“I asked if he could obtain suitable clothing fer ye, Lady Munro.” He displayed the bundle, giving an amused glance at the wide-eyed Annora.
Still clutching the coverlet under her chin with one hand, she unraveled the garments Davie had brought: a faded blue kirtle, a blouse, a chemise, stockings, and a pair of sturdy leather boots.
“I’ll turn me back and ye may shelter behind that screen and don these.”
“Thank ye.” She gave the kirtle a perfunctory examination and shook her head. “I had so many fine gowns…” There was a hint of mischief in those luminous gray eyes under their fringe of dark lashes when she looked up. “Yet, I’d rather wear this wee kirtlethan be mistress of an Englishman’s castle dressed in a fine velvet gown from Italy.”
“I’m glad ye are pleased. Then I’ll hear nay more complaining from ye.”
Turning his back, he gazed into the fire allowing his thoughts to roam while she shuffled past, wrapped in the coverlet to guard her modesty, and slipped behind the screen in the corner, where she could don the garments in privacy.
He considered his dilemma. While she was there, she was in danger. He had little doubt that either her father or her betrothed would make every effort to discover her whereabouts. If they followed the privateers’ journey, this place would be their first port of call and she would soon be returned to the fate she had so desperately attempted to escape. Besides the fact that there was still a possibility that the Barbary pirates would continue to pursue her.
If he was to protect her, he could see no alternative other than to take her with him on his journey to Scorrybreac, to the castle of Clan MacNeacail. But, arriving with a guest who could bring trouble to the keep would not be welcome.
He recalled the letter he’d received, summoning him to the castle. The words“We have lass in mind from a suitable family should ye be in need of a bride”had the whiff of matchmaking.
He was uncertain of the reception that awaited him there, but taking a suitable bride was not something he intended to do. Yet,he understood only too well the insult it would be not only to the lass and her family, but to the entire clan, if he should refuse their choice.
A plan formulated in his head that––although more audacious than his usually calm reasoning––might just be the answer to both his and Annora’s predicaments.
Arriving with his own ‘bride’ would provide a perfect solution to the problem. With the Lady Munro at his side as his wife there would be no such dangerous challenges.
As he was turning this over in his mind, Annora stepped from behind the screen, now clad in the clothing Davie had brought.
Edmund managed not to laugh, yet he was unable to suppress his mirth altogether at the sight of her.
She was tall and slender and the kirtle had obviously been worn by someone much shorter and stouter. The faded garment hung on her, rather like a loose sack. If there were womanly curves beneath the faded fabric it was impossible to tell. It reached only halfway between her knees and her feet, revealing patched and darned stockings and a pair of boots that seemed rather too large for her feet. And, as if that did not create enough of an eyesore, there remained her tangled mass of hair falling in disarray around her face and over her shoulders.
“Ye can wipe that smirk off yer face,” she snapped. “If it were nay fer ye ripping me good clothes tae pieces I’d nae be looking such a fright.”
He instantly rearranged his features to appear serious and thoughtful. “And, if I’d nae freed yer legs ye’d have floundered yer way intae a watery grave.”
She huffed, awarding him a grudging nod.
He beckoned her to the armchair by the fireside while he pulled out another chair and took his seat next to her. “I’ve been giving some thought tae yer predicament, Lady Annora.”
She huffed again and raised her chin in that imperious manner she had. “There’s nay need fer ye tae concern yerself any further wi’ me situation.”
Shaking his head, he folded his arms and extended the length of his legs. “Ye’re wrong milady. Ye are now under me protection and yer fate, should ye remain here, is uncertain, tae say the very least of it.”
Concern flashed into her eyes. “And how d’ye come tae that conclusion?”
“Once the word reaches yer Englishman and yer faither that ye were on board a slave ship, will they nay send men tae remove ye from the hands of the pirates?”
“I’d have ye remember Sir Bertram is naymeEnglishman.” She twisted the fabric of her skirt. “But I suppose ye’re right. Like any other of their possessions, I have value tae both men and they will nae allow me tae be stolen.”
“And, if ye remain here in this place, it will be nay trouble fer them tae find ye and take ye back tae wed the baron.”
She shuddered, gazing into the fire. Then she turned her eyes tae his. “So, ye said ye’ve given thought tae me fate.”
He grinned at her. “Ah. Ye’re seeing sense at last.”
She folded her arms. “Well?”
“It would serve me purpose tae arrive at me destination as a married man. And that requirement puts me in need of a wife.” He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and scrambling his hands through his hair briefly, as he met her eyes. “As luck would have it, ye’re already me dear wife.”
“Only in the eyes of Davie, the landlord.”
