She bit the inside of her cheek. She no longer fell under her father’s responsibility. That now fell to her betrothed.
Fine, then. She would ensure that her husband-to-be kenned of her abandonment.
They crested a hill and the village appeared on the other side, bustling with life. A small crowd had gathered waiting for them to arrive. The two lads that had run ahead must have made everyone aware of her appearance.
Refusing to be looked down upon, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, taking confident steps forward as she entered the village.
“Welcome to Dornichton, my lady.” A woman that appeared to be around the same age as her mother stepped forward and greeted her.
“Thank ye.” Alana looked around at the people gathered, feeling like she was a prized hog on display. “I need to secure transport to my betrothed. Have ye seen my two guards come through? They were escorting me when the accident occurred.”
“I am Tilly. Nay, I am sorry, but I havenae seen anyone from away come through the village. We would ken, as all of us are local.” She assessed Alana’s gown. “Outsiders tend to stick out like sore thumbs, if ye ken what my meaning.”
Irritation bubbled at the realization that her guards had truly abandoned her. Did no one in her soon-to-be husband’s clan have any integrity? From what she had seen so far, she would say not. Dread settled deep in her belly at the thought that entered her mind. What type of life was she destined to live once she arrived at her new home? None of it seemed appealing from what she’d seen of his men.
Her father’s guards would never have done such a thing. And in the off chance someone did, her father would have had them punished severely. The men would have been whipped and then spent a nightor two in the dungeon with just water and bread to eat.
Alana could only hope that her husband would treat such desertion of duty in much the same way.
“Word has been sent to Laird Hart. He will ensure ye are taken care of.”
Alana sighed. “When will he arrive? I really must be going on my way. We had a schedule to adhere to.”
Tilly’s mouth turned down. “Again, my lady, I apologize. I have no control o’er our laird and his timeframes. Howe’er we have sent for him and he or a delegate will arrive to assist ye.”
She wasn’t happy with that answer, but she also couldn’t blame the villagers. They were only doing what they would normally do when a stranger arrived in their village.
Tilly smiled. “Come. Let us get some food in yer belly whilst ye wait. Ye must be starving.”
As if on cue, Alana’s stomach let out a loud grumble and Tilly grinned.
“Aye, as I said, ye must be starving after yer journey.”
She let the woman lead her down the street and to a quaint cottage. Ushering Alana inside, she urged her to take a seat at one of the empty tables.
The smells of fresh baked bread and roasted meat filled her senses.
Two hours later, Alana’s appetite was sated and she warmed herself by the hearth, a warm mug of cider in her hands. Her boots sat near the flame, drying, along with her soaked stockings, which were hanging from nearby hooks.
Murmurs from those around her caught her attention and she looked over to the doorway and her breath caught in her throat.
A fierce Highlander had entered, and people approached him, bowing in greeting.
W-w-was he to be her escort? He looked terrifying and she fought against the shiver that traveled up her spine.
He was tall, easily over a foot taller than she, with light brown hair and piercing green eyes. A thick beard covered his strong jaw, a deep scar splitting his left cheek in two, and he appeared unkempt. Dust and dirt covered his clothing.
Was this Laird Hart? He was younger than she expected him to be. Furthermore, he obviously had no self-respect in that he had not even bothered to wash himself up to greet a guest.
She almost laughed. Probably would have if she hadn’t been caught by his intense gaze as if a gnat in a web, unable to get away. She kenned she was judging him unfairly considering her appearance was no better than his. At least all of his clothes were free of tears. She could not say the same of hers.
Setting the cider down, Alana stood and approached the man. From this close, he looked even bigger than she had originally thought. He remained silent, looking unimpressed as he assessed her.
“Laird Hart,” she called, dipping into a curtsy to show her respect.
“Is my father.”
“Pardon?”
