Page 25 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Is he flirting wi’ the maid? In front of the assembly of council members?
She released her breath slowly. She’d set her terms in no uncertain manner. If he was to dally wi’ others, it must be discreet, not openly disrespectful where all could observe his behavior.
Confused by the strength of her feelings she looked away. When she looked back, the maid was at another table and Ewan seemed unconcerned. Had she been imagining his interest in the lass?
Catching her eye, he smiled at her and raised his glass.
“Slàinte mhath, Lady Tyra.” Leaning closer, he passed her a goblet, their hands meeting as she clasped the stem. He kept his gaze fixed on her, his blue eyes flickering with mischief as they met hers.
His somewhat aloof demeanor had switched to that of an attentive suitor. She bent her head, sipping the wine to hide her confusion.
“What are ye about, Laird Ewan,” she whispered as he leaned close.
“Lass, I am playing the part expected of me. I wish tae appear as if I am engaged in courtship. Mayhap me ruse would be successful if I could coax a wee smile from ye.”
She nodded, managing a smile, reminding herself this was not real, merely a charade being enacted to convince the Council that Ewan was genuinely invested in their becoming betrothed. Despite this, her vexatious heart insisted in fluttering as their eyes met. He leaned in, whispering in her ear, brushing her hand as he passed a platter of sweet-cakes.
But, just as suddenly as he’d sought her attention, he turned away, speaking with his brother Duncan. When he turned again to her, his warmth was gone and his gruff exterior had returned. The moment they’d shared seemed lost almost as if it was nothing more than something she’d dreamed of.
What could they have talked about that had affected Ewan so much?
His change of heart strengthened her resolve not to allow herself to be drawn in by any attraction his presence aroused in her. Memories of her recent betrayal by Harris MacDonald descended over her like a heavy pall and she withdrew behind it, maintaining a polite distance between herself and Laird Ewan.
Later that night, alone in her chamber preparing for bed, she found herself wondering at the laird’s sudden change. It wasalmost as if he was determined that, no matter what there might be between them, he would always keep her at arm’s length.
When she finally fell asleep, it was thoughts of her brother’s possible reaction when he received Ewan’s letter that were at the forefront of her mind.
The following morning was fraught with waiting. It was far too soon to anticipate Edmund’s response, yet as the hours wore on Tyra found it impossible to put it from her mind. She pictured his reaction on receiving the letter Ewan had sent. His first reaction would be surprise, followed by suspicion and an overriding concern for her wellbeing.
After spending the morning in the solar with Isla, Tyra set out to stretch her legs and explore the castle. It was enormous, with innumerable passageways, and a great network of staircases leading to various levels and extensive chambers. Peeping out one of the small windows on the third floor she was dismayed to see dark clouds brewing again. How she longed for the weather to change and to bring the joys of spring to enliven her flagging spirits.
Swinging around the corner of one of the long corridors she was taken aback at the sight of Ewan further along. He was standing beside the same young maid that had aroused her ire the previous evening.
His hand was braced at the small of the lass’s back, and she was gazing up at him in what, to Tyra’s indignant gaze, was an altogether too intimate manner.
As she strode along the corridor, her shoes clattering on the flagstones, both Ewan and the maid turned toward her. As she approached, she caught a glimpse of the lass’s bright red cheeks before the lass swiveled and scuttled away along the passage.
As Tyra reached Ewan he greeted her with a polite half-bow.
“Good day tae ye, Lady Tyra. I trust ye are well?”
Not giving a fig for his manners, Tyra gritted her teeth in fury.
“Have ye forgotten the agreement we made? That even though this is a marriage in name only, ye would nae publicly dishonor me. Ye’ve broken yer word tae me already.” She injected a sneer into her voice. “I have already been forced tae bear the whispers and shallow thrusts of shame inflicted on me because of me past betrothal. I’ll nae open meself now tae humiliation and the embarrassment to me reputation. How can I ever trust ye when ye so readily betray me?”
She glared at him, meeting his eyes fiercely while he stood silent in the face of her tirade.
“If ye wish this marriage ye’ve proposed tae come tae pass,” she gritted her teeth, “then ye must keep yer sordid dalliances discreet.”
Then, without giving him a chance to speak, she turned and proceeded at full tilt along the passage like a whirlwind, leaving Ewan immobile in her wake.
She stormed down the stairs, scarcely taking note of where she was heading. When she found herself at the entrance to the keep, she was seized with a need for something that could soothe her troubled thoughts and calm her stuttering heart.
Hurrying down the stairs and across the courtyard, she ducked along the path, passed the healer’s cottage, and headed for the little herb garden.
It was almost dark and it was hard to see what was growing there, so she allowed her nose to lead her. Feeling her way she plucked at the leaves, the scents of herbs drifting in the air as she rubbed them between finger and thumb.
Inhaling oregano, sage, thyme, rosemary and lemon balm, as she went, she lost herself in the soothing sweet and sharp aromas, heedless of her surroundings.
