MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter (9 page)

“Nay. My brothers did that.
 
As a punishment.” Regrettably the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
  

Mary’s look of concern turned instantly to one of anger.
 
“That’s mean!
 
Did ye beat them up for it?” she asked as she thrust her tiny hands to her hips.
 
Aishlinn could only wish she had possessed the nerve at the time to have beaten them senseless. She noticed that Mary was casting a deathly glare at someone.
 
Aishlinn turned to see that Mary was staring at two boys, most likely her older brothers. They had the same dark blonde hair and blue eyes that Mary possessed.

“We’d never do that to ya, Mary,” the oldest boy said sternly.

“Aye.
 
Papa would beat ya dead if ya did!” She stuck her tongue out at the two of them.

“Aye. But only a coward would do such a thing.” With heads held high, both boys left the room.
 

Very soon Duncan appeared with Rowan and Manghus behind him.
 
Duncan looked relieved to see Aishlinn awake.

“Mary,” Duncan said. “Could ya leave us be for a moment, lass? I’ve a need to speak to Aishlinn privately.”

The little girl crawled down from the bed and returned her hands to her hips. “Ye’ll take care of her well, won’t ye?”

“I do so promise, Mary.” Duncan said with a warm smile.
 
Mary studied the men for a moment. Apparently convinced they would take proper care of her charge, she disappeared behind the curtain.

“How be ya, lass?” Duncan asked.

“Better than when you found me.” Aishlinn told him.

“Good.” Duncan said as he put a hand to her forehead.
 
Although it was the simplest of gestures, Aishlinn was not prepared for the way his hand felt upon her skin.
 
Men never touched her that way.
 
Tears welled and she fought hard to hold them back.
 

“What be the matter lass?” Duncan asked.
 
“Are ye in pain? Do ya need Rebecca?”

Aishlinn shook her head.
  
“Then why do ya cry?” he asked.

How does one explain to a complete stranger that his simple touch brought back a flood of memories and feelings she had not experienced since she was a bairn?
 
She did not have the words to express how she felt at that moment.
  
“I know not why you’re all being so kind to me!” she blurted out.
 
“You know me not and yet you all watch over me as if I were one of your own.”

“We be Highlanders, lass!”
 
He said as if that was all the explanation necessary.
 
He gently brushed the tears from her cheek.
 
“We help those who need it.” For Duncan, it was simply how things were done. You helped those who needed it.
 

He gave her a few moments to compose herself.
 
“Do ya think ya might be able to travel in the morning lass?” he asked her.
 
“We dunna ken how close the English be. We’ll be much safer at Castle Gregor,” he told her.
 
“But if ye feel not up to it yet--” Aishlinn stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“I want to waste no more time lying abed.” Aishlinn said.
 
“I could ride now if we needed.” It was a little lie, but one she felt necessary.
 
She knew the longer they lingered here, the closer the English might be nearing. “I want no harm to fall on this family.”

Duncan was touched by the lass’ concern.
 
She had heart and worried more over others than she did of her own safety.
 
“We can wait a little longer lass.
 
Ye’ll eat and rest and we’ll leave before first light.”
 
He said as he lifted her hand into his giving it a slight squeeze.
 
“Do ya think ya stand to eat a bit?”

“Aye, I do.” she answered as she struggled to move.
 
Duncan helped her to sit and carefully propped pillows behind her back.
 
It was too painful to lean against the pillows so she sat tilted sideways.
 

Rowan appeared moments later carrying a trencher piled high with enough food she thought for three people.
 
She thanked him kindly before digging in.
 
Duncan and his men stood towering over her and it seemed they watched every bite she took. “Why aren’t you eating?” she asked them.

“We’ve already eaten, lass.” Rowan said.
 

None of them moved, their eyes planted on her. An uneasiness began to spread over her for she could not figure out why the stared at her so.
 
“Is there something the matter?”
 
She asked. They remained silent.
 

Rebecca walked in, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
 
“They just want to be sure ya eat, lass. Hellions though they are, they’ve great concern over ya.
 
They worry ya be too small and frail. I told them ye only
appear
so, because they’re all so big and tall.
 
But they dunna believe me!”
 
She shook her head at them.
 
“Will ya quit starin’ at the lass so queerly, lads?
 
How’s she supposed to eat with ya sitting around watchin’ her every move?”
 
Playfully, she punched Rowan in the arm and he feigned great pain, rubbing the spot as if he had been shot with an arrow.

Before Aishlinn realized it, the small area was filled with people.
 
She was formally introduced to Aric and she thanked him for giving them all safe refuge.
 
“No worries, lass!” he said, his voice deep and booming.

She was next introduced to Robert, who was thirteen and the oldest of their sons, followed by Bruce who was eleven.
 
Mary had climbed into the bed and sat next to Aishlinn. “Tis our honor to protect ye, Lady Aishlinn.” Robert told her with a bow.
 
