Chapter Six
Taskill
“I hear you’re getting married, Taskill,” one of the serving maids teased when he came in to grab a loaf of bread to take to the men at the gates.
Taskill sauntered over to the pretty maid. “And where did you hear that, Florie?”
Jasper entered behind him for an ale. “What say you, T?” Then he laughed.
That was Jasper’s latest entertainment, asking Taskill if he would marry this one or that one. Didn’t matter if they were married, a serving maid, or a wench who traveled the road.
“Nay, Jasper,” he shouted, refusing to look at the man.
Florie shrugged her shoulders and giggled. “I don’t remember. Is it true?” Her eyes were wide as saucers as she waited for his answer.
“I’m sorry to tell you that it’s not true. I have not chosen a bride yet.”
“Oh, surely you have your eye on someone,” she whispered, fanning her eyelashes just so. “Who would you choose?”
Taskill noticed she gave him her best smile, stuck her chest out, then settled her hands on her curvaceous hips. He’d said nothing to encourage her, yet here she was, aiming to strike him with her feminine wiles. “I don’t have anyone in mind. Now about that bread?”
“But would you ever marry a serving lass?” The innocent look on her face nearly made him jest with her, but he decided it was time to stop his teasing.
“I would marry the one who stole my heart. That’s all I can say.”
“But what would it take …”
“Florie!” His mother’s voice carried from the balcony. The serving lass jumped and ran back into the kitchens.
Rut MacVey’s voice boomed from the staircase. “Honestly, Taskill. If you would not encourage them, it would be easier to chastise them. Leave them be.”
Taskill took the bread handed to him before Florie hurried away, then he spun around.
“Mama, did you overhear the entire conversation? Because I’d like to know how I encouraged her.
You all think I like to spend my time basking in the admiration of female company, but sometimes I’m just answering questions and trying not to hurt someone’s feelings. ”
His mother approached and her gaze went from his toes to his head before she sighed.
“I suppose you cannot help it if you look like your mother. You are a fine specimen of manhood, Taskill, and the lasses are not blind. It certainly is not entirely your fault. I know that to be the truth. They do often fall at your feet.”
“Not quite, Mama, but they do ramble on and wiggle quite a bit.”
“The lads fell at my feet, so I understand your problem. Now, what to do about Sheona.”
Taskill groaned and hung his head. “Mama, truly? Now?”
“Taskill, inside Lennox’s solar. Now.” She pointed and while Taskill let out a loud groan, he followed her inside.
“What, Mama? I thought this entire situation was over. I’m not marrying Sheona.” At least, he thought it had come to an end.
“Apparently, you don’t know that old coot the way I do. He’s not going to let this go until Sheona is married. Now, you have two choices. You marry her, or you find someone who will marry her willingly.”
“But she’s not ready to marry either. And she should choose her own husband.” When would this torture end? All because of this foolish secret he kept inside. He reached for the rock on his brother’s desk and tossed it back and forth from one hand to the other.
“What the hell is in your head?”
“What?” Damn, but his mother was good. Except most of the time, she had her energy focused on Lennox and Eva. She’d always ignored the one in the middle, but now, all of a sudden, she couldn’t take her focus away from Taskill. He had to fix this somehow.
“You’re hiding something.”
“What?” He jumped up from his chair and paced in a circle.
“Oh, that’s not an admission of guilt at all, Taskill. Out with it. What is holding you back?”
“Naught. I’m just upset by all this.” He took his seat again and set the rock back on his brother’s desk. Hellfire, but no one had ever noticed what he did most of the time. Eva had always been Da’s wee lassie and Lennox had been heir to the chief.
No one had ever cared what he did all day.
This change since his siblings had married did not suit him one bit.
He had to take the attention away from himself.
“All right, let’s find another for Sheona.
Who would we suggest? I’m willing to talk with anyone.
Sheona is a beautiful lass. She’s smart, and Eva said she’s doing well learning axe throwing.
She’d make someone a fine wife. Why, her bairns would be lovely. ”
“Keep going. Mayhap you’ll convince yourself. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“She’s not for me, Mama!”
His mother’s hands rose as a sign of her giving up.
“I’ll accept that. Let’s move on, then. There is a festival at Duart Castle this eve.
I was not planning to attend, but Lennox and Eva are going, so I think we should go too.
We’ll move through the crowd and see who is available.
Have you any ideas? Who are all the unmarried men on the isle?
And when you think on it, make sure you consider how fussy the bastard Dermot is going to be.
” She twirled a loose hair as she stared at the wall over Taskill’s head.
“Mama. Since when do you curse like a Norseman?”
“Since Eva moved to Rankin land.”
He chuckled over that comment, but then considered all the men on the isle. “There’s Brian MacQuarie. And there’s also Broc MacNicol.”
“Broc is betrothed to Merryn.”
