Page 35 of Bride of the Merciless Laird
Duncan nodded, turned and hurried in the direction of the quarters where their men were garrisoned, while Ewan headed to the banqueting hall to meet with Tyra and break his fast.
On hearing of the lad having infiltrated the castle, his concern was growing. And still there was no word from her brother, Laird Edmund.
Tyra was alone when he entered, and he was dazzled by her welcoming smile. He took a seat beside her while the maids fussed over them, filling tankards with ale, ladling porridge into bowls, piling bannocks and bowls of blackcurrant and raspberry jam in front of them.
“There is still nay word from Scorrybreac?” Tyra asked, spooning a good helping of clotted cream onto her porridge.
“Nae yet. But I expect a messenger any time.” He was loath to mention the missing Alexander Ranald, for fear of alarming her even more than she had been already. “The weather has cleared a little and the wind is brisk, the birlinn will make good sailing.”
They continued making small talk, Ewan pleased with her company.
Isla appeared, slightly breathless, as if she’d been hurrying.
“I am praying the weather clears.” She broke a bannock into tiny pieces and dipped one into the cream. “I am so tired of remaining indoors.” She turned to Ewan. “Is there nay business ye and Duncan must attend tae in the village? I’ve heard there’s a peddler arriving. He’s bringing a load of French silks and Italian damasks from a ship recently docked in Glasgow.” She turned to Tyra. “Would ye nae adore a new dress?”
Tyra laughed. “Why, I have three already.”
Ewan looked her over grinning. “And ye are very fine in yer new-old velvet gown. I have nay doubt it looks far bonnier on ye than it ever could have suited dear Cousin Agnes. But, Isla, if ye’ve tired of the village weavers and their woolen plaids, mayhap, we could enquire of this peddler and his wares.”
He did not mention that he wished to visit the village and question some of the villagers. Especially Malcolm, who was the hub of gossip for the entire parish and would be the most likely one to have heard a whisper of strangers.
“It will depend on the weather, Isla. If it dinnae snow again, I may consider it.”
Isla’s eyes lit up. “And if we dae travel, can we dine at the inn?”
Ewan considered this for a moment. “We shall see.”
Isla turned to Tyra. “It is difficult tae amuse oneself in the depths of winter in the castle, when I long tae stretch me legs or ride me pony. Today I have prevailed on Betsy, our cook, tae show me how tae make a pie. I am overfond of apple pie and cream and she has promised tae reveal her secrets tae me.” She popped a piece of bannock into her mouth chewed and swallowed, washing it down with a draught of ale. “Would ye care tae join me in the kitchen, Lady Tyra?”
Tyra smiled. “Why, I would enjoy that. I share yer love of apple pies.”
“Then, I shall look forward to the fruits of yer labors this evening at supper.” Ewan got to his feet as Tyra and Isla hurried off. He had more serious things in mind, yet he was glad of the diversion Isla was creating for Tyra.
He went in search of Duncan with a view to some arms practice. He held little doubt his warrior prowess would be called upon before much time had passed. On the way, he dropped off his collection of claymores, dirks and short swords to the armorer. His tools of war had to be whetted, honed, and sharp-edged.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was not until the afternoon, that Joseph knocked on Ewan’s study door and popped his head in.
“The messenger ye dispatched tae Skye has returned, milaird.”
“Send him in at once please Joseph.”
The lad was ushered in, shivering, his lips blue with cold.
“Stand by the fire, lad, and thaw yerself.”
“Thank ye, Laird Ewan. I am Kenneth Mackenzie, of Dornie.” The lad rubbed his hands together at the fire. “At sea, it is indeed cold enough tae freeze the devil’s lair.”
“Were ye well received at Scorrybreac?”
“Aye. It is a most pleasant place, and the Laird Edmund was most hospitable. I dined well and partook of some fine French wine.”
“And ye’ve brought me back a letter from the laird?”
Kenneth scrambled in his jacket for the folded parchment. “Yer pardon, sire. Aye.”
“When ye’re thawed enough lad, ye may leave. If I require ye tae travel again Joseph will call on ye.”
