Marion glanced at Jack and decided it would be better if she talked to the Laird herself. She asked Bells to move up a bit, so that her horse was now standing right next to Jack’s big stallion.
She hopped off Bells and started towards the fighters. The older man stood up and dusted himself off. Marion took brisk steps towards him and curtsied stiffly.
“The Laird of Gille Chriost, I presume? My name is Lady Marion and I appear to have been kidnapped by your men. I would like to leave, if that wouldn’t inconvenience you too much,” she said with a hint of sharpness in her voice. She could have been half-way to finding her parents now, and this unexpected detour frustrated her, despite this wonderful little town’s charm that had mesmerized her.
The old man stared at her for a minute and then burst into a howling laugh.
“Me? The Laird? Lass, ye’re barking at the wrong tree,” he said and turned towards the younger, taller man, who was smiling a crooked smile.
The Laird of Gille Chriost didn’t look at Marion, but instead, spoke directly to Jack.
“Ye’re back. And in one piece,” he said with a sarcastic, but serious voice. He lifted his head and glanced at the band before turning his eyes back to his opponent.
“And ye brought a treat, I see,” he said.
* * *
Fionnghall chuckled to himself as this well-dressed, clearly high-class English lady spoke to Edgar, his sword maker. Sure, he’d make a great Laird, too—in another life.
“Jack, would ye like to explain why ye have brought an English lass with yer? Are ye tryin’ to get me in trouble?” Fionnghall asked, not looking at the woman dressed in red, who now looked a bit flushed on her cheeks.
He listened quietly, when Jack told him all about the little woman, found all by herself. Apparently, she was looking for her parents. Fionnghall felt a touch of sympathy in his often so quiet heart, but he brushed it away as quickly as it had come.
“I daenae care what she’s doin’. She doesnae belong in me castle. What if the Sassenachs find out she’s here? They’ll make our lives a living hell. Get rid of her,” Fionnghall said and turned around to walk back to his sparring partner, but Jack stopped him.
“Would ye really feel all right sending the poor lass back out by herself? Look at her, she’s not eaten fer days. She’ll be dead before the day is over. Yer of all people should know what it is like to miss yer faither and mother,” Jack said. No one else in the castle would ever talk to Fionnghall this directly, but Jack had known him since they were but babies.
Fionnghall pressed his lips together and pondered for a moment without turning around. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of his men, but on the other hand, he didn’t care to have this English intruder in his castle, a Lady or not.
Well, I guess a night will suffice. Jack will be happy and I’ll get rid of the lass soon enough.
“Fine, Jack, have it yer way. She can stay fer the night. But she must be out by twilight, and ye will personally escort her to England,” Fionnghall said, still not looking at the dark-haired woman.
“Deirdre!” he continued, calling for a tiny young woman who was standing a bit further away, looking at the newcomer curiously.
“Aye, brother?” she said as she swiftly approached Fionnghall, looking at the English lady from the corner of her eye.
“Take the lass out of me sight,” he said and waved his hand somewhere towards her.
“Laird, if you don’t mind, I’d rather leave. I will be just fine on my own, thank you very much,” the lady snapped and crossed her arms over her chest.
Fionnghall stopped and turned slowly to look at her in the eyes. They were deep brown and full of fire. She surely was beautiful, though extremely annoying, and she had a sharp tongue.
“Ye’re goin’ to stay. Jack’s right, I will nae have yer death on me conscious,” Fionnghall said.
An English lass in me castle. God curse Jack and his heart.
Fionnghall returned to his opponent, getting ready for another round. In the corner of his eye, he saw Deirdre taking the English girl’s hand and leading her towards the castle. A bit of a spitfire, she was.
The interruption had messed with Fionnghall’s thoughts. He patted his opponent on the back and holstered his sword, heading back to the castle.
Dinner was about to commence and he needed to wash up. Funny enough, despite the cold breeze in the air, his chest felt warm. He kept turning his thoughts back to the new girl, remembering how well she tried to cover up her fear, her blush giving her away. He cracked a smile before catching himself.
No need fer such thoughts, ye dobber. She’ll leave. Like everyone else does.
* * *
Marion was sitting in a small but warm dining room at a wooden table, nibbling on her food on the plate. The windows were covered with purple curtains and dozens of candles lit the room along with the fireplace. There was a painting hung over the back wall and two shelves were set next to the fireplace. They were filled with glasses and painted porcelain. Definitely expensive things.
The food was a bit strange, not the same as she had at home. It was plain and simple, but that wasn’t why she had trouble eating. She felt her ears burning, as Deirdre was discussing with her brother Marion’s situation, furiously.
After Deirdre had heard Marion’s story, she had been shocked to the core. She had promised to make her brother let Marion stay and look for her parents. After all, she didn’t have anywhere else to go. Marion didn’t particularly care for this rude Laird that had practically kidnapped her, but she had thought of her situation
