Page 17 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

“Weel, lass . . . ye have all yer life ahead of ye to try wines and ales and everythin’ yer heart desires,” Eiric assured her. “Dinna drink too much tonight. Ye must pace yerself and build up tolerance.”

“Is that what you have done?”

“Och, aye,” Eiric said.

“And you can drink a lot now?”

“Och, aye. Perhaps too much.”

Marion laughed at that, and Eiric laughed along with her, spurred by the bright sound of her laughter. He took his seat once more and gestured at Marion to sit next to him, something that she did with a grateful smile, as though she could hardly cope with the thought of being left alone among all those people.

It was something that Eiric didn’t understand. He had never had trouble being around people, but he had seen how difficult it was for Marion.

And so, he would sit there, by her side.

Chapter Eight

The days that Marion had spent in the castle had been the best days of her life. She still hadn’t come out of her shell, not fully at least, but she had befriended a few young clanswomen, as well as some of the younger servants. She seemed to have come to know more people in those days than in all of her years alive, and she had only Eiric to thank for that.

He had been the one who had brought her to the castle. He had been the one who had given her that new life.

Marion found that she hadn’t even missed her parents or England. She didn’t miss anything from her previous life, and though she hadn’t been in Scotland for that long, she couldn’t even imagine leaving. Eiric had promised her mother that he would return her home in six months, that much was true, and Marion had been adamant at first that she had to return. Now, though, that she had tasted of what her life could be away from her parents, she never wanted to return.

How can I possibly do that though? They’ll come here and drag me back home.

With a sigh, Marion sat up in her bed, her hands scratching her head and tangling through her hair. She hadn’t quite figured out how to keep her long, dark mane from tying itself into multiple knots as she slept, but one of the women who tended to her needs knew how to detangle it with minimal pain—though minimal pain was relative, if she were honest.

Before she could even get out of bed, there was a loud knock on her door, clearly meant to awaken her in case she wasn’t already up, and soon, two servant girls were helping her get ready for the day. Breakfast was a lonely affair that morning, and Marion could only assume that all the MacLeods were already busy.

She only reassessed that theory when she saw Eiric enter the room, approaching her in what she could only describe as a saunter. Marion watched him curiously, holding back her laughter as he did, until Eiric came to stand right in front of her.

“Are ye done with yer breakfast?” he asked her, and there was something about his tone that told Marion he was being impatient.

“Almost,” she said. “Why? Should I be in a hurry?”

“Nay, nay . . . there is nay need to hurry,” Eiric said, but the constant tapping of his foot against the floor suggested otherwise. “I just have somethin’ to show ye, that’s all.”

It was Marion’s turn to be excited and impatient then, and the remaining food on her plate was soon forgotten. She stood from her seat and followed Eiric out of the castle and into the courtyard, rushing to keep up with him as he all but ran his way down the paths.

“Where are we going?” Marion asked, unable to control her curiosity. She had never seen Eiric so excited before, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that had made him so animated.

“Ye’ll see,” Eiric assured her, as he led her to the back of the castle grounds. In the end, they reached a small corner of the courtyard, one that looked like an empty chicken coop, though it was elevated from the ground. “I’ve been doin’ this ever since I was a bairn. I dinna ken if ye remember, or if I ever even showed ye, because I wasna good at it back then, and I’m sure I didna want anyone to ken what I was doin’ back here. But I’m good at it noo.”

Knowing that Eiric wouldn’t simply tell her what it was that he wanted to show her, Marion stayed silent, watching him with a small, curious frown as he took a thick glove made of sturdy leather and put it on.

Then, he whistled an odd tune.

Marion watched him carefully, but nothing seemed to be happening, or at least, whatever was happening, she couldn’t see it. Just as she was about to ask Eiric about it, she heard a sudden flap of wings, and before she knew it, there was a raven standing on Eiric’s gloved hand.

And all Marion could do was blink in surprise.

“This is Mungo,” Eiric said. “I’ve trained him ever since he came out of his egg.”

“You have a pet raven!”

Why a raven? Why not a dog, like normal people have?

“Na, he isna a pet,” Eiric said. “At least nae entirely. He delivers messages, ye see, and so do all of our ravens here.”