"Out again?" The younger one giggled. "That's the third time this week. Dae ye think he's meetin’ someone?"
"Shush, ye daft girl. The laird has more important things tae dae than?—"
Mhairi didn't wait to hear the rest. She turned and walked quickly down the corridor, her chest suddenly tight.
Meeting someone.
It shouldn't matter. It was none of her concern what Alpin did with his time or who he spent it with. He'd given her shelter,protection, a chance to learn healing—that was more than enough. She had no claim on him, no right to feel that strange twisting sensation in her stomach.
But she felt it anyway.
The breakfast room was empty when she entered, the food laid out but untouched. Alpin's usual chair sat vacant, and Mhairi found herself staring at it longer than necessary before forcing herself to eat.
He was out. On business. That's what the maid had said.
But the younger one had implied something else entirely.
Mhairi picked at her bannock, her appetite gone.
It was ridiculous. She was being ridiculous. Alpin was the laird of a large clan, of course he had responsibilities that took him away from the castle. Of course he had... other people to see.
The thought made her hands clench around her cup.
By midday, Alpin still hadn't returned. Mhairi went through her morning routine with Donnach, learning about feverfew and its uses for headaches, but her mind kept wandering. The old healer noticed, of course.
"Ye're distracted today, lass," he observed as she nearly mixed the wrong herbs together. "Somethin’ troubling ye?"
"Nay, I'm just..." Mhairi caught herself. "Just tired. I didnae sleep well."
Donnach's knowing look suggested he didn't believe her, but he let it pass.
When he dismissed her for the midday meal, Mhairi walked through the corridors with no particular destination in mind. That's when she heard them again, the same two maids, this time in a storage room she was passing.
"...saw him ridin’ out at dawn with that look on his face," the younger one was saying. "All serious and determined-like. Mark me words, he's meetin’ someone."
"Or dealin’ with those English soldiers everyone's been whisperin’ about," the older maid countered. "Stop spreadin’ gossip, Ailsa."
"I'm nae spreadin’ gossip! I'm just sayin’ the laird's been gone a lot lately, and he always comes back in a strange mood. Last week I saw him smilin’ tae himself in the corridor like?—"
Mhairi hurried past, not wanting to hear more. But the damage was done. Her mind was already spinning, conjuring images she had no business conjuring.
Alpin smiling at someone. Alpin meeting someone in secret. Alpin with his hands on someone else the way they'd been on her shoulders the night before on the battlements.
She felt sick.
Back in her chamber, Mhairi tried to distract herself by reading the herb book Donnach had lent her. But the words blurred together, making no sense. She paced. She sat. She paced again.
A knock at the door made her jump.
"Come in."
Freya entered with fresh linens, her cheerful face a stark contrast to Mhairi's mood. "Afternoon, miss! I brought ye clean sheets and— are ye all right? Ye look a bit peaky."
"I'm fine," Mhairi said automatically.
"Ye're a terrible liar." Freya set down the linens and studied her with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Naethin’. I just..." Mhairi hesitated, then the words tumbled out before she could stop them. "Is the laird betrothed? Or courtin’ someone?"
