Duncan laughed at her. “Lass, we hold no pretenses here like the English do!” he said. “Why, Isobel, the chief’s wife,” he said with mock horror in his voice, “actually helps to deliver bairns!”
Aishlinn wanted very much at that moment to kick him square in his knee. She did not like being mocked any more than she liked being laughed at. “It isn’t funny, Duncan McEwan!”
It took several moments before he stopped laughing. “I am sorry, lass. But ye have to understand. None of us here sits atop high horses like the English do and pretend we be better than anyone else. We leave those notions to the English.” His eyes seemed to twinkle even brighter.
“Lass,” he said lowering his voice and moving in close to her again. “Ya be no’ plain. And it truly would bring me great pleasure to see ye in the purple gown.”
He inched closer, his lips nearly touching hers. Aishlinn felt herself going weak in the knees again. “Would ye please wear it? For me?” he whispered.
Every part of her wanted to say “Yes, I’ll wear it for you, but only if you kiss me.” She did not have the nerve to say it aloud. “I’ll wear it,” she whispered, wishing she could take it back the moment the words passed over her lips. “But only to not insult Bree.” She swallowed hard again. “The chief’s daughter.”
“For the chief’s daughter then,” he said and after what seemed like an eternity he straightened himself and backed away. Aishlinn let out a sigh of relief.
Duncan laid the dress back upon the bed. He smiled as he turned to look at her. “And ye no’ be plain, lass,” he said before he left the room.
She stood on quivering knees and her heart felt as though it would leap from her chest and go bouncing out of the room to follow him. She tried to convince herself that she was coming down with some illness, the fevers perhaps. There was no other explanation for these odd feelings and sensations she was beginning to have, at least none that she felt brave enough to admit to.
* * *
It was quite difficult to speak with Bree after learning of her stature and standing among the clan. Aishlinn felt overwhelmingly uneasy with allowing the chief’s daughter to braid her hair or to assist with getting into the purple gown. And Aishlinn felt close to fainting when the girl put magnificent slippers upon her feet!
Bree sensed that something was amiss. It took some prodding but she was finally able to pry from Aishlinn exactly what was the matter.
“What silly notions ye have, lass!” Bree told her as she grabbed a mirror from the table and handed it to Aishlinn.
“I’ve told ye before that we hold no false pretenses here. I have many friends but I find I can always use another!”
Aishlinn had been raised so differently from these people. The more she learned, the more out of place she felt. She was also beginning to wonder if it was a mistake not to have fled to London. At least there she knew what the rules were and how to behave. In London, she’d not be forced to look a fool wearing such a fine gown and slippers. No matter how they tried to convince her otherwise, she simply did not feel right or proper dressing in such a manner.
“Aishlinn,” Bree said taking her hand. “I know ye were raised differently, with different ideas and notions and such. But ye be here now. We’re a good people, lass, and no one here would ever harm ye in any manner.”
Aishlinn knew that Bree and Duncan and the others meant no ill will towards her. They were merely being kind. It was their way. They couldn’t change that any more than Aishlinn could change the color of her eyes.
It certainly could not be said that Aishlinn was ungrateful. She had prayed her entire life for the comforts of a loving and kind family. But now that it was being offered to her, free and clear with no strings attached, she found that she was frightened by it.
Bree had finished braiding Aishlinn’s hair as best she could and tied a fine deep purple ribbon around the ends. She handed the mirror to Aishlinn and said, “Have a look lass. I think ye look beautiful.”
Over the past many days Aishlinn had learned that Bree was as unrelenting as she was good-natured. Knowing it would do her no good to argue, she took in a deep breath and accepted the mirror. She was astonished to find the bruises nearly gone, save for the slight green and yellow around her eyes, and one mark left on her jaw. Though the bruises may be gone, she still found it difficult to believe herself anything but plain. Frustrated, she put the mirror back on the table.
Bree rolled her eyes, smiled and retrieved the mirror. “Look beyond the bruises, lass. I’d not lie to ye. Ye really are quite beautiful.” She held out the mirror with a look of dogged determination across her face.
