“Oh, ye must come wi’ me tae see the Faery Pools. They are so very beautiful.”
“I would love tae see them,” Annora replied with a grin.
They dined well, entertained by a troubadour softly strumming a lute as they chattered about the island and its pleasures. They avoided altogether the subject that was no doubt on everyone’s mind: tomorrow’s meeting between Edmund, Tormod and the other Clan Elders.
As the conversation progressed, mindful of the presence of the lasses, Edmund kept a surreptitious eye on the Laird MacDonald. Although the man nodded and smiled as the prospect of future outdoor feasts and entertainments were discussed, his eyes were cold and his smiles faded quickly. Once or twice, Edmund caught the man casting a quizzical eye over Annora as she spoke. It was clear that behind the charming façade of the Lady Tyra’s betrothed, was a calculating man who was not at all pleased to be welcoming Edmund and his party to Scorrybreac.
Once they had finished their meal, Annora stifled a yawn.
“Ye must indeed be tired after yer travels,” Tyra said, laying a gentle hand on Annora’s arm.
Edmund got to his feet and turned to Tormod who was seated further along the table, Edmund having been placed at the head.
He bowed. “I thank ye fer yer concern, Chief Tormod and fer yer generous hospitality. It is time I took me lady wife back tae our chamber as I fear the journey has sorely tested her strength.”
Tormod rose and clasped Edmund’s proffered hand. “It is me pleasure, Laird Edmund. And it will be me pleasure tae welcome our honored Elders tomorrow and introduce them.”
This remark appeared to be too much for Harris to tolerate without making a comment.
“It yet remains tae be seen, Chief Tormod,” he said without a smile, “if the Elders consider Edmund Sinclair tae be one of their own, despite his almost lifelong absence from the clan’s lands.”
Edmund made no comment, merely shrugged his shoulders. “We will see what the morrow brings.” He pasted on what he hoped was a pleasant smile, despite his gritted teeth. “But now we must bid ye all good night.” He bowed to Tormod and proffered his arm to Annora. She hooked her arm over his and, together, they took their leave and made their way to their bedchamber.
Once they were at last alone, Annora gestured toward the bed, shaking her head.
“I dinnae wish tae deprive ye of yer bed, Laird Edmund, so I will curl meself in this big chair by the fire.”
“And I, dear wife, dinnae wish tae deprive ye of this soft feather bed. What say we take a pillow and lay it between us?” He offered a cheeky grin and raised a hand. “I swear I’ll nae venture ontae yer side of the bed, me feet willnae stray, and me hands will remain tucked under me head.”
She gave a soft laugh. “Well then, I am willing tae try it. But one incursion from yer side of the barrier and I’ll be curled on the chair by the fire.”
There was a soft tap on the door and a small voice called, “’Tis the maid wi’ a posset tae help ye sleep.”
Edmund opened the door and a small maid, still only a child, tiptoed in with a tray holding two bowls of warm, creamy milk. Leaving the possets on the table, she departed.
“There’s nay need tae come back fer the bowls. The morning will dae fine,” Edmund said as the wee maid left the room. Then he turned to Annora. “Come sit by the fire, lass and enjoy this treat wi’ me.”
Although she huffed, Annora quickly joined him.
They gazed into the fire sipping the milky, honeyed, brew, allowing the warmth to soak into their bones.
“Ye didnae tell me yer story.” Annora took a gulp of the spiced liquid. “I thought yer purpose in coming here was tae trade. Now I see that it is yerself ye’re trading in exchange fer the lairdship.”
He gave a small laugh. “Me journey tae Scorrybreac was nae tae take up the lairdship. I have nae made up me mind if it’s what I wish fer. I am here because I ken little of where I come from or who are me forbears. At this point, me only wish is tae seek meself.”
She looked him up and down. “Ye’re a fine man, whether Sinclair or MacNeacail. They should be proud tae have ye as their leader.” She swilled the last of the creamy posset. “And nae that simpering lad who’s tae wed the Lady Tyra.”
“I take it ye’re nae so enamored of the MacDonald?”
She huffed. “He’s too pretty and too smooth, by far. And he’s cold. I didnae see him looking warmly at Tyra. He’s nae someone I would give me trust.”
Edmund smiled to himself. So, Annora’s instincts were aligned with his. “He’s nae as rough and braw as we Highland lads, ye mean?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Mayhap I like ye rough Highlanders more than I like the sleek English-style, wi’ his charming manners.”
“Aha.” He tilted his head. “So, some of us may have a chance tae win yer favor after all?”
“I’d ne’er go so far as tae agree wi’ that… Yet, there is something about the Highland warriors…” The sparkle in her glance from under her long, dark, lashes jolted his heart.
