The great hall was humming with life as the hour grew well into the evening. The servants were now well aware of the unexpected arrival of their Master’s betrothed and seemingly surprised.
The warriors crowding the trestle table sipped at hearty goblets of mead and ale while feasting on salted haddock and maize corn. They conversed informally amongst one another, as they indulged their hungers, with little talk of war focusing solely on gaiety.
Lynette lingered in the shadows of the hall as all else carried on about her. From beneath hooded eyes she surveyed the men aligned along the table.
She shivered inwardly as her eyes settled on the badly scarred warrior. His plate remained untouched and he entertained naught but his ale. The women in the room seem to shrink away from the giant in fear but the warrior seemed unperturbed.
Her eyes passed briefly over the man called Ivan whose laughter carried the loudest amongst the hall as he playfully snatched a chunk of haddock from the man’s plate sitting across from him.
The Norman whose haddock was seized released a rumble of laughter as he slapped the fish from Ivan’s hand, his russet beard jutting beneath his bulbous nose.
But it was neither of these men that had caught her attention. One warrior in particular sat amongst the crowd, immersing himself in the meal and the entertainment.
Her eyes settled on the one called Gavin whose eyes trailed wickedly over a serving wench. A swift and unexpected pang of jealousy gripped her but just as abruptly as the emotion surfaced, she shoved it away. She was startled by this and equally shocked by her reaction.
Gavin should be of no interest to her but she couldn’t help but notice how the women in the room seemed drawn to him. Aye, she could admit even to herself that he was the most attractive man she had ever seen but he was a Norman and an arrogant one at that! Even now he flirted openly with the women around him, flashing smiles and even having the audacity to wink at another.
He appeared quite comfortable with all the women practically swooning at his feet, brandishing him with timid glances and soft giggles. Her ears seemed to burn with his sultry voice as it passed in the room as he lavished the women with compliments that catered to their obvious charms.
Lynette was absolutely irritated by the sight and had an intriguing thought of dumping her tray of ale onto the rogue’s lap.
As she started from the shadows, she stopped even before she stepped as the doors opened followed by an immediate hush as a dark-haired woman entered the hall.
Alana had done her best to avoid the hall. She could hear the commotion, surely for the arrival of their chieftain’s bride, and sought to escape the festivity.
She was hopelessly and profoundly confused by her feelings for Fallon and was shocked by her feeble barriers to keep him at bay.
How could she forget her villagers and the village he burned? How could she forget that day she had nursed him back to health only to have his men attack Nettie?
These afterthoughts restored her anger.
His bride had no sooner arrived at the best of times. Mayhap Fallon would now seek the company of his betrothed and leave her in peace.
She knew Nettie was in the hall and she had not seen her cousin since their arrival at Linden and wanted desperately to speak with her but a nagging feeling stayed her.
She wanted nothing more than to dislodge any emotions that catered to her heart when it came to Fallon but she couldn’t ignore the pending thought of coming face-to-face with his betrothed.
With that in mind, she decided to retire for the evening. As she turned around, she was startled to see a man standing across from her, watching her curiously with dark eyes. “I am sorry-“ the man said casually, “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“Is there something I can get for you, milord?” she had never seen this man before and wondered if he had come with Fallon’s betrothed.
He stepped towards her and she retreated and sought the corridor with her eyes. He detected her weariness and reassured quickly, “I mean you no harm.”
“Who are you?” she knew she was overstepping her boundaries as a thrall but she was curious about this man who studied her with equal interest.
“My name is Alec McLeod.” He curtsied to her and offered a smile that somewhat eased the uneasy feeling in her.
Alana frowned, “You are Saxon?”
He grinned, “I am.” He paused as his dark eyes swept over her with sudden eagerness, “As are you?”
She nodded, “If you are Saxon, how do you walk about Linden freely as you do?”
He motioned to the hall past her shoulder, “My sister is to the marry ‘The Fury’.”
She felt a slight tug on her heart and sought to ignore it. “I see.” She paused and than asked, “Have you pledged fealty to your Norman king?”
His dark eyes had a peculiar glimmer in the dimness of the corridor as he studied her. “My father has vowed his allegiance to ‘The Conqueror’.”
“And you are pleased with the man your sister is to marry?”
He grinned, “I had no say in the matter.”
The hall behind her grew boisterous and she knew it was only a matter of time before Fallon would be on his way to join his bride. “I am sorry but I must be along.”
He grasped her arm as she swept by him, “What is your name?”
She hesitated, unsure whether she should trust this man but what harm was there in telling him her name? “I am Alana.”
He smiled, flashing a row of perfectly white teeth. “You are beautiful, Alana.”
“Your flattery is wasted, Saxon-“ came a bristling tone from the shadows.
Alana stiffened as Fallon stepped forward, his gold eyes burning hotly on the hand that gripped her arm. “Your compliments fall flat-“ Fallon growled as he stepped toward Alec, “-this woman has been promised to another, so you understand any further pursuit is unnecessary?”
Alana was so shocked by the untruth of his words that she had not realized the hand on her arm had fallen and Alec no longer stood at her side.
Alec’s expression was taut as he asked, “Should you not be at your bride’s side, entertaining her?”
Fallon’s face flushed a seething red and Alana envisioned the man from the field, wielding his blade with deadly intent.
Before any of the two men could react, the doors to the hall opened, amplifying the unruly spouts of drunken men.
Alana spied the scarred warrior called Ranulf and knew by the giant’s expression that he sensed the tension in the air. “Have you a need of me, milord?” Alana shivered at the man’s gruff, baritone voice.
Fallon was silent a moment as he weighed the man’s concern considerably but Alana knew Fallon would need no assistance in severing this man if it pleased him to do so. “Nay, Ranulf.” Fallon replied, “We are finished.”
Alana watched Alec disappear down the hall but the tension still lingered heavily in the corridor.
Remembering Fallon’s deceit, she spun around to face him, “I am promised to another? Lies come so easily to you, Fallon.”
“Mayhap I speak truthfully.”
Alana stiffened, “You cannot-“
His gold eyes burned heatedly in the dark. “I have that power, Alana, and if you continue to test my tolerance I will have you matched with a Norman of my choosing to ensure your obedience.” He hesitated and than said softly, “If you were mine, I would keep you confined from all eyes.”
Her heart fluttered at his words but remembering her anger, she inhaled deeply through her nose and replied through clenched teeth, “It is good you are soon to marry, Fallon, because any Norman you choose would be most preferred to you.”
Before her heart deceived her, she gathered her skirts and fled the hall as quickly as her steady strides could carry her. She couldn’t stand his presence for no more than several moments, for in fear of exposing her heart.
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