Page 62 of Bride Takes a Charmer
The walk back to the fief took little time. They entered the keep and he greeted the clansmen and women who lingered in the long hallway that led to the great hall. Sorsha continued to the hall and left him. Music came from the large room and when he entered, he noticed the musicians by the corner. Their music sounded lively with chords meant to get people moving. They played Mamo’s favorite tunes.
Shaw mingled with his clan and listened to the wonderful things being said about Mamo. His gaze roved the room until his eyes fell on Sorsha. She sat at the table with Edra and Enid with Gillian on her lap. Lord, she looked lovely, especially at the way she smiled at her bairn. He reached the table and sat in the empty chair next to hers.
His sister and her husband sat on the opposite side of the table a little ways down toward the center. He smiled at his sister and hadn’t yet talked to her about losing their grandmother. Shaw wondered if she was sad. Corliss didn’t appear so as she spoke and appeared to laugh with her husband.
Sorsha repositioned Gillian on her lap and leaned toward him. “There you are. I lost track of you when we entered. Edra made a feast if you are hungry.”
Shaw shook his head. “I could use a drink.”
Walen marched forward and set before him a cup. “Laird, ’tis a potent brew. Ye look like ye could use it.” He held a cup of his own and raised it high. “To Milady Maven. There has never been nor will there be another woman akin to her.”
All those within hearing distance raised their cups and bellowedayes.
Before long, many of his close comrades stood around the table. The conversation turned comical when Walen stood and called for attention and held up his hand for silence.
“I recall when Milady Maven replaced all the ale barrels with water-filled barrels. We all joined Shaw that night for supper and we were intent on getting well soddened with the laird’s ale, except when we poured our drinks and drank, most of us spit out the water. She thought she outsmarted us and laughed about it for days after.”
Shaw chuckled. He’d been proclaimed the laird right around then and many of the men supported him. Many times, he would invite soldiers and his close comrades to dine with him. But Mamo had said they made too much noise and often reprimanded them.
“I do not know why ye bother speaking of the dead. Lady Maven is gone and there is no sense in bringing up memories that should be put to rest.” Idris pushed back his chair and rose.
An instant ire came to him at the man’s affront. How dare he disrespect his grandmother? Shaw rose and with his stride long, he reached his brother-in-law in quick time and grabbed hold of his tunic. Before Shaw could stop himself, he’d punched Idris in the face, forcing him to stumble backward.
“What in hell…?” Idris scowled at him and pulled his dagger free. “Ye dare strike me?”
Shouts sounded around him and his clansmen pressed in behind Idris. Shaw disliked the man immensely, but he shouldn’t have struck him. He was wrong to do so, but he’d been unable to resist, especially since he’d all but insulted them. Now the moment was rife with tension as his men appeared to want to murder the man and to be honest he was loath to stop them. Still, he needed to try.
“Ye will never speak of my grandmother in such a way. She was worthy of our devotion and we have every right to celebrate her life. If ye disagree, there is the door. Ye can find your way off my land and not return.”
His clansmen bobbed their heads and some bumped Idris’s body with theirs.
“I meant no offense, Laird Mackintosh…Shaw. ’Tis apparent ye are all distraught and I do not see why ye would cause yourselves further grief by recalling…”
Corliss approached and stood beside her husband. “Shaw, he meant no offense. Are ye not taking his words a wee too much to heart? Idris has had too much to drink this day. I will put him to bed. Come along, Idris. We should go before ye cause more trouble.” His sister pressed her husband toward the exit of the hall and they disappeared beyond the threshold.
Shaw rubbed his hand because he’d struck the man with more force than he’d thought. Guilt prevented him from looking at Sorsha or the people who continued to linger in the hall. He retook his seat and slumped back. Idris, he supposed, was due an apology. He shouldn’t have been so quick to temper.
He didn’t know why, but the longer Idris stayed at the keep, the more he disliked him. The man reminded him of Rodick, Geoff, and most of the Chattans—self-serving. The men of that clan were more boastful and arrogant.
“Shaw…”
He didn’t trust the Chattans and now it occurred to him that because Idris was allied with them, he shouldn’t trust him either. Yet the man was his sister’s husband and family by marriage. Shouldn’t he trust his family? Nay, sometimes family was less trustworthy than an enemy. On the morrow, he needed to speak with Idris and clear up the matter but also to scrutinize why he’d come and most importantly when he intended to leave and return to Tor as he’d promised.
“Shaw…” Sorsha stood beside his chair. She leaned close and spoke softly, “I need to put the children to bed. Will you be along soon?”
“I will be a while. Ye go on and get rest.”
Sorsha set a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Be sure to come to bed this night and do not get too sotted. You shall be sorry for it on the morrow.” She turned away and jostled Gillian on her hip. Gillian’s squeal of laughter lightened him and he felt the tugging of his lips.
“I will be along soon,” he said to himself. Shaw turned back, picked up his cup, and drank the harsh brew. It did wonders to settle his angst. That and the delightful laughter of a wee minx and his lovely wife.
Chapter Twenty-One
In the fortnightsince Mamo’s laying to rest, Sorsha had tried her best to cheer her husband. He finally seemed to come around and was his old self. Now Sorsha sat in the comfortable chair by the hearth where a good fire blazed. Gillian sat on her lap and Luthor sat on the floor. She cherished the quiet moments spent with Shaw and the children.
“Will ye tell us again about the mountain and the squirrel?” Luthor asked.
“Aye, Mama, tell us about the bun and how smart she was.” Gillian giggled.