Page 4 of A Deal with the Highlander (Married to the O’Neills #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

" N ay, nay!" Hannah exclaimed loudly, pulling the covers over her head in displeasure. "It is too bright!"

She usually relished the caress of the morning sun, but not on morning such as this one, when she felt the painful bite of the wine she partook in the previous evening.

Olivia's amused chuckle echoed around the room. "Come now, ye need to get up, yer highness!" Olivia teased her still sleepy sister, who refused to get out of bed.

"It is far too early, Olivia," Hannah managed to muster from underneath the covers, which made her sound as if she were lost in a deep, dark cave. In fact, that was exactly how she felt, unable to find a way out of the predicament she found herself in.

"It is early for someone who has indulged in a bit more wine than she ought to have," Olivia kept teasing her.

Hannah wondered if Olivia was aware of the reason why Hannah needed to drown her fears and stress in glasses of wine. It was more than obvious, at least to herself. Her entire body was trembling every time her husband-to-be approached her, and speaking to him was a particularly difficult endeavor, although she was trying to make it appear as if she were indifferent. The truth was far from it.

"Come, lass," Olivia smiled, sitting on the bed. Hannah could not see her from underneath the covers, but she could feel how the bed slightly shifted. "Ye ken that Hunter and I shall be leaving on the morrow, early in the morning."

"Aye," Hannah murmured. She hated the prospect of remaining alone here, but at least she had her trusty friends with her to keep her company. In fact, if everyone simply let her be, she would not mind being here one bit.

Hannah revealed her face from underneath the covers, blinking heavily. The light was too strong. In fact, everything was too strong. Her head felt as if it were about to pop open.

"Ye need to put on a bonnie gown and have fun with us today," Olivia told her something Hannah did not want to be reminded of. "The garden looks lovely, and it is already bein' sun kissed. I told Hunter we shouldnae leave this place without taking a stroll through the grounds."

"Ye speak as if I ye will not be seein' me for many a fortnight," Hannah frowned.

"Ye ken that isnae the truth, dear sister," Olivia shook her head. "I am merely remindin' ye that ye need to seize every single day, whether that means ye are here or somewhere else."

"Ye are right," Hannah finally acquiesced, pulling the covers off her and getting up. She was still reluctant to start discovering her new home, but it was something that needed to be done.

"Ye will be happy here, I can sense it," Olivia suddenly said, looking about.

Hannah couldn't help but chuckle. "What makes ye say that, dear sister?"

"I daenae ken," Olivia shrugged. "A feelin'."

"I've stopped relyin' on those."

"Why?" Olivia wondered.

"Because mine always steer me wrong," Hannah admitted. "Now, I shall rely solely on facts, on what I see and touch. And facts are tellin' me life here shall need some gettin' used to."

"It's a new place," Olivia reminded her lovingly. "One needs adjustin' anywhere new."

"And with a husband one cannae stand?" Hannah frowned.

Olivia chuckled. "Ye barely spoke to the man."

"I do not need to speak to him to ken him," Hannah replied stubbornly. "I ken what I need to."

"Ye are incorrigible," Olivia couldn't stop chuckling.

"Disobedient is what he called me, can ye imagine?" Hannah said, sounding mockingly shocked, lifting her hand to her forehead theatrically, which made both girls laugh boisterously.

"Aye, he doesnae ken what he had gotten himself into," Olivia couldn't stop laughing.

Hannah then proceeded to get dressed quickly, hoping that she had slept through breakfast, because for one, she wasn't feeling particularly hungry, and secondly, she had no desire to see either her husband to be or any of his family, who were mere strangers to her.

Hunter joined them shortly after, and the three siblings spent the entire afternoon outside, walking about the vast estate around McCann castle. Occasionally, Hannah would catch herself in awe of the view around her, and the fact that this actually belonged to someone. That someone was her husband to be. This was still a thought that did not come naturally.

Over time, it will, she reminded herself.

Dinner passed uneventfully, mostly because Hannah refused to exchange more words with Alistair than the usual pleasantries demanded of her.

"Alistair is rather fond of books," his mother was keen on telling everyone at the dinner table, but her eyes were aimed at Hannah. "We hear so are ye, me dear."

"Aye," Hannah nodded looking at her plate and dissecting the food with her fork slowly and painfully.

"Well…what books do ye like?" the lady asked, much to Hannah's chagrin. She had no particular desire to be discussing her taste in books.

"Anythin' really," she shrugged. "As long as it holds me interest."

