Page 7 of Trapped with the Vicious Highlander (Falling for Highland Villains #5)

CHAPTER 7

The wind whipping at Ava’s face felt different. It was slightly colder and a bit more intense than what she was used to back at the cottage. She could smell bread and meat from an afar kitchen. She could also see a few people making their way out of the lofty grey castle and hurrying towards them. Their eyes were filled with either shock, surprise, or utter glee.

Ava walked to the other side of the carriage and helped Margaret down.

“Your new home,” she said, a bright smile on her face as she led Margaret back to the other side of the carriage, where Brodrick waited.

“What do ye think?” Brodrick asked, staring intently at her as if he truly wanted to hear her opinion.

Ava stared at the castle. Its walls were grey, but not a drab grey. It was a fresh kind of grey. Something told her that some work had been done on it recently. Smoke rose from one of the chimneys in the back, but the front rose almost to high heaven. The cloudy mist blocked the very top from her view. For a minute, she wondered how many months—if not years—it had taken to build a castle this tall and this large.

Her eyes landed on the front gate, where people were walking towards them. Then, she took in the green fields, the rich and pristinely brown soil, and the gate to the stables.

She could see a lot from where she stood, and for a minute, she wondered if the castle was designed to be like that. Entangled ivy snaked around some of the walls.

“So?” Brodrick prompted, cutting into her thoughts.

Ava shook her head and turned to him. “I think it could’ve been bigger.”

Brodrick bit back a smile. “Right.”

The joke wasn’t lost on him, she was sure.

They remained standing by the carriage as people approached them. Ava could feel Margaret’s fingers curl into her skirt.

“It’s all right, child,” she whispered to her. “It’s all right.”

Now, if only she could feel the reassurance she was offering the girl as well. But the eyes staring back at her wouldn’t let her put her mind at ease. She wondered at that moment what it was they were thinking about.

A few of the people drew closer, the curiosity on their faces growing by the second, and Ava watched Brodrick’s hand slowly reach for the hilt of his sword.

“Sometimes,” he whispered, “ye need more than words to keep them at bay.”

A young woman, probably the same age as Elizabeth, walked forward, pushing her way through the crowd, her face bright with joy.

Brodrick released his grip on the hilt of his sword.

“I was told ye were back, but I thought it was Angus playin’ one of his stupid tricks on me,” she called, moving closer.

When her eyes landed on Ava, she seemed to falter for a minute. Her expression shifted, and Ava could see the slightest flicker of confusion in her eyes.

Ava felt her heart lurch for some reason. Was she his wife?

“Greetings, Sister,” Brodrick greeted just as the young woman pulled him into a hug.

Oh.

Ava exhaled slowly.

His sister.

The woman kissed his cheek and then released him before finally turning her gaze to Ava, taking her in.

“This is me sister, Flora Culloch,” Brodrick introduced. “Flora, this is Ava. She has been takin’ care of… me daughter for a while.”

Ava noticed just how his voice had faltered at the thought of mentioning Margaret’s name.

“Nice to meet you,” she greeted.

Flora studied her for a minute, her eyes taking in everything, from Ava’s hair to the dress she was wearing.

Ava did the same as well.

Just like Brodrick, Flora had dark hair that shone in the sunlight. Her features, although delicate, somehow still reflected Brodrick’s facial structure. It made Ava wonder if they both took after their father or mother. She couldn’t believe she had thought the woman was his wife.

“Whatever this one has told ye about me,” Flora started, her voice casual as she broke into Ava’s train of thought. “Dinnae believe it. Brodrick has been kenned to embellish.”

“Do ye think yerself so important that we’ll have nothing to talk about except ye?”

Flora snorted a laugh, before she finally turned to look at Margaret, who still stood clueless at Ava’s side. She then turned back to Brodrick, giving him a questioning look. When he nodded, she took a step closer to Margaret.

“Welcome, little one.”

Margaret took a step back.

“It’s me. Yer aunt Flora.”

Those words had some effect on Margaret. Her fingers tightened around Ava’s skirt, and she took another step back, now fully standing behind Ava.

“Is everything all right?” Flora asked, the confusion that had rested on her face earlier slowly making its way back. “Why does she nae speak?”

Ava turned to look at Brodrick, wondering if he was going to take the lead on this one. When she realized he was not going to say anything, she decided to do it herself.

She chuckled. “I am certain Margaret would be…” she trailed off when Flora took a step back, her face twisting in utter surprise. “I am certain she would pleased to meet everyone once she has settled. The journey was quite long and stressful.”

Flora swallowed and turned to Brodrick. “Margaret?” she asked, her voice high-pitched.

