Page 55 of Laird of Steel
A tear slipped from her eye. She wiped it away with the heel of her hand. It was just the sting of ashes. Nothing more.
She washed the smudges from her face. Stripped out of her ashy clothing. Changed into the worn surcoat of dull green wool Feiyan had given her.
She felt like herself again. Merraid the maidservant.
A lass who could easily avoid Sir Gellir Cameliard in the great hall.
Who could serve and clear supper without giving him a second glance.
Who could regard the pair of sweet-faced twin sisters who arrived to vie for his hand without the slightest twinge of jealousy.
Servants topped the trestle tables with linens. A musical consort practiced in the corner. A kitchen lad lit the candles around the hall. Merraid was sweeping rushes away to make a space for dancing when a familiar voice caught her ear.
“So what’s the wagerin’ on tonight?” he murmured. “Who’ll take the first spill on the floor?”
She turned to see Henry. His eyes shone with glee. His stray curl dangled jauntily over his brow. She couldn’t help but return his smile.
He truly was an amiable fellow.
And though she didn’t think it possible, he made the evening bearable. Between his clever quips and warmhearted teasing, Henry somehow distracted her from pining for the one she couldn’t have.
As the guests arrived, he made up stories about each one. He danced and laughed with her. Together they drank and sang. They even wagered a kiss on who would be the first dancer to slip and fall. Both lost when a wee tot of a lad wandered into the midst of the dancers and was knocked down by a flinging skirt.
Later, in the moonlit courtyard, as he prepared to return to his keep, Henry turned to her with a soft smile. He fingered the braid draped over her shoulder.
“Ye know, neither of us winnin’ that wager is the same as neither of us losin’.”
She smiled back. “Is that so?”
“Och aye,” he said with mock seriousness. “I think ’tis likely we owe each other a kiss.”
She forced her expression to studious contemplation. “I see. Do ye think ’twould be best to pay the debt now or—”
Before she could finish, he stopped her mouth with his, pressing smiling lips to hers in a short, soft, sweet kiss. The touch was brief, but pleasant. Friendly. Respectful. Non-threatening.
“Shall I return to court ye, m’lady?” he murmured.
“Aye,” she decided. “I’d like that.”
He gave her a brief bow and disappeared into the night.
Later, when Merraid fell asleep, she dreamt of her own handfasting. The day was bright. The air was full of laughter. She was dressed in a lovely indigo gown borrowed from Lady Feiyan, who smiled on in approval. Laird Dougal himself wrapped the ribbons around the bride and groom’s joined hands, speaking the declaration of marriage.
But when Merraid lifted her eyes to gaze upon the bridegroom to whom she’d tied her fate, it wasn’t Henry’s dancing green eyes that gazed back at her.
Her dream husband’s eyes were forged of steel and silver.
Gellir and his brothers had grown up with the cautionary tenet—never court sisters. Apparently, his conniving cousin wasn’t familiar with that rule. But if courting sisters was a mistake, courtingtwinsisters was a debacle of the worst sort.
All night, they vied for Gellir’s attention with fluttered lashes and conspiratorial giggles. They sparred with each other, using sly snipes and cutting glares.
To make matters worse, they were dressed in matching crimson gowns. As they spun and wove their way through the dancing, Gellir lost track of which one was which. An unforgivable blunder in the realm of twins.
By the end of the evening, even Feiyan had to agree her strategy had been disastrous. The twins were fuming. Gellir was miserable. And after their taut farewell, he felt too agitated to retire.
Guilt had definitely settled on his shoulders today. Beginning with Merraid in the solar. He still felt on edge, to blame for what had happened.
Why had he trifled with the maidservant?
