Chapter 4
“Me Laird,” Logan called, drawing Ruaridh’s gaze back to him.
He had been watching the English lass and his daughter in the cart they had gotten from one of the farmers' homes at the homestead where they had rejoined his riding party after their agreement to wed.
The discussion still hung over his head like a heavy storm cloud, yet he didn’t know who to blame for the new development.
He had left home to bring his daughter and somehow ended up with a bride. He spared another glance at her, wondering how a lass so frail had managed to upend his life so swiftly.
She was bonny, with a fountain of blonde tresses she had rolled into a bun at the back of her hair and smooth pale skin that didn’t look as though it had seen much of the sun until he had taken her.
Her blue eyes were ringed with exhaustion, but were otherwise bright as she spoke to Keira.
Snippets of their conversation drifted to him, even though he tried to feign disinterest.
She was nothing like he had expected when he had first seen her, looking like a frightened lass in her wedding gown and veil. Though frail in appearance, her eyes were fire and her mouth a den of knives.
She had done all she could to infuriate him since they had met, and more surprisingly, she had made his blood sing in a way it hadn’t since his wife had died.
“Ye’re starin’, me Laird,” Logan commented with a laugh, earning a scathing glare.
“I’m lookin’ at me daughter,” Ruaridh argued.
“Aye, if ye say so.”
“Da,” Keira called. “Are we almost there?”
“Aye, lass,” he answered. “We’re almost home.”
She grinned at him, and her bright face, so much like her mother’s, sent a pang through him.
She had told him of her ordeal with the English bastard while they had waited for the cart to be readied, and now that he recalled their conversation, he gritted his teeth.
The bastard wanted to parade her around to show that a barbarian could be civilized, as if kidnapping a child wasn’t a barbaric act. Ruaridh wished he had asked her before he had let the man go as easily as he did.
The fact that he had failed to protect her from the claws of the English, as he had failed to protect her mother, filled him with undue rage.
His stallion whinnied beneath him, and he rubbed a calming hand down his flank to steady him. “I’m sorry for worrying ye, boy,” he whispered.
He decided to tamp down his rage and focus on the journey ahead. There were more pressing issues to solve now.
He called for them to take a break, and the men agreed. They dismounted, and he assigned Logan to help Keira and the English lass.
He busied himself with seeing to his stallion, rubbing down its flank.
“Daenae look now, but the English lass is glaring at ye again,” Logan whispered, coming up behind him.
Ruaridh tried hard not to look, but he turned slightly and noticed that indeed a hot glare was directed at him. He wondered what he had done now to offend her again.
“Da,” Keira called, walking up to him.
“Aye, Keira?”
“Why is Violet comin’ home with us?” she asked.
He nearly choked, then covered it up with a cough. He hadn’t expected her to ask so suddenly. Although it was surprising that she had refrained from asking all this time.
He swallowed and then cleared his throat, wondering how to answer. He noticed several keen eyes on him and sighed.
“In comin’ to rescue ye, I have put her in trouble with her family. As such, I have taken responsibility for her,” he answered. “We are to be wed soon.”
He didn’t know how his daughter would take the news of his impending marriage to another woman. She asked constantly about her mother, wanting to know everything about her, and his marrying another woman might offend her.
Keira gasped excitedly, surprising him. “Truly?”
“Aye.”
She squealed and launched herself at him. “I am so happy! Do ye ken what she likes? What does she want her wedding dress to look like? Are ye having a big wedding or a small one? Please do a big wedding, Da. Do ye ken if she likes cake?”
Ruaridh stared at her, not knowing how to answer. He didn’t know much about Violet and told her as much.
“Oh, Da,” she sighed, sounding older than her ten years. “Surely ye should have asked these questions before asking her to marry ye.”
“I will get to ken her better when we arrive at the castle,” he answered, feeling chided.
“She’s a rather pale lass,” Keira commented, eyeing Violet where she stood looking over the chaos with Logan beside her.
“Aye,” Ruaridh agreed.
He remembered, unwillingly, how she had looked beneath him with her blonde tresses spilling out around her, looking almost silver in the moonlight. The lust he had felt that night stirred within him, but he quickly tamped it down.
They were not going to have that sort of marriage. Theirs would be one of convenience to preserve her honor and nothing more.
“Come, lass. Go and play,” he urged. “Let me see to the horses.”
