Chapter Twelve
Marion could not have been more confused in the complete and utter change in Alexander the moment she agreed to let him court her.
Not that she wanted her reputation sullied, but he grew almost cold to her in that moment.
Did he have a different idea of what courtship meant?
She shook her head as she pulled her brush through her hair.
His sister had just come to say that they would be meeting in the great hall for their evening meal soon and she was to join them once she was dressed.
Marion had waved off the servant girl who was sent to aid her since the gown she’d chosen for this evening was far simpler than the ones she’d worn at Linlithgow.
This was one of her own choosing which was dark green velvet with a square neckline and gold embroidery all across the edging and front of the bodice.
’Twas certainly not of the fashion worn by the ladies of the palace gatherings, but she was more comfortable in this one than any of theirs.
Finishing her hair off with a fine gold wreath, she left her chamber and made her way down the long stone hallway and toward the winding stairs that led to the front of the castle.
Inverary was beautifully decorated with so many tapestries depicting battles or scenes of Loch Fyne or even of the surrounding woods in the fall when the colors exploded.
She longed to see that particular natural spectacle in person.
But as they would only remain here for a couple of days, she wondered what would happen once she returned to Posso Tower.
He’d not spoken of a timeframe for the courtship, and as such, she was not sure entirely what to expect.
Would he spend time with her and then forget her once she left? Marion had no idea.
Under normal circumstances, her father would have been in conversation with the earl and arranged terms and future intent.
She was not equipped to ask such questions, and she did not think it appropriate to have to.
Rather, he should have offered that information considering her inexperience.
The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became.
But that would not do as she was a guest here and she’d fast become friends with Lady Jean as well as continuing her friendship with the queen.
Nay, she would not let the confounding actions of a man ruin her ability to enjoy a wonderful meal and evening in a place for which she grew a fond affection.
Marion squared her shoulders and lifted her chin as she entered the great hall to find Lady Jean, some of her younger brothers, and the earl all seated by the fire laughing at something the youngest was saying.
The moment Alexander caught sight of her, he was on his feet and striding toward her.
By God, he was intense. It was absolutely impossible to tear her gaze from him when he pinned her so.
“Good evening, Lady Marion. You are truly a sight to behold this evening,” he said as he reached for her hand to kiss it.
For a moment he merely gazed at her and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.
She caught the fresh scent of him with notes of lavender and leather and wanted to lean in and bury her face in his shirt to inhale deeply.
His lips parted and she stared as he swallowed and drew in a shaky breath. “My lady, you cannot look at me like that,” he whispered.
Mortified, she met his gaze and realized he must have some sort of magic in him to have so clearly read her thoughts. She pulled her hand out of his grasp and stepped back.
Alexander stood a little taller and offered her his arm with his previously passion-filled gaze fully masked.
“Shall we sit while we await our meal?”
“Aye,” she said and walked past him to take a seat next to Jean, leaving him to sit across from her rather than beside her.
After a moment or two, he stood and moved to stand by the hearth with his arm rested over his head along the stone decoration. He stared into the fire, leaving her to turn her attention to Jean.
“I understand there is to be storytelling here this evening,” she said.
“Aye, my lady, we have the best storytellers in all of Scotland, to be sure.”
“That’s true, Lady Marion,” the littlest brother Archibald said.
“And what are your favorite stories about, Archibald is it?”
“Everyone calls me Archie, so you can call me Archie.”
“Very well, Archie, what are your favorite stories about?”
“I cannae tell ye, my lady.”
“Oh really,” she said, surprised at his conviction. “And why is that?”
“Because we cannae start until Gordon tells his first and then we can join in.”
Marion was not sure what that meant, but it was important to little Archie so she would not press him. “Very well, then, Archie. I believe I very much look forward to hearing your story.”
From the corner of her eye, she became aware of Alexander’s gaze on her. His hot and cold manners were becoming exhausting. She turned her attention back to Jean.
