Fionnghall reached the stables and started preparing his horse and hunting bows. It would be a short trip today, only a few hours. It was a great opportunity to hunt birds.
Suddenly, Fionnghall found himself excitedly waiting for dinner. He was curious to see if Marion’s liveliness and the sudden change in her eyes carried over to the meal.
She was intriguing, that was for sure. And Fionnghall was curious to know more about her.
* * *
The dining room looked exceptionally wonderful tonight. The fire was lit in the fireplace and the candles on the table created more light in the room. It was already dark outside. There were freshly picked flowers at the table and the food looked delicious.
Funny enough, this is how it always looked in the dining room. But for Marion, the room was warmer and more magical than usual this evening.
Marion was the first one in the dining room tonight. She didn’t dare to sit down yet, so instead, she went up to the window and brushed the purple velvet curtains aside. She looked down at the yard that was now quiet and a new feeling washed over her.
She felt at home.
For a moment, she thought what it would be like when she had found her parents and she’d be leaving the castle. She wondered if she would ever see Deirdre again… or the Laird. To have lived such a safe and sheltered life, Marion had never lost anyone before. She had never missed anything or anyone. It was one thing to miss a place, but she had a hard time imagining how it would feel to miss her new best friend.
Deirdre stepped into the dining room with her brother and she instantly greeted Marion with a warm hug. It had only been a few hours since they had seen each other, but it had been the longest they had been apart since Marion’s arrival at Gille Chriost.
“I have had the most boring day fer weeks!” Deirdre exclaimed and lead Marion to the dinner table. “Did ye find anythin’ new in the library?”
“As a matter of fact, Laird Gille Chriost had an excellent idea. He suggested that I might travel to Ridgemoore next,” Marion said, sitting down at the table.
“That’s a great idea. But ye ken, I will surely come with ye. Perhaps Jack can join us, maybe to give us a ride in our coach,” Deirdre suggested, filling her plate. “What do ye reckon, brother? Can ye spare Jack?”
“Ye better ask him yerself. Jack might very well ring me neck if I go ahead and make promises fer him,” the Laird responded. He sat down at the end of the table, with Deirdre on his right and Marion on the left.
Deirdre smiled happily, straightening her delicate back and folding her napkin nicely on her lap.
Marion had been completely prepared to go on the trip on her own, but was glad to hear that Deirdre wanted to come with her. After all, she didn’t know the moors or the towns and going by herself would probably take a lot longer.
“There is a weddin’ tomorrow evening at the church and a small celebration will be held here at the castle in the ballroom afterwards,” the Laird said suddenly, changing the subject. “Deirdre will surely attend, and I would like to invite you, Lady Marion, to come as well, if you please.”
He glanced at Marion from underneath his eyebrows without lifting his head. The look in his eyes caused tingly sensations in Marion’s stomach and sent her heart fluttering again. This unexplained and strange reaction left her taken aback for a moment.
She quickly composed herself.
“Ah… That would be wonderful. I will be honored to attend. Who is getting married?” she asked, but barely heard the answer because she was still trying to make sense of these weird tingling going through her body.
“Miss Connor and Mr. Butler from the village. The woman is a daughter of a farmer and Mr. Butler is a farmer himself. Lots of those here, as ye can imagine,” Deirdre replied and took another bite of the lamb.
The thought of a wedding reminded Marion of her engagement to the Earl of Brookville, and how she had betrayed her whole family by leaving. She felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach again and bowed her head lower, so the others couldn’t see her face.
Deirdre went on and on about the soon-to-be couple but Marion didn’t hear a word of it. Instead, she was thinking about her parents back in England. Funny enough, as time had passed since her arrival in Scotland, the guilty feelings of leaving and disgracing the family had lessened.
Her new life excited her, and she felt that she had finally found a path of her own. Where no one was telling her what to do or to choose anything for her. Nonetheless, as she thought of her new choices, she felt guilt for leaving and couldn’t stop picturing her mother, whose heart was probably broken because of her.
However, arriving in Scotland, more specifically Gille Chriost, had opened a whole new world for her. A world where she was allowed to have opinions, where she could do as she pleased and not be criticized over the smallest of things. Frankly, she was torn.
“Marion? Are ye listening?” Deirdre asked with a suspicious look on her face.
Marion blushed as she met the Laird’s eyes.
“Yes, I am sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if ye would like to find a nice gown fer tomorrow. We can find one of mine that suits ye. It will be a ball, after all, and ye must want to dance. You cannae be showing up with yer old clan clothes,” Deirdre continued.
“Oh, Deirdre, who would I possibly dance with?” Marion chucked a little bit. She didn’t have a clue whether they even had the same dances here as they did back in England. Would Marion even know the steps or the music?
