Chapter 14 #2
“Indeed, lass, ye were suffering from great terrors in yer sleep and begged me tae remain by yer side.”
She nodded slowly. “I remember now. I dreamed Harris MacDonald had me by the throat.” She shuddered, rubbing her arms. “I thank ye fer helping tae soothe me fears and keep me safe from harm.”
“I understand the terrors of the night. Are ye often haunted by such fearful dreams.”
She shook her head. “Nay. I believe this is the first time I’ve been held by such a dream.”
“And, I pray, the last of them.”
He released a long breath, gazing at her. She was adorable, her hair mussed about her face with tiny curls, her eyes still sleepy, the lids drooping. The memory of her warm body pressed to his during the night hardened his arousal.
He paced to the fireplace where the last embers of the fire still glowed. Hoping to conceal the enormous bulge in his groin, he turned his back to Tyra and made a great show of adding fresh logs to the fireplace. He took up the iron poker and set about bringing the fire back to life.
When he glanced around, Tyra had already got to her feet and was smoothing her crumpled gown.
“I shall leave ye tae wash and dress in yer new finery.” He was unable to keep the smirk from his face at the thought of her stripping naked at the washbasin.
He swiveled and strode toward the door.
“Laird Ewan, once we have washed and changed our clothing, mayhap we could break our fast taegether?” She gave him a shy smile.
Her suggestion caught him by surprise. All at once, the prospect of sharing his breakfast with her seemed most charming.
Turning again to her, he grinned. “I would most certainly enjoy that.” With that he made his departure, hoping she had not noticed his strutting shaft.
He hastened back to his chamber where washed and changed to a clean, white, linen shirt. He adjusted his kilt and jacket and, as he well kent the lengthy time it took for a lass to make ready, he went looking for Duncan.
He found him with the armorer, testing the sharpness of his weapons.
As Ewan approached, Duncan threw him a curious look. “Well, braither, I returned from the village past midnight. As ye bid me tae speak wi’ ye when I came back, I went straight tae yer chamber. I knocked loud and long, but ye didnae answer.”
He raised a brow. “Were ye sleeping soundly, Braither?
Ewan cleared his throat but offered no explanation. “I wasnae in me chamber last night, as well ye would ken if ye’d opened the door.” He gave a frustrated laugh. “So, what did ye discover.”
“The seamstress gave me the name of a lad who had come requesting the gowns fer Lady Tyra. He was hurrying and didnae wait fer her tae properly package them and rode off with them bundled on his saddle.” He chuckled.
“Maeve was most indignant that her delicate stitching should be treated with such disrespect.”
Ewan tapped his foot impatiently. “Did ye pass on the name tae Joseph so he could point out the lad?”
“Aye. It was a lad, name of Alexander Ranald. Joseph daesnae ken him and swears there’s nay lad of that name among the castle staff.”
“God’s blood,” Ewan thundered. “Clan Ranald is closely allied with the MacDonalds of Sleat. I daresay, the young caitiff, having delivered his message, will be long gone tae rejoin his master.”
Duncan looked at Ewan calmly. “Ye were tae tell me what this is about when I returned. Please dae enlighten me.”
“Along wi’ the gowns, this lad delivered a message meant fer the lady, which she judges tae have been sent by Harris MacDonald. He kens she’s here and was issuing a threat that she could nae escape him.”
Duncan gave a disgusted huff and turned back to the matter of his claymore’s sharp blade. “We’ll match that lowlife MacDonald if he dares his luck at Eilean Donan. Sharpen yer blades, milaird.”
“Aye. This is the second indication that MacDonald is close by. We need our war-band tae increase our patrols both on the water and on land. And when ye’ve arranged that, send soldiers from the garrison that ye can trust, tae question the villagers and advise them tae keep watch fer any stranger.
If an outsider is spotted, tell them tae send word tae the castle at once. ”
Duncan nodded, turned and hurried in the direction of the quarters where their men were garrisoned, while Ewan headed to the banqueting hall to meet with Tyra and break his fast.
On hearing of the lad having infiltrated the castle, his concern was growing. And still there was no word from her brother, Laird Edmund.
Tyra was alone when he entered, and he was dazzled by her welcoming smile. He took a seat beside her while the maids fussed over them, filling tankards with ale, ladling porridge into bowls, piling bannocks and bowls of blackcurrant and raspberry jam in front of them.
“There is still nay word from Scorrybreac?” Tyra asked, spooning a good helping of clotted cream onto her porridge.
“Nae yet. But I expect a messenger any time.” He was loath to mention the missing Alexander Ranald, for fear of alarming her even more than she had been already. “The weather has cleared a little and the wind is brisk, the birlinn will make good sailing.”
They continued making small talk, Ewan pleased with her company.
Isla appeared, slightly breathless, as if she’d been hurrying.
“I am praying the weather clears.” She broke a bannock into tiny pieces and dipped one into the cream.
“I am so tired of remaining indoors.” She turned to Ewan.
“Is there nay business ye and Duncan must attend tae in the village? I’ve heard there’s a peddler arriving.
He’s bringing a load of French silks and Italian damasks from a ship recently docked in Glasgow.
” She turned to Tyra. “Would ye nae adore a new dress?”
Tyra laughed. “Why, I have three already.”
Ewan looked her over grinning. “And ye are very fine in yer new-old velvet gown. I have nay doubt it looks far bonnier on ye than it ever could have suited dear Cousin Agnes. But, Isla, if ye’ve tired of the village weavers and their woolen plaids, mayhap, we could enquire of this peddler and his wares. ”
He did not mention that he wished to visit the village and question some of the villagers. Especially Malcolm, who was the hub of gossip for the entire parish and would be the most likely one to have heard a whisper of strangers.
“It will depend on the weather, Isla. If it dinnae snow again, I may consider it.”
Isla’s eyes lit up. “And if we dae travel, can we dine at the inn?”
Ewan considered this for a moment. “We shall see.”
Isla turned to Tyra. “It is difficult tae amuse oneself in the depths of winter in the castle, when I long tae stretch me legs or ride me pony. Today I have prevailed on Betsy, our cook, tae show me how tae make a pie. I am overfond of apple pie and cream and she has promised tae reveal her secrets tae me.” She popped a piece of bannock into her mouth chewed and swallowed, washing it down with a draught of ale.
“Would ye care tae join me in the kitchen, Lady Tyra?”
Tyra smiled. “Why, I would enjoy that. I share yer love of apple pies.”
“Then, I shall look forward to the fruits of yer labors this evening at supper.” Ewan got to his feet as Tyra and Isla hurried off. He had more serious things in mind, yet he was glad of the diversion Isla was creating for Tyra.
He went in search of Duncan with a view to some arms practice.
He held little doubt his warrior prowess would be called upon before much time had passed.
On the way, he dropped off his collection of claymores, dirks and short swords to the armorer.
His tools of war had to be whetted, honed, and sharp-edged.