Page 8 of The Highlander's Alluring Spy
“Ye’re awfie silly,” Elaine giggled, patting his cheek through his vivid red beard.
“Och, silly, is it?” Nathair grinned. He sat down heavily on the floor of her chamber, pulling her down with him. He held her in her lap, tickling her belly until she shrieked, kicking her little legs and flailing her arms in false protest. “Who areyecallin’ silly?”
There was a knock at the door, and Nathair stopped tickling Elaine long enough to call for whoever it was to come in. He smiled pleasantly as he saw her.
The young maid was only nineteen, with tightly curled brown hair and shocking blue eyes. She was as common as dirt, and Nathair liked that about her. Her mother was the castle’s Cook, and her father an earnest farmer for the clan. When they’d asked Nathair to hire her, he hadn’t even considered doing otherwise.
Her name was Betty, and she had been a real gift from God above. She was one of Elaine’s few playmates when Nathair was busy, which was far too often of late. Elaine loved her dearly, and Betty loved her in return, which had been a blessing when Elaine was younger and just needed some company.
The child brightened when she saw her. “Betty! Have ye come to play wi’ me and Dadaidh?”
Betty smiled and nodded her head at the child but spoke directly to Nathair. “Me Laird, I’m right sorry to interrupt, but there’s a posh English lass here askin’ tae speak wi’ you.”
Nathair stood, Elaine still in his arms. “She’s an English lass, ye say?”
That was very strange.
I am nae accustomed to visits from the English, even in this so-called time of peace.And a woman traveling alone from the Southern Country is fair strange, to say the least.
Betty was waiting for his answer, so he asked, “Dae we ken her?”
The maid dipped her head and replied, “She says her name’s Leighmoore, Me Laird. I dinnae ken the name. It isnae one of any o’ the English ye’ve met with that I recall. Should I tell her ye’re busy?”
He shook his head. “Nay, I’ll see what she wants first,” Nathair replied. “Thank ye kindly for tellin’ me.”
Elaine pouted. “But Dadaidh, it’s our playtime. Ye promised!”
Betty stepped forward. “Should I take Elaine?” She smiled at the pouting child. “We can play that chase game ye like.”
He was about to hand her over, then shook his head. “That’s all right. She’s gonnae be the Lady o’ the Castle one day. She can come to meet our visitor. A’right wae ye, me chook?”
Elaine nodded solemnly and said, “But ye have tae play wi’ me later, Betty, a’right?”
Betty promised, and Nathair laughed. He placed Elaine on his shoulders, and like that, the two followed Betty down into the kitchens where the mysterious visiting girl awaited them.
* * *
The lady standing at the foot of the dais was very pretty. Elaine had only ever seen pictures of her Mamaidh, but this woman was at least as lovely as those portraits. Mamaidh had been dark, but this visitor was fair, with bright blonde hair and even brighter blue eyes, and the kind of skin that looked like she’d never spent much time out in the sun.
She had a sweet smile when she looked at Elaine and Nathair. When she spoke, though, her voice sounded very strange. The words weren’t quite what Elaine was used to. Even those that were familiar were pronounced in an odd fashion. It was like she didn’t know how to speak correctly.
Nathair put Elaine down in a chair at the head table on the dais and said to behave while he talked to the lady.
“Well, then. Welcome, visitor,” Nathair said, turning away from Elaine.
“My Laird,” the lady said in that funny voice of hers. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“O’ course,” Nathair said in his polite voice that he only used with visitors. “What can I dae for ye?”
The lady lifted the front material of her skirt and gave a short curtsy. It was very fancy, much more so than the one Betty sometimes did. “My name is Magnolia Leighmoore. I’m a nanny by trade. My previous family’s children have outgrown me, and in my travels, I heard that you were looking for someone to work with your daughter.”
“Oh, aye?” Nathair asked, leaning casually against the table. “An’ how long have ye been nannying?”
“Ten years, My Laird. I started at sixteen.”
That was a lot of years, even Elaine knew that. Cook had taught her to count when she was permitted to help in the kitchen sometimes. But she looked at the pretty lady suspiciously now.
She knew nannies; she’d had a lot of them. They kept leaving, and that kept making Dadaidh sad. They were supposed to teach her, not Cook. They were supposed to read to her rather than Betty and the other maid. There always seemed to be some reason they didn’t work, and then they’d leave.
