Page 14 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Hoping her flushed face would pass without notice, she greeted the siblings, bobbing a curtsy, favoring each with a smile.
They were then joined by the seneschal who tugged his forelock in deference to his laird.
“Joseph, this is me guest, Lady Tyra MacNeacail. I trust ye will see that a bedchamber is be prepared fer the lady. She will be our guest fer the coming days.”
Joseph nodded and hastened back to the keep.
“Come wi’ me Lady Tyra,” Isla proffered her arm. “We can sit a while at the solar and talk while the maids see tae yer apartment.” Tyra accepted Isla’s arm and, together, strolled across the courtyard and made their way into the keep.
Tyra was taken aback by the sheer size of the castle. Its passages were wide and seemed to disappear endlessly in every direction. They ascended a staircase, and then another, and traipsed along a further expansive passage until they arrived at a huge room.
Tyra issued a little, admiring gasp as they entered. The plaster walls were gaily decorated in bright and vibrant colors, with images of flowers, birds, deer, men on horseback and ladiesbeing serenaded by troubadours with their lutes. It was by far the grandest solar she’d ever seen.
The floors were covered with wool rugs in vivid patterns unlike anything at Scorrybreac, where mostly woven rushes covered the floor.
This was, clearly, the castle of a powerful laird.
She stood beside the roaring fire bringing her frozen fingers, ears and nose back to life while Isla chattered on about her dislike for the fact that the weather was keeping her indoors.
“I would so much prefer tae be walking in me garden, riding, or hunting wi’ me falcons. Instead, I am cooped up in here wi’ naught but me embroidery tae keep me occupied.” She turned to Tyra and clapped her hands. “I am so happy ye will be here. Yer company will brighten these winter days.”
A kitchen maid brought a tray with baked trout, fried onions, bread, butter, and cheese and a jug of mead for their midday meal.
Isla’s friendly, lighthearted chatter warmed Tyra’s heart every bit as much as the fire warmed her frozen limbs. She found it easy to converse with the lass and it allowed her customary guardedness to give way a little as she kept Isla entertained with stories about her home on the Isle of Skye.
Tyra was just settling comfortably beside the fire when a chambermaid appeared at the door. Isla looked up.
“Aye, Morag?”
The girl gave a brief curtsy. “The chamber next tae yers is ready fer the Lady Tyra. One of the manservants has taken up her panniers and a fire has been lit fer her.”
“Ah. Thank ye lass. I shall guide Lady Tyra tae her room.”
Tyra rose to her feet. “I am most grateful fer yer braither’s hospitality, Lady Isla, and I thank ye fer yer company.”
“Please, dinnae thank me, I am ever so glad of yer charming conversation. I am looking forward tae ye spending time here.”
Tyra was delighted with the bedchamber. In comparison with her small room at Scorrybreac, it was vast. It was decorated in much the same manner as the solar, although the colors were softer, befitting a lady’s room, with swathes of pink roses, bluebells, butterflies and little birds amongst a background of branches and green leaves. Woven rugs of rushes covered with strewing herbs lined the floor. Lavender flowers were scattered over the pillows on the enormous bed their delicate, fresh perfume inviting a hint of spring into the wintry room.
Beaming, Tyra turned to Isla. “Why this is enchanting. What a beautiful room.”
“Shall we sit?” Isla gestured to four comfortable-looking chairs covered in deep pink damask, piled with plump cushions in a row by the wall.
The chairs were solid and it took some effort for them to push two of them into place, side-by-side at the fireside.
As Tyra subsided into the deep, warm, comfort of the chair in the glow of the warming fire, the knot that had stiffened her shoulders for too long loosened and unraveled. She allowed the pleasure of feeling completely safe for the first time since the terrifying moments when she’d been hunted in the darkened village street steal over her.
Isla filled two goblets with mead from the jug on the table and passed one to Tyra. “Slàinte mhath, Lady Tyra. Let us drink tae yer comfort and happiness as the guest of the Mackenzies of Eilean Donan.”
Tyra raised the goblet. “I will drink tae that and tae the hospitality of me generous hosts.”
They each raised the honeyed liquor to their lips and drank.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ewan’s gaze followed his sister and Lady Tyra making their way up the stairs to the keep. He puzzled over the strength of his reaction to Duncan’s blatant flirting with the lass.
“Mm.” Duncan was watching them also. “She’s a rare beauty, that lady.” He grinned at his brother causing Ewan another stab of disquiet.