"Smartly said!" Alistair's grandfather, a kind-looking old man with a cane that seemed to be an extension of his hand, interjected. "We always told Alister to never judge a book by its cover, for one never kens what is inside."

Hannah resisted a chuckle at this cliché, which was nonetheless true. Her father taught her the same thing.

“Why, tell her Alistair, dinnae I tell ye that very thing?" the old man urged Alistair to speak, but his interest was approximately on the same level as Hannah's: non-existent.

"Ye did," Alistair sighed. For a moment, Hannah thought he sent her one of those help me out of this looks, but that couldn't be it. She was not the one to help him here. She could barely help herself.

"Perhaps, ye can show Hannah the library?" His grandfather was relentless, his keen eye missing a crucial sensation that seemed to reign between the couple. Or perhaps he was merely wise enough to ignore it on purpose.

"She can go there on her own," Alistair shrugged. "It is a house, not a Greek maze."

"Well, that isnae very hospitable of ye," the old man pointed out.

"This is her home now, isnae it?" Alistair suddenly seemed to remember. "She is free to go wherever she pleases. She needs no guide."

This made the old man clear his throat a little, then he gave up much to the joy of both Alistair and Hannah… at least for the time being.

"Come visit soon, ye hear?"

The following morning, Hannah was standing in front of the main gate, waving her sister and brother goodbye.

Their embrace was solemn, almost as if someone had condemned them all to lifelong separation. That was, at least, how it felt for Hannah, who was being left behind, in a place that felt not only unfamiliar, but also hostile.

"Be good, dear sister," Olivia whispered into Hannah's ear only for her to hear. "And remember, be a brave heroine. Do not be afraid."

Hannah did not say anything to that. She merely squeezed her sister even stronger. Her hand kept waving long after the carriage disappeared from sight. Hannah still kept waving, until she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. Her entire body jumped; her senses heightened. It was not a painful touch, but it pulled her out of her reverie back to the present moment.

"Oh, I apologize for startlin’ ye, me dear," she heard the voice of Saoirse Peterson, Alistair's mother. Her deep green eyes seemed to want to pierce right through Hannah's mental defenses, and it was difficult to keep her gaze focused on the woman's.

Hannah nodded at her respectfully, trying to smile. It was hard, but she managed to do it.

"I ken what it feels to be away from home," she told Hannah conspiratorially. "It isnae a good feeling, I can agree with that. But perhaps a good book may ease the ailment?"

"Aye," she smiled in confirmation. "A book is a good companion, both in joy and sorrow."

"I could not agree more, me dear," the lady replied, locking her arm under Hannah's and pulling her back into the house. "I just hope that our home doesnae make ye feel too sorrowful."

"Yer home is lovely," Hannah was quick to assure her. Insulting her future husband's mother in any way was not her intention, especially when she was being so sweet. "I cannae imagine anyone feelin' sorrowful here, with all of ye." A slight lie, but said for the right purposes.

At that moment, as if summoned by some invisible force, Alistair's grandfather appeared, the same man who seemed to use his cane not only for walking, but for talking and expressing displeasure as well.

"Shall we show Hannah the library, Faither?" the lady asked, and both of them lit up at the idea. Hannah could not figure out what made them both so ecstatically happy about the library. She herself loved books, so she could understand it, at least to a certain extent.

"The west wing needs to be repaired," the lady explained, as they went exactly in the opposite direction. "Daenae venture there by yerself, me dear," she warned. "The stairwell is not sound, and neither is the balcony, which might be tempting to go to."

"I shall keep that in mind," Hannah nodded respectfully.

"Ye ken, that is where Lady Fiona, Alistair's great-great-grandmother used to stand every day, for hours on end, waitin' for her husband to come back from overseas," he reminisced fondly.

"Lady Fiona?" Hannah repeated, welcoming something to take her mind off of her current situation.

"Aye," the old man nodded, walking bowed slightly forward as he rested against his cane with each step. "Unfortunately, the only thing she ever saw come back was the letter informin' her of his death."

"Oh, no," Hannah gasped softly, pressing her hand to her chest in sympathy for the unknown woman and her sad fate. "I am so sorry to hear that."

"Faither!" Alistair's mother scolded the old man. "This isnae the time for sad stories. Tell the lass somethin' nice about the castle or our ancestors."

"What?" The old man shrugged. "Most of them died young, leaving this castle to fade away over the course of time."

"Well, that isnae somethin' to make a lass feel good about bein' here." The lady sighed, shaking her head. She turned to Hannah. "Daenae mind him, me dear. He likes to accentuate the theatrics of everythin'."

