The young girl became thoughtful for a moment and then she nodded. “Do ye love your husband? I heard Papa say that Laird MacDonell was our enemy before. Why? What did he do?”
“Anabel, ye shouldnae be worried about such things. Ne’er get involved in the ways of men. Who knows what goes on in their minds? Look at your brothers.”
Anabel giggled. “Aye, they are naught but a bunch of arses.”
“Anabel! Those arenae proper words for a young lady to say. Where did ye hear that?”
Anabel covered her mouth with her hand. “My apologies, Sybella. I heard ye call
Sybella stood and brushed off her skirts. “Well, I’m sure it was naught that wasnae deserved,” she mumbled under her breath.
The young girl ran from flower to flower, sniffing, touching, and spinning around. She was a bundle of pent-up energy. A dark cloud rumbled overhead, signaling that a change in weather was certainly going to curtail the moment. The first drop of rain hit Sybella’s brow, and she had just opened her mouth to speak when the skies blackened and buckets of rain pelted her in the face.
Anabel bolted around the corner of the flower bed and fell on the ground at Sybella’s feet. Sybella helped the poor girl stand, her dress covered in mud. In the middle of the storm, Anabel looked down at her ruined clothes and started to cry.
“Papa will be so angry at me for soiling my dress,” Anabel sobbed, holding out her skirts.
Anabel’s troubled expression pulled at Sybella’s heart as she stood in the middle of the garden with her dripping hair hanging in her face. Without giving it a second thought, Sybella bent over and picked up a handful of mud, wiping muck over her own dress.
“What are ye doing?” asked Anabel with widened eyes.
“He cannae be angry at us both. ’Tis only dirt.” She grabbed Anabel’s hand and they ran for shelter, slipping and sliding on the soggy ground.
They sprang into the great hall, a welcome site, and their breathing was labored. Sybella looked at the watery trail left behind them and called for a maid.
“What the he…Er, what happened?”
Sybella lifted her eyes to see Alex standing there, flanked by Anabel’s father. With both hands on her hips, she confronted them. “We were caught in the rain.”
“And what? Fell in the mud? Ye two are covered in muck,” said Alex in a partially scolding tone.
She thought she detected laughter in his eyes, and then he winked at her broadly.
Anabel lowered her head. “’Tis all my fault, Laird MacDonell. Please donna be cross with Syb…er, Lady MacDonell. I fell in the mud and knew Papa would be angry with me, so Lady MacDonell put mud on her dress, too. I beg ye nae to scold her. I should be the one who is punished.”
Sybella was about to speak when Alex knelt in front of Anabel. “Lady Anabel, ye should be commended for your bravery in speaking the truth. Know that I could ne’er punish a lass for speaking honestly, nay matter what the circumstances. Your word is your bond. When ye are truthful, ye are respected for your honesty. When ye donna tell the truth, ye are deceitful and donna earn the right of respect. And I most certainly respect ye for all of your honesty, Lady Anabel.”
He stood and patted the girl on the shoulder. “Now the two of ye get to your baths.”
Ennis escorted Anabel to her room, and as soon as Sybella lifted her muddied skirts, Alex leaned in close. “We will discuss your punishment later, Ella.” There was an invitation in the depths of his eyes, and Sybella was enthralled by what she saw.
“Aye, my laird, I have been verra, verra bad,” she said in a sultry voice.
Her intent was to give her husband a taste back of what he always insinuated. What she did not expect was to see his eyes darken, a muscle tick at his jaw, and his kilt tent in apparent arousal. Praise the saints. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?
“Pray excuse me while I seek my bath.” She nervously stepped around him.
“Do ye need me to wash your back?”
She froze and then turned, merely lifting her brow.
Alex watched the muddied temptress walk away. His wife was indeed still a child at heart, and even her walk had a sunny cheeriness. His smile broadened in approval. The woman he’d married was compassionate enough to ruin her own dress to save the feelings of a little girl. He began to think perhaps he was wrong about the dreaded MacKenzies—well, one of them in particular.
“Alexander, there ye are. I have been looking everywhere for ye,” said Aunt Iseabail. She looked flustered.
“I have been here.”
“I can see that now, Nephew. I wanted to tell ye something…” She tapped her finger to her lip. “It seems to have slipped my mind again. Damn, Nephew. Donna get old. Ye will nae like it.”
Alex wrapped his arm around Aunt Iseabail’s shoulders. “Ye arenae old. I told ye before. Ye will more than likely outlive us all.”
“’Tis bothering me. I know I had something of importance to tell ye.”
“Donna think upon it. I find that if I think upon something else, my first thought will come back eventually.”
“I suppose. Where is the bonny little lass?” she asked, looking around the great hall.
Alex chuckled and rolled his eyes. “She and Sybella were caught in a storm, and the mud got the best of them. They are seeking baths as we speak.”
“Annie is such a bonny lass. I hope ye and Sybella soon have enough bairns to fill our table for the noon meal.”
“Anabel is quite lovely. I’m sure in good time when the gods are willing to bless us with a—”
“And I told ye, Nephew. Donna leave it to the gods. Are ye at least trying to get your wife with child?”
If Alex had to discuss his coupling habits with his aunt one more time…
“My laird, pardon the intrusion. A moment, please,” said John, walking into the great hall. Water dripped from his soaked frame.
“I will leave ye lads to your business then.” Aunt Iseabail walked back toward the kitchens, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief.
“I must commend ye on your most appropriate timing.” He playfully wiped his brow.
John chuckled. “She wants a bairn under her roof before she dies.”
“Donna remind me. What was it ye wanted?”
“I had Ian tracking in the woods and he was still unable to find a trail. Now that we have rain—”
“Any trail there was is now dead.”
“Aye.”
“Sybella stays inside the castle walls and doesnae journey outside the gates until we find who is responsible. My cousin and the MacGregor arrive within the sennight. The man is verra wise in battle and may have a few ideas. Keep alert. I am by nay means lowering our defenses.”
John nodded. “Aye. Seoras watches the MacKenzie man and there hasnae been anything amiss.”
“Good. Make sure it stays that way. I will nae have a threat under my own roof.”
“I will leave ye to your
“’Tis quite enough that I hear it from Aunt Iseabail. I donna need to hear it from ye, ye bloody arse.”
Alex headed to the parapet to seek a brief reprieve. The heavy weather had passed, and he loved the smell of the air after a hard rain. He stood upon the darkened parapet with only the torchlight to illuminate the glistening walls. He lifted his face, feeling a light mist spray his cheeks.
Some of his men walked the walls and some sought shelter, conversing by the gate. In the time since his father’s death, Alex had managed to secure an alliance with their enemy and make certain the clan would be fed for several winters to come, and now he had a wife. He hoped his father was proud. If he could only solve the mystery of who would want to take aim at his bonny wife’s head, Alex could rest. Now he knew why he had waited so long to take a wife. The fairer sex was nothing but trouble.
