“Aye, my lady, we have the best storytellers in all of Scotland, to be sure.”
“That’s true, Lady Marion,” the littlest brother Archibald said.
“And what are your favorite stories about, Archibald is it?”
“Everyone calls me Archie, so you can call me Archie.”
“Very well, Archie, what are your favorite stories about?”
“I cannae tell ye, my lady.”
“Oh really,” she said, surprised at his conviction. “And why is that?”
“Because we cannae start until Gordon tells his first and then we can join in.”
Marion was not sure what that meant, but it was important to little Archie so she would not press him. “Very well, then, Archie. I believe I very much look forward to hearing your story.”
From the corner of her eye, she became aware of Alexander’s gaze on her. His hot and cold manners were becoming exhausting. She turned her attention back to Jean.
“We do something similar in my home after an evening meal, but we tell our stories through music. Sometimes one of us will add our voices to the pipes and strings, but other times I have found I can lose myself in the beautiful notes.”
“I can only imagine how lovely that is. My brother tells me you hail from Stobo.”
“Aye, we do not have a castle as lavish as this, but ’tis a tower house very near that village.”
“Do you have to climb up the tower on a ladder?” Archie asked.
Marion enjoyed his curiosity. “Nay, wee man, we have winding stairs that if you run up them too fast, will make you dizzy and you could fall all the way to the bottom. I can still hear my mother yelling at me and my sister, ‘no running on those stairs lest ye break yer heads,’ but we didn’t listen to her.”
Archie laughed and came alongside Marion to touch her hair. She loved how honest innocent little children could be. Her red hair was very different than the dark hair that ran through this family, and it was clear he liked it.
“Did a witch turn you into a vampire?”
Marion laughed. She’d heard this legend before. “Well now, wee man, maybe I will have to wait and tell that story later.”
For a moment his eyes went wide, and he dropped the lock of her hair he’d been holding.
“But I think this Gordon will forgive us if we tell this one early, aye?”
Eyes still wide, Archie merely nodded.
“My mother told me that when I was a wee lass, my hair was blonde. One day I was walking through the flowers in the meadow, and I fell asleep on a bed of orange hawkweed. I slept for hours as my mother called and called for me. When she found me and I woke up, my hair was red and has been red ever since.”
Little Archie’s eyes were large as saucers and his mouth was agape as he listened to her.
“Is that true?” Archie’s sister, Cora, asked, now taking great interest in Marion and her hair.
“Well, I mean, ’tis what my mother told me, so it has to be true, right?”
Archie turned to Alexander then. “Alex, is that true? Did LadyMarion’s hair turn red from the orange weeds?”
Alexander gave Marion a broad smile which told her he approved of her not feeding into Archie’s obvious scary imagination.
“I have heard that if you fall asleep in a bed of bluebells, your hair will turn blue, so I do believe it is a true tale. And I do not believe Lady Marion capable of telling tall ones like some boys I know.”
Marion noted a few things in that last exchange. That Alexander allowed his younger siblings to shorten his given name was as endearing as anything she’d seen in this family thus far. Secondly, that he so quickly jumped in to support her attempt at a story was a side of him she hadn’t realized she wanted. Her mind turned over and over with what she truly wanted from him and the conclusion was she did not know.
“I do not tell tall tales,” he said and folded his little arms across his chest.
