Page 15 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Dear Lord, surely it couldnae be jealousy?
He hastily mustered his thoughts. Of course, he was merely reacting against his younger brother’s tendency to consider every bonnie lass he encountered a potential conquest.
“Come,” he said, and began striding into the keep, Duncan hurrying beside him. “Join me in the study, there are pressing matters I wish tae discuss wi’ ye.”
A fire had been recently lit in Ewan’s study but the room was still cold, so they stood in the meager glow, stamping their feet for warmth, holding their hands to the flames.
A serving-man arrived with a large ewer of ale which he placed on a nearby table, along with two hearty tankards.
Ewan filled the pewters, passed one to his brother and then took his seat as close to the growing flames as was feasible.
“I was nae impressed wi’ the manner in which ye greeted the Lady Tyra,” he muttered, astonished at the flare of anger he felt toward Duncan as he recalled his brother’s lips pressed to Tyra’s soft hand.
Duncan shrugged. “I was merely greeting her as one would—” He trailed off, meeting Ewan’s glare.
“’Tis time ye understood that every lass ye meet is nae a petticoat fer ye tae conquer.”
An uncomfortable silence descended between them as they sipped their ale. Finally, it was Duncan who broke the pensive atmosphere.
“I apologize fer acting hastily. But please dae enlighten me of this tale. Ye’ve been gone overnight, and ye appear at the castle a day later wi’ a bonnie lass who has, according tae ye, met wi’ a misadventure of some kind.”
Ewan gathered his thoughts, still unsure of what he should reveal to his brother. In a sense, Lady Tyra’s story was hers to tell. Yet if she was to be fully protected while at Eilean Donan, he had to reveal what had brought him to invite her to take shelter in his keep.
“Ye may recall the name of the lady’s clan. She’s the daughter of Baldur MacNeacail.”
Duncan thought on this for a moment and after some brief consideration he nodded.
“So, she’s… the… unfortunate…lass who was entangled with the Laird of the MacDonalds of Sleat. The man who betrayed the MacNeacails and was banished from their land fer life, leaving a broken betrothal and a ruined lass.”
“The very same lass. Her half-braither is now the laird, following her faither’s death.”
“I heard past circumstances have played badly for the lass through nay fault of her own.” Duncan shuffled closer to the fire and leaned against the mantle, a frown creasing his brow. “But, dear braither, ye have yet tae explain what the lady was doing on Mackenzie lands, and what misadventure has brought her here tae Eilean Donan wi’ ye.”
“I believe I owe ye the facts as I ken them.” Ewan said thoughtfully. “It was quite by accident that I came upon the lass. She was pursued by three blackguards who appeared intent on abducting her.”
Duncan grunted. “And, of course, ye intervened tae save a lady in distress.”
Ewan responded with a short laugh. “Ye ken me well enough that I’d ne’er leave a lass in a dire situation when she calls fer help. Especially on Mackenzie lands.”
“Yet we’re some distance from the Isle of Skye, the lady’s home. D’ye ken what she was doing on our land?
Ewan quaffed the last of his ale and stood to warm himself beside Duncan.
“From what she said, she was bound fer the Priory at Moray where she was to take refuge while her braither sought a suitable marriage fer her.” He coughed. The fire was smoking, stinging his eyes. “Damn these wet logs, there’s nay warmth in them.”
“The lady?”
Ewan continued. “I’m nae saying her story isnae truthful. Yet I cannae understand why she was traveling in the depths of winter wi’ only two men-at-arms to guard her.” He paused while Duncan poured another beaker of ale. “There is more tae tell. I am of the mind tae suspect that Harris MacDonald was somehow behind the attack on her. I believe she shares me suspicions.”
“Revenge?”
“’Tis the act of a coward tae attack a woman, yet I believe he is enough of a rogue tae dae so.”
Duncan took a seat, leaning back, crossing his ankles. “By all the Devil’s fold, braither. Are ye saying ye’ve brought her here because ye believe her tae be in danger? Ye think another attempt will be made on her?
“Ah, yes.”
Duncan swore again. “While the lady is wi’ us we mustnae let our guard down.” Their talk was interrupted by a loud knock at the door and a serving man bringing a light repast of bannocks and jellied eels.
