The soft snickering coming from just beyond the doorway told Brian that his father was still standing there and listening to every word. “I cannae talk about that now.” He kissed her. “Later, love. We will talk about it all later.”
With a sigh Arianna watched him leave. She wanted to hurl herself on the bed and weep, but forced herself to calmly endure the pain twisting her heart. Brian still had not uttered one word about a possible future for them, of how he felt about her aside from lustful and protective, or even if they would find a way to be together later. This was the beginning of the end of her time with him and, if she did not know her kinsmen would soon be with her, she would be on her knees wailing out her grief. It was too soon for it to end. She had not had the time needed to make him want to keep her.
Suddenly not wanting her kinsmen to come anywhere near the bedchamber she had so briefly shared with Brian, Arianna went in search of them. She was only halfway down the stairs when she heard men arguing. Having a very good idea that her kinsmen were in the middle of that argument, she hurried down the rest of the steps. Shock brought her to a stumbling halt at the bottom of the stairs and she stared at the four men arguing with Sir Fingal.
Her cousins Harcourt and Brett had been strong warriors by the time she had left for France and they were even more so now. Brett was stunningly handsome with his black hair and green eyes, his mother always lamenting his lack of a wife at the grand age of five and thirty. Harcourt had a softer type of handsomeness, the mischief in his amber eyes and the curl in his black hair muting the harsh lines of his face. He, too, was often the subject of complaints by the matriarchs of the family for at three and thirty he was also unwed and was an unrepentant rogue.
It was the sight of the two boys she had often played with at family gatherings that truly held Arianna speechless. They had finished growing. Uven and Callum MacMillan could be twins, and were often mistaken for ones, even though Uven was a full three years younger. The last time she had seen them they had been eighteen and barely twenty, still all arms and legs and youthful bravado and eager to finish their training with the MacMillans. Now they were broad-shouldered, leanly muscled warriors. Their red hair had darkened to a coppery color and their green eyes sparkled with a mature mischief to equal the look in Harcourt’s eyes.
“Weel, cousin, do ye plan to greet us properly or just gape at us?” asked Callum.
Arianna laughed and ran to hug them one after another. She was just hugging Callum, marveling at how strong he was now, when she felt him tense. Looking up at his face and idly wondering when he had gotten so tall, she frowned at the expression there. He looked as if he was readying himself for battle.
“Cousin, why is there one of those MacFingal men looking at me as if he wishes to cut my throat?” Callum asked, his voice pleasant enough except that she recognized the steel behind every word, the tone of a warrior prepared to defend her if Brian turned out to be a threat.
“That be my son Brian, Sir Brian,” said Fingal, standing beside Harcourt, his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his face. “He is the one who saved your kinswoman’s wee life.”
There was something about the look in Brian’s eye that had Arianna stepping out of Callum’s arms and hurrying to Brian’s side. She ignored the open curiosity in her cousins’ expressions as she took Brian by the arm and led him over to them. As she introduced them to each other and they shook hands, she tried to ignore the silent contest of who could produce the strongest grip and who could withstand it without any sign of pain that all the men indulged in. Even though she thought it a strange thing for grown men to do, she could not suppress a twinge of pride when Brian obviously won.
She was just about to escort them all into the great hall when her cousins surrounded Brian. Sir Fingal responded to a hard look from Brett by grinning and pointing to a door just down the hall. A moment later her cousins and Brian were gone. Arianna started after them, a little concerned about what her cousins intended to do to Brian. They had not looked as if they intended to share tankards of ale and discuss old battles.
“Nay, lass,” said Sir Fingal. “Ye were nay invited. ’Tis monly talk going on in there. Why dinnae ye go and make certain there is hot water for your kinsmen and beds for them to sleep in. With that horde of Camerons that just arrived, we might be needing a few more pallets made up.”
Sending me off to do women’s work so that the big, strong men can plot how to take care of the poor helpless woman’s trouble and enemies, she thought crossly. “I could be of some help in answering what questions my cousins might have.” Arianna started toward the door again.