“Hush! We will find ye a nice one who will dance with ye,” Deirdre smiled and winked at Marion, looking at her brother. The Laird didn’t notice.
* * *
Marion shook her head just a little bit, making her long hair drop a bit from the neat bun.
Fionnghall was watching Marion from the corner of his eye as she conversed with Deirdre about the upcoming wedding. Though he had been fighting against getting to know her, ever since he had saved Jamie, she had become more interesting to him.
That day in the corridor, she had looked at him with new eyes, softer eyes that weren’t so defensive.
In fact, they had had a few conversations that didn’t include sarcastic comments and rude words—from either side. Against his better judgement, he had been trying to seek her out to get a better glimpse of who she really was. She seemed to hide more under her skin than just a high-class English Lady in search for her parents.
From the very first time he had seen her, he had thought her to be very beautiful. But beauty didn’t tell much—anyone could be beautiful. It’s hard to have an intelligent conversation with beauty, though.
Now that she was sitting right next to him at the table, he could see her rosy cheeks and a loose strand of hair framing her fragile-looking face. Her smile was surprisingly dazzling and he found himself completely immersed in it.
He took great care not to show any of that to her, though, as he couldn’t say much about her just yet. She was intriguing, but at the end of the day, her purpose was to leave after finding her parents. What would it mean to Fionnghall if he got to know her just to lose her soon enough?
He finished off his plate of lamb and potatoes. The wine he gulped burned nicely in the back of his throat and relaxed his tense muscles a little bit.
As the meal was finished, the women left together, apparently to find a suitable gown for Marion for the next day. Fionnghall, on the other hand, decided to stay in the dining room a little longer with his thoughts.
These new feelings towards the newcomer had made him feel like he was suddenly a rider without a horse. Not quite sure how to proceed. Jack had been pushing her towards him from the start, and as much as Fionnghall hated to admit it, Jack had a better sense when it came to people than he himself did.
But what does it matter anyway? Even if she didnae leave, I must marry Beitris MacDheorsa.
He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair and leaned back in his tall chair.
I knew I should have sent her away! Now look at this mess I am in. There is no need fer such thoughts and feelings. What good could come of them?
The frustration caught up with him and he felt his body tremble.
What good is any of this goin’ to dae? Me future is already set, with a wife I despise and a new family I cannae bear to have in me castle.
The trembling was too much for him, and he stood up suddenly, swiping his hand across the table so that his plate flew across the room, hitting the stone wall and breaking into a thousand pieces.
At the same instant, Jack knocked on the wooden door and stepped in without waiting for an invitation.
“Ey!” he said and chuckled. “Bad day, eh?” he continued and sat down on the chair where Deirdre had been sitting earlier.
“Why did ye bring that lass in me castle, Jack? It has been nothing but trouble ever since she arrived,” Fionnghall ran his fingers through his hair again, frustrated.
“What happened? Did she dae somethin’?” Jack asked with a serene voice and looked at him in his calm manner.
“Na, she didnae dae anythin’, she’s been perfectly pleasant in the past few days…” Fionnghall replied, trying hard to search for words that would describe his situation best.
“So what’s the problem? The lass will leave when she finds her parents and ye will be rid of her fer good,” Jack asked, confused by this outburst that didn’t seem to lead anywhere.
“That… is exactly the problem,” Fionnghall sighed and looked at Jack with a telling look.
Jack seemed to understand the meaning behind this better than Fionnghall had thought. His face lit up with understanding and a little dash of pity.
“Ah, I see. Ye daenae want her to leave,” he said.
Fionnghall didn’t say anything, but shook his head.
“But there is nothin’ I can do, even if she did stay. I am supposed to marry Beitris MacDheorsa,” Fionnghall continued, feeling defeated by the arrangement.
Jack was quiet for a long time. He looked to be thinking about something very carefully. Fionnghall looked into the heart of a candle in front of him, staring blankly and trying to make sense of his feelings. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time.
“Well, yer parents are the ones who made the promise fer ye to marry Beitris MacDheorsa many years ago. Ye are the Laird, ye could… ye ken… just say no,” Jack said very slowly, picking his words carefully. He didn’t look at Fionnghall when he said this.
That was, indeed, a very intriguing thought. Fionnghall never wanted to marry the daughter of that family, but their parents had made the agreement a long time ago to keep the allegiance between the clans.
“Jack, ye ken why I am supposed to marry her,” Fionnghall said exhaling in disappointment.
“Aye, I dae. But is it all worth it?” Jack asked.
The question lingered in Fionnghall’s mind for the rest of the night.
8
There Is No Smoke Without Fire
Marion was excited to attend the wedding and the ball in the evening. She hadn’t had any entertainment since she had left the manor in England, after her own birthday ball. She felt a little bit guilty about not doing anything to move forwards in her search today, but on the other hand, there was nothing more she could do in Gille Chriost. The next step would be to visit Ridgemoore and the date for that trip was not yet set.