"Life is a theatre, is it not, lass?" the old man asked rhetorically. "And we are nothin' but actors on a stage. We play our part and then, we die."

"Faither, really! Must ye speak of death at a time like this?"

"Death is a part of life, me dear." The old man was relentless, with that teasing grin on his face. He obviously had a flare for shocking others or merely saying things they disapproved of, especially his daughter.

Hannah had to admit that the silly, but at the same time sweet banter between a father and his daughter amused her greatly. The old man then proceeded to share some of the castle's history, which dated centuries back.

"Do ye ken, me lass, that the first Scottish castles were built in the 12 th century, under the rule of David I, and were mostly made of wood," he revealed.

"Wood?" Hannah repeated.

"Aye," the man nodded knowledgeably. "But later on, other methods and materials started to appear, and the proud Scots decided that it would be a far better idea to make them out of stone." He stopped talking, approaching a wall to his left, then proceeding to knock on it. "A fortress indeed, meant to hold off sieges and protect those inside. Have ye noticed the strategic position?"

"I'm afraid I havenae," Hannah admitted.

He didn't seem to hold it against her, and merely continued with his history lesson. "Why, it is overlooking neighboring lands. From the west wing, we can see it all, me lass. And I am proud to say that our castle has been one of the rare few never being captured by the English."

Hannah could see how much that notion meant to him. She smiled; her eyes wide with awe.

"Aye, that is truly a feat," she agreed.

"We've had lairds and ladies reside here as family, as guests, as mere travelers," he continued. "We've had them die here as well, and if ye daenae mind me sayin', I do believe a ghost or two still roams these old hallways."

"Faither, now really!" Lady McCann exclaimed, exasperated, as if she had been running up the stairwell for the past half an hour. "Why would ye be fillin' the lass' ears with such nonsense?"

"That isnae nonsense, Saoirse," he shook his head disapprovingly. "The line between the livin' and the dead is rather thin, much thinner than we livin' would like to admit."

"Daenae pay any heed to me faither," Lady McCann turned to Hannah with a reassuring smile. "Sometimes, he doesnae ken what he is talkin' about."

"Ghosts, lass," her father pointed out, more for the purposes of annoying her, than to clarify. That much was obvious to everyone, including Hannah.

While the father and daughter duo seemed to be constantly clashing with each other, Hannah could not help but feel the love and tenderness between them. It was undeniable. It was also how they expressed their love. Not in empty declarations, but rather through banter that amused them both, and through time they spent together. Hannah only wished that she could have more of that with her own loved ones.

Their banter was cut short by the two of them coming to a sudden halt in front of a door.

"Here we are," the lady told her. "The library."

Hannah looked at both of them expectantly, wondering why neither of them was opening the door. Was she supposed to do it?

"Why don't ye go inside, dear?" the lady suddenly suggested. "Faither and I shall join ye shortly. I just remembered I need to fetch me spectacles if I am to enjoy a good read."

Hannah smiled understandingly. She pushed the door open, looking around. The library was vast and very poorly illuminated. The grandiose windows released enough light only for the central part of the chamber, leaving the corners and much more of it in complete darkness. Hannah could not imagine this being a particularly pleasant place to read, unless there were candles about.

She could see a long chaise lounge by the biggest bookshelf. There was also a tall armchair by the window, turned away from her. She decided that would be the best place to get comfortable and perhaps spend the afternoon with a good book. The bookshelves looked promising, with the titles she quickly skimmed through.

"Oh, I think I see—"

Unexpectedly, the doors behind her slammed shut, cutting off her sentence. As if that wasn't enough, Hannah heard the key being turned, then that treacherous sound of locked doors. She ran to them, trying to jiggle the knob, but it was to no avail.

"Lady McCann?" she called out, contemplating banging the door with her fist, but she opted against it quickly. It seemed highly inappropriate to do so. Then again, it was also inappropriate to lock someone in a chamber, be it library or any other place.

She kept trying the doorknob, but with the same luck as the first time. The door was soundly locked and there was no reply from the other side. This made no sense. Why would they do this to her?

She turned around, inhaling deeply. Perhaps, there was a dreadful secret that they wanted to keep concealed from her? An insane relative, hiding in the attic? A wildebeest in the cellar? Or perhaps –

"I would stop trying to break down the door if I were ye," she suddenly heard a voice come from the armchair and it made her jump with fright, pressing her hand to her frustrated heart. "It is just their means of havin' some fun with us."