Page 13 of Marry the Highland Villain
“I’m nae afraid of pirates! Why would I be? They’re good enough men in their own way, even if they’re nae always the most honorable or law-abiding of men. Many of them were like my father, and…”
Brigid broke off, a strange mix of emotions—pride, uncertainty, embarrassment, and a touch of confusion—flashing across her face as she realized she’d said too much on the subject of pirates. After all, they weren’t generally considered suitable topics of conversation for a lady.
“I dinnae ken much about bandits,” she continued in a low voice. “But pirates have never frightened me.”
Conall smiled, amused by the words as much as by the show of spirit. “Ye neednae be afraid of ordinary clansfolk either if’tis what ye’re worried about. Most of them are peaceful and reasonable enough, so long as they’re nae harmed.”
And so long as they’re nae lairds who are expected to be fierce to defend their homes and their clans.
“I…” She flushed a little. “It isnae that I’m afraid. I was only curious. I’ve heard that ladies of a clan are meant to take care of certain matters, such as supplies, and I thought…”
“Emily can teach ye all of that.”
Conall ignored Oliver’s glare with practiced ease, knowing quite well which words his brother disapproved of.
Still, Brigid and Emily seemed to be getting along well enough, and it meant she had someone she was comfortable enough speaking to, someone who could, perhaps, keep an eye on her without seeming threatening or suspicious.
If she really was Auchter’s spy, she was more likely to reveal it in Emily’s presence than his own.
He watched as she served herself small portions, or nothing at all, from several more platters. It might be that she didn’t like certain foods, but he saw the hesitation and the longing on her face. And she didn’t seem like the sort of lass who would eat so little without good reason.
Without asking, he reached out and took two more slices of the roast, another slice of bread, and a small plate of the freshly churned butter, and put them all on her plate, alongside a generous portion of cheese.
“Ye dinnae need to starve yerself.,” he said, amused by the confused look that flashed across her face. “The clan’s nae poor if that’s what ye’re worried about.”
She blinked. “Oh. It isnae… I didnae think… It is only that, well…”
Conall shook his head sharply. “I’ll nae have people thinkin’ I’m nae willin’ to properly feed an’ care for my betrothed, whatever yer reason. Eat yer fill.”
“I… very well. Thank ye.”
She still hesitated for a moment, but some of the tension left her shoulders, and a moment later, she began to eat with more confidence and obvious enjoyment.
Brigid Blackwood. She was a strange lass, and Conall was surprised to find that he was looking forward to the challenge of learning more about her.
Laird MacKane was watching her intently while pretending not to, and Brigid wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. The look inhis eyes wasn’t as dismissive as the hostile glares she was used to receiving when she went to the village, and the heat in his eyes wasn’t the same as the anger she’d seen before.
His expression, however, did remind her of the glimpse she’d seen of him while following Emily toward the healer’s cottage.
The sound of swords had drawn her attention. It wasn’t a sound she’d heard often in her home, not since her father had passed away. Megan and Valerie knew how to use weapons, but they rarely practiced where she could hear them.
There, in the courtyard, she’d seen Laird MacKane and his brother, both shirtless and engaged in a fierce sparring match. Muscles rippled in the sun, sweat gleaming on tanned skin as the two of them engaged in a complicated dance of attack and counter.
Her first thought was that Laird MacKane was as fast as he was fierce and that even if she’d been of a mind to attempt to escape, she’d have never managed. Not on foot, and probably not at all.
Her second thought was that the butcher’s boy in the village, whom she’d had a vague interest in when she was younger, was little more than a stripling compared to Conall Barr. The graceful movement of his muscles, the way the sunlight brought out the blue highlights in his black hair and made his blue eyes sparkle like the wind-whipped waters of a loch… Watching him made Brigid shiver with a feeling that wasn’t entirely nervousness.
He was handsome, powerful, graceful… and he’d claimed her as his bride. She’d been terrified, but seeing him like that, she felt a slight sense of something else as well—something she barely even knew the name of.
“Ye dinnae need to starve yerself.”
Brigid was surprised when Laird MacKane—Conall, he’d instructed her to call him—filled her plate and told her to eat as much as she wanted. Most people she had encountered outside her family had harassed her about her weight and size. Her sisters made sure she ate properly, but for years she had been sensitive about her figure, which was fuller than that of most of the ladies she knew.
Conall, however, seemed to feel differently. The unexpected consideration he’d shown her made her feel a little more at ease. And shewashungry after the long ordeal she had gone through. Ravenous, in fact.
It was clear from his vague, non-committal answers that he didn’t want to talk about the clan—or, at least, not to her—which she supposed was reasonable. He barely knew her, after all, and it wasn’t lost on her that he might still consider her a potential enemy. He might have decided to wed her instead of imprisoning or executing her, but that didn’t mean he trusted her—and she couldn’t blame him, either.
Although, that brought up a different subject she was certain they needed to discuss.
