“Truly?” He’d never heard any of this before. Why had he not heard this?
“’Tis true.” His sire paused, looking him in the eye, then asked, “Do you truly love Sela?”
“Aye, Papa. I don’t think I can love another woman. But I don’t know what to do. I knew I had to leave her there today, but I wanted to beg her to marry me.”
His father sighed and looked up at the moon peeking out from behind the rolling clouds every now and then. “When a woman has been abused, it takes patience, son. Jake will tell you the same. But if you really wish to know how to help her, I would talk to Mama. She went through something similar. If she loves you, too, do not give up on her. Five years of imprisonment and cruelty is not easily forgotten.”
“My thanks, Papa.” He clasped his father’s shoulder, then turned to go back.
He opened the door, but his sire’s voice stopped him.
“Connor?”
“Aye?”
“Women who endure such cruelties are fierce women, and they gift you with strong sons.”
How he wished it to be true.
Elizabeth
Book 12 of Band of Cousins
This fit here in the timeline, though I wrote it after the Band of Cousins.
I know it’s confusing. I confuse myself sometimes.
Chapter Four
A neighboring laird doesn’t approve of Alex’s grandbairns…big mistake...
Elizabeth’s three nephews flew down the stairs with their small wooden swords in hand. Alasdair pushed directly in front of the Norseman, but the man’s second, the burly oaf called Sten, picked him up and set him behind them. The lad did not like that, as evidenced by Alasdair’s sword swinging down in a wide arc, the wood smacking Sten’s hand with a loud sound.
“You wee wild thing, stop with the sword.” He took the sword from Alasdair and broke it over his knee. Then he tried to strike Alasdair, but the boy was too quick.
That brought Els and Alick to his defense, swinging wildly while Alasdair launched at the man with his fists. “You’ll not hurt any of us, especially Aunt Elizabeth.”
The voices reached a loud din but Alex put an end to it, standing from his seat and bellowing, “Lads!” Jamie came out and grabbed Els, while Jake grabbed Alasdair and Alick.
Once they stopped, Sten brushed his hands in front of them with a smirk.
Alex turned to him, his expression flat. “You’ll take your leave, Sten.”
“What? Why?” he asked, his face turning a bright red.
“You broke one of my grandson’s possessions and tried to hit him. You’ll leave the hall and not come back.”
Gil noticed Alasdair looked as if he were about to break into tears. He buried his face in his sire’s waist, mumbling, “Grandpapa gave me that sword.”
Glad that his attention didn’t stand out amidst the growing crowd, he continued to watch the events as they happened in front of him. It was as if the minstrels had planned the show for them this morn.
The great hall was quite full at the moment, but in between bouts of words, it was so silent they would have all heard a feather fall to the floor. Gil did his best not to smile at the lads, but how he admired them for not being afraid of the daft men in front of them.
Orvar nodded to the man, and Sten left, his feet stomping all the way across the floor. Once the door shut behind him, Orvar turned to Alex. “My apologies to the lads and to you, Laird Grant.” Even though he was no longer laird, many gave him the respect by using the title.
Jake sent the three lads back up the stairs. “We’ll get you another sword later, lad,” he called after them.
Alasdair ran ahead of the other two, his shoulders shaking as if the tears had finally shaken loose.
