“Why, ye’re the Laird’s bride, o’course!” the old woman said, giving her a toothy grin.
Leah’s heart fluttered in her chest. “Oh, no, no—” she began but was abruptly pulled back by a hand at her elbow.
“What are ye bletherin’ about, woman?” came MacWatt’s voice from behind her.
Leah recognized the same tone of exasperated affection. Clearly, these two had a long history.
“Pay Betty nay heed, Lady Leah,” he muttered dismissively.
Ah, so this was the “Betty” who had lit the lamps for them.
“Ye are most welcome in this castle, me dear,” Betty continued as MacWatt scoffed behind them. “If ye need anythin’, ye need only to ask. We have been waitin’ a long time for ye.”
“Off with ye, ye befuddled creature,” MacWatt growled.
But the old woman did not seem offended by his dismissal. She took it as her cue to leave the courtyard. However, a crooked grin spread across her face as she waved a hand behind her. Leah watched her affectionately as she hobbled away. Betty wasshaking her head at her master’s words, entirely unphased by his glower.
Despite her strange way of speaking and mad prophecies, Leah liked her immediately.
She did not have long to gather herself, as another girl about her age appeared at the top of the steps in front of her. She was quite beautiful, with long blonde hair and a flowing green dress similar in style to the older woman’s.
“Welcome home, M’Laird!” she called as she came down the steps to stand before them.
As Leah looked her over, curious about her position in the household, she noticed that not only was her dress green, but the tips of her fingers were also green, as though dyed by some kind of chemical.
MacWatt scowled as he noticed Leah staring at the girl’s fingers and pointed to the door Betty had disappeared through.
“Will ye stop terrifyin’ me guests and go and find yer tutor?” he said with frustration as the green-fingered woman gave a tinkling laugh and turned to Leah.
“Pay him nay mind,” she said fondly, as MacWatt had done to Betty. “He doesnae like to travel.”
“Away with ye!” MacWatt cried, flinging an arm at her as though to banish her like some spirit.
“Ye are most welcome, Leah Anderson. I’ve heard so much about ye. If ye have need of anythin’, ye ask for Iona and I’ll see to it,” the young girl said with a warm smile, before skipping away to follow Betty and throwing a mischievous glance back at MacWatt as she did so.
As Leah watched the strange proceedings unfold before her, she became aware that she was shivering violently from the cold, and the cloak was dripping freezing water all over her shoes. It had done little to prevent the deluge from soaking her to the bone.
I suppose this is what I get for hiding in carriages to avoid my father.
MacWatt called for a servant, who hurried forward. She was a slight girl with a large birthmark across her forehead. She hovered uncertainly as her master gave her instructions.
“Take Lady Leah to her chambers and find her a change of clothes.”
“Are there nay bags, M’Laird?” the servant asked timidly, glancing about as though they might be brought up from the boats.
“Nay, there are none. Find some clothes from the blue room. There may be somethin’ that will fit her.” MacWatt’s tone changed as he said those words, and that same dark expression crossed his face.
Leah knew there must be a story as to why there were a lady’s clothes in the keep, when only a barbarian lived there alone. She did not think it was her place to ask, but she burned to know the story behind the deep scowl on his face.
“Dinner will be served shortly, Lady Leah,” MacWatt continued, his eye darting about the keep. “I shall see ye later this evening.”
With that, he marched away, leaving Leah alone, dripping wet and freezing. She smiled at the servant girl, who bobbed a curtsy before showing her the way to her rooms.
As Magnus walked down the long corridors of the castle, he waited for the comfort of home to settle him once more, but it would not come.
His mind was still preoccupied with Leah, her sodden clothes and dripping hair, standing in his courtyard where he had left her. He wished he could have picked her up in his arms and carried her to the nearest bath, where they would have lain together and warmed each other up, right down to their toes.
“Ye look like a thundercloud,” came an amused voice from behind him as his man-at-arms emerged from a side room, clearly having been waiting for him.