Keira ran off to meet the English lass and pulled her hand along as she pointed at the flowers. She made to dash off, but the English lass held her back.
“You must take care before ye head into the shrubbery, Keira,” she warned. “There might be snakes.”
Ruaridh watched his daughter nod earnestly, surprised she would do so at all.
He tried hard not to notice it, but the gold in the English lass’s hair kept drawing his gaze, and he found himself watching her as she checked the bushes before allowing Keira to come closer. The two picked some flowers and sat on the soft grass, weaving.
“What is yer favorite flower, Violet?” Keira asked.
“I love roses and lilies,” the English lass answered.
“I love heathers,” Keira said. “I love how they paint the hills with their color in spring. And what is yer favorite color?”
“I love blue. Blue like the shade of the sky. What’s yours, Keira?”
“I love pink.” Keira smiled. “Me favorite dress is pink.”
“Yes, pink would suit you rather well.” The English lass nodded.
“What other things do ye like besides flowers?” Keira asked. “Do ye like cake?”
“Yes, I love cake,” the English lass answered. “What is your favorite?”
“I love all types,” Keira gushed. “I just cannae choose one.”
“I feel the same, but I’m partial to lemon cake,” the English lass admitted. “And I absolutely love blueberry jelly and egg custards.”
“Me too,” Keira gasped. “Me da lets me eat all the cake I want.”
The English lass smiled. “What don’t you like to eat?”
“I daenae like vegetables.” Keira wrinkled her nose. “They daenae taste good.”
Ruaridh didn’t care for the information the two were sharing and tried to tune them out, moving further down the riverbank to splash cool water on his face.
“Yes, I feel the same,” the English lass murmured. “I daenae like vegetables as well, but I eat them because my father forces me to.”
“What is yer da like?” Keira asked.
Ruaridh found himself straining to listen despite telling himself he shouldn’t care.
“He is sweet and funny, but he can be controlling,” the English lass answered. “He doesn’t let me eat many sweets and insists I must eat my vegetables.”
Keira gasped. “Even now?”
“Even now.”
“Me da doesnae force me to do anythin’,” she said with a nod.
“You’re a most lucky girl, Keira,” the English lass said. “My father picked a husband for me and didn’t agree to end it when I didn’t like him. I am glad to see you will not suffer the same fate.”
That surprised Ruaridh. He had thought the tears she had shed were because she mourned the loss of her marriage to Lord Westall.
He didn’t understand why her father would force her to marry such an odious man, and the fact that he had abandoned her so readily annoyed him even more.
The man was a bloody coward, and it annoyed Ruaridh that the lass had to suffer such an insult from a bastard like Westall without anybody to defend her honor.
“Aye, me da willnae force me to marry,” Keira declared proudly.
“If he tries to, I’m sure you won’t give him any peace.”
“Nae in the least.”
“You’re such a brave girl, Keira,” the English lass praised. “I wish I were as brave as you. I would have stood up to my father long ago.”
“Ye can still be brave, Violet,” Keira encouraged. “When ye’re married to me da, ye willnae have anythin’ to fear again.”
“Perhaps I will send your da to fight all my enemies.”
Keira laughed, and the sound made Ruaridh’s lips twitch.
He cleared his throat and rose, walking towards his horse again, needing a moment to himself. But seeing the sun begin to dip, he called for them to move. His men sprang into action, readying the horses and attaching filled waterskins.
He watched the English lass help Keira onto the cart and laugh as she struggled and failed to get on by herself. The sight made a small smile cross his lips.
Stubborn lass.
“’Tis good to see they get along as well as they do,” Logan commented, coming to stand beside him.
Ruaridh grunted and mounted his horse, saying nothing.
Logan mounted beside him, and they looked back one last time to see if the two lasses were settled. Once satisfied, they began to move again.
“Do ye really intend to marry the English lass?” Logan asked again, taking care to keep his voice low. “I thought ye couldnae forgive them the death of yer wife.”
Yes, Ruaridh did not. It was why he hadn’t hesitated to ride into English territory with weapons to rescue Keira.
He looked over at the English lass again and found her eyes already on him. He swallowed, turning away from her.
He did hate the English for all they stood for, but this lass with her bright blue eyes was innocent of the evils they had done to him. If anything, she seemed a victim of her own people.
He only hoped he hadn’t made a grievous mistake by bringing her into his life.