He looked up and grinned. Her heart jumped at the sight of him, his hair tousled, clad only in his unlaced shirt and his britches. For a long moment she allowed her eyes to roam over his broad shoulders and strong arms.
“Good morrow wife,” he said, his grin widening.
“Are those documents of some importance that ye’re scanning so intently?”
“Aye, Annora. These tell the story of me birth and who I am.” He pressed a finger onto the parchment he’d been studying. “This one names me maither and relates her journey with her wean to the Isle of Mull.” He shuffled through to another sheet which he held up. “And this one tells of one Edmund Baldurson Sinclair, a wean of four years of age, being taken into the care of the Laird MacKinnon of Dùn Ara.”
Annora listened carefully, noting the tiny catch in Edmund’s voice when he mentioned his mother. She thought of her own family. Although her father was a harsh, cruel, man who cared little for her, she knew she was a Munro. It was hard to imagine what it would have been for Edmund, making his way in the world with no idea where he came from or where he belonged.
“So ye were named fer both yer faither and yer maither.”
“Aye, yet I had nay knowledge of the laird who was me sire. From what I can gather it seems me maither was a cousin of the Laird MacKinnon’s wife.”
“So that makes ye a relative of sorts of the Laird Torr.”
He grew thoughtful and she could see that all this was new to him. He was still trying to make sense of the connections and what they meant.
“I didnae ken, all these years, that he and I were kin.” He gave a sharp laugh. “I look forward to informing him of that discovery of me heritage when next we meet.”
There was a brief tap on the door and a voice called “’Tis Tyra.”
Annora exchanged glances with Edmund. She was still clad in the faded, old kirtle she was uncomfortable in Tyra’s presence. Edmund’s half-sister was always flawless, with her long fair hair perfectly braided and her immaculate shirt and kirtle.
“Och, nay. I dinnae look at all presentable.”
“Never fash, lass, ye look just as ye should without any other garments to wear. ‘Tis nae yer fault the pirates made off wi’ yer clothing.”
She huffed. Then, she smoothed back her hair and managed a smile as she rose to greet Tyra.
Edmund collected his scattered parchments and placed them in a leather satchel which he placed under his arm.
He bowed. “If ye ladies will excuse me, I am tae meet Tormond and the Elders of the MacNeacail Clan. We have much tae discuss.”
A knot formed in Annora’s stomach as Tyra turned her head away without acknowledging Edmund’s words, pointedly ignoring him. It seemed clear his half-sister held little, if any, goodwill toward him. She guessed that because of Tyra’s loyalty to her fiancé Harris who, from what she had gathered, had set his sights on the lairdship, it was likely she resented Edmund’s arrival.
While there might be good reason for Tyra’s lack of good manners, it did not sit at all well with Annora.
Seemingly unperturbed by Tyra’s rudeness, Edmund proceeded to the door. To her astonishment, Annora registered a distinct pang of loss as the door swung shut behind him.
She turned to Tyra. “Dae join me in breaking yer fast, Lady Tyra.” She gestured to the platter, only then fully taking heed of the garments Tyra carried over her arm.
Tyra smiled, shaking her head. “I’ll nae keep ye, Annora. I have brought ye two garments the seamstress has recently sewn fer me and which I’ve never worn. They are me gift tae ye and I believe will fit ye well.” She cast her green eyes over Annora’s form. “Methinks ye and I are of a similar size. Ye’re tall, as am I, and slender too if I’m nae mistaken.” She grinned. “Though ‘tis difficult tae say, given ye’re clad in something like an old sack and we’ve nay idea of ye beneath it.”
Annora gave a sharp little laugh at the truth of it.
She looked up eagerly as Tyra laid a fur-trimmed, woolen mantle and two gowns across the bed. One, a plain kirtle, was simple enough, but it was made of finely woven natural-colored wool and embroidered around the neckline and hem with green ivy leaves. It was exactly the elegant style she would have chosen herself. She bit her lip regretfully, reminded of her precious lost garments.
The second gown was much more elaborate. It was made of burgundy velvet with gold buttons down the front, and the neck and hemline edged with rich gold braid. It had long trailing sleeves also edged with gold.
Tyra also provided a bundle of chemises, petticoats, an undershirt, stockings and a pair of embroidered silk slippers.
Annora gasped her thanks. “These are truly generous gifts, Tyra. I am indeed greatly indebted tae ye.”
Tyra looked pleased. “I understand how important it is tae be clad in garments that fit well. Besides, we are to attend the feast this night and ye will meet with the Clan Elders. Ye will need something special tae wear.”
“Aye. Of course, I wish tae look me best fer… me husband’s sake.” It seemed so dishonest to be masquerading as Edmund’s wife. It went against Annora’s belief in the virtue of honesty. Lying seemed especially grievous in the face of these heart-felt gifts from Edmund’s half-sister.
To make things worse, Tyra asked a stream of questions about the lad she’d only just met who was the brother she’d never known. She threw a myriad of questions at Annora – “What kind of man is he?” “Is he kind, or hard-hearted?” “What was his life like at Castle Dùn Ara?” and so on, and on, asking endless questions Annora had no answers for.
