As she’d been speaking, more of her confidence had returned. And, by the end of it, she was feeling more like herself than she had since departing from Castle McEwan.
“Ye truly are a lovely storyteller,” Amara sniffled, prompting Ayla to nod her head.
Marissa chuckled, giving them her thanks.
“Do ye have any more love stories?” Ayla asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “They’ve always been me favorite. It was always hard to get Arthur to purchase them. He thought they were a waste. But he’d been gone for quite some time, and I’d added to that library of his.”
She winked, and Marissa couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll have to tell Cody that at least someone appreciates me love stories,” Marissa said, not giving a second thought to her words.
However, the moment she spoke them, Ayla’s eyebrows knitted together, and she cocked her head to the side. “Who’s Cody?”
Her tone was difficult to read. It was a little harder than it had been a moment ago, the question hesitant in a way that Ayla had not yet been with her. No doubt, the girl thought that Cody was an ex-fiancé. So, Marissa was all too happy to clarify.
“He’s technically me nephew-in-law,” she began. “But I consider him more like a braither. He’s a few years younger than me, around me youngest sister’s age. But we’ve always been close since the day we met.”
“Cody, ye and yer sister?” Amara prompted.
Marissa nodded. “Aye. He was sick when we first met him,” she explained. “Me oldest sister, Freya, is the one who nursed him back to health. Abigail—that’s me youngest sister—and I tried tohelp. But sometimes I think we just got in the way. Cody swears it was me stories that saved him, though.”
Ayla’s head remained cocked to the side, but her expression had softened. She was just curious now, rather than suspicious.
“What was he sick with?” she asked.
Suddenly serious, Marissa responded, “Poison.”
Amara’s eyebrows shot up as Marissa nodded. She could tell by the looks on their faces that they wanted to hear the story, and it was one that she was more than happy to tell, but her mouth was dry from how much talking she had done already.
“I’d love to tell ye,” Marissa offered. “How about durin’ luncheon?”
“Is it that time already?” Ayla asked.
And, sure enough, when the ladies stood up and walked inside, their midday meal was being placed on the dining table. Much to Marissa’s surprise, two large bodies were already sitting around it.
Upon seeing his sister enter the room, Joseph grinned. Arthur, however, had his head leaning against one of his hands, massaging his temples.
I wonder if he’s as tired as I’ve been all day.
Even though Marissa had fallen asleep quickly the night before, and had slepthardduring the few hours she’d actually been asleep, the amount of sleep she’d gotten still was not much.
Ayla rushed forward, tugging Amara along with her. She plopped down into a chair, allowing her maid and friend to sit next to her. Then, she turned and blinked at Marissa expectantly, before glancing at the chair directly beside her.
Marissa took it, pulling it out and easing herself into it, and then glanced up. Arthur sat directly across from her, and Joseph sat to his right, across from Ayla.
Immediately, Ayla’s face split into a grin. “Marissa was just about to tell us the story of her family!” she announced, before turning her attention to Marissa.
Marissa froze. She had been more than willing to tell the story to Ayla and Amara. She had started to feel comfortable around them while out in the garden. She hadn’t, however, been prepared to relate the story in front of both Arthur and Joseph.
However, everyone at the table, except for Arthur, was now looking at her expectantly, their eyes gleaming with interest.
Her soon-to-be husband, however, still sat with his eyes closed, rubbing his temples.
Seeing no way out of telling the story, Marissa began to speak.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Me sister was a healer,” she began.