“We do something similar in my home after an evening meal, but we tell our stories through music. Sometimes one of us will add our voices to the pipes and strings, but other times I have found I can lose myself in the beautiful notes.”
“I can only imagine how lovely that is. My brother tells me you hail from Stobo.”
“Aye, we do not have a castle as lavish as this, but ’tis a tower house very near that village.”
“Do you have to climb up the tower on a ladder?” Archie asked.
Marion enjoyed his curiosity. “Nay, wee man, we have winding stairs that if you run up them too fast, will make you dizzy and you could fall all the way to the bottom. I can still hear my mother yelling at me and my sister, ‘no running on those stairs lest ye break yer heads,’ but we didn’t listen to her. ”
Archie laughed and came alongside Marion to touch her hair. She loved how honest innocent little children could be. Her red hair was very different than the dark hair that ran through this family, and it was clear he liked it.
“Did a witch turn you into a vampire?”
Marion laughed. She’d heard this legend before. “Well now, wee man, maybe I will have to wait and tell that story later.”
For a moment his eyes went wide, and he dropped the lock of her hair he’d been holding.
“But I think this Gordon will forgive us if we tell this one early, aye?”
Eyes still wide, Archie merely nodded.
“My mother told me that when I was a wee lass, my hair was blonde. One day I was walking through the flowers in the meadow, and I fell asleep on a bed of orange hawkweed. I slept for hours as my mother called and called for me. When she found me and I woke up, my hair was red and has been red ever since.”
Little Archie’s eyes were large as saucers and his mouth was agape as he listened to her.
“Is that true?” Archie’s sister, Cora, asked, now taking great interest in Marion and her hair.
“Well, I mean, ’tis what my mother told me, so it has to be true, right?”
Archie turned to Alexander then. “Alex, is that true? Did Lady Marion’s hair turn red from the orange weeds?”
Alexander gave Marion a broad smile which told her he approved of her not feeding into Archie’s obvious scary imagination.
“I have heard that if you fall asleep in a bed of bluebells, your hair will turn blue, so I do believe it is a true tale. And I do not believe Lady Marion capable of telling tall ones like some boys I know.”
Marion noted a few things in that last exchange.
That Alexander allowed his younger siblings to shorten his given name was as endearing as anything she’d seen in this family thus far.
Secondly, that he so quickly jumped in to support her attempt at a story was a side of him she hadn’t realized she wanted.
Her mind turned over and over with what she truly wanted from him and the conclusion was she did not know.
“I do not tell tall tales,” he said and folded his little arms across his chest.
“You do,” Cora said. “You fib all the time.”
“I do not.”
“Now, now,” Jean said and separated them as they had been clearly about to get into a scrap. “Keith, take Archie outside until the meal is served. Cora, you come sit with me and practice your ladylike manners.”
Marion’s heart was warmed. She missed her siblings and was comforted by the genuine interaction of this family. And there it was. The unmistakable knowledge that a certain older brother’s gaze was yet again fixed on her.
*
Alexander excused himself from his sister and Marion to see to Keith and Archie once the servants entered one by one to set up for the meal.
In truth, he needed a break from the war raging within him.
He was having a harder time by the moment being in her presence and having to refrain from taking her in his arms and begging her to kiss him.
No gown she’d worn up to that moment could compare to the one she donned this evening, which to him encapsulated her natural aura.
And the care with which she engaged with his siblings made him want her even more.
She possessed a kind soul and a quick wit.
How in heaven would he be able to resist her until he could speak with her father?
By God, he would have to plunge in the cold loch twice a day to keep himself in check.
He found his brothers and together they returned to the great hall.
By now the servants had fully adorned the table with large floral arrangements from the gardens as well and brought up platters of roasted deer, wild boar, smoked mackerel, and the usual mounds of breads and cheese.
The king had offered the queen’s special mead recipe ahead of time so the brewers could have some on hand for this visit.