Legend of the Storm Hawks

Monaughty

Monaughty~

Sethlyan Callan

Monaughty, Iverach

Midmoon, 4399

“Even the quietest life leaves a scratch on the world as it passes through. Some lives gouge scars so deep they change the course of all that comes after them. Dowan Iverach’s was one of those.”

Seth fetched Gaven from his room a quarter-hour before dinner. They retraced their way down the grand staircase spiraling through the heart of Castle Monaughty. Elaborately carved and polished to an alabaster sheen, each step was wide enough for ten men to walk abreast. Such grandeur belonged in a palace. Maybe that’s what Dowan Iverach had intended it to be.

The Rhi’Iverach regarded their approach from an expansive landing below. His restless stance made Seth quicken his steps.

Besides his towering height, the incongruity of the young rhi’s features set him apart. His face had all the elements of a pleasant countenance, but shadows of his sire warned the world to keep its distance. Dark, brooding brows framed sincere brown eyes. Prominent cheekbones and a nose imperfect from having been broken contrasted a mouth poised to offer a quick smile.

For all his wealth and position, Calum Iverach seemed less the coddled noble and more a wary survivor.

After a reserved greeting, the rhi escorted them to what he named the small dining room, though the elegant rotunda would have accommodated dozens of guests. Every polished and gilded inch of the room proclaimed the legendary Iverach wealth.

Lord Holden poured generous cups of twenty-year-old Black Hawk aurello while they waited for the Iverach sisters to join them.

Clean-shaven and presentable in his finest white tunic, his dress breclan buckled under a well-cut black doublet and dinner coat, Seth found even the cravat tied at his collar tolerable. He would recall feeling quite confident and relaxed at that point.

Then Isobel and Rosalee walked through the door.

The Iverach sisters weren’t pretty. They were stunning. Isobel stood slightly taller than Rosalee, her hair a vibrant ginger compared to her sister’s deeper auburn. Both had the most intriguing green eyes Seth had ever seen, flawless skin, and soft features. And lips that…

Gaven proceeded to drop his drink, and Seth transformed into a tongue-tied i***t. An hour later, neither of them was faring any better.

Seth shifted in his chair and studied the tapestries again, trying not to stare at the women across the table. The clink of his fork echoed in yet another lull in the conversation. The Rhi’Iverach cleared his throat. Lord Holden tapped a finger on the table.

Calum was only a year older than Seth, but a rhi’s responsibilities had aged him beyond his years. Attempts to engage him in more than polite discourse proved awkward. Another sip of wine bought time as Seth searched for anything remotely witty to say. When he caught Gaven eyeing what he had left on his plate, he tried loosening the strained formality.

“Go ahead,” he said, sliding the plate Gaven’s way. “You’re the last one eating, as usual.”

“Guilty.” Gaven grinned and forked one last prawn. “I admit I enjoy a good meal.”

Calum laughed. “A hearty appetite is a compliment to the host. Lady Isobel and Lady Rosalee selected the menu.” He gave his sisters an approving nod.

Isobel blushed and darted a timid glance at Seth’s plate. Rosalee dared a peek at Gaven’s shoulder before the pattern on her jeweled goblet entranced her again.

“Then we are in your debt, ladies.” Gaven flashed another grin, pouring on the blond-haired, blue-eyed charm.

“We are pleased you found the meal to your liking,” Isobel told the candelabra between them.

“Oh, yes. Very much so,” Seth hurried on. “We live in cattle country. Fresh prawns are a rare treat.”

Isobel winced as if he’d slapped her. “I…I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me. You would have felt more welcomed if we chose dishes of veal or—”

“Nonsense, Isobel,” said Lord Holden. “Accept Lord Sethlyan’s compliment as it was intended.”

The Iverach sisters withdrew again. Their shyness bewildered him. Either would turn every head in a crowded room. Neither could look him in the eye. Somehow, he was to spend the rest of his life with one of these timid strangers.

“I th-think…” Gaven’s stutter stopped him for a breath. “Seth and I would like to invite the ladies out for a walk. I was admiring the view from the seawalk earlier.”

A terrace hugging the castle’s oceanfront walls, the seawalk offered a modicum of privacy without venturing too far from their watchful chaperones. That the idea had occurred to Gaven first confirmed Seth had lost his wits.

“Yes, a walk. With your leave, of course, Your Grace,” said Seth. Any excuse to escape the awkwardness.

“Excellent suggestion. The sun’s setting, but I’ll have the lamps lit.” Calum softened as he addressed his sisters. “It would please me if you spent time getting to know one another. Will you join the Alerons on the seawalk?”

“We would be delighted,” Isobel said, sounding anything but.

Chapter 14