Page 12 of Bride of the Mad Laird
“The sign says ‘Duart’,” Lyra said, curious about his avoidance.
He snorted. “Aye, that is the road leading tae Duart Castle. A place I’ve nay taste fer. ‘Tis a castle claimed by the Laird Alexander MacDougall of Lorn.”
Lyra jolted against him, uttering a loud gasp. He felt her body tremble.
“What is it lass?”
She shook her head. “’Tis naught.” Her voice was shaking. “Ye say ye dinnae wish tae venture tae the castle?”
“Aye.” He paused, considering her reaction. “Are ye aware of this place?”
She shook her head again. “Nay. I’ve nay heard of it before.”
He rode on without questioning her. If she’d not heard of the castle, was it his mention of MacDougall’s name that caused her distress?
“I’m nay friend of MacDougall,” If she was afeared of MacDougall, he wished to reassure her.
As they continued on it seemed his word had soothed her, for he felt her trembling ease and her ragged breathing gradually return to its normal rhythm. He made a mental note to get to the bottom of this, once they were safely settled in his castle.
His dealings with MacDougall had always been somewhat fraught due to his own allegiances through marriage and kinship to MacDougall’s enemies, the MacNeill and MacLeod clans. Furthermore, it was widely believed that MacDougall had sworn allegiance to the English king, while Tòrr and his compatriots had pledged their loyalty to the true king of the Scots, Robert The Bruce. If that should prove to be true, it was further proof that avoiding MacDougall was a wise move.
By the time night was falling, they had drawn close to a village, Craignure.
“We’ll spend the night at an inn in the township tonight.”
She grunted at that but did not seem pleased.
“Is that nae tae yer liking, lass?”
“Aye. ‘The thought of a feather bed and a warm quilt is much tae me liking, Laird Tòrr. Yet I did fancy another night beneath the stars. I’d never felt freedom before and I find it suited me more than I thought proper.”
He laughed softly, for her words took him by surprise. She spoke sentiments that he’d long held dear. Sleeping in the wild warmed his soul, his spirit and his heart. Yet, for all that, he thought it safer for them to take refuge at the inn.
“And did that freedom include curling up to sleep wi’ a Scottish brute?”
Her sharply indrawn breath told him all he needed to know.
“And, pray tell, what would the good sisters of Iona have to say about ye bedding down wi’ me?”
She shook her head, the fair locks bouncing on her shoulders. She smelled of the forest, with a sweetness that was all her own, and he breathed deeply of her scent, his heart skipping a beat at the unexpected pleasure of it.
“I think ye ken full well that the good sisters would disapprove most fiercely at the very thought of me lying wi’ ye.”
“And yet, it was Maither Una who insisted I take ye wi’ me,” he teased. “Did the Maither nay understand that I am a man?”
“Of course, she did. She may have been cloistered many years, but I have nay doubt she could recognize yer manliness.” She shifted against him and he felt her shoulders shaking with laughter. “But she thought ye would take me only across tae Mull and nae further.”
He chuckled. “And here ye are on the road tae Craignure of all places. Far from the Isle of Iona and the Priory of Saint Augustine.”
They came to a blacksmith’s forge, catching a blast of heat and a glow from his fire as they passed, thatched stone buildings with signs for a bakery and a cobbler, and a few scattered cottages, until they finally arrived at the inn. As they rode into the yard an ostler emerged from the shadow of the stables and offered his hand for the reins.
Tòrr remained on Paden’s back. “D’ye have other steeds tae care fer this night, lad?”
The ostler, a short, ginger-haired lad shook his head. “Nay, ye’re me only visitors.”
With that, Tòrr gave a sigh of relief. At least, for tonight, it seemed there’d be no risk of running afoul of the gallowglasses. He dismounted and reached a hand to assist Lyra down.
“Take good care of this lad.” He gave Paden’s shoulder a pat and rubbed his neck before passing over the reins. “We’ll be heading north in the morning.” He handed a gold coin to the ostler. “Give him a good rub-down and a feed of yer best hay.”
