Page 24 of Laird of Steel
Forveleth pursed her mouth in a disappointed pout.
He rose and lifted her hand to press a light kiss to the back of her knuckles. When he looked past her, his cousin Feiyan shot him a glare that could melt steel.
Let her scorch him with her eyes, he thought. Merraid was right. He needed to take more care in selecting a wife. Besides, didn’t Feiyan agree? She’d said he should choose carefully as well. And she apparently had a whole host of prospects lined up from which to choose.
Bidding everyone good night, Gellir snapped up the vial of feverfew. He frowned and rubbed his brow once more for effect. He gave Merraid a clandestine wink before he retired in relief to his chamber.
The next morn, though Merraid’s body moved easily through the familiar postures of thetaijiquan,her mind was a hundred miles away. It wasn’t the sun warming her. It was the memory of Gellir and his conspiratorial wink.
She swept her arm gradually to the left, as if smoothing the waves atop the sunlit firth.
At least Gellir had recognized Lady Forveleth at once for what she was. A wee lass in a woman’s gown. A spoiled child. A loose-tongued bloviator, blithely oblivious to the feelings of others.
But that was only one prospect dodged. There were likely dozens of others.
She performed a deep lunge to the right. Then she twisted slowly toward the sea, bringing her arms together as if collecting all the gulls that circled above the waves.
Dame Joan knew every eligible female in the west of Scotland. No doubt she’d arranged a roster as long as her arm. Who was next on the list?
“There you are!” Lady Feiyan popped her head up from the stairwell, carrying her squirming three-year-old son on her hip.
“M’lady?” Merraid whirled and bobbed a curtsey.
“Sorry to interrupt yourtaijiquan.’Twill be a busy day. Dame Godit is coming to dine with Gellir. Lady Margaret will go hawking with him in the afternoon. And Lady Affraic will be joining him for supper. I need every free hand I can get.”
“Aye, m’lady.” She dutifully dipped her gaze. But inside she was seething with outrage. Godit? Margaret? Affraic? Dame Joan’s marriage candidates were completely wrong. Bad matches all. Something had to be done.
Feiyan shook her head, muttering, “I wish this marriage matter didn’t require such haste.” Then she retreated back down the stairs.
Merraid frowned. Whydidit require such haste? Surely a man of Gellir’s renown wasn’t desperate. He was young. He was hale. He was rich. Why the rush?
She supposed it made no difference. It was up to her to save him from Dame Joan’s prospective brides. And if it had to be done swiftly, she’d redouble her efforts.
She let down her skirts and rolled up her sleeves. It would be a busy day indeed. She had to save Gellir from Dame Joan’s prospective brides.
“When you say ‘old’…” Gellir said, speaking to Merraid between hacks at the straw-stuffed dummy in the middle of the lists.
As always, he’d arisen at dawn to begin training. An hour before anyone else. So it was a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, when Merraid appeared on the practice field. Her coppery hair had been burnished to gold by the rising sun, her walk brisk and confident, her manner urgent.
“Lady Godit is twice your age,” Merraid told him.
He gave her a knowing smile as he swept his sword down. “Do you even know what twice my age is?”
“Forty-two,” she said without hesitation.
He blinked, impressed. “You know your numbers?”
“Aye.”
“How do you—”
“That’s not important. What’s important is she’s forty-two. Forty-two!”
Gellir scowled, making another downward strike at the dummy’s shoulder. Thatwasa bit old for a bride.
“She’s a widow?” he asked.
“Nay. She’s ne’er been wed.”