Brodrick shrugged. “Aye. Margaret.”

A tense silence fell over the crowd behind Flora. That was when it finally dawned on Ava.

Of course.

Margaret had a different name when she was born. Ava had been the one to name her Margaret. That would explain Brodrick’s hesitation whenever he said her name.

“That was what I named her, since she couldn’t speak. I didn’t know her real name.”

Flora turned to look at Ava again, her eyes darkening for only half a second. Did Flora see her as some kind of threat?

The next words she uttered did not ease her nerves.

“If I’d kenned ye were bringin’ an English governess with ye, I would’ve prepared two beds.”

Ava swallowed.

“That willnae be a problem, will it?” Brodrick asked.

“Oh, nae at all. I shall ask the servants to prepare a room this instant.”

Ava shuffled her feet. It was the way Flora had uttered the word English with some kind of disdain.

“Why doesnae she speak? Has she been bewitched by the Englishwoman?” a voice roared from the crowd behind Flora.

Brodrick reached for his sword again, and Ava shot him a pointed look.

“Are you going to do that every single time someone speaks?” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Aye.” Brodrick’s voice was curt but gentle at the same time.

“I will have to apologize for them, miss,” Flora offered, a hint of the same disdain lacing her voice. “We werenae exactly expectin’… ye.”

Ava nodded. She understood perfectly. It wasn’t her first time being somewhere she wasn’t wanted.

“Has she lost her tongue?” another voice called from the crowd, and Brodrick’s grip tightened on his sword.

“Och, but she looks so bonny,” Flora gushed suddenly, jumping into action this time around. She moved closer to Margaret, lowering herself to her eye level. “Ye have yer maither’s face, ye ken that?”

The tension eased, and Flora rose one more time.

“Ye ken what we should do?” she asked. “A cèilidh. We should organize one for her safe return.”

Ava cast a glance at Brodrick, who only gave a mild grunt in response.

“Will the governess be here for the cèilidh as well?” Flora asked, turning to look at her brother. The tension in her voice did not go unnoticed.

“Ava will be here for a month to help… Margaret settle. So, aye. She will be here for the cèilidh, I suppose,” he announced, his voice still curt.

“I see.”

“Once Margaret settles and returns to her old self, she shall return to her cottage. That’s it.”

Flora nodded.

Another moment of tense silence passed between them before she clapped her hands together.

“Come with me. The servants will help unpack yer boxes. Ye must all be starvin’.”

Ava smiled and turned to look at Brodrick, who gave her a mild smile and nodded in encouragement.

Flora led them past the crowd, who parted for them like the Red Sea. Ava briefly stroked Margaret’s hair in reassurance, but the little girl wouldn’t let go of her skirts.

They made their way through the front gates and across the wide courtyard. Ava couldn’t help but wonder if this was every adversary she was going to face. She wasn't exactly blind to the fact that there had always been lingering tension between the English and the scots. However, the last thing she expected was the thickening contempt she felt from these people who were all staring at her like she had dropped from the sky. Perhaps she would've been less of a stranger if that had been the case.

While she hated the thought of war and unnecessary fighting, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of satisfaction when Brodrick reached for his sword every time someone spoke about Margaret. Perhaps he shall be here to protect them every step of the way.

They walked into the castle, the smell of the walls and woodsmoke hitting their nostrils almost immediately.

“Welcome to Castle MacDunn,” Flora intoned, leading them through the large inner courtyard and straight to their rooms.

Ava looked around, studying the walls, the carvings, and almost nothing in particular at the same time as Flora’s words reverberated in her head.

Welcome to Castle MacDunn.

* * *

Brodrick watched them go, his eyes following Ava and Margaret as Flora led them into the castle. The crowd had stayed behind, and as his gaze flicked to them, he realized there were some things he needed to make clear. His steps were brisk and purposeful as he moved towards them.

The crowd consisted mostly of his men, their wives and daughters, and some of the maids who had worked for either his father before he died or for him for quite a long time. He stopped right in front of them, feeling their eyes drill holes into him. He looked around, cleared his throat, and then started to speak.

“I want ye all to listen to me,” he began. “That woman—that Englishwoman—is me daughter’s guardian. She shall stay here for a while to help me daughter settle in and get to ken her people. Under nay circumstances will ye to treat her with anything less than respect.”

“Ye couldnae find a Scot to take care of yer bairn?” a voice called from the middle of the crowd.

He couldn’t see who spoke, and frankly, he believed it was for the best. The last thing he needed was to keep an image of who could possibly be resentful towards Ava in his mind.

“Well, it wasnae a Scot who found me