Page 37 of A Wife for the Highland Wolf
“Anything of interest?”
“Herbals or grimoires or the like.” Wilma grinned. “Although he might also have some poetry or romance books .”
Murdoch watched as his betrothed went from weary to wakeful in the blink of an eye. “In that case, I’ll finish me breakfast and go get changed into somethin’ suitable.”
“Ye daenae need to be quite so hasty.” Wilma shook her head. “We daenae need to leave before the noon meal. Ye have some time to rest if ye’d like. I can meet ye at the gate after we eat at midday.”
“That sounds wonderful. I look forward to it.” Lydia smiled, then returned her attention to her breakfast, eating with more appetite and energy than she had been earlier.
Murdoch felt his stomach twist. He knew well what the villagers thought of him. The thought that Lydia would be listening to their whispers and rumors that flitted among the common folk was enough to banish what little appetite he had. “Lydia.”
She didn’t answer. She simply finished the last bite of her bread and honey, as well as her tea, then rose from her seat. Murdoch reached out and caught her arm as she began to pass his chair. “Will ye nae speak to me, even for a moment?”
Lydia looked at him with quiet impassive eyes. “Why? Did ye not demonstrate very clearly that ye daenae want a bride who wanted to talk to ye?”
Before he could respond, she pulled free and walked away. Murdoch watched her walk away, his heart in his stomach.
Gordon laid a hand on his arm. “Ye ken, ye can always announce that she’s nae a suitable bride after all. There are a number of excuses ye can make, including that she’s nae the lass ye were promised. Tis a temporary measure, but twill satisfy the council until ye have time to look for a lass of yer choosing.”
Murdoch ignored the comment about a lass of his choice. He’d never seen a better candidate than Lydia, and he knew it. Still, he couldn’t help giving his cousin a sour look. “I dinnae think ye and Uncle Arthur were after a temporary measure. After all, ye were among the loudest in suggesting a marriage and a wife for me.”
Gordon winced and had the grace to look embarrassed. “That was before I saw how unhappy this was all makin’ ye, and how difficult yer betrothed is. I may think ye need a wife and a second son for the heirship, but I’m nae so enamored of the idea that I’d wish ye a second loveless marriage.”
“Pity nay one else thinks I deserve anything more.”
Gordon’s expression was sympathetic as he clapped Murdoch on the shoulder. “If I could take the burden from ye, cousin, I would, but I’m nae the laird, and even if I were, I’d be in worse straits.”
Murdoch sighed and let his anger go, knowing why his cousin was so determined to avoid becoming the focus of the council’s determined matchmaking. As the son of a second son he could choose his own partner, and Murdoch knew enough about his cousin’s preferences, and the discreet affair he was currently engaged in with one of the castle staff, to accept that Gordon was probably better off retaining his current position.
He took a final drink from his cup, then rose. “I’m for some sparrin’ and then a bath. Will ye join me on the practice field?”
“Aye.” Gordon fell into step beside him. “Will ye be goin’ to the festival later?”
Murdoch felt his mood sour. “We’ll see. I may have other business to attend to.”
He wouldn’t, and he knew it. Custom dictated the laird make an appearance at the festival. It didn’t matter that his presence was more likely to silence the merry making than improve it.
If he didn’t go there would be whispers that he was a cold, distant laird who didn’t care to mingle with his people. If hedid attend, they’d whisper about how shameless it was that the murderer, the wife-killer, could walk among them.
It was a no-win situation, as far as Murdoch was concerned. Much like his current impasse with his betrothed.
Following breakfast Lydia found herself at loose ends. She was no longer tired enough to want to return to her bed, but neither did she feel like doing anything in particular. Eventually she decided to make her way out to the fairy pools Wilma had showed her.
She decided to take her favorite book and Hector with her. She went to the kitchens and procured a flagon of sweet wine, then made her way outside. None of the guards stopped her, which was a relief. The walls of Lochlann Castle had begun to feel stifling. She had no intention of breaking her word, but she did enjoy stepping beyond the walls.
The spring air was refreshingly cool, and when she bent to take a drink of the water in the pool, she found it cold and delicious. She drank her fill, then settled on the blanket she’d brought with her, and began to read.
She’d only read a few pages when a shadow loomed over her. She looked up to see Murdoch with a scowl on his face. “What do ye think ye're doing?”
She sighed. “Readin’, of course.”
His lip curled, and she could see the frustration in his eyes. “Daenae pretend ye daenae ken what I mean.” He gestured. “What are ye doing out here? Do ye really think ye’re safe here?”
“I dinnae think I was in any more danger here today than I was yesterday.” Lydia heaved out a breath and marked her page before she shut the tome. “However, I daenae see any reason to stay. I came out here for peace and quiet, and clearly I’ll get nothin’ of either.”
She rose and started to turn away, but Murdoch grabbed her shoulder. “Daenae just walk away from me.”
Anger roared to life within her and she spun round and slapped his hand away, ignoring how it made her own hand sting. “Daenae touch me! Ye daenae own me, and ye daenae have the right to order me about.”
