Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
A listair watched Niamh walk away with a small smirk on his face. He knew she wasn’t as indifferent to him as she seemed. He’d seen the blush on her cheeks and heard the slight yearning in her voice. She might not have thought well of him, not at first, but she wasn’t indifferent to him.
His hand went to the ring at his throat. He’d forgotten he was wearing his first wife’s ring where she might see it. Fortunate that she’d accepted his explanation without question. Wooing the lass or not, there were some things he wasn’t ready to talk about.
He’d made enough of an impression to receive her invitation to call upon her. There was no reason he couldn’t let things end there for the day. He could enjoy the festival, perhaps find a trinket to present as a gift when he visited and wait for the morrow.
That was the sensible thing to do. He knew as well as any man that, no matter how hurried the courtship was intended to be, there were few women who could be properly wooed in a day. And Niamh Cameron was not one of them.
Even knowing that, he found himself trailing the lass, following her at a leisurely pace as she slipped through the crowd. With his height, he had little difficulty keeping her in sight, the pursuit was made even easier by her gleaming auburn hair – an unusual color and shade, and all the more unusual when paired with her pale skin and slim figure. To say nothing of her well-made dress and the Cameron tartan that served as a sash.
He wondered why she was so set on meeting her friend without an escort. It seemed odd, unless of course she was meeting a man. There was nothing in her demeanor that had suggested she had a lover, and the list he’d caught a glimpse of argued against the presence of a suitor. Still, he wasn’t prepared to rule anything out.
If she has a lover already, how should I handle it? ‘Twould be almost impossible tae interfere without revealing her faither arranged a contract with me, and she’ll certainly resent me fer tak’ng her from a chosen partner – be it a true bond or merely a light-o’-love turn about the village.
On the one hand, it didn’t sit well with him to separate the lass from someone she might have a genuine bond with. On the other, her hating him for such a thing could only protect both of them. And surely, she’d understand if her father explained things to her.
Alistair shook his head. He didn’t even know that it was a male acquaintance she was meeting. It might be a village girl or a servant that she was fond of. Rumor had it the Lady Cameron had died in childbirth. It wasn’t unheard of for a lass raised without a mother to form close bonds to female servants or village women. Anyone who could and would fill the void left by the lack of a mother’s love.
If that was the case, perhaps he could convince the woman, whoever she was and whatever station she held, to relocate to MacDuff Clan. That might make the whole process of moving easier for the lass – whenever they reached that point.
Alistair followed Niamh to the minstrel’s station, then beyond it. He frowned as she slipped off the main path, heading for a copse of trees a little way back.
What on earth can she be doin’ there? Dinnae tell me she’s managed tae summon one o’ the Fair Folk!
That was unlikely, but a motherless lass would be the sort to tempt such figures, if ever they’d existed and still walked the earth.
Niamh slipped through the trees, into a small clearing. Alistair felt his eyes widen as he spotted a slender, cloaked figure amid the trees. Then Niamh gave a soft cry of delight and darted forward. “Grace!”
The figure embraced her, hood falling back to reveal shining golden hair and eyes the color of the sky. “Niamh! I was afraid you were not coming!”
“And sorry I am tae be late, but there was a bit of a brawl…” Whatever else she said was lost amid the roaring in Alistair’s ears.
Now he knew why Niamh hadn’t wanted him to meet her friend, and the truth was worse than he’d imagined.
The lass Niamh embraced with such evident joy was very clearly not a clanswoman, but an English lass... and by her appearance, nobility at that.
Niamh felt almost faint with relief when she spotted Grace waiting amid the trees. Her friend was always a bit shy and nervous about being alone when they attended the festival, and with good reason. Not only was Grace blessed with beautiful, fine features and eyes like a robin’s egg, but one word from her would inevitably betray her English upbringing.
Niamh had never cared that Grace was English born and raised any more than she’d cared for the fact that her friend was a year younger than she. Grace was Grace, and they’d been friends since the first autumn festival when they’d both escaped their minders to explore the festival together.
Still, for all Niamh didn’t care, she knew that there were many clan-folk who would take offense to an English lass among them. Most would be content to sneer and spit, but some might do her harm. Just as some might attempt to accost her because of her delicate appearance and pretty features. So they always met in secluded locations and walked the festival together.
Grace was the first to step back from their embrace, her blue eyes wide with concern. “You said there was a brawl? Were you hurt?”
“Nay. I wasnae. A stranger I’d run intae was kind enough tae protect me.” Niamh felt the familiar tell-tale heat rising in her cheeks and hurried to change the subject. “And what o’ ye? Did ye have any difficulties?”
Grace sighed. “I am fortunate to have friends among the guards. My uncle grows more strict and more suspicious with every passing year. Indeed, I fear he is near the end of his patience, for he has been hinting that he will find me a husband, no matter what I do to thwart him. Even if he must wed to me to his sworn enemies.”
“He wouldnae really, would he?”
“And why would he not, if they have gold enough to satisfy him? I have done as much as I can, but sooner or later, there will be someone who can be convinced to overlook my apparent flaws.” Grace sighed, melancholy darkening her gaze. “I fear he has an enticing offer on his side, for he does not ask for an heir to my family’s title. He wants to hold the Lancaster name himself, so he is more than pleased for any child of mine to belong to someone else’s line.”
Niamh hugged her gently. “Och, well, we’ll dae everything we can tae prevent that from coming tae pass, ye and I. After all, we’re both in the same situation, are we nae? Me faither is kinder than yer uncle, but there’s nay question that he’s looking fer a husband fer me as well.” Niamh grinned and held up her list. “He’s had nay luck so far, though. I’ve nae met a suitor yet who I couldnae best.”
As she’d hoped would happen, Grace laughed. “You are a proper hellion, as my old nurse would say. If she knew that we were friends, she would say you are a very bad influence as well.”
“And if her father kent she was consorting with an English wench, he’d likely die o’ shame or see her sequestered fer the rest o’ her days.” The low growling voice startled both of them. Niamh spun around.
“Alistair?”
Why would he be here? How did he find us so far off the pathways?