Chapter Two #2
“I am Tilly. Nay, I am sorry, but I havenae seen anyone from away come through the village. We would ken, as all of us are local.” She assessed Alana’s gown. “Outsiders tend to stick out like sore thumbs, if ye ken what my meaning.”
Irritation bubbled at the realization that her guards had truly abandoned her.
Did no one in her soon-to-be husband’s clan have any integrity?
From what she had seen so far, she would say not.
Dread settled deep in her belly at the thought that entered her mind.
What type of life was she destined to live once she arrived at her new home?
None of it seemed appealing from what she’d seen of his men.
Her father’s guards would never have done such a thing. And in the off chance someone did, her father would have had them punished severely. The men would have been whipped and then spent a night or two in the dungeon with just water and bread to eat.
Alana could only hope that her husband would treat such desertion of duty in much the same way.
“Word has been sent to Laird Hart. He will ensure ye are taken care of.”
Alana sighed. “When will he arrive? I really must be going on my way. We had a schedule to adhere to.”
Tilly’s mouth turned down. “Again, my lady, I apologize. I have no control o’er our laird and his timeframes. Howe’er we have sent for him and he or a delegate will arrive to assist ye.”
She wasn’t happy with that answer, but she also couldn’t blame the villagers. They were only doing what they would normally do when a stranger arrived in their village.
Tilly smiled. “Come. Let us get some food in yer belly whilst ye wait. Ye must be starving.”
As if on cue, Alana’s stomach let out a loud grumble and Tilly grinned.
“Aye, as I said, ye must be starving after yer journey.”
She let the woman lead her down the street and to a quaint cottage. Ushering Alana inside, she urged her to take a seat at one of the empty tables.
The smells of fresh baked bread and roasted meat filled her senses.
Two hours later, Alana’s appetite was sated and she warmed herself by the hearth, a warm mug of cider in her hands. Her boots sat near the flame, drying, along with her soaked stockings, which were hanging from nearby hooks.
Murmurs from those around her caught her attention and she looked over to the doorway and her breath caught in her throat.
A fierce Highlander had entered, and people approached him, bowing in greeting.
W-w-was he to be her escort? He looked terrifying and she fought against the shiver that traveled up her spine.
He was tall, easily over a foot taller than she, with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. A thick beard covered his strong jaw, a deep scar splitting his left cheek in two, and he appeared unkempt. Dust and dirt covered his clothing.
Was this Laird Hart? He was younger than she expected him to be. Furthermore, he obviously had no self-respect in that he had not even bothered to wash himself up to greet a guest.
She almost laughed. Probably would have if she hadn’t been caught by his intense gaze as if a gnat in a web, unable to get away.
She kenned she was judging him unfairly considering her appearance was no better than his.
At least all of his clothes were free of tears. She could not say the same of hers.
Setting the cider down, Alana stood and approached the man. From this close, he looked even bigger than she had originally thought. He remained silent, looking unimpressed as he assessed her.
“Laird Hart,” she called, dipping into a curtsy to show her respect.
“Is my father.”
“Pardon?”
He sighed, irritation lacing his voice. “Laird Hart is my father. I am Rory Hart, one of his sons.”
She pressed her lips together. His brooding presence intimidated her. But she couldn’t let that stop her. She needed to push forward.
With a defiant lift of her chin, something that she hoped would show him that she would not back down, she said, “I need transport and lodging. I am due to my betrothed in the coming days.”
Laughing loudly, he crossed his arms, his dark green eyes traveling from her face and lower, resting on her bosom afore moving lower, then sweeping back up to meet her gaze. “I suggest ye walk.”
“Excuse me? Do ye ken who I am? I am Laird Duran’s daughter. His only daughter. Ye are required to get me safely to my destination.”
He lifted a brow and narrowed his eyes.
“I believe ye have mistaken me for someone else. I dinnae take orders from a lass.” He spun and walked toward the door.
“Wait!” Alana called after him, following quickly. She picked up her skirts so that she could move faster. Then, remembering her boots and stockings, she ran back to the fire to retrieve them, afore running back toward the door. “Sir, wait, please,” she begged.
His back stiffened, but he paused. They were outside now and had caught the attention of many of the villagers.
“Ye cannae dismiss me. Werenae ye sent to assist me in my travels?”
He clucked his tongue as he turned and pierced her with a non-plussed look that had her taking a step back. Had she pushed him too far?
“I was.” He stepped closer, bending down so he could look her in the eye. “Howe’er I dinnae take kindly to being ordered about by a lass. Especially one I have only had the unfortunate circumstance to just meet.”
She chewed her lip as she began to wring her hands together. She could see how he could be affronted by that.
He looked down at her bare feet and the boots and stockings she’d set on the ground, a frown turning down the corners of his mouth.
She huffed in a breath. “I do apologize. ’Tis been a trying day. My guards have abandoned me—”
“I am beginning to see why,” he interjected.
Taking a steadying breath, Alana wet her lips, but ignored his jab. She was aware of the villagers watching them with smiles upon their faces. Some of them giggling as they saw the scene unfolding betwixt them, clearly amused by their exchange. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment.
“As I was saying,” she continued. “I need yer help. Am I correct to assume that yer father, Laird Hart, sent ye here for that?” She waited silently, wanting to shrink into the ground under his scrutiny as he studied her.
“Aye,” he finally agreed, and she let out the breath she had been holding.
She nodded, trying to think of the words that wouldn’t upset him. Though she didn’t ken what to say, since the man standing afore her looked to be easily angered.
The villagers still watched them and her face burned with humiliation. He was to be her escort and the sooner they began their journey, the sooner it would be done and over with and she could forget this whole exchange.
It was something that she would never speak of again. She just needed to get to her husband-to-be.
And then she could forget Rory Hart existed.