Bruce, not wanting to be outdone, gave a bow and a wave of his arm.
 
Aishlinn smiled as she thanked them for their allegiance.
 
“Such braw young men you are!” Aishlinn said.
 
“I feel safer knowing you are both here to protect me.”

Both boys stood straighter and Robert blushed at her compliment. “It’s what we warriors do, Lady Aishlinn.”
 

Aishlinn felt it odd to be addressed as Lady.
 
By English standards, she was nothing more than a peasant. Having no royal blood running through her veins and being raised as she had, being referred to as
Lady
was odd indeed. “Do ya like the bread, Lady Aishlinn?” Mary asked. “I helped mamma bake it today.”

“Aye, Mary.
 
It’s the best I’ve ever eaten.” And it was not a lie for it was soft and warm with just the right amount of crunchiness to the crust.
 
“Perhaps you’ll share your recipe with me some day?” Aishlinn asked.
 

Robert stood with his arms crossed, looking every bit the image of his father, Aric, who stood in the same manner at the foot of the bed.
 
“Lady Aishlinn, how old be ya?” Robert asked.

“I turned ten and nine this past winter,” she told him.
 
He looked rather deflated by her answer, and she did not know why.
 
Aric grunted.
 
“I took ya for not much past ten and five!”
 

“Ya daft men!
 
I told ya she be older but ya dunna listen.” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes at her husband.
 
“Forgive the hellions, lass.
 
Warriors they well may be, but they’re eejits as well.”

“Are ya married?” Robert asked her.

Aishlinn cringed. “Nay, Robert.
 
I am not.”
 

“Is there a suitor then ya have?” The question of having a suitor was just as ridiculous as the notion of having a husband.
 
Neither suitor nor husband lay in her future.

“Nay,” she told him as she turned her focus to her trencher.
 
Aishlinn knew that most women her age were already married with a bairn or two.
 
She had long ago resolved herself to being an auld maid, for she knew she was a quite plain young woman.
 
Her stepfather had always been quite honest with her in that regard and that was the reason why he raised her in the manner he had.
 

With a chuckle, Aric slapped his eldest son on the back.
 
“Lad, take yer brother and sister out and tend the animals.”
 
Robert looked decidedly displeased but did as his father had told him.

Aric waited for the children to leave.
 
“Forgive me son, lass, but he’s taken quite a fancy to ya.”
 
He smiled as he gave her a wink.

She shook her head, not believing that anyone, least of all a thirteen-year-old boy would take a fancy to her. She was certain they were merely being polite.
  
With her appetite now satisfied, she handed the trencher to Rebecca.

With a simple nod and a warm smile from Aric, Rebecca left the room. The men stood motionless as each studied Aishlinn very closely.
 
The silence was deafening. “Why do you all stare at me so?”
 
Aishlinn asked her voice tinged with worry.

“Forgive us, lass.
 
We’ve simply so many questions,” Manghus apologized.

Certain she would get no rest this night unless she quelled their curiosity, Aishlinn inhaled slowly before speaking. “Well, then ask them.”
 
Thrusting her chin upward, she squared her shoulders and hoped she looked far stronger than she felt.

Duncan took a deep breath.
 
“Can ya search yer memory, Aishlinn, for just a moment?” he asked softly.
 
“Ya said ya ken no’ of yer mother’s or father’s clan.
 
Are ya sure, lass? Ye’ve no names, no recollection of anything that may have been told to ye?”

Aishlinn thought hard for a long moment.
 
“There is nothing.
 
I did not learn that Broc was not my real father until the day they buried my mother.
 
All I know is what her friend Moirra told me long ago; that my mother was a Highlander. She promised to tell me more when I was older, but she died not long after.”

Pity-filled faces looked at her.
 
She did not want their pity, only their help in finding her family, if indeed there were any left.
 

Duncan did not want to push, but he had to.
 
“Nothing at all then? No stories, no slips of the tongue? Please think, Aishlinn.”

“Moirra told me faerie tales, nothing more, just faerie tales of big, strong Highlander men.
 
But none in those stories were as kind as all of you.”

Duncan was puzzled. “What do ya mean, lass?”

Would it be considered un-lady like or unkind to share what Moirra had told her?
 
Their continued stares of curiosity told her she could, as long as she were careful not to insult any of them. “She said Highlander men liked their drink strong,” she stopped, trying to find the best way to phrase what Moirra had said.
 

“Go on, lass.” Aric encouraged her, a most serious expression on his face.

She threw all caution to the wind and blurted it out. “Moirra said Highlander men liked their drink strong and their women ready.” She held her breath, anticipating they would be insulted by what she had just said.

Laughter filled the room. They certainly did not appear insulted.
 
Proud was a more apt description.
 
“What is so funny?” Aishlinn asked.

“Those be not faerie tales she told ya, lass!”
 
Rowan said as he slapped a hand to his knee.
 
“They be the God’s honest truth!”