Plain girls do not need a mirror to know they are plain. Plainness needs no affirmation. In an attempt to have Bree drop the subject all together, Aishlinn relented and took another look.
Doing something she’d never done before she studied her own face. I suppose my jaw is average, as is my nose. There be nothing special about them. Perhaps her nose was not quite as big as her brothers had told her it was. Still it was just a nose.
My lips. Maybe my lips are not too thin, nor are they too full, but they are still just plain lips. And my cheeks. Perhaps they’d look better with a bit of pink pinched into them instead of the green blotches they currently held.
Perhaps I am not hideous, she thought. But I am definitely no beauty like Bree. Plain yes, but maybe not quite as hideous as my brothers had told me. That was a thought she could live with.
There was a knock at her door and she embarrassedly put the mirror down. She assumed it was Duncan and she felt a momentary sensation of what could only be described as excitement. Reminding herself to stop acting like a foolish twit, she pushed the feelings aside.
Bree cheerfully bid whomever it was to enter. A moment later the most beautiful woman Aishlinn had ever seen entered the room. Her hair was so black that the candlelight cast streaks of blue to the braid that cascaded over her shoulder and landed at her narrow waist. Her slender neck held up the most exquisite and soft face. Her full pink lips sat under a perfectly proportioned nose and dark eyelashes surrounded beautiful dark green eyes.
She possessed the kind of beauty and grace that would make other women jealous and men daft for her. There was something quite familiar about her as if they had met before. Aishlinn supposed the familiarity was because she looked so much like Bree.
“Mum!” Bree said before going to hug her. As the woman held her daughter’s embrace her eyes fell upon Aishlinn. For a fleeting moment the woman’s face held the oddest of expressions, one that made Aishlinn’s heart fall to her feet.
“Aishlinn! This is me mum, Isobel,” Bree said excitedly. “Mum, this is the orphan we told ye of.”
Aishlinn quickly stood and curtsied the most elegant curtsey she could manage. “My lady,” she said, averting her eyes to the floor as she had been taught to do.
The woman remained quiet. Aishlinn wondered if perhaps she was upset with her for wearing her daughter Bridget’s clothes or for taking up residence in her room. The longer Isobel remained quiet and staring the more uncomfortable Aishlinn became. After several agonizingly long moments of silence Aishlinn began to wish she could shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry away. The longer they were silent the more her shoulders began to shrink with fear.
“Aishlinn,” Isobel whispered her name.
“Yes, my lady,” Aishlinn said as she felt her knees begin to quake.
“Bree, dear, please leave us,” Isobel said without taking her gaze from Aishlinn.
Bree looked rather confused but nodded her head slightly before leaving the room. Isobel came and sat upon the bed, her eyes still glued to Aishlinn. “Aishlinn dear, come,” she said as she patted the bed with her hand.
Aishlinn swallowed hard and found it quite difficult at the moment to will her feet to move. Isobel patted the bed again. “I won’t bite ye, I promise.”
Finally finding the nerve to move, Aishlinn went and sat beside her. Knowing it an insult
to look royalty in the eye she kept her gaze firmly planted on the leg of the table in front of her.
Isobel let out a small sigh, “Aishlinn? Why do ye not look at me?”
Aishlinn continued to stare at the table leg. “’Twould be an insult to do so, my lady,” she whispered.
She took Aishlinn’s chin into very fine and soft hands and lifted it. “That is an obnoxious English custom, lass. We do no’ hold such customs here.”
Aishlinn could not move and knew not what to say or do. Isobel studied Aishlinn’s face for a few moments. “My, but yer a beautiful young lady,” she said. Aishlinn wondered if the woman had suffered some horrible accident that had caused her to lose her vision or her mind. Or both. Aishlinn began to feel pity towards her. To possess that kind of beauty only to be blind and witless; it was a shame.
“What be the matter, dear?” Isobel asked her.
Aishlinn shook her head. How did one address a lady such as this in her current predicament?
