Page 17 of Bride takes a Scot

“You are wasting your time, Brother, and the map is but a useless bit of scrap. Grandda was having your leg because there’s no treasure,” Rhona said. “Do ye not have better things to do with your time than search for something that is not there?”

Isabella smiled at Declan’s sister, but Rhona frowned and turned away, all but ignoring her. That disheartened Isabella further. She had hoped to befriend Declan’s siblings, but they were as friendly as a hoard of boars. Claude scowled at her and returned his gaze to the parchment in front of him. He appeared as friendly as his sister. If she survived a day in their presence, it would come down to God’s intervention because they were downright mean.

Isabella regarded Declan’s siblings. They looked much like him with golden locks of hair, brown eyes, and similar facial features. It seemed they weren’t keen to want to get to knowher, so she didn’t join in the conversation and remained quiet. Melancholy crept its way into her heart, and she was saddened that they disliked her.

“Have you gone yet to the field, Silas? Surely, his lairdship means to see ye there this day,” Lady MacKendrick asked her son. “Best ye make a showing of yourself. Appearances are important if ye wish to make your way in this clan.”

Silas, she noticed, watched her closely but at least he smiled. He hadn’t looked away from her since she sat at the table. Isabella returned his smile and was thankful at least one of Declan’s family was happy with her presence. Silas was handsome with straight black hair, a lean body, and a bit of scruff on his face. Isabella thought he neared Declan’s age, but he wasn’t as brawny as her husband.

Still, his gaze hadn’t wavered. His light blue eyes were mesmerizing. She’d never seen a man with such becoming eyes. His intense eyes seemed to peer through her.

Silas turned to look at his mother finally and answered her, “I have been at the training fields. Declan was not there so I left. ’Twas no sense in wasting my time if he was not there.”

“Ye would do well to take more of a leadership role with the soldiers. One day it might become needful or prudent. If something awful were to happen to Declan, ye could be next in line to serve this clan. Best ye remember that.” Lady MacKendrick smeared butter on a piece of bread and continued her conversation with her son.

“I cannot believe Declan married a bonny woman akin to ye, Milady Isabella,” Silas said and leaned toward her, ignoring his mother. “Is it true the king forced ye to marry him?”

“I certainly did marry him and was fortunate to be given a choice. Declan was the most handsome, noble man offered,” she said and tried to instill that her marriage to Declan was covetedby them both. Isabella didn’t want his family to think he was forced to marry her.

Silas guffawed. “Ye chose him? Was there naught any others who were worthy? I wish I had been one of the men ye got to choose from. It would have made your decision easier.”

Isabella smiled because it seemed Silas was jesting with her even though his tone might not have implied it. “I am certain you are right.”

“If ye like, Milady, I would be gladdened to walk with ye this day, show ye around the keep’s grounds. The grounds outside the walls are just as bonny. There’s a loch close by that the clan frequently visits.”

“I would enjoy that, but I like to walk by myself… Ah, to clear my head. I should do so now.” Isabella disregarded Silas’s frown. She finished her meal and wanted to get away from Declan’s family at the soonest. Before she left the cottage, she offered to help clean up, but Lady MacKendrick scoffed at her.

“Tis the maid’s job, lass, to see to the cleaning up. Ah, here’s Edith now.”

The maid whom she’d seen briefly the night before was a kindly-looking woman with light brown hair tucked beneath a kerchief. She entered the main room and took up the trenchers and bowls. Isabella noted the harsh look on the maid’s face when she gazed at Lady MacKendrick. She would introduce herself to the maid later when Lady MacKendrick wasn’t around. Servants always knew what was going on in the home, and Isabella hoped to get some answers from Edith or at least win her favor.

With nothing keeping her there, Isabella wandered outside. She wanted to get away from Declan’s unpleasant family. Silas stood at the cottage door and watched her leave. He wasn’t a bad sort, but she reasoned he might be attracted to her. Isabella needed to dissuade him from any interest. She had dealt with overzealous suitors before and his attention was the last thingshe needed now when all she wanted was to attract Declan. Silas looked at her fondly, but in a seemly way, as if he had thought to win her favor. It was obvious Declan’s family didn’t like outsiders and she, being from the Scottish border only instigated their disdain, except for Silas. Perhaps she could make a friend of him. Having him on her side might go a long way to winning her husband’s notice.

