"I’m a guest here."
"Ye are still a member of the clan."
"When I was a member of the clan, my men did nae await orders to draw their swords at me. I moved freely and did nae have to wait fer permission from me brother to enter me home. I was invited as a guest, treat me as such." The man sighed, stepping aside for Gawain, who pushed forwards toward the guest chambers. "Will I’ve to wait in line to see the Laird, or are ye scared I might put a dagger to his throat?"
"I do nae see ye in such light, sir. It might nae mean anything to ye, but I just want ye to ken." The man said, stopping a maid for Gawain. “Show the laird's guest to the guest chambers." The maid looked up at Gawain, meeting his hard stare before color rose to her cheeks. She hurried to the task given to her.
Gawain was sure he had never seen her. She must have come to the castle after he had left. It would explain how chatty she was with him, the red on her cheeks never fading. He did make a lot of women flush nowadays but would Davinia be amongst them? She was always fixated with her work, he knew nothing would change now, but still, he sought her out.
The guest chamber he would be staying at was one of the bigger ones. The furnishing consisted of a table and chair, an empty trunk for clothes he didn't bother to bring along with a large bed covered in the thickest of furs he had seen in a few years, a large window on each side of the room, giving him a proper view of the gardens below.
He stood by the window, watching all sorts of people pass through the gardens, mostly servants and a few children, their excited giggles like music to his ears. It took him back to when he and his brothers would tumble through the flowers as well, dirtying their clothes, hair, and faces with soil and mud. Life was so pleasant back then.
"Will you be needing anything else, sir?" He turned back to the maid who kept her gaze down, her hair falling over her face.
"Ye." She looked up at him, her blush deepening, he couldn't help but smile at her. "What is yer name?"
Her eyes went wide as she stood straight, a shy smile on her lips. "Ida, sir. My name is Ida."
"Ida?"
"Yes, sir."
"A bonnie name for a bonnie lass." She squeaked, mumbling her gratitude as low as she could. "Ye aren't from around these parts?" He took in her words, it lacked an accent.
"I’m, sir. I just haven't lived here much. We move around a lot, you see."
"Aye, aye. Do ye happen to ken a maid here. Davinia?" Ida nodded in recognition.
"Yes, sir. She's the housekeeper. Do you need me to get her for you?"
Gawain set down his bag on the bed." Nae, I'll go to her. Where is she?"
"I believe I saw her at the grand hall last, sir." Gawain nodded, thanking her as he set out in search of Davinia.
He found the hall with no hassle, servants bustling in and out. He could even hear one wailing about spilling something as he peeked from the entrance. He did a quick sweep of the hall before his eyes landed on her.
Davinia was crouched by a maid who was sobbing, and what Gawain guessed was broth all over the floor. As the maid continued to cry, Gawain could tell the poor thing was probably scared of facing the consequences or was stressed from overworking. He knew how tedious preparing for a feast in the castle would be. It was always a stressful task no matter how diligent and hard working the servant was, they would be close to pulling their hairs out by mid-day.
But Davinia was, should he say, graceful? She knew what to do, when, and how to do it perfectly. He watched her comfort the servant before sending the girl on her way. Gawain was about to make his move when he walked into a servant, tipping the girl off her feet, and she fell with a groan, the pitcher of water she had balanced on her tray, spilling onto her in the process.
"Me apologies." Gawain reached for her in a bid to assist, but she smacked his hand away, raising her head to glare straight at him. Her glare quickly faded into a panic when she seemingly recognized him.
"My Lord, forgive me. I did nae mean—"
"Nae, please. Do nae apologize to me. I knocked ye over." Gawain stretched his hand out to the girl once more, and she took it. Once on her feet, Gawain took the liberty of picking up her tray and pitcher. The ground had been spared from getting wet as her chest absorbed the water, the thin cotton now sticking to her bosom. Gawain forced himself to meet her doe eyes instead, his smile trembling at the sides. "Ye should be on yer way now." He croaked, handing the girl back her things before stepping aside for her. His eyes followed her until she turned into a corner, disappearing from view before he snapped out of his trance.
He shook his head of the unwanted thoughts before peering back into the hall just in time to see a maid crashing straight into Davinia with a tray of wine pitchers. Were they really stressed or just clumsy? They were spilling everything everywhere. He saw Davinia accept the tray, but the force of the impact knocked her over. If she fell, the sticky wine would be all over the place. Hadn't they just cleaned up broth?
Gawain pushed his thoughts aside for the time being before dashing as fast as he could toward Davinia.
Time slowed and all the noise died out. Only the tripping Davinia was in focus as he sped toward her.
He only managed to support her weight by standing behind her, his hands going over hers to hold on to the tray. He certainly hadn't thought about his actions properly. He did help prevent the wine from spilling, but the softness of her body against his coupled with the smell of her soft fragrance did very little to prevent the twitch in his loins. He fought the urge to pull her even closer to himself and inhale the mild floral scent from the crook of her neck. He brought his face to her ear, the few loose strands of her dark hair tickling his face as he whispered, "Perfect, as always."
Davinia had thankfully not changed as much since he had left. She simply had an aura of superiority which she hid, though not so well under a humble mask. The way she talked, she voiced her concern as well as her excitement when she saw him, it was just as she did in her letters. She had been the only one who kept in touch with him all through the years, her words of encouragement, her worries, and concerns, her well wishes were all he had in exile. It seemed that was all he needed. As much as he looked forward to meeting his brother and clan members, his eagerness to see Davinia again was second to none, and he surely wasn't disappointed.
It didn't take long for him to realize he had forgotten how much he missed listening to her speak and laugh. He missed her witty replies, her sharp mind. He saw the way her eyes lit up at the sight of the new ribbon he had gotten for her, he wanted to dig in his bag for the hairpin as well, but he had no idea what possessed him. He realized the little things he had overlooked about Davinia, they all came crashing down on him like the urge to claim her as his.