“Ye act as though no one has ever told ye that before!” her voice was laced with wonder. She stared into Aishlinn’s eyes. “Ah,” she said. “Ya dunna believe me.” She put her arm around Aishlinn’s shoulder. “All is right, lass. I’ve not lost my mind as yer thinking.”
Aishlinn’s eyes flew open. The woman must be bewitched! How could she have known what Aishlinn be thinking if she were not bewitched?
“No worries lass. I’ve not lost my mind and I canna read yers.” Aishlinn started to speak when Isobel held her hand up. “I was a young girl once and ’twasn’t so long ago that I dunna remember it. And I’ve two daughters of me own. I ken what it’s like to think ye be too plain or too tall or too this or too that.” Her expression had turned warm and soft.
“I ken ye dunna believe me now, but someday ye’ll see that I’ve not lied to ye.” She patted Aishlinn on her knee. “I’ve spoken with Duncan about ye,” she said. “He speaks very highly of ye.” Aishlinn felt her face flush again as a rush of excitement washed over her. She wondered what Duncan may have said about her but dared not ask.
“I’ve heard from Duncan and Bree. Now, I’d like to hear yer trials from ye.”
There was a warmth and familiarity about the woman that somehow made Aishlinn feel safe. Reluctantly at first, Aishlinn began to tell the story of her life and how she had come to be at Castle Gregor.
By the time she was done her eyes were swollen and red from crying. There were parts of her life she had no difficulty telling. Others, such as what the earl had done, were heartbreakingly painful for her. She left out no details other than the feelings she found she was having for Duncan. When she finished, Isobel gave her a kerchief to wipe her tears and held her for a long time.
“Have ye told anyone else the details that ye’ve just shared with me?” she asked.
“Duncan, Rowan, Gowan and the others know nearly most of it. Bree knows a little, although I did not tell her exactly what the earl had done or that I stabbed him.”
“Good, lass. We’ll not tell the whole story to anyone for now. If anyone asks, yer simply our guest. A Highlander girl who had been sent to live in the lowlands for a time and now yer back. They dunna need to ken anything else.”
Aishlinn had no desire to share her life’s story with anyone for she felt out of place enough as it was. These people had opened their hearts and homes to her the moment she had stepped through the castle gates. She could live with them thinking she was simply an orphan for that was a pity she could readily handle.
“We will have to tell Angus of it when he returns. But for now, we’ll remain silent on the matter,” Isobel told her as she gave her another hug. “Ye’ll find Angus a tall, braw man.” Isobel smiled. “His heart be even bigger than he is. I think ye shall like him and he ye.”
Aishlinn prayed that Isobel was right. Although she did not like having her entire future hanging in the balance, part of her was glad the chief was not here. His absence would allow her to spend more time with these people that she was quickly beginning to care a great deal for.
Chapter Twelve
The moment she laid eyes on Aishlinn, Isobel’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It was a moment in her life that she could not have predicted and one that would soon have a very profound effect on many people. It was Aishlinn’s deep green eyes that had nearly done her in. Those eyes should have held happiness, promise and hope; instead they held fear and sorrow.
The only explanation for the young woman, who had stood before her so shy, fearful and awkward, was that a lie had been told long ago. When the truth would finally be set free Isobel pitied anyone who had been a part of its telling, if in fact any of them still lived. When her husband would learn of the lass’ existence, not only would his heart break as her own had, but the sheer and utter rage that would come to him, would put fear into the heart of any man.
She would keep her knowledge secret for now, for she had no other choice.
Chapter Thirteen
Isobel had left to make certain the kitchens ran smoothly and Bree returned to Aishlinn’s room to escort her to the evening meal. Arm in arm they descended the stairs and entered the large gathering room. Long trestle tables lined the center of the vast space while smaller ones sat against the walls. A high table with eight chairs stood near the grand fireplace. The room was filled with people of all ages chattering, laughing, and enjoying one another’s company.
The tables were set with all manner of foods. Warm and inviting scents wafted through the air. Aishlinn could smell roast beef and venison, leeks, and fresh bread. Her mouth began to water and her stomach growled with hunger.