The day was nice enough with only a slight chill in the air. Isabella gripped her shawl and walked around, taking in the scene of the MacKendrick clan’s people. Ahead, the men appeared to be building a fortress by the look of it. The stone structure rose high. She’d seen a similar building when she was in Edinburgh. When finished, the fortification would be impenetrable and unsightly in her opinion, with heavy stone and starkness. The men who erected the building excluded window casements but had put enough balistrarias to let a little light within. At least there was that.

People strolled along the lane and reverted around a horse and cart. Men loaded bales of hay onto the cart and jested with each other. She smiled at them and continued on her way, crossing the lane and walking on. Soldiers stood in a group yonder and appeared to be discussing something humorous because they bellowed with laughter. Down aways, she noticed several carts set up which likely were for the sale of wares. Her interest was piqued in wonder of what they sold. Several women stood by the hawkers likely purchasing something to go with their supper.

A young lad ran forth with a long stick in his hand. He appeared to be about five or so years of age. The lad shouted and played at being a knight who set out to defeat his foes. Isabella smiled at the lad and his enthusiastic movements. His light hair fell past his shoulders in what appeared to be tangled strands. In fact, she noticed that he was unkempt overall, with smudges ofdirt on his face, scraped knees below the hem of his tartan, and a gray tunic that was probably once another color.

The lad turned and shot across the lane right by her. He kept running and swung his makeshift sword. She heard a thundering sound and turned to see what the commotion was when she spotted an unmanned horse tethered to a cart careening toward them. Her breath caught in her throat because the horse had been frightened by something, probably by the lad swinging his sword. The animal gave no care where it ran and galloped straight at them.

The lad paid no attention to the noise. He shot out on the lane and raised his stick in the pretense of fighting a foe. Isabella dropped her shawl and sprinted toward him. She snatched the lad off his feet and hurried to step out of the way of the horse. The animal and cart thundered by them even as she wobbled under the child’s weight and fell backward and landed with anoomphon the lane. She groaned as pain shot through her. The ground was hard, and she likely had a bruise or two to show for her gallantry.

“Lad, what were you thinking? You could have been hurt.” Isabella set him on his feet and held onto his hand. She got on her knees to rise.

The lad jerked his hand from hers and glared at her with big eyes before he scrambled backward and ran off without a by-your-leave or even a thank you. That he hadn’t even acknowledged that she’d saved him astounded her. He needed to be taught manners. Before Isabella got to her feet, a man threw his hand down at her. She peered at the large, calloused hand before her and reluctantly accepted his help.

“Milady, are ye hurt?” He scowled fiercely at the cart, which had been stopped by several men who were even now calming the animal and unhitching it. When he turned back to her, he smiled.

She shook her head and brushed a bit of hay from her overdress that must’ve fallen from the cart. The lad was nowhere to be seen now and had scampered off. Isabella hoped to have a word with him about the perils of playing in the busy lane and that he should greet his elders properly—and thank people for saving his life, at the very least. She prayed that he was safe and unharmed.

“I am Anse MacKendrick, the clan’s commander-in-arms, your husband’s cousin. Here, Milady,” he said and handed her the discarded shawl.

Isabella gaped at the man in awe as she took him in. Anse was a large man, muscular, broad-shouldered, and handsome. His dark hair swept by his face in long strands. He had kind dark eyes and a manicured beard that was trimmed short. She accepted the shawl from him and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Good day, Anse. Thank you for your aid. I am well, truly, just a little bruised.”

“Ye frightened me to death, Milady, when I saw the cart ready to run ye down, I all but lost my breath. My heart is still pounding. Ye be fortunate to be alive.” Anse sounded a little winded and rambled in a deeply accented brogue.

Isabella’s cheeks brightened to be the focus of the hardened soldier’s attention. “I do apologize, sir, and hadn’t meant to frighten you. I had to save the lad.” She paused, unsure if she should point out the boy’s lack of gratefulness, uncertain whether it would endear her to Anse or not. But then, she decided, it needed to be said. “Do you know, he did not even thank me for rescuing him?”