“Ye have the most expressive features, m’lady,” was all he said.
She hoped it was not light enough yet for him to see her blush as they rode into the village together.
Outside the bakery, she dismounted and knocked on the side door leading down to the kitchens. When it cracked open and her request was given, the baker’s wife returned not long after and handed the lady of the castle a heavy basket. Immediately, Bruce dismounted and went to hold the basket for her.
“These wee clay pots are too heavy for a lass,” he said by way of explanation for his gallantry, proceeding to carry the burdensome basket as if it weighed no more than a feather. He set it down onto the ground, and before she knew it, he placed a hand on either side of her waist and swung Laura up into the saddle. For the first time in her life, Laura felt as if she were flying. Then he let go.
“I thank ye for the help, Bruce Duncan.” Laura hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she was feeling as she took the basket he was holding out to her, placing it in front of her.
They rode back to the castle in silence, each busy with their own thoughts, such as they were.
Laura planned on heading back to her chambers when they returned. She felt as if she might be able to sleep now that her mind was no longer racking itself over the tall braw stranger. But she was out of luck. Waiting for her in the courtyard was a large retinue of men and riders.
She recognized her father, Laird Anderson, standing beside another middle-aged man. Kicking her stirrup to one side, she slipped out of the saddle to greet him, the basket swinging precariously from her arm.
“Faither! How lovely to see ye! Well met!” They embraced warmly.
Laird Anderson pushed her away from him and held her at arm’s length, looking at her keenly to see if she was happy. “How now, Daughter. I’ve brought yer swain to meet ye. Make yer curtsy to Laird Roy Halkerston.”
Laura did as she was told but could not stop herself from looking over her shoulder and beckoning Bruce Duncan over. “Faither, I would like to present Bruce of the clan Duncan to ye. He’s the gentleman with whom I went out riding at daybreak.”
A loud guffaw of laughter came from Laird Halkerston as Duncan stepped forward and bowed to Laura’s father. “Gentleman?! That’s no gentleman, sweet lady, that’s a giant! Duncan is m’most feared hired warrior in and out o’ battle an’ the reason Huna is free of brigands and pirates. Come here, Duncan, and fall in line with the others. As ye see, I have no need for ye to come an’ guide me back to the castle on the morrow. Laird Anderson made a special point of fetching me himself.”
Laura was having none of it. “Can a man no’ be both, sir? A gentlemananda giant?”
She felt sad beyond words when Duncan moved from her side and went to stand behind Laird Roy Halkerston, who promptly stepped forward to take her hand and place it on his elbow as they strolled toward the castle entrance hall together.
“M’dear Lady Laura, it makes no odds what the great hulking brute is because the only gentleman you need worry yer sweet head about from now on is me!”
4
Dreams,Laura thought to herself,hae a funny way of speaking to you at certain moments in life.Laura’s mother had always insisted that vivid dreams were the ways of the faeries, of the spirits in the earth, trying to teach you the path to living a good and moral life. If you dreamed yourself hungry, it was a sign to give to the poor and needy. If you dreamed of an approaching storm, it was time to bring a harvest in early. She had been a magical, fanciful sort of woman like that.
Perhaps it had been her encounter with Bruce Duncan that morning that had sparked memories of her mother telling her stories about faeries and giants, or perhaps she would have dreamed all the same and only remembered it because of such reminiscences... But in the wee hours of the morning, Laura dreamed.
Refusing to be disturbed by her nurse at midday and shooing away a concerned brother in the early afternoon, Laura embraced her dreams with an open heart. Truth be told, she was looking for some sort of a sign to let her know that she was doing the right thing.
First, she dreamed of her mother. Of the thin and ethereal-looking woman who seemed ready to disappear into the winter mist at the tiniest puff of wind. She remembered the way their father would hold his wife, as if she were so delicate she might shatter in his arms. She dreamt of evenings by the fire with their father reading to Henry, son perched on the knee of his sire and eyes looking at the pages with rapt attention and wonder.
As she watched, the boy grew into a man and was suddenly standing afore his new wife, whispering words of beloved commitment. And then suddenly, there was Bruce Duncan.
Only as the dream progressed did it twist and recreate itself into a memory. She recalled the way Bruce had lounged against the wall in the great hall during the wedding, perhaps attempting to make himself smaller, less threatening. She remembered the way in which his eyes were never upon her directly, and yet he had known when to fetch her a cup of wine when her own had run dry. Never asking, never looking. Just observing her needs from the corner of his eye as if it were his only purpose in that moment.
Laura's affections in that moment rose up, turning the edges of the figures in her dream to a soft, gilded gold. Warm and kind.
It was true that the two of them had spoken little at first on that day. They had spent most of their time together, standing side by side and ignoring one another in a way that offered both privacy and companionship before the ice had melted, and they were able to chat and laugh freely with one another.
But her dream remembered details that Laura’s conscious mind had forgotten. Little snippets and comments of discourse that had been lost amidst the hubbub of the day.
“Are ye alone, or did ye come with one other?” Laura had asked the man, not wanting to keep him from his escort or partner.
He had merely nodded. Upon spotting the sheathed sword he wore at his hip, Laura had tried again.
“Ye’re a soldier? One of the laird’s guards?”
Again, he had merely nodded. A sizable and silent hunk of rock in the form of a man.
“Ye dinnae say much,” Laura had observed with a soft smile to her words.
