“Ned’spèresays that his laddies can steal the coins off a dead mon’s eyes e’en as the widow is crying o’er the corpse. So, that is why they could bring two wee laddies safely here with ease.”
Sensing someone by her side, she looked up in time to see Brian grimace at Michel’s words. It was not easy to hide her shock over a man saying such a thing to a small boy, but she did so. Brian did not choose his father, and her clan was hardly free of the sort of men and women others found shocking. Sir Fingal might have mightily sinned but she glanced around at the vast number of his progeny, who all looked hale, well fed, and happy, and could see that he took care of what children he bred. It was a strong point in the man’s favor for too few men supported their bastard children. He had also taken in her boys despite the trouble nipping at their heels. For that she would always be grateful.
“Best we go and greet the boastful old fool,” Brian said as he grasped Arianna by the arm and helped her to her feet. “He would have been here to greet us but one of the lads told me he turned his ankle last eve.”
“Aye,” said Adelar as he pushed himself between Brian and Arianna to take her by the arm. “He was practicing his dancing for the next full moon.”
Arianna thought that sounded like very odd behavior, but not odd enough to make Brian blush as fiercely as he was doing now. She was just about to ask him what dancing his father needed to practice when they stopped before a tall, dark man standing in front of the doors leading into the keep. The man was scarred, his harsh features made all the harsher because of the deeply serious look he wore. But the ice in his blue-gray eyes softened briefly when he looked at Brian and his thumb brushed lightly over the knuckles of the hand of the woman at his side, a hand he made no move to release.
One look at the woman stirred a lot of memories for Arianna. It had been almost ten years but she recognized that face, despite the small scars now decorating each delicate cheek. Those violet eyes were hard to forget. There had been several times when she and Fiona had shared in learning the lessons of healing from her grandmother, Maldie Murray.
“M’lady, this is my brother, laird of Scarglas, Sir Ewan MacFingal,” Brian said. “Ewan, this is the Lady Arianna Murray.” Since Arianna had seen fit to drop her false husband’s name when she had reached Dubheidland, Brian was more than willing to do so as well.
Arianna curtsied to the man despite the difficulty in doing so with Michel and Adelar pressing so close to her. “I thank ye for helping us, sir.”
“No thanks are needed. This is my wife, Lady Fiona MacFingal,” Sir Ewan said in a deep gruff voice.
“I recognize ye,” said Fiona, moving to kiss Arianna on the cheek.
Returning the kiss, Arianna smiled. “I just recalled ye as weel. We shared a few rounds of my grandmother’s teachings. Ye were so verra much better at it than I was.”
“Come in,” said Ewan. “I am certain ye wish to wash up and then we can talk o’er some drink and food.” He looked at Brian and cocked one dark brow, then looked at his wife when Brian responded to the silent question with a curt nod. “Fiona, can ye get one of the lassies to show them to a room?”
Aroom? Arianna opened her mouth to ask what that meant, and then shut it again. She did not wish to discuss sleeping arrangements before such a huge crowd of men, all of whom seemed to be eyeing her and Brian with undisguised curiosity. When the maids arrived, Arianna reluctantly let go of Michel and Adelar. The way the two boys hurried off, filled with boyish excitement to rejoin their companions, eased the last of her worries about them.
Her hand held firmly in Brian’s, Arianna allowed him to lead her up the stairs as he followed two plump maids. “We didnae greet your father yet,” she said.
“We can do that once we have washed away the dust of our journey,” he said. “He will be waiting for us in the great hall when we go down there to eat.”
She said nothing else as the maids led them into a large bedchamber. Arianna watched Brian talk to the maids and realized that this was not his bedchamber. Either he did not live at Scarglas as she had thought or his sleeping quarters were not suitable for sharing with a woman. Considering how many brothers and half-brothers the man had, she suspected all the unmarried men who slept within the keep shared quarters.
Hot water was brought in and Arianna turned her attention to cleaning up. She was a little uneasy about meeting Brian’s father and wanted to look her best. After washing up and brushing out her hair, she was studying two of the gowns Jolene had given her and trying to decide which to wear when Brian stepped up behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her neck, sending a tickle of interest winding its way through her exhausted body. She was astonished that she could feel anything aside from the urge to fill her belly and then collapse on a bed.
“Wear the brown and gold one,” he said. “It will compliment your hair and eyes.”
“But, I wouldnae have thought it a good color for me when I have brown hair and brown eyes.”
“Ye have honey-gold hair with intriguing hints of red and soft amber eyes, nay just brown. Wear the brown and gold gown.”
Arianna shrugged aside her bemusement over his description of her and donned the gown he had chosen. When she was ready she chanced a look at herself in the large looking glass over the fireplace. Surprise widened her eyes as she stared at herself in amazement. Instead of making her look like a little brown wren as she had feared, the color of the gown made her hair seem brighter, her eyes lighter and more prominent. That Brian could know what color would make her look her best gave her a dangerously warm feeling for it meant he had truly looked at her, honestly noticed what were her best features.
She was startled out of her thoughts by Brian’s kiss on her cheek. He hooked his arm through hers and led her out of the bedchamber. Knowing they were headed for the great hall that would undoubtedly be full to bursting with his kinsmen had all of Arianna’s nervousness returning in a rush.
“Brian, I am nay certain it is wise for us to be sharing a room here,” she said.
“I am nay letting ye out of my sight,” he said. “Whene’er I have, ye have gotten into trouble.”
Before she could protest that, he dragged her into the great hall and through a crowd of curious MacFingals straight to the table the laird and his wife sat at. Fiona sat on Sir Ewan’s right. An older man who looked a great deal like Sir Ewan sat on his left and next to him was a pretty, well-rounded woman with graying brown hair and big brown eyes. Arianna was not surprised when the older man and woman were introduced as Brian’s father, Sir Fingal MacFingal, and his wife, Mab. The man had left a very strong mark on all of his sons.
Brian helped her to a seat and then placed himself between her and Fiona. Arianna looked around and found Michel and Adelar seated at a table with two maids and over a dozen young children. Fertile lot, she mused as she met Sir Fingal’s narrowed gaze.
“Another lass who needs some meat on her wee bones,” said Sir Fingal.
Arianna waited for the pain of those words to strike her and nothing happened. Her slenderness was one of the things Claud had always criticized, yet hearing this man speak of the same thing only amused her. Sir Fingal was one of those older men who felt free to say whatever he pleased, but actually meant no true harm. She then suspected that he always had and that age had very little to do with it. Perhaps, she thought, having a lover who seemed to be more than satisfied with the curves she had had given her some armor against such remarks.
“Lady Arianna is just fine the way she is,” said Brian.
“I didnae say she wasnae fine,” snapped Sir Fingal, scowling at his son. “I said she needed to eat more. And ye need to tell us why there is an army forming barely a day’s ride from here.”