Marion was standing in front of a tall mirror in Deirdre’s bedroom, tying the ribbons around her waist while Deirdre was being dressed by her maid on the other side of the room.
Deirdre’s bedroom was much bigger and lighter than the guest room Marion was living in, so Marion took in the room in all its beauty. It reminded her of her own room back in England, as it was filled with flowers and candles and there were beautiful paintings hanging from the walls. The windows were tall and thick, velvet curtains were hanging next to them, reaching all the way to the wooden floor.
“Marion, dae ye reckon this gown is a bit too much?” she said and turned around to look at Marion with her hands on her hips.
She was wearing a purple and black ball gown with black silk gloves that reached up to her elbows. The open neckline revealed her pale white skin on her shoulders.
“Not at all, though I would cover up for the wedding ceremony,” Marion said and handed her a purple shawl.
Everything in the castle was purple. It was the clan color. The curtains, the couches, the bedding, and most clothes worn by Deirdre, the Laird, and their servants—even Marion, was dressed in purple. For Marion, it was starting to get a bit old and she wondered if there was any way she would be able to acquire a gown of a different color.
Deirdre took the shawl and looked at herself in the mirror again.
“Aye, indeed, much better,” she said approvingly.
She walked over to Marion and took her hands and stretched them out to the side, looking at her up and down with a scrutinizing look.
“Ye look just ravishing, dear Marion! Let us go and meet me brother downstairs. I believe it is time to get on the coach and travel to the church,” she said.
Marion felt instantly just a little bit more uplifted. She loved balls and weddings and she was curious to see how the Scottish people celebrated.
As they reached the front door, Marion saw the Laird standing next to the door, looking outside. He looked dashing in his kilt and light shoes and she couldn’t help but admire him. He didn’t look at Marion, for which she was a little disappointed. After all, she knew she looked wonderful this evening and wouldn’t have minded showing off. Especially to him.
She heard the sounds of the coach arriving to the doors as two white horses pulled a black coach with purple velvet cushions and curtains up to the doors.
“Ladies,” the Laird greeted. His deep brown eyes finally glanced at Marion for a brief second and instantly Marion felt a rush of blood in her fingertips and feet. Her heart felt like it was bursting and she inhaled sharply and inaudibly as she walked past him after Deirdre.
They stepped outside in the chilly evening air and the coachman opened the door for Deirdre, who climbed up holding her skirts in her other hand.
As Marion approached the coach door, the Laird made a quick step to her side, touching her hand to help her up in the coach.
Marion’s heart skipped a beat as she felt the Laird’s surprisingly soft hand on her bare fingers. She turned to look at him in astonishment, pausing on the step, only to catch his warm look into her eyes for a fraction of a second.
She composed herself quickly and stepped in the coach to sit next to Deirdre. She hadn’t noticed what had happened, as she was too busy rearranging her skirts so the gown wouldn’t wrinkle.
The Laird sat on the bench opposite to Marion and Deirdre. He had crossed his legs and was looking out the window nonchalantly, as if the little moment between them hadn’t even happened.
Marion had a hard time keeping her eyes off the Laird, so she was glad that Deirdre wasn’t paying attention at all, but rambling on about how excited she was for the dance.
The Laird had not married Deirdre off to anyone, as was tradition, but instead, she was free to choose whoever she wanted to marry. She was glad to be meeting new people tonight at the ball and to hopefully get a few dances with some promising men.
Suddenly, the Laird looked Marion in the eyes and her heart immediately took a big leap. She looked down so as to not reveal her bewilderment. Her heart was racing and fluttering like a little bird, and she felt a rush of blood on her cheeks. Her whole body was tingling, and breathing felt like a challenge all of a sudden.
Oh, my Lord. I’m afraid I have feelings for the Laird. How could this be?
She began biting her lip and playing with the hem of her sleeve.
Too many times she had caught herself feeling sensations all over her body when the Laird looked at her. Too many times her heart had taken unexpected leaps and too many times her cheeks had become rosy when she had met the deep brown eyes full of f
ire.
And never had she felt like this when the Earl of Brookville looked at her. Or touched her hand.
Could I be… in love with him?
Marion questioned her feelings and had now completely forgotten about Deirdre, who was still talking next to her.
Even if I am… it does not play any role in his mind, I’m sure. He has a betrothed already and he is committed to marrying her. Even if he knew about my feelings, there is nothing he could do. Or possibly would do, even.
The coach pulled up to the church and disrupted Marion’s thoughts that were rambling on as quickly as Deirdre had the whole way to the gray stone church.
Captivating A Highland Warrior (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 8