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Aindreas stepped towards him, stopping mere inches away. He raised one finger while smiling brightly at his soldier, his friend. “And haven’t I always been right?”
Marcus scowled. “Hardly.”
Aindreas grabbed Marcus by his shoulders, spinning him around before throwing open the door. “Haven’t I always gotten us out of trouble?”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Only because ye got us into it in the first place.”
Aindreas ignored Marcus while they strolled down the dimly lit halls of Castle Lachlan and stepped down the winding staircases. “Ye will see my friend,” said Aindreas cheerfully. “Father will eventually see it my way.” He smiled his best at a passing maid, carrying a platter of fruit from the kitchen towards the grand hall.
“Good morn, Master Aindreas,” said the maid while dipping into a short curtsy. She smiled shyly up at him, her doe brown eyes gleaming with sheer joy.
Aindreas winked at her while reaching for two apples and juggling them effortlessly in the air. “Good morn, Miss. Don’t ye look bonnie today?”
The maid giggled, her gaze fluttering up to him before dipping back to the floor. “Why, thank ye, Master Aindreas.”
Aindreas heard Marcus’s irritated sigh and glanced over his shoulder, finding his friend crossing his arms while shaking his head.
“What?” Aindreas asked with a shrug.
“What in heaven’s name are ye doing still standing out here?” he heard Cook shouting from the Grand Hall. He chuckled while watching the poor maid rush towards the entrance.
“Apologies,” the maid murmured, her head bowed low.
“Apologies will do ye no good here, lassie,” said Cook while swatting the girl’s bottom with a dirty rag. She turned her shrewd grey eyes onto Aindreas, who held a hand to his mouth in an attempt to keep himself from laughing too loud. He didn’t need Cook on his back, although the hand over his mouth did nothing to divert Cook’s attention. Her brows tented into a deep scowl as she waddled her portly body towards him.
“Master Aindreas,” she said without a bow. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked him over. “Good of ye to finally join us. I thought ye were going to sleep the morn away.”
Aindreas blinked innocently while pressing a hand against his chest. “Me?” he asked while glancing over his shoulder at Marcus, who was still shaking his head. “Why, I would never!”
Cook pursed her lips while peeking over his shoulder at Marcus. “And what trouble is he getting up to now, young Marcus?”
“Ye don’t want to know,” came Marcus’s reply, which sounded more like a groan to Aindreas’s ears.
“Now, isn’t that a new ring?” Aindreas grabbed Cook’s hand and brought the ring to his gaze. He squeezed Cook’s hand lightly while offering her his best charming smile. Cook’s scowl darkened, yet there was nothing she could do to hide the soft blush staining her cheeks. The gold band glimmered on her finger. “A present from yer husband, I suppose?”
“Oh, enough with ye,” said Cook while lurching her hand from his grasp. “Off with ye, now. Before I whip ye like the good old days.”
Aindreas chuckled while quickly stepping inside, barely missing the swat of Cook’s towel against his rump. He looked around the large hall, draped in the MacBean banner streaming down from the walls with the grey wildcat sewn into the cloth. The men and women of the clan gathered around the long tables, breaking their fast with a variety of pastries and dried cheeses. He searched the tables for his father, knowing he wouldn’t find him at the head, but amongst his men, probably already discussing the taxes for the next season and the harvest.
“Good morn, Master Aindreas,” came a sultry voice and a soft caress on his arm.
He turned, smiling down at a maid he knew well, yet her name escaped his mind. Her sultry red lips and big blue eyes could halt any man’s heart. Aindreas glanced over his shoulder while he shifted anxiously from foot to foot. He didn’t have time to speak with her, although their regular meetings hardly ever involved speaking, only the gentle press of lips upon lips. He barely had time for that as well.
“I missed ye the other night,” he heard her say, drawing him away from the crowd of gathering men.
He forced a smile and stroked a curl away from her cheek, hoping he seemed genuine, when deep down, all he wanted to do was find his father. “And I ye,” he said softly, so no one but she could hear. “But now is not the right time.”
He turned to leave, but her hand tightened on his arm. “Will I see ye tonight?”
Aindreas’s smile thinned, and he tilted his head in a curt nod. “Of course.” He watched the worry leave her eyes and a joyful smile grace her lips before he quickly turned and stalked towards the group of men standing in the corner.
“Father?” Aindreas called while stepping through the crowd. He frowned when the village speakers glanced his way, offering a brief greeting, yet he could not find his father amongst them. They nodded and bowed towards him, making him feel young and inferior. He turned around, wondering if his father was indeed dining with his aunt and cousin. His father’s chair was empty, and his aunt, Alisa, was watching him with sharp brown eyes.
He held his head high while he strode through the hall towards his aunt, who straightened in her long-backed chair. She was a reed-like woman, tall and lithe with pale skin that seemed never to see the daylight. If it wasn’t for her dour demeanor, Aindreas supposed she looked a bit like his mother. A fact he often tried to ignore. Her son, Daniel, was similar to his aunt and Aindreas’s mother, with brown eyes and a frail body. However, rather than having Alisa’s thick brown hair, which seemed to grow grayer by the day, his cousin had bouncing dark curls, like his father before him.
Aindreas was different. A fact that never ceased to haunt him.
He didn’t look like anyone in his family, not with his fair looks and stocky build. Nothing about him was reed or waif-like with his muscled arms and broad shoulders. It was something most men would yearn for. It was something Aindreas often gloated about unless he was thinking about his mother’s last words before her passing.
