Chapter 12 #3

Alina gave him a sideways grin and ran her

hand up and down the sleeve of the dove-grey tunic he was wearing

along with dark grey linen breeches hugging his muscular thighs.

“Grey is definitely your color,” she said. “It brings out your rain

eyes.”

“Speaking of eyes.” Roark stopped at the top

of the stairs and smiled into hers. “I told you once they saw

yours, they’d know you were a MacLeod.”

Alina laughed as light and free as she hadn’t

been since the first day of spring. “I didn’t even have to sing

‘Somebody’ for them.”

“Good.” The smile in Roark’s eyes went from

teasing to scorching. “I find I don’t want you singing ‘Somebody’

to anyone but me, my lady owl.”

He glanced around the hallway and cupped her

chin and kissed her, soft and tender, the feel of his lips

lingering on hers as they descended the stairs and walked into the

dining hall arm in arm, where at least thirty people were seated

and every single one of them stopped talking and watched them

enter.

Alina knew their presence had already been

explained to the household. The story was she was a distant cousin

of the laird’s from the northern Highlands who, with Roark’s help,

fled an arranged marriage to a man she despised. Laird Owen and

Lady Siusan had agreed to mediate between them and the family

involved. The question of Roark’s and Alina’s relationship hadn’t

been broached by the laird and lady, though they’d all agreed it’d

be best to present themselves as childhood friends.

Laird Owen stood. “Our honored guests have

arrived,” he announced, and indicated the two empty seats to his

right. “Please, join us.”

Alina gripped Roark’s arm as they passed the

roomful of curious faces and took their seats, Roark beside Owen

and Alina between Roark and a boy who was the spitting image of

Owen.

“Roark, Alina,” Owen said, “this is our son,

Cullen. And this,” he turned to indicate a young woman sitting to

Lady Siusan’s left, “is our daughter, Rose.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cullen,” Alina

told the boy, who looked to be about ten.

“And you, Lady Alina,” he said, his green

eyes smiling.

“Please, call me Alina,” she told the lad.

She leaned forward so she could see the daughter and introduced

herself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose. I only have brothers

and male cousins, so it’s a treat to meet a female relative.”

Rose, who looked to be about ten and four,

and was as blonde and blue eyed as her mother, smiled prettily.

“And you, cousin,” she said to Alina.

Roark turned his smile on the poor girl and

her jaw dropped. Her mother gently cupped her chin and closed her

gaping mouth amidst much laughter from the rest of the table.

Blushing furiously, Rose stared straight ahead as her father

introduced his sister, Agnes, her husband, Gavin, and their three

young children.

The servants carried out platters of mutton

roasted with carrots, turnips, and onions along with bowls of new

spring greens and loaves of fresh baked ryes that had Alina’s belly

grumbling loud enough to raise the laird’s brows.

“My apologies,” she said. “It’s been a while

since I’ve sat before such a succulent feast.”

“How long were you on the road?” Lady Siusan

asked.

Alina glanced at Roark. “Ten days?”

Roark nodded. “Sounds right. We got caught in

a storm and had to shelter in a cave for two days and nights,” he

explained to the table at large. “So that stretched the journey out

a bit.”

“What did you eat?” Cullen asked.

“We left in such a hurry,” Roark told him,

“all we packed were some dried field beans, stale bread, and salted

meat, so we ate those along with whatever small game and salmon we

caught, and greens, fruit, and mushrooms we foraged.”

“Ten days camping out in the wilds,” Cullen

said, his expression lit with excitement. “Sounds fun.”

“It would’ve been more fun if half our camps

hadn’t been cold camps,” Roark said, his hand covering Alina’s in

her lap. “A warm fire in the wilds is a wonderful comfort.”

“What was the man's name?” Rose asked Alina.

“The man you ran away from marrying.”

“I’d, ah, rather not say,” Alina demurred.

“At least not until everything is settled.”

“How kind and brave of you to help her

escape,” Rose said to Roark with a pretty smile. “He must be a very

bad man.”

Roark squeezed Alina’s hand. “He is, as it

turns out.”

Lady Siusan whispered something into Rose’s

ear that caused the girl to turn her attention back to her meal

with a pretty pout, and Alina tucked into her meal.

“I saw your mare in the stables,” Cullen told

her as the main course was being cleared and the cheeses and fruits

brought out. “Is she as fast as she looks?”

“She’s faster,” Alina said, eliciting a huge

grin from the lad. “Her name is Etain and she can fly fast as a

winged faerie.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“What’s the gelding’s name?”

