Page 17 of Laird of Steel
Rather than slow to a walk, Ede dropped the shears, pulled free, and continued running.
“I have news!”
“News?”
“Aye.” Ede relayed her tale in breathless bursts. “I heard Lady Feiyan…and Dame Joan… talkin’ about Sir Gellir.”
Swannoc came up then and swatted Ede on the back of the head. “Were ye listenin’ at doors again?”
Ede elbowed Swannoc in the ribs. “How else am I supposed to find out what’s goin’ on?”
Swannoc rolled her eyes.
“Anyway,” Ede continued, “they said Sir Gellir came to Darragh…for a bride.”
The shears drooped in Merraid’s fingers.
A bride? At Castle Darragh? She entertained the brief, foolish possibility that Gellir had returned forher.
But reason quickly slammed the door in hope’s face. That was only the fantasy of an infatuated fifteen-year-old lass. Gellir would marry a noblewoman.
Swannoc held out the shears she’d retrieved for Ede. “He didn’t come here forye,Ede, if that’s what ye’re thinkin’.”
Ede snatched the shears from her. “I know that.”
Swannoc began cutting sprigs of rosemary. “I wonder who he’s marryin’.”
Merraid didn’t want to think about it. The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. It was bad enough that Gellir was going to wed. But if it was someone in the Darragh household… If she had to see him arm-in-arm with his bride every day…
“Och, that’s the thing, Swan,” Ede said. She plopped onto her bottom beside the rosemary. Using both hands, she closed the shears around a tough stem. “He hasn’t chosen a wife yet.”
“Nay?”
“Nay,” Ede confirmed. “Lady Feiyan is sendin’ Dame Joan to find him a proper bride.”
“What?” Merraid exploded, startling the lasses. “Dame Joan?”
Ede tossed the rosemary stem into Merraid’s basket with a shrug. “She’s found three ladies so far.”
“Three?” Swannoc said, impressed.
Merraid clenched her jaw as she pruned the thyme. Had Gellir just impulsively decided it was time to acquire a wife? And now he was letting the town gossip choose a suitable spouse for him? God’s bones! She hoped he took more care when purchasing a blade.
“Aye,” said Ede, “and the first one is comin’ to supper tonight.”
Merraid’s breath caught. So soon?
Apparently, Gellir didn’t intend to tarry long at Darragh. With Dame Joan setting up a brisk courting schedule, he might well be wed and gone by the end of the sennight.
Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the sooner he left, the better. Life would go back to normal, and she’d prepare for the deferred tournament. She could banish Gellir of Rivenloch from her thoughts once and for all.
And he could go on his merry way with his new bride. A bride found hastily by the castle wag-tongue.
God’s wounds! That was truly disturbing.
She knew she shouldn’t care. She couldn’t have Gellir herself. So what did it matter who he married?
And yet it troubled her.
