Feck.
“Och, Ailith.The ink is too thick.Did the scrivener no’ tell William to add wine to thin it down?Probably no’, the swindler!Hoping ye’d return soon for more ink.”
“What are ye writing?”Muire asked, flicking her gaze from the parchments to Ailith.
Ailith swallowed.“Notes, things to remember,” she answered vaguely.
“Of the puddock-stools?”Sine asked with a slight giggle.
Oh, hell.How much did they know about that?Was she obvious?Or had William mentioned something?
“Um, a bit …”
How was she to answer that?
Sine flapped her hand dismissively.“Dinna fret about your wee toadstools.William mentioned ye have an interest in them.If ye are writing about them, they must be of import.Would ye care for my help with them?”
Ailith’s mouth dropped open.Not only were theynotjudging her, they wanted to help?They must be cut from the same cloth as her husband!
“Aye, if ye want.‘Tis dirty work, and ‘tis difficult to find the best places to plant them.And we can only do a few at a time.But I would love the assistance.”
Sine’s warm smile melted Ailith’s heart.She was so much like her brother – earnest and forthright.Muire huffed and sat in one of the overstuffed chairs.Her full, pink lips pouted.
“I feel left out!Father is sending me to the MacIntoshes for a visit.Ailbert is to accompany me.”
Sine giggled again as she stood next to Muire.Ailith was obviously missing something.As neither Sine nor Muire had asked anything more about her mess of parchments, Ailith blew out a silent, relieved sigh and focused on Muire’s news.
“Why are ye going to the MacIntoshes?”Ailith inquired as she sat in the stuffed chair opposite Muire.
Muire blew a short puff of breath upward, making loose wisps of hair dance around her forehead.“I am no’ rightly sure –” she said, and Sine’s tittering interrupted her.
“I am!Father and Uncle Cormag are hoping for another match like ye and William!”
Sine bubbled with giggles as she sat on the arm of Muire’s chair.Muire elbowed her.
“Sine, please!”
“Wait, your father wants to marry ye off?”Ailith leaned forward in absolute seriousness.
If Muire didn’t want to marry, then she shouldn’t have to.But how to communicate that in terms medieval lassies might understand?Or worse, their fathers?
Sine giggled again, and Ailith didn’t miss how Muire suppressed a sly smile and her cheeks stained a flattering light pink.So, notexactlyunwanted …
“Aye, a match.The chieftain, or rather, Lucas MacIntosh, had some sons –”
“Some sons?Do ye no’ mean Daric MacIntosh?”
“Sine!”Muire cried as roses deepened the color on her cheeks and neck.Ailith sat back with a smile.
“So, perchance a love match?”Ailith asked.That sat much better with her.
Muire dipped her chin before answering.“Mayhap.More than that, though.The MacIntoshes have been devastated in recent events, and with your wedding and our own funerals, we did no’ have time to reach out.Father and Uncle Cormag want to use this time now to reach out, offer support, make sure that the clan is on solid footing –”
“And mayhap have ye come home betrothed,” Sine finished, then whipped her humored face to Ailith.“’Tis why Ailbert is to go with.So Muire does no’ come home with a bairn to boot!”
“Sine!”Muire shouted.
Ailith didn’t want to think about bairns.Her inconsistent use of her oil and cloths with William when they were together was a worry that sat uncomfortably at the back of her mind.She changed the subject.
