His eyes widened as he spied Mary slinking through the busy servants, checking that all the dishes were in place and the goblets were filled constantly.
Perfect. She’ll be able to coax Saoirse from her chamber, since she’s caused this… unpleasantness.
Catching Mary’s eye, Noah waved her to him. He watched as she moved slowly toward his table. The smile on her face was mangled and insincere.
“M’Laird.” Mary dipped her head.
“Where is Saoirse?” Noah asked in a hushed tone. “The dinner has been served and I’m waitin’. Everyone is waitin’.”
Mary lifted her gaze. “I daenae think M’Lady realized the dinner ye offered would be so… public. Nor did I, in truth. I thought ye’d be wantin’ somethin’ quiet in one of the smaller rooms. Romantic, like.” Mischief twinkled in her old eyes. “Either way, M’Lady has requested that her meal be brought up to her. She’s nae comin’.”
“What?” It took all of Noah’s strength not to slam his fist on the table. “And why did she decide that? Did ye nae give my apology? Did ye nae tell her that the offer was more of an expectation than a suggestion?”
Mary shrugged as her eyes shifted to Scott. “Ye ken me, M’Laird, I’m nay messenger. Ye give me a message and I’ll say it to the letter. I cannae be expected to guess what ye really mean.” She paused. “Perhaps, she merely wanted to be alone tonight. Ye, of all people, can understand that need when it arises.”
“Unacceptable,” Noah growled, throwing his napkin on the table. “The pair of ye are tryin’ to thwart me, and I willnae have it.”
Rising to his feet, Noah reached for the wine and gulped down the last bit of what was in the goblet. He placed it back on the table and cleared his throat, allowing the wine to ease his mind for a moment. To his surprise, the wine didn’t have the effect he was expecting. Instead of feeling calm and collective, there was an edge to his thoughts.
“I’ll be right back,” Noah announced.
Storming through the Great Hall, a path cleared for Noah as he charged to the entrance hall. His mind raced over all the many things he was going to say to her. Each step he took was like another stone laid for the foundation of his argument. He knew this night would be a pivotal moment in his marriage. If he couldn’t get Saoirse out of the room, the council and his Clan would eat him alive. After all, who could trust a Laird who couldn’t control his Lady?
Racing to her chamber door, Noah reached for the door and tried twisting it. The brass knob didn’t budge an inch. Digging into his sporran and jerkin, he hunted furiously for the key. Frustrated when he couldn’t find them on his person, he pounded his fist against the wooden door.
“Saoirse,” Noah barked. “I ken ye’re in there. Open this door at once.”
“Nay, thank ye,” came her muffled reply. “I daenae want any visitors this evenin’.”
Noah shot back in shock. If there was any doubt in his mind that she was ill or just making him sweat, the feelings vanished. She reallyhaddecided she wasn’t coming to dinner.
“Please, go away,” she added. Her voice was closer than it had been before. For a moment, Noah wondered if she was standing just on the other side of the door.
“Open the door, Saoirse. I must speak wit’ ye.” Noah tried to keep his tone calm and collected, so as not to spook his wife.
“Nay,” Saoirse repeated. “I daenae think I wish to have anythin’ to dae wit’ ye tonight. Ye invited me to dinner, and I have nay appetite. Even if ye’d commanded it, I wouldnae be there.”
“Ye cannae avoid me forever.” Noah clawed at the grain of the wood.
“Perhaps nae, but I can stay in here for one night.”
“Dae ye have any idea what ye’re showin’ to the council?” Noah’s temper began to fray anew. “Ye’re provin’ to them that ye’re a spoiled wee bairn in need of more than a stern word.”
Saoirse laughed tightly. “A bairn, am I? Och, it must’ve been someone else who raged about me bein’ in his chamber, then. God forbid. Of all the heinous things a wife could do.” She paused. “And I dinnae realize that dinner included the council. Ye should’ve taken more care with yer message.”
“Ye will come out of this room, this instant.” Noah pounded harder on the door.
The wood rattled and vibrated against the door frame. For a split second, Noah could see himself as Saoirse must have seen him that morning—a beast with no control over his anger. But he was the Laird and if he wanted to get into his wife’s chamber, that was what he was going to do.
“Saoirse, I’m givin’ ye to the count of three,” Noah warned. “If this door is nae opened by the time I reach three, I’ll break this door down and I’ll nae replace it. Nor will I allow ye to move to another chamber. Ye’re my wife and wit’ such a title comes obligations to yer husband and Clan.”
Noah pressed his ear to the door, straining his ears to listen for any sign of life. When only silence came back to him, he gave a sharp nod.
“One,” he shouted, stepping back from the door to ready himself. Doubt seeped through him like a fleeting memory, unable to grab a hold of it.
“Two,” he huffed, bracing himself for the impact. Although in his mind the idea was sound, he had never actually broken a door down before.
“Three.”