Chapter Two #8
That night had been awful. The community had lost so much.
She and her sister had lost their home and dear friends.
Shinae had been forced to accept a new way of life, and now Mhàiri had to recreate her own future.
At one time, it had looked so promising.
Now, it was not bleak—it was blank. She felt suddenly subject to the decisions of others and no longer had a say in her life.
Conan tried to focus on what Mhàiri was saying, but it was difficult being in the middle of both ecstasy and physical agony. When Father Lanaghly had first proposed that they ride together, Conan had almost refused. Riding in the cart was miserable on the body, but he had wanted to talk to Mhàiri.
Last night, he had marched off not realizing that he still had her drawing in his hand.
He had stayed up and studied it until exhaustion had taken over.
His last thoughts had been that he had to somehow convince Mhàiri to teach him how to draw like she did.
If he could learn her technique, even poorly, it would aid him enormously in what he wanted to achieve with his maps.
But he had been unable to approach her. Now, he was speaking to her as he had hoped, but sitting next to her was creating a lot of pain in his lower region.
Each bump caused their arms to touch, bringing her even closer. Plus, her hair was driving him to distraction. It kept blowing against him, and the smell of flowers constantly drifted his way. At first, talking had been a welcome distraction. Unfortunately, it was no longer working.
“So what clan do you belong to, Mhàiri?”
“My father’s people are the Mayboills. They’re in the Lowlands, but it has been many years since he called their land his home.”
“He went to your mother’s clan then?”
“Nay. She was Romani and felt most at home when free, with no ties to a particular homeland, let alone a clan. She met my father when he was young and went abroad to bring back to Scottish people the treasures of the world. She used to say that my father and she were kindred spirits, always enjoying the place they were at but also just as eager to see what lay ahead.”
“And you are like your mother.”
Mhàiri sighed softly. “In many ways. But I’m also like my father. I love this wild, harsh but wondrous land, and seeing its beauty has always given me peace.”
“You mentioned that your father was a merchant.”
“Aye,” she answered simply. Then, seeing Conan’s frustrated look, Mhàiri realized he wanted her to continue talking.
It puzzled her, but she obliged. “He mostly sells goods in the Lowlands and northern England, but he tries to get to Spain at least once a year for hemp paper. He befriended the owner of the paper mill one time and they are now good friends. He always keeps a few blank books ready for Papa.”
Conan nodded. That explained a lot. “Your father must have done him a really big favor to have access to hemp.” Laurel would be proud.
They had been riding for a couple of hours and not a single argument.
He had inquired about her family and listened to what Mhàiri had to say.
Who knew? Maybe, he was finally learning how to act like a gentleman.
“Since you are not a nun, what are your plans?”
“Father Lanaghly said that your brother would send word that would reach my father, letting him know to come and get me.”
“Conor will, but I’d be careful, otherwise there is a good chance you’ll be married before your father ever arrives.”
Mhàiri huffed. “I thought I had just made it clear that I absolutely do not want to be married.”
Conan put his hand out in retreat. “First, you are not against marriage, for I suspect you would find it unacceptable for your father and mother to live together, am I right?”
“Aye, but—”
“And,” Conan continued, “I was only trying to warn you about Laurel. Lady McTiernay is very nice and is indeed all the wonderful things you will hear, but she is also incredibly meddlesome. The woman thinks she sees love all around her and enjoys nothing more than putting people together. She has got involved in all of my older brothers’ lives and, each time, the result was marriage.
” Conan decided not to mention that they were happily married and none of them would change a thing about their lives.
“I’m the only lucky one. Laurel vows never to help any woman tie herself to the likes of me.
So with all my brothers being gone, she is going to see you and get all excited. Just be prepared.”
A look of horror overcame Mhàiri’s face, and Conan had to bite back a smile. Ha, Laurel! This is for all the grief you’ve given me over the years, he thought to himself as he imagined Laurel failing to persuade Mhàiri into the state of matrimony.
“Lady McTiernay can try, but she will be wasting her time,” Mhàiri stated through gritted teeth.
“So you say,” Conan returned. “I’m only glad she understands that I have no desire or room in my life for a wife.”
“Now? Or never?” Mhàiri inquired, suddenly a little sad to think that Conan would be out traveling all alone making maps. She wanted to travel, but with her sister, the Culdees, or her father. Alone with no one to share your thoughts or your discoveries? That sounded as awful as marriage.
Conan opened his mouth to answer and then said, “Let’s change the topic. What is the most unusual book you have in these chests?”
He was glad when Mhàiri decided to let the topic go and answered his question, which led to another, and soon he found himself enjoying another heated debate with her.
Their conversation rolled easily from one subject to another until a rider leading a horse came into view. At once, all conversation ceased.
The rider was far away, but Conan knew that it was his brother. He called out to Father Lanaghly, who quickly saw Conor and stopped alongside Conan. Both men jumped down off their carts to wait.
When Conor came close, he signaled his horse to a stop and then tossed Conan the reins to the horse he had tethered to his saddle. “I thought, with me gone, that you could use a fresh horse for the cart.”
Conan nodded. “I assumed you would be back home with Laurel by now.”
Conor frowned. “That was my plan, but someone attacked the homestead I was visiting last night.”
That stopped Conan short. “Someone attacked you?”
Conor shook his head. “I don’t even think they knew it was me.
They hit Wills on the back of the head. He cried out and I came running.
They dashed off before they got anything.
Wills was out cold for hours, and I needed to make sure he was going to recover before I left him with his wife and two younglings. ”
“You don’t think that it was the same people . . .” Conan’s voice trailed off.
“Probably not. Most likely just a normal border skirmish aimed to steal, not maim, but I’m not assuming anything,” Conor answered. “I want to get back. Hitch the horse and let’s get going. I want to be home while the afternoon sun is still in the sky.”