Part 19 (2/2)
His father stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for something more. When no more came, he gave his wife a quick sigh when she shook her head at him. ”Ye'll explain that later, as well.” He squeezed Rob's shoulder. ”Come, we'll wait fer her in the Great Hall. I'm hungry fer somethin' hot.” He rubbed his flat belly and looked longingly down the corridor. ”At least tell me if there's beef in the kitchen.”
Rob smiled. Mayhap, his father wouldn't kill him after all. Then again, he didn't know that the king's daughter was now his daughter as well.
Trying desperately to dry her thick locks before the hearth, Davina rubbed her hands through her hair until her palms itched. She'd heard the guard call out that the laird had returned. Without wasting a moment to look out the window, she'd dashed around the room, pulling off her wet clothes for something dry, warm, and presentable.
She was already taking too long. What a horrible impression she was making as each moment pa.s.sed, but her blasted hair wouldn't dry!
Settling for damp, she finally scrambled to her feet, pulled back the handful of hair that was falling over her eyes, pinned it in place above her forehead, and raced out of the room.
She and Rob should have known his parents would return earlier than expected. Colin probably had told them who she was. She should have been better prepared. Now, she looked like...
She walked straight into someone's chest. Instinctively, hands came up and closed around her arms to keep her from falling.
”Oh, pardon me!” She looked up and smiled at a man she hadn't seen in Camlochlin before. ”I was not watching where I was walk...” Her words trailed off as his broad, breathtaking smile washed over her like a cool, refres.h.i.+ng rain shower. For a moment, she forgot where she was rus.h.i.+ng off to.
”Ye must be Lady Davina,” he said, slipping his palm down her arm and taking her hand in his. ”Now I understand that daft smile on Colin's face when he spoke of ye.”
Tristan. It wasn't his strong resemblance to Colin that convinced Davina who he was, though one had only to examine the chiseled angles of his face with a clear head to see the similarities, even down to the dimple in his chin, a feature he shared with both of his brothers. It was the effortless magnetism he exuded, the hint of something dangerous and unattainable beneath the warm veneer of his rich hazel eyes, the promise of a swift defeat in the sensual curl of his lips, that made Davina pity Caitlin MacKinnon and even Brigid MacPherson... and every other woman in Camlochlin.
”You must be Tristan.”
”Ah, ye've heard of me, then?” He flashed her a grin that was neither vain nor modest-the absence of both somehow lending to his appeal. His lashes were long and lush, as was his hair, but he was saved from perfection by a slight bend in his otherwise strong nose. He leaned in a little closer and bent to her conspiratorially. ”Dinna' believe everything ye've been told. 'Tis only half true.”
”It is that half that I was warned about.” Davina smiled right back at him, appreciating his stark, male appeal, but less affected by it as the seconds pa.s.sed. No one could compare to Rob.
Rob! His father! She suddenly remembered where she was heading and pulled her hand free of his.
”Oh, dear, I must go. I should have been outdoors to greet your parents long ago.”
”I'm sure they'll agree the wait was worth it. Come, we'll find them together.” He offered her his arm and a softer, rea.s.suring smile when she paused. ”I a.s.sure ye there is nae half of me that wishes to incur my brother's wrath should I lay one of my treacherous hands upon ye.”
”Nonsense,” she said, accepting his arm. ”Rob would never hurt you overmuch.”
”I was speaking of Colin.” He quaked a little beneath his plaid for emphasis. ”That one might seem una.s.suming, but when it comes to me, he is a merciless despot. I have nae idea why.”
She laughed, tugging him along. She liked Tristan and his cavalier manner, so different from Rob's or Colin's. She hoped his father shared his easy nature.
”Ye should no' worry yerself so over making a good impression on my faither,” Tristan said while she practically pulled him down the stairs. ”Ye're the Princess Royal. What does it matter what anyone thinks of ye?”
She stopped so quickly, he almost continued down the next step without her. ”Then, you know? They all know?”
”Of course. Why d'ye think we hastened our return?”
”Is your father terribly angry with Rob for bringing me here?” she asked, chewing her bottom lip.
Tristan smiled, tracing his gaze over her features. ”He'll understand when he sees ye.”
She didn't believe him for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she continued her hurried pace. ”I do look forward to meeting Graham's wife, Claire. Tell me, is she easy to get along with? She is my cousin, after all, and I-”
”She isna' here. She remained in England with my sister and Colin.”
Davina paused again. ”Colin remained in England?”
”Aye.”
”With the king?” She turned to look at him.
”Aye.”
”That is most interesting,” she said, thinking about what it meant. Did Colin find the king worthy of her praise? Or had he remained in order to scrutinize him further? Suddenly, she had to know. She had always wondered what kind of man her father truly was beyond what she'd been told by the sisters. If Colin liked him, it boded well.
”Colin likes him then?”
”I dinna' know. But yer faither seems fond enough of him. He invited us to sit with him at the dais the night Colin arrived.”
Hmmm, whatever did that mean? Colin wasn't the friendliest soul in Scotland; that much was certain.
”And what did you think of him?”
”The king?”
Davina nodded as they approached the Great Hall. Tristan shrugged his shoulders. ”I found him to be a wee bit quiet and reserved. No' what I expected actually.”
Davina was about to ask him what he'd expected when he pushed open the doors to the Great Hall.
Her eyes settled immediately on the family table, to Rob first, her rock, her anchor, and she drew strength from the love in his tender gaze.
She looked to the man sitting across from him next and felt her legs shake a little beneath her skirts. He looked more dangerous than any man at the table-bigger, rougher, like he'd been born to wield a sword and rain terror down on his enemies. His eyes were a startling shade of blue, even from where she stood, and they held the power to immobilize.
”Faither,” Tristan called out, confirming her presumption of who the man was and moving her toward the table where the laird was now rising to his feet. ”'Tis my profound pleasure to present Lady Davina Stuart.”
Callum MacGregor's gaze seared on the crook of Tristan's arm where her hand rested lightly. When he raised his eyes to his son, he did not have to speak a word. The warning in them was complete. She was a princess, and no one was permitted to touch her-especially not his rogue son.
Unfazed by his father's rapier-sharp glare, Tristan offered her an unrepentant smile before he released her. ”Now 'tis clear to see why Rob brought her here. Aye, Faither?” he murmured, giving her one last look before going to his chair.
Davina caught Callum's uneasy gaze s.h.i.+fting to Rob as Tristan's implication settled in. She could almost hear him praying that Rob hadn't touched her... or worse. Before Davina had time to worry about what they needed to tell him, the tall, broad-shouldered chief returned his attention to her. ”My lady.” He dropped to one knee, and the others around the table whom she did not know did the same. ”We are honored by-”
”Oh, no, I beg you, don't do that.” Davina reached for the laird with one hand, waving him up with the other. ”Stand to your feet. Please, my laird.” He looked up at her and Davina cursed herself for the emotion in her eyes. ”Please, don't bow to me.”
He straightened and Davina saw Rob in his softening smile.
”Oh, aren't you just the loveliest young lady to grace Camlochlin's halls.” The compliment came from a breath-taking woman standing to the right of Callum. Her eyes were the color of onyx, large and round and ringed by lush black lashes. Her hair was just as dark and fell in glossy waves down her back. ”I am Kate, Robert's mother.” Her smile was as wide and inviting as Tristan's as she pushed past her husband and took Davina's hands in her own. ”Heavens, you look more like Claire's daughter than the king's. I trust our son has made your stay here comfortable?”
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