Chapter Sixteen #3
“Ah, another fine feast,” Mungan said as the table was cleared of all save the tankards of ale.
He sprawled in his huge chair, his gaze fixing on Moira as he rubbed one big hand back and forth over his taut stomach.
“Now, Moira, lass, a battle is brewing, so we had best get on with this courting business.”
“Oh, weel put, Cousin,” muttered Tavig, torn between amusement and annoyance. He did not like Mungan pursuing Moira, but the man was so inept at the art of courtship it was laughable.
Mungan ignored Tavig. “’Tis said by some that a lass likes to have a wee stroll about when the moon is up.”
“Aye, ’tis verra nice,” agreed Moira.
Tavig watched Una. The woman was so furious her eyes glowed with the emotion, and her cheeks were flushed a deep red.
It was highly inconsiderate of Mungan to talk about wooing Moira while he held Una’s hand.
What troubled Tavig, however, was how Una was directing her fury at Moira and not at Mungan where it belonged.
Moira was not encouraging Mungan and did not deserve that anger.
Unfortunately, Una would not turn it toward Mungan, for she loved the man.
“Weel, then, I can take ye for another stroll about the inner bailey,” Mungan cried.
“Nay,” Moira cried, smiling quickly. “I fear I am still weary from our last walk.”
“Aye? But that was hours ago.” He scowled at her then looked at Tavig, saying, “She doesnae seem to be a verra strong lass. How did ye get her here?”
Moira first gaped at Mungan, then looked so beautifully outraged that Tavig was hard-pressed not to laugh. “She walked, Mungan. Walked, climbed, waded through water and occasionally ran.”
“Ah, I see.” He nodded then smiled at Moira. “Ye need to rest more from your journey. We can go for a wee amble tomorrow eve. Ye will be recovered by then.” He looked at Una. “Do ye wish to go?”
Tavig managed to hold back his laughter until Una and Mungan left the great hall. One look at Moira’s face broke his restraint. She looked stunned. As he laughed, she controlled herself and glared, first at the door their cousins had strolled through, then at Tavig.
“I cannae believe she went with him.” Moira took a long drink of ale, banged her tankard back down on the table, and shook her head. “He speaks of courting me, tries to take me outside for another swift race about the bailey, and, when I say nay, he asks her. Doesnae Una have any pride?”
“She loves the overgrown fool,” Tavig said, laughter still evident in his voice.
Moira sighed and sent him a half-smile. “I ken it. The question is, does he care for her? Tavig, Una has spent her whole life beneath her father’s fists.
’Tis verra odd, considering what Mungan looks like and the fact that he kidnapped Una, but she isnae afraid of him.
I am worried about how she will feel or act if—” Her eyes widened when he placed a finger against her lips, stopping her words.
“I swear to you, dearling, Mungan cares for your cousin. ’Tis hard to explain Mungan to those who havenae been with him for years as I have.
In his mind ’tis more important to keep that tower house from falling into the hands of an enemy.
I also think he strives to eradicate all memory of his father’s harmless but obvious insanity.
He probably thinks Una will understand this.
Recall how directly he spoke to you. He made no secret of the fact that he would try to persuade you to wed him so that he could have that tower house.
Ye cannae accuse him of playing ye false. ”
“That is true enough. Aye, one cannae say he is playing Una false, either. ’Tis probably why she is so angry with me and not him. She loves Mungan, and he is being painfully honest. That leaves her with only me to blame.”
“Which is unfair. Her anger concerns me. I cannae help but remember whose daughter she is.”
“Oh, I dinnae believe Una would hurt me. For all she has been the victim of brutality and has learned all about it since she was a bairn, she has never even slapped her maids. I think, in Una’s mind, such violence is a mon’s province.
The fact that Mungan doesnae act in such a way makes him nearly a saint in Una’s eyes, of course. ”
“There is a solution to all of this,” Tavig began.
She held up her hand, shaking her head. “Ye need not repeat yourself I am weel aware of your solution. ’Tis only our first day here. Mungan already thinks I am a weakling. Mayhap he will decide he doesnae want me, that even that cursed tower house isnae worth taking to wife a sickly lass.”
There was such a clear look of doubt on Tavig’s face, she inwardly cursed.
Even as she spoke of the possibility, she had experienced her own doubts.
She had wanted Tavig to ease them. Instead he shared and intensified them.
Although she had not known Mungan Coll long, she had the sinking feeling he was the type of man who would need a sign from God Himself to make him change his mind.
Moira sincerely hoped they would soon be blessed with one of those.
“One more day,” she murmured, scowling into her tankard of ale.
“What did ye say?” asked Tavig.
“I said I will give it one more day. Mayhap things will change.” Moira did not find Tavig’s short bark of laughter very encouraging.