“What other ways are you speaking of?” The MacRae slammed his palms down on the table and rattled the legs.
“I hope I’m no’ imposing.” Ella stepped in beside him, her cream shirt tucked into her black breeches and her brown hair pulled back into a braid and secured with a lacy ribbon. She squeezed his shoulder. “I caught sight of the MacRae’s party arriving from my chamber window. Duncan will join us in but a moment.”
“Ella, meet Elizabeth and her father, John MacRae.” He motioned to them. “This is Ella, my brother’s wife and a fae compeller from the Matheson village.”
“’Tis lovely to meet you.” Elizabeth beamed wide and laid her hand daintily on his arm as she answered Ella. “My brother’s wife is from your village too, and their wee son has recently come into his skill, that of the ‘power of thought.’”
“Duncan has spoken of the lad.” Ella nodded at her. “Although I’ve only recently arrived at Ardan myself and missed meeting your kin while they stayed there during the time the boy trained with our seer and his sister.”
“Speaking of the fae.” Coll shoved to his feet, startled Elizabeth as he did but without time to apologize, he grasped Ella’s hand. “I need a favor. Could you go and sit with Fiona, our fae empath, while I speak to John. It appears Cherub was right, and now I’m well aware of it. Dinnae let her out of your sight. She’s in my chamber.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, and tell her I willnae be long.”
“I certainly shall.” Smiling wide, Ella pranced out of the main room and fairly skipped up the stairs.
“You have a woman called Fiona in your chamber?” With a rumbling growl, John stood, the white lines around his mouth pinching tight as he narrowed his gaze. “Explain yourself, Coll.”
“For this coming conversation, we need to speak in private.” He gestured toward the passageway. “The innkeeper keeps a private antechamber available for those who need to use it down the hallway.”
“Lead the way.” Gritting his teeth, John motioned to one of his warriors to remain with his daughter and the beefy guardsman took a standing position behind the lass.
This coming conversation was one that needed to occur, and with all haste. Coll strode from the room with the MacRae and entered the private room he’d used a number of times. He closed the door after John had walked through then waited as the man sat in the upholstered burgundy chair beside the window overlooking the hills.
He eased into the blue padded seat opposite John, planted his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together.
“In what other ways are we to strengthen our allied bond, other than by marriage as we’ve already arranged?” John gripped the hilt of his side sword, the fierce warrior well known for his fast and lethal strike with his blade. “And why the hell would you speak of another lass being within your chamber right in front of my daughter? Do you have no care for Elizabeth’s feelings at all?”
“I apologize, but I can no longer marry your daughter.” No mincing of words. “’Twould be gravely unfair to wed her when I’m in love with another woman.”
“I beg your pardon?” John slid his claymore free, his voice all raspy and hard as he shoved to his feet. “Surely I just misheard you.”
“I’m no’ free to wed Elizabeth, no when I’ve given my heart to another.” Rising to his feet too, he swung his own sword free. “The fae empath, Fiona, holds the other half of my soul, as I hold the other half of hers.”
“Damn you, Coll.” Nostrils flaring, MacRae loosened his knees and took a ready position. “My daughter will face ridicule and scorn when word spreads of your decision to toss her aside in favor of another woman, no matter that woman is your mate.”
“I can offer recompense for the broken betrothal. Name your price and it shall be paid.” He too inched from side to side, his gaze on MacRae as he awaited his strike which would surely come.
“My daughter’s very reputation is at stake. I should kill you, right here and right now for the slur you’ve now brought down upon her name.” John swung and Coll blocked his swift blow. Their swords clashed dead center and clanged loud.
Aye, this battle of retribution was inevitable, but he’d fight to his last breath to ensure he had the chance to claim Fiona as his wife. He wanted her by his side for the rest of his life, and he damn well wished he’d seen the truth sooner. “I willnae lay my blade down. We shall fight if you wish it. I leave the choice to you.”
“Aye, we fight.” John shoved forward and shoulder to his chest, flattened him to the wall behind him. The wall hangings swayed and sparks flared from the brazier. “I demand suitable retribution, in the form of your blood.”
“Until first blood is drawn then.” He heaved John from him then ducked the warrior’s next blow aimed at his neck.
“I see you dinnae wish to hold back on this fight.”