“Not officially. They handfasted, I think.”
“He’s not a choice. But Brian is definitely a reasonable candidate. Keep going.”
He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. This was important. “Brian would be an excellent candidate. He’s always said he wanted bairns.”
“Fine. Speak with him this eve. Who else?”
“Tristan MacClane.”
His mother scowled. “I suppose. He’s a busy man. I doubt he’s ready to commit to anyone yet.”
“You don’t know that.”
“True. Fine. We have Brian and Tristan. Who else?”
A knock interrupted them, and Meg stuck her head in. “May I join you? What’s going on with Taskill and Sheona?”
Taskill sighed. “Aye, please join us. I’m running out of names.” And he needed someone to support his stance against his mother. Anyone to draw his mother’s attention away from him.
“Meg just moved here. How is she going to know anyone, Taskill?” His mother shook her head but waved for Meg to join them.
Meg asked, “What do I not know?”
Taskill explained, “Mama has come up with the brilliant idea to find another man for Sheona, so that I can be let out of this arrangement. She thinks Dermot won’t change his mind, so we are trying to create a list of alternative potential husbands.”
His mother stared at the wall. “I’ll fix that old goat.
He’ll not be bossing my bairns around.” A quick smirk passed over her face before she covered it, brought her attention back to Taskill, and said, “We need more names. More prospective husbands for Sheona. They shouldn’t be too far away.
Dermot won’t like his daughter going too far away. ”
“You must know him well, Rut,” Meg said with a smile, casting a sideways glance at Taskill. “Who do you have so far?”
Taskill sighed and said, “Brian MacQuarie and Tristan MacClane. That’s all. Can you add to the list? We’re going to the festival at Duart Castle and hope others will be there this eve. Know you any single Grants or Ramsays?”
“Aye, they’ll have to have noble blood. Dermot will insist upon it.” Rut pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair.
Meg frowned. “I’m not noble blood.”
Rut gave an unladylike snort. “I’m not Dermot Rankin now, am I? I’m much more accepting than he is.” His mother lifted her chin a notch, and Taskill had to stop from smiling. Was there something between his mother and Dermot? “Go ahead, Meg. I’m hoping for at least one more.”
Meg laughed. “One? There are plenty of Grants and Ramsays.”
Taskill had to admit that her answer shocked him. He had no idea, and he’d lived here much longer than Meg had, so how did she know? “Names, please. Any male who is unmarried.”
“There’s Broc’s brother, Paden. And Alaric has a brother named Jowell.
He’s really cute. And Hagen has that golden-blond hair like a Norse god, all bronze-skinned from the sun.
He would be a splendid choice. Oh! And the Ramsays.
I heard Connor say his cousin Brigid had two lads who were driving all the lasses daft.
One was here. I think they called him Hawk, and he has a brother named Merek.
Oh, and Eli’s only brother named Errol, but I don’t know how old he is. ”
Taskill and his mother both stared at Meg. He was shocked that Meg spoke the way she did.
“How do you know all these men, my dear?” his mother asked.
“At the battle. There were so many Grants there that I was fascinated. And it’s easy to see who goes together.
All the blonds go with Dyna, Connor, and Sela.
And the handsomest ones go with Alaric. And then Broc’s family has the reddish coloring from their father.
And Alasdair. It’s too bad he didn’t have any brothers.
He looks just like Connor, who looks just like his father, so they say.
And John looks exactly like Alasdair, so they call him a miniature Alex Grant.
Long dark hair and fierce looking. With his blue sword, he was unbelievable for his age.
I’d not fight him. And the Ramsays? They say Errol is just like his grandfather Logan. ”
That made Rut smile. “Oh, we have to introduce him to Sheona. Dermot and Logan. I would enjoy watching those two together.”
Taskill asked Meg, “Has Lennox heard you talk like this about all these men?”
The door opened, and Lennox came in. “Aye, he just did. I’m not worried about my wife. She’s only trying to help you, Taskill. So, you have a few to pick from. Brian, Tristan, Jowell, Hagen, Paden, Hawk, Merek, Errol. But when do you plan to do this?”
Rut said, “At the Grantham festival this eve. It’s supposed to be a large one. They may not all be there, but we’ll have some to speak with.”
Lennox kissed Meg’s cheek and said, “Add two more. Angus MacKinnis’s two lads—Emrys and Madoc. His wife is from Wales.”
“Are you going, Lennox?” Taskill asked.
His brother snorted, something he didn’t do often. “Of course we’re going. I wouldn’t miss the food. With all those archers, there will be so much pheasant that I’ll surely get my fill. And I heard they now have sheep and a few cows too.”
Meg giggled. “I love Grantham festivals. You’ll see, Taskill. We’ll find someone for Sheona. It will be delightful!”
Taskill didn’t say what he thought.
If Dermot Rankin showed up, it was destined to be more like a disaster.