Page 26 of Laird of Steel
As she gathered the last of the linens, she wondered where she would find such a man. Then she shook off the thought like crumbs from a tablecloth. There was no time to waste worrying about her own future. Not while Gellir’s was at stake.
She’d been instructed to cut fresh rushes for the mews. Gellir’s next prospect, Lady Margaret, had a passion for hawking. But Merraid knew hawking was not all Lady Margaret had a passion for. She wondered how long it would take Gellir to discover he could never win Margaret’s heart.
An hour later, as Merraid approached the mews with her arms full of rushes, she spied Gellir. He was speaking with Raso the mewskeeper. A big hooded gyrfalcon perched on his gloved knuckles.
“Balachmòr will do ye proud, m’lord,” Raso said. “He’s the oldest, rather tame. But he’s still got a good eye and a healthy appetite.”
“Perfect. I fear I have little experience with falcons.”
“Och,” Raso said, spotting Merraid. “Ye’ve brought the rushes. Good.”
Gellir turned to greet her, explaining, “I spent my youth hacking, not hawking.”
“Ye’ll do fine,” she said, curiously charmed by his humble confession. “Balachmòr is a gentleman.”
The mewskeeper took the rushes from her and entered the shadowy mews to spread them about. Merraid dusted off her skirts.
Gellir stroked the feathers under Balachmòr’s chin. “So what can you tell me about Lady Margaret?”
“She’s…lively.”
“Lively?”
“Aye, and adventurous. She’s loves to hunt and fish.”
Gellir nodded. “What else?”
“Horseback ridin’. Archery. Swimmin’.”
“So I shall have to train hard to keep her happy?”
Merraid gave him a sad smile. “I’m not sure any man could keep her happy.”
“All right,” he said with a sigh. “Tell me what’s wrong with this one. Is she missing an eye? Does she limp? Is she the size of an ox?”
“Nothin’s wrong with her. I just don’t think she’ll be happy with ye.”
He frowned. “I think I’ve been insulted. You don’t think I can keep a woman happy?” He blew gently toward the gyrfalcon’s face, making it shiver.
Merraid knew how the bird felt. She was likewise affected by the soft, warm thrill of Gellir’s breath upon her cheek. Gellir could certainly keepherhappy.
“Not this one,” she murmured.
“We shall see.”
Gellir understood shortly after he was introduced to Lady Margaret what Merraid had been trying to tell him.
Laird Dougal and a small company of fellow falconers were waiting with him by the mews when the lady appeared across the courtyard with her retinue. She was a formidable woman with a bold manner.
When she bellowed out and waved wildly, her manner was so broad and boisterous, he was amazed she didn’t startle the peregrine perched on her other hand. Even more amazed when she left her entourage and loped toward them. Her gown snapped and swirled behind her, and she strode as if she longed to be free of her flapping skirts.
Livelyindeed, as Merraid had said. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was as aggressive between the linens. That didn’t necessarily seem a bad thing.
“Sir Gellir?” she called out.
Laird Dougal intercepted her with a small company of his nobles, coming between them at the last instant to make the introduction. “Sir Gellir, I’d like ye to meet Lady Margaret.”
“My pleasure,” the lady said, extending her free hand toward him.