As they stopped just inside the doorway, Bree searched the room with her eyes. Soon a group of smiling young lads approached them. “Bree! Will ye sit with me this night?” The tallest of the group asked.
“Depends, Young Thomas. How much ale have ye had?” Bree asked as she studied him closely.
“Only two mugs, I swear it!” he said, holding his hands up in defense of her question.
“And will ye be promisin’ to keep yer hands to yerself?” she asked sternly.
“Only if ye want me to!” The young man and his group broke into a fit of laughter. Aishlinn observed quietly with her hands folded together. They spoke in Gaelic and she knew not a word they had said to each other.
“And what of yer friend here?” Young Thomas asked while he smiled broadly at Aishlinn. Although she could not understand the language, Aishlinn knew he was speaking either to her or of her. She grew quite uncomfortable and made a promise to learn the language as soon as possible.
“What do ye think, Aishlinn? Do ye want to take yer chances with these young beasties?” Bree asked, nodding her head towards the young men.
Aishlinn wasn’t sure what to think of the question. “Do you mean to sit with them?”
Young Thomas looked at her curiously. “Ye be English?” he asked.
“Nay,” said Bree. “She be a Highlander. She was raised in the lowlands and has returned to be with her family.”
Young Thomas eyed Aishlinn suspiciously. With a raised brow he asked, “Who do ye belong to?”
“Me.”
The sound of Duncan’s voice as he stood behind her, nearly scared her out of her slippers. He looked so handsome in his tunic and plaids. Why must his eyes twinkle so, she wondered as she swallowed hard and tried to tamp down the excitement rushing through her veins at the sight of him.
“She’ll not be joining ye lads this night.” His smile seemed to hold a warning of some sort, but Aishlinn wasn’t sure of what.
Aishlinn was as relieved as she was nervous. Relieved that Duncan was there for she didn’t feel quite ready yet to answer the endless questions she was certain they would have for her. The nervousness shooting down to her toes came from the way her hand felt in his when he wrapped his fingers through hers.
Bree smiled and bid them good evening while she left to sit with the lads at a table across the room. Duncan did not let go
of Aishlinn’s hand as he escorted her to a center table where many large men were already seated. They were drinking ale and laughing loudly. As Duncan pulled a chair out for her, the men began elbowing one another to stand because a lady was to be seated.
As she stood by her chair, the largest, tallest man she had ever laid eyes upon stood and bowed his head at her as the others followed suit. She didn’t mean to stare, but it was impossible not to. His immense size and girth was astonishing. At least two heads taller than any other man in the room, he made Duncan look like a bairn in comparison. He had long, light brown hair and hazel colored eyes and sported a full beard that ended in a point in the center of his large chest. Like Duncan’s, his nose appeared to have been broken at least once. The only thing small on him was the faint scar over his left eyebrow. Aishlinn thought that perhaps he could be considered a handsome man, if one could get beyond the fear of his gigantic build.
“Lads!” Duncan began in English. “This be our guest. Her name be Aishlinn. She is no’ English,” he told them, for he knew that would be their first question. “She is a Highlander who unfortunately was raised in the lowlands and no’ taught her own language.”
The men remained standing and stared at her with pity in their eyes, as if not learning the Gaelic was the worst thing that could have happened to her. Such expressions on such big, tall men made her want to burst into laughter. She bit her tongue as she took her seat.
“This here be Kenneth the Red.” Duncan said as he went down the line from left to right. As each man was introduced they would give a nod of their head before taking their seats. “Callum MacFarland, William McKenna, Daniel McAllister, Fearghus Campbell, Black Richard, and Tall Daniel.” Aishlinn doubted she’d ever remember any of the names. “Of course, ye remember Rowan, Richard and Findley.” Aishlinn was glad to see them and was about to thank them for all they had done for her, when the living mountain cleared his throat rather loudly. He was rolling his eyes and rocking back and forth on his feet rather impatiently.
Timeless Tales of Honor Page 13