eeping.
"Och, my bonny, dinnae cry," her father said, stepping closer and reaching out an unsteady hand to touch her shoulder. "Ye ken I cannae stand to see you cry."
When she jerked away from his hand, Callum caught a flash of hurt in the old man's eyes.
Without shifting from Callum’s embrace, she raised her head to look at her father. "If ye kill my husband, I'll cry until there isn’t a single tear left in all Scotland," she said in a voice shaking with distress.
The Drummond looked troubled. "John told me ye were mistreated and unhappy, wee Mhairi. He said ye were bravely standing up to your travails, but we needed to get ye out."
Callum watched John shift in discomfort. He suspected his rival might have exaggerated Mhairi's miseries to stir up the Drummond's outrage. After all, John had an ulterior motive for wanting Mhairi a widow and home at Bruard.
"Did ye no’ read my letter about how happy I was to marry Callum, and how I hoped you'd find it in ye to forgive me for wedding a Mackinnon, and how I wanted to bring my husband to Bruard as an honored guest and a kinsman?"
The old man's unhappiness didn't ease. "I thought the bastard had forced ye into writing those lies."
"They werenae lies," Mhairi said. "They’re the truth."
"But he’s a Mackinnon, lass," the Drummond said, still sounding mystified.
Callum fished in his coat pocket for a handkerchief and gave it to Mhairi. He was only just coming to terms with the miracle that had occurred. A few minutes ago, he'd been most unwillingly preparing to meet his Maker. Now that his wife at last declared her love, he had more reason than ever for wanting to live.
But danger no longer sharpened the air in the tent. Nobody here apart from Mhairi and his men wished him well, but the time had passed when William Drummond was likely to slit him from gullet to groin. John was still glowering at him like a hungry man glowered at a rat in the pantry but he doubted the man would seize the initiative from the laird and kill Callum.
He hoped he wasn’t being too optimistic.
"Thank you," Mhairi said in a muffled voice. She blew her nose and when she spoke her voice was clearer, if still raw. "I'm a Mackinnon now, Da. The children I have will be Mackinnons."
"And Drummonds," Callum said, but the old man had attention to spare for nobody but his daughter.
"Och, do ye no’ want to come back to Bruard, lass? The place is awfu’ quiet and sad without ye."
Mhairi eased her frantic grip on Callum, although she remained in his arms. "I'd love to come back, Da."
"Then…" The Drummond looked brighter, but she went on before he could respond.
"I'd love to come back for a feast to celebrate my wedding. I'd love ye to welcome the Laird and Lady of Achnasheen to your home and your clan."
The old man stiffened. "A Mackinnon at my table."
Mhairi's voice was firm. "Aye, Da. And your attendance when my weans are christened. And your frequent presence at Achnasheen as a visitor yourself."
"Our forebears will rise from the grave," John protested, raising his sword. "The blood of a thousand Drummonds cries out for revenge."
Mhairi cast her cousin a darkling look. "There’s been more than enough revenge over the centuries. Or that’s what ye always said until I married the Mackinnon."
Her father frowned at John, and Callum saw that he only now connected John’s ill reports of Mhairi’s treatment in Achnasheen with his status as a rejected suitor. "John Drummond, I’ll thank ye to leave respecting of the forefathers to me until you’re sitting in my chair at the head table at Bruard."
John gave an audible hiss at the reprimand but when he looked around his kinsmen, he must have seen that any insubordination would receive little support. It was clear that William Drummond, despite his age, still held the power at Castle Bruard.
"I hope that’s not for many years yet, Da," Mhairi said, as John lowered his blade with visible reluctance.
"Och, so do I, lass," her father said, still eying John with displeasure. "Although I’d hoped to have ye sitting beside me for a good while yet."
"I’ll sit beside ye when I visit."
"It’s no’ enough."
"Da, it has to be. My place is with my husband now." She went on before the old man could summon another protest over her marriage. "It’s time to mend the rift between our clans."