lush curves and the kind of overt sensuality that caught a man’s attention like a ten-foot wave. In the days before Connor had become chieftain, when women came easy, he had preferred lasses with more delicate looks and subtle attraction. A sprinkling of freckles or an escaped curl played on a man’s imagination. But in his current state of unrelenting need, Connor fully appreciated Deirdre’s blatant appeal.
“I am considering marriage,” Connor said, carefully approaching the subject as he would a pit of writhing snakes, “though I am in no hurry.”
That was a lie, of course. The sooner he obtained a strong ally, the sooner he could take back Trotternish. And if Deirdre’s father was leaving the rebellion, this would be an excellent match.
“My father thinks well of ye and gave me permission to negotiate a marriage contract on his behalf,” James said. “As long as I’m here, why wait?”
Why, indeed?In addition to his legitimate reasons for rushing the marriage, the plain truth was that Connor was tired of sleeping alone anddamnedtired of his own hand on his shaft. For the sake of the clan, he would have settled for a wife far less attractive than Deirdre.
She was not the sort of woman he dreamed of in those weak moments when he was weary enough to let himself daydream. In his secret heart, Connor had hoped for a lass who could be a friend as well as a lover, someone who would ease the sense of aloneness he felt as chieftain. Deirdre would never be that. She was vain and self-centered and had little to say.