Chapter 13 #3
“I might well ask the same of you. What happened to you in there? You looked as if you were suffocating.”
Isa’s lips drew into a thin line, and her eyes quickly darted away from his and back again. “That’s no what I meant. How could the laird have fathered Jamie?”
She obviously thought to ignore his query. He wouldn’t be sidetracked as easily as that, but if she wanted to parry words, he was more than up to the task.
“In the usual way, I’d imagine. You do have a knowledge of that process, do you no?”
Her cheeks flushed an attractive pink and she turned to look out across the courtyard, her arms crossed under her breasts.
Now there was a sight to make a man’s mouth water if he’d ever seen one.
“Because if you dinna ken how it’s done, lass, I’d be more than happy to demonstrate for you once we’re away from this place.”
The pink in her cheeks morphed into an overall dull red.
“What are those men doing?” she asked, walking away from him in the direction she faced even as she spoke the words.
“Wait!” he called, looking ahead as he hurried to catch up with her.
Did the woman just live to make his life difficult?
Ahead of them, a group of men and boys had gathered near the large gates that opened into the bailey. Their growing noise, angry jeers and laughter, must have been what first attracted Isa’s attention.
They had formed a circle around a man and woman holding a small child, hurling insults at the couple. He could feel the crazed excitement of the crowd building momentum, each person stoking the anger and suspicion of the one next to him.
How careless of him! He’d been so distracted in his banter with Isa, he’d failed to notice what was going on right under his nose. As he drew up beside her, he reached out to grab her elbow.
Too late.
She dodged his arm and bulldozed her way forward. “What do you men think yer doing? Stop that! Stop that right now!” Isa, her head barely level with the men’s shoulders, stepped into the center of their circle to where the couple stood, taking a stand in front of them.
Robert elbowed his way through the men, too, likely shoving a bit harder than was actually necessary in his irritation. The instant he’d realized what was going on, he should have remembered her affinity for the underdog. Seeing the quarrelsome mob surrounding her triggered his own anger.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, sizing up the situation even as he spoke.
The crowd that had gathered was little more than stable hands and castle servants.
Dealing with the lot of them would be easy enough should it come to that, but Robert didn’t like their position in the least. Having both Isa and the woman with her child inside this circle was unacceptable.
His most immediate priority was to shift them to a more easily defended spot. A spot with no one at their backs.
He chose the most expedient means he could think of to get people moving away. He drew his sword, pulling it hard against the scabbard to ensure the ring of metal would carry through the air.
The circle evaporated, with men and boys scattering off to both sides, all keeping their distance as he backed the couple and Isa toward the open gate.
“Now,” he demanded loudly. “Would someone like to tell me what the hell is going on here before I’m forced to lose my temper.”
“It’s them dirty tinklers,” one of the men called out from a safe distance away. “We caught ’em sneaking in through the gates. They’re here to steal something.”
“We dinna sneak,” the man at his shoulder asserted.
“And we’ve no need to steal anything these people might have.
My wife and I walked through the gates in broad daylight.
We accompanied the cleric from Urquhart thinking to offer our goods and services for the wedding celebration to be held at this castle. ”
“Who are you to be protecting them dirty tinklers?” one of the braver voices called out.
Before Robert could respond, another in the crowd answered for him. “He’s that warrior what claims to be guardian over the laird’s granddaughter.”
More rumbling ensued, but most backed away a little farther.
Robert spared the tinkler only a quick glance, keeping his attention focused on the men around them.
“This is no place to bring yer family, sir. There’s no amount of silver to be made that’s worth risking something so precious in a place as unsettled as this.”
Behind them, the wife edged closer, lifting one hand to her husband’s shoulder. “He speaks the truth, William. Can you no feel it on the wind? We should be away from here. Quickly.”
“Agreed.”
That was all Robert needed to hear. Once again he lifted his voice to call out to the crowd. “These people have meant you no harm and I mean for no harm to come to them. Do you ken my words? Now get away, all of you. Go back to what yer supposed to be doing.”
Gradually, in groups of two and three, they began to drift away, grumbling, casting suspicious looks over their shoulders as they left.
“Where are the guards to let this happen?” Isa’s cheeks were still pink, but Robert suspected the color resulted from her anger.
“Ha!” the man scoffed. “There’s none likely to come to the rescue of a tinkler, miss. Making your aid, good sir, all the more impressive.” He held out his hand to Robert. “William Faas, in yer debt. And this is my wife, Editha, and our son, Sean.
“He’s adorable.” Isa reached out a tentative finger, stroking the child’s soft plump cheek as she spoke.
“Thank you.” Editha’s shy smile broke beautifully over her ruddy face. “As my husband says, we’re in yer debt. If yer ever in need of us, you’ve only to call upon us for aid.”
Editha hefted the small boy higher up on her hip and turned, following William out through the gates to their wagon beyond.
“Right,” Robert muttered, watching the retreating couple. “I’ll keep it in mind if I ever find myself in need of a new pot.” He could only hope William Faas had learned a valuable lesson this day about using more care in where he led his family.
“I suppose it begins,” Isa murmured, brushing past his shoulder to move in front of him.
The doors of the great hall had opened and groups of people drifted down the stairs, all heading toward the little chapel at the far side of the courtyard. Robert and Isa followed, keeping to the edges of the crowd.
The MacGahan laird took his place on the steps of the chapel, Roland Lardiner at his side.
Robert studied the two of them, searching for any signs of trouble.
The MacGahan laird must suspect something was amiss at his castle, otherwise why would he have made a point of asking Robert to watch over Isabella?
Did he see that the danger came from his own second in command, or was he so close to the man as to be blinded?
“What worry’s filling yer thoughts now, Robbie?”
He looked down to find Isabella staring at him, her gaze penetrating.
“Nothing,” he lied.
“You canna expect me to believe such as that when yer forehead is puckered up like a large dress tied about a small woman. Those wrinkles tell me yer worrying over something.”
When had Isabella become the expert at reading him?
“I was only wondering if the laird’s new wife might not be in danger from . . .” He stopped, looking around at the people close to them. “From the man we were discussing before,” he finally finished.
“Hardly,” Isa scoffed. “Agneys is Roland’s daughter.”
Roland’s daughter? “But that should mean . . .”
“Isabella! There you are!” Laird MacGahan’s voice rang out over the noise of the crowd and the people quieted, all heads turning to look in their direction.
Isa grabbed Robert’s hand, as if for support, scooting closer to him before the old man called out again.
“Join me up here on the steps, lass. I’d have my granddaughter at my side on this day.”
She looked to Robert, her eyes rounded, and he nodded his reassurance before leading her through the opening that formed in the crowd between the laird and where they’d stood. He gave her hand a squeeze before she let go to stand beside her grandfather.
He moved back, but only a couple of steps. Though he wanted to watch Isa, to be able to give her encouragement if she needed it, his attention was completely taken by Lardiner.
The man glared at Isa in a way that made Robert remember the saying, “If looks could kill.” Which made no sense at all.
After all, Roland’s daughter would shortly be the wife of the MacGahan, so what threat could he possibly see in Isa?