“Beasty,” she said. “He’s surprisingly fast

on those gangly, knobby-kneed legs of his as well.”

“Is that why you chose them to run away?”

Alina met Roark's somber gaze, and knew he

was thinking of Artur. “It is,” she lied.

“Would you like to meet my yearling colt,

Damon?” Cullen asked her. “My parents gave him to me for my

birthday last spring when he was a newborn. Kirk, the stablemaster,

is going to help me train him this summer. I have my old gelding,

Godfrey, too. He’s a good old horse, but Damon’s going to grow up

to be a stallion.”

Alina laughed lightly, feeling an instant

kinship with this boy. “I’d love to meet both horses,” she

said.

“I can take you tonight,” he offered.

“You can take her tomorrow after breakfast,”

his father told him with an indulgent grin. “Alina and Roark and I

have some things to discuss tonight.”

“Yes, Father.”

“I look forward to tomorrow,” Alina told the

lad. She leaned in close and whispered. “Maybe we can take the

horses a special treat?”

Cullen grinned. “I’ll ask cook for some

carrots,” he whispered back. “They’re Damon’s favorites.”

“Etain’s too,” Alina said with a

conspiratorial wink.

***

Roark sat beside Alina in the laird’s private

meeting chambers, putting him in mind of their meeting with Roger

and Leif the day they’d arrived at North Shore Keep. But where

Roger had sat behind his big, imposing table looking down on them,

Owen sat on a couch beside his wife with his sister and

brother-in-law sitting on another couch together, Roark and Alina

on yet another so they all sat facing each other. Niels and another

man-at-arms, a burly Green Isler with deep-set brown eyes, curly

brown hair, and forearms the size of oak branches, took two chairs

to complete the circle. A maidservant carried in a tray laden with

cups and two pitchers, set it down on the small, round table around

which the couches were arranged, and then left.

Owen poured his own cup of what looked like a

dark gold ale and one of wine that he handed to his wife, and then

Gavin did the same for himself and Agnes. Yet another difference

between the lairds. Roger would never have poured his own drink in

front of others.

Taking his cue from Owen and Gavin, Roark

asked Alina what she’d like to drink.

“Half a cup of wine, thank you.”

He poured her wine and a cup of the golden

ale for himself, and took a hearty swallow, choking on the bitter

spirits. “What,” he sputtered, his eyes watering, “is this?”

Owen and the other men in the room chuckled

as Roark swiped at his eyes.

“It’s called whisky,” Owen said. “The water

of life.”

“Whisky,” Roark repeated. He sniffed at the

drink in his cup and took a small sip, letting the dark gold liquid

sit on his tongue for a moment, then letting it slide down his

throat, savoring the strong, oaken aftertaste. “It’s quite tasty,”

he said. “In small sips.”

The men laughed out right, though not

unkindly.

“Which is how it’s meant to be drank,” Owen

informed him after having had his chuckle.

He lifted his cup to Roark, as did Gavin and

Niels and the brown-haired oak. Roark lifted his to Owen in return,

and they all took a sip and set their cups down while the women

sipped their wine with amused grins on their faces.

“Now, down to business,” Owen said. “Gavin

and I know your real story,” he told Roark and Alina. “As do Niels

and Grant. So, we can all speak freely.”

“Good,” Roark said. He’d been living with and

amongst lies for too many years now and he was heartily sick of

them, though he understood they’d still have to maintain several

once they left this room. At least until Alina was safely away.

“We’ve decided to help you two,” Owen

declared, and Roark and Alina let their breaths out in unison.

“Thank you,” Roark said.

“So much,” Alina added.

Owen nodded graciously. “Tomorrow, Niels and

Grant will ride into the port towns and find out what they can

about your situation, as well as search out a ship for Alina to

sail home on.” He met Roark’s gaze and answered his unspoken

question. “We’ll find a ship. This Roger’s arms aren’t as long as

he thinks, he doesn’t have as much sway here as at his home

port.”

Alina pulled the pearl from her bodice,

unclasped the necklace, and laid it on the table. “This should be

payment enough for my passage,” she said. She turned to Roark with

a tremulous smile. “You did it.”

“We did it,” he said. So why did he feel like

his heart had been ripped out of his chest, leaving him an empty,

hollowed-out husk? “I’m so glad,” he told her. “And so damned

sad.”

Her big, beautiful, green eyes welled with

tears and her lips quivered. She tried to smile, but her face

crumpled and she threw her arms around Roark’s neck and buried her

face into his neck. “I want to go home so badly,” she sniffed. “But

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