Page 10 of The Anguish of the Scottish Lairds
She had the sudden urge to do the same thing, if she could find a man willing to teach her a bit about intimacy.
But how was she to find a husband when they were all afraid of her? Hard to find one to marry when she found most of them wouldn’t even speak with her. Well, except for her brothers, though Lennox was trying to get to the hated side of her list. Now that she’d been to Clan Grantham, she’d met so many men that she’d created her own special list in her mind, and they went on one side or the other. Hated on one side, loved on the other. There was no in-between.
She’d been interested in various men over the past few years, but if she ever attempted to have a conversation with one at the festivals or other events, they’d greet her, then smile and walk away, making her feel as if she were the most unloved lass on the earth.
At one point, she’d asked her only friend, Alycia, what was wrong with her, and Alycia had tried to make her believe it was only because she was the chieftain’s sister. But she knew the truth.
Eva was not pretty enough. She’d even reached the point of considering herself ugly. Her hair fell into unruly waves that took forever to straighten, and it was as dark as night, a far cryfrom the golden colors in Dyna’s hair or many of the bairns at Duart Castle. Her hips were not curvy enough and her breasts were not as large as most lasses. She had tiny feet, and her nose looked as if God forgot to give her one when He made her, tossing her the last one he had before she was born without one.
She’d only find a husband if her father found one for her. She was convinced of it. After years of being ignored, no one was going to offer for her now. She’d overheard talk of other lasses, like Theebet MacKinnis with her generous curves. The lass had so many suitors that her sire had sent them all away.
Eva hadn’t had any other than an English earl. None. Zero. Over twenty summers and noble blood with no offers. She had to be ugly. Well, she supposed she could count Sloan Rankin as her second. How she wished that offer made her heart soar, but since she’d known Sloan for so many years, there would be nothing new to their relationship. Why marry him?
Clan Grantham’s arrival and Lennox’s recent marriage had given her a reprieve. Her mother had left her alone because she’d focused on Lennox. In the meantime, Eva vowed to be more like Eli and Dyna, strolling around in tight leggings instead of fancy gowns, and wearing a bow and quiver with her hair tied back. Dyna even wore hers tied at the top of her head at times, wild braids on either side. She’d learned that Dyna’s mother was Norse, but Eva admired the look more than any other she’d seen. Perhaps she needed to go for a visit to Duart Castle again.
Eva strolled across the courtyard, internally bemoaning the fact that she didn’t have a close enough friend besides Alycia to tell her the truths of the world. Alycia worked as a maid in the keep, sometimes working as a cook’s assistant or a serving lass, so it was hard to pull her away from her work to discuss the issues Eva needed help with. Her mother had advised her on multiple occasions to stop fraternizing with the help.
Her mother gave her the foolish advice that naught good would come of it. Clearly, her mother didn’t understand what it was like to be a young lass with no one to talk to. How she’d wished she’d had a sister, forever envious of the relationship Lennox had with Taskill. The two men discussed everything, though not with her because she was a lass.
On one occasion, she’d asked Taskill what a one-eyed spitter was because the serving lasses had been laughing about it, but Taskill had just stared at Lennox, who let out a barking laugh unlike she’d ever heard from him before.
And she’d told them the truth—someday she’d find out on her own.
Lennox had yelled after her, “The hell you will, Eva! Do not repeat such vulgarities!”
Sard, tarse, one-eyed spitters, shite, and fusty skunks to all of them.
How she wished she had a close friend, one like a sister. Meg had Tamsin, and they were as close as anyone. Eli and Dyna were cousins and related by marriage, another relationship Eva envied. If not for Tamsin, perhaps she could get close to Meg, but whenever Lennox was around, Meg couldn’t leave him alone.
And her dear brother, who’d never looked at a lass before he met Meg, was totally besotted. He couldn’t take his eyes from her and preferred to be touching her.
Touching made Eva think of fusty skunks. Ick.
A sister could have helped her to understand the confusions of growing up, of men and their oddities. Of intimate relationships and all the secrets kept within and away from her ears.
Her thoughts interrupted by her only friend, Alycia, crossing to the stables, she called out to her. “Alycia!”
Alycia stopped to turn toward her. “Oh, greetings to you, Eva. How do you fare this morn?”
“I’m fine. Are you going somewhere?”
“Aye, I’m going to help the Granthams for the rest of the day. Elvard is going with me. He loves to play with Sandor. You look flushed. What happened?”
Not willing to admit where her thoughts had been, still on the intimate relations of Alaric and Eli, she shook it off and said, “I’m mad at my brother and my mother.”
“Why?”
“Because they want to marry me off, someone of their choosing.” Even though Alycia was part of the housekeeping staff at Dounarwyse Castle, she could pick up extra coin by working for the Granthams when they needed her. Rut didn’t mind. And Alycia was Eva’s only true friend, always willing to tell her the truth of the world, something her brothers and mother would never do.
“Who? Someone you don’t like?” Alycia asked. “You are getting up in age for a lass, Eva. I’ve told you that before. I had Elvard when I was six and ten.”
“Sloan Rankin wants a betrothal.”
Alycia let out a whistle, her face lighting up.
“What?”
“Lucky you. You agreed, did you not?”
