Chapter 1 #2
Freya cocked her head and seemed to consider the question. “She is pretty enough. Quiet at times, but she seems too youthful for her age. She is inquisitive and asks the most unusual questions. She said she would be fine sleeping in the storeroom if we didna have a place for her.”
The storeroom? No wonder Freya thought the lass might be daft.
He couldn’t imagine the daughter of a laird sleeping on sacks of potatoes and grains.
“Verra well.” Lachlan had no time to spend on the strange lass.
“Find a servant to see to it and then join us for dinner. I doona expect trouble, but I want ye to stay close to me or my guards to be on the safe side.”
“Gair willna hurt me,” Freya said quietly.
“Perhaps not, but Gair Brisbane is hardly the only man out there.” Dismissing his sister, he took a few private moments where he mourned his cousin then he braced himself and turned to join the others in the hall.
Sloane Fenton was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who gathered in the great hall and she wasn’t immune to the number of pointed and hateful stares her way.
The Fenton keep and lands were only about half the size of those of the MacFarlane’s.
She was never able to join any gatherings or festivities so she’d never seen so many people before.
Whenever she questioned the reasoning behind her solitary life, her father simply told her it was to protect her.
More than anything, she wanted to believe that.
It was the only thing that comforted her, but now it perplexed her that her father would bring her here and now.
Quinn MacFarlane was not the Laird, so she didn’t understand the large celebration of his life and she certainly didn’t understand why her father insisted that she pay her respects.
Furthermore, she didn’t understand why so many people glared at her and her father. Had they done something wrong?
Before people took their seats to dinner, people lined up between the tables to greet Lachlan MacFarlane first. When she and her father reached the MacFarlane Laird, her breath caught in her throat as she stared.
Lachlan was huge. Compared to her father’s Highland warriors, he stood taller and broader.
His dark hair fell wildly over his shoulders and framed his strong square face.
Brilliant green irises tinged with silver pierced her as she walked up and she only dimly heard her father make the introduction.
Power wrapped around him like an erotic lover and a sense of amusement clung to his lips as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.
Mesmerized, she stared at those sensuous lips when they moved although, she didn’t hear a word he’d said.
A strange tingling began low in her body, a sensation she’d never felt before and she pressed a hand to her stomach.
Suddenly, she realized that Lachlan was staring at her expectantly. Pain shot through her body as her father gripped her arm and shook her. “I am sorry for yer loss,” she whispered before she swallowed hard.
Errol sighed beside her in obvious aggravation. “Forgive my daughter. This is her first time traveling from Fenton lands and I am afraid that she is struck by the sheer size of the MacFarlane clan.”
Lachlan nodded although his gaze swept over her curiously. “Lady Sloane, I thank ye for yer condolences. Ye and yer father are welcome to join us at our table.”
“Actually,” Errol said smoothly. “I believe Sloane has taken a liking to yer sister. Would it be all right, my dear Lady Freya, if Sloane sat with ye?”
Puzzled, Sloane cast a shy look at the petite woman.
They’d only casually exchanged words. The woman looked equally confused, but she nodded her consent.
Her father all but pushed her toward the woman.
“I am sorry,” Sloane whispered to Freya as they drew away from the crowd and took their seats. “I doona know why my father said that.”
“’Tis no worry,” Freya said stiffly. “We can make room.” Leaning over, she quietly shared a word with a pretty brunette who got up from the table and moved.
“I didna mean to complicate things. I can sit elsewhere,” Sloane said as guilt clawed at her. The last thing that she wanted to do was create difficulties. Even though she never shared a meal in the dining hall before, she knew that she was creating upheaval.
“Ye are an odd one, are ye not?” Freya muttered, but Sloane heard it and reddened even more. As they sat down, Freya shook her head. “I apologize for that. My cousin’s death has put me in a mood.”
“’Tis understandable.” Sloane folded her hands in her lap and tried to look as small as possible. “I heard yer mother say that ye and yer cousin were close. I doona know what that is like, but I know it must be difficult to lose someone that ye love.”
Freya narrowed her eyes. She shared her brother’s piercing eyes and Sloane couldn’t help but look over quickly in the MacFarlane laird’s direction. He was watching her. Her belly fluttered with nerves.
“Ye doona have a cousin that ye are close to?”
“I doona have a cousin,” Sloane admitted. “I have an uncle, but he spends most of his time traveling. We are not close, although he does visit with me when he returns to our lands.”
“Then a friend, perhaps.”
Sloane thought about the women who worked in the keep.
They had become her friends. It would break her heart a thousand times over if anything happened to them, but she’d come to learn that her father didn’t approve of her calling the servants friends.
Perhaps they felt the same here. “No. I doona have any of those either.”