Page 32 of Laird of Steel
“As do I. Believe me.”
They were silent for a long moment.
Then Feiyan said, “You know, Merraid, you’re of an age where you should start considering yourownmarriage.”
“Me?”
“Aye. Why not? You want a husband and bairns, do you not?” She stroked her belly with fondness.
“Aye.” She did. She wanted Gellir’s babes. Handsome sons with thick dark hair and iron gray eyes.
“Then let me see to it,” Feiyan offered. “While Dame Joan is seeking a bride for Gellir, she might inquire—”
“Nay! Thank ye, m’lady,” Merraid said in a rush. “I can find my own bridegroom.” Considering the candidates offered to Gellir, the last thing she needed was a ragtag bunch of marriage prospects rounded up by the clan gossip.
“Very well.” She stood to give Merraid a final perusal of concern. “You’re sure nothing’s broken?”
“Aye,” she said. Only her heart. “I may have cracked a rib. But ’twill mend with time.”
“I’ll leave you to heal then. I’ve had Ede and Swannoc take over your kitchen duties this eve. Meanwhile, think about what I said. You’re young and bonnie. The village is full of handsome young lads.”
“I’ll do that, thank ye, m’lady,” Merraid promised, though it was a promise she would find very hard to keep.
Chapter 5
Strolling through the garden, Gellir fought to appear fascinated by Lady Dearbhorgaill, his latest bride offering, as she lectured on the plants they passed. But it was a losing battle. The lady had an intimate knowledge of every characteristic of every species they encountered. And she seemed determined to bestow that information upon him. Whether he wanted it or not.
He did not.
And the problem was made worse by the fact that something far more intriguing was happening just beyond the lady’s shoulder.
He nodded as she rattled on about the propagation of lilies. But he let his eyes drift to the couple conversing beneath the apple tree.
The woman was Merraid. She’d removed her usual apron, revealing a plain blue kirtle that clung to her curves in a most provocative way. She was toying with the end of her marigold braid, which draped gracefully over one shoulder. As he watched, she smiled and dipped her eyes in gentle humor at something the man said.
Who was the rogue with her?
Gellir didn’t know. But he didn’t like him. The scoundrel was standing too close to Merraid. Cocking his blond head with interest. Grinning too broadly. A grin that showed off a row of white teeth that gleamed like a wolf’s.
“Don’t ye agree?” Lady Dearbhorgaill asked.
Gellir snapped his gaze back. He had no idea what she’d just asked him, so he mumbled in the affirmative.
Lady Dearbhorgaill beamed at him. “Then ye’ll build a specularium to accommodate my experiments? How marvelous! I’ll be able to study propagation of my lilies all the year round. Even in the chill of winter.” She coyly lowered her eyes and amended the request. “That is, if we marry.”
“Marry? Well. That is yet to be…”
What was he agreeing to?
And what kind of nonsense was that cocky rogue whispering in Merraid’s ear?
Lady Dearbhorgaill clasped her hands dreamily together beneath her chin. “I could spend hours trimming roots, cutting stems, dividing bulbs…”
Why was Merraid not kicking the man in the ballocks for his impropriety? Did she feel somehow threatened by him? Was he threatening her?
He glowered.
Unfortunately, Lady Dearbhorgaill thought his frown was for her.
