Freya's eyebrows shot up. "What brought this on?"
"Naethin’. I just... I heard some maids talkin’, and I realized I dinnae actually ken anything about his... his personal affairs." The last words came out strangled.
A slow smile spread across Freya's face. "Oh, lass."
"Dinnae look at me like that. I'm just curious, that's all."
"Mmm-hmm. Just curious." Freya sat on the edge of the bed, clearly settling in for a proper gossip. "Well, tae answer yer question—nay, the laird isnae betrothed or seriously courtin’ anyone. He's had his share of attention from the ladies, mind ye. Half the eligible women in the Highlands have tried their luck with him at one point or another."
Mhairi's stomach dropped. "Oh."
"But," Freya continued, "he's never shown real interest in any of them. Oh, he's charmin’ enough when he needs to be, can make a lass blush with just a smile. But it never goes further than that. I think after losin’ his maither and sister, he's been... careful about who he lets close."
"That makes sense," Mhairi said quietly, though the knot in her chest hadn't eased much.
"Why dae ye ask?" Freya's eyes were too knowing. "Ye worried about competition?"
"Nay! I just... I dinnae want tae be a burden. Or cause problems if there's someone who..." Mhairi trailed off, realizing how ridiculous she sounded.
"Me lady." Freya's voice was gentle now. "I've worked in this castle fer five years. I've seen the laird with plenty of women. And I've never seen him look at any of them the way he looks at ye."
Mhairi's breath caught. "He daesnae look at me any particular way."
"If ye believe that, ye're blinder than old Hamish, and he walked intae a wall last Tuesday." Freya stood, smoothing her skirts. "The laird's out on clan business, naethin’ more. And when he gets back, I'd wager me best ribbon he'll come lookin’ fer ye first thing."
After Freya left, Mhairi tried to settle her nerves by preparing for the afternoon. But her hands were unsteady as she changed into a fresh dress, and her thoughts kept circling back to Alpin.
Where was he? Who was he with? And why did the thought of him with someone else make her feel like she was being torn in two?
By the time they rode through the castle gates, the sun was high overhead. Servants and warriors alike stopped to stare at the bound prisoner, whispers spreading like wildfire.
The prisoner had given them nothing useful beyond confirming what they already knew, Ashcombe was camped at the border and planning something.
"Take him to the cells," Alpin ordered. "Post two guards there, now, he should be guarded always.”
He had to find Donnach, get the man's wound properly treated before infection set in completely. A dead prisoner was no use to anyone.
The healing chambers smelled of herbs and smoke when Alpin pushed open the door. Donnach was bent over a worktable, grinding something in a mortar. And beside him, carefully rolling bandages, was Mhairi.
Alpin's breath caught at the sight of her. She was concentrating on her task, dark hair falling forward to hide her face, her movements precise and practiced.
"Donnach," he said. "I need ye in the cells. We have a prisoner with a festerin’ wound."
"Aye, me laird. Give me a moment to gather supplies."
Mhairi didn't look up. Didn't acknowledge his presence at all.
Alpin frowned. "Mhairi?"
She continued rolling bandages as if he hadn't spoken.
"Mhairi," he tried again.
"I heard ye the first time," she said coolly, still not looking at him.
Donnach's eyes darted between them, clearly sensing tension. He gathered his supplies with unusual haste. "I'll just... go see tae that prisoner now, shall I?"
"Aye," Alpin said, not taking his eyes off Mhairi. "I'll be down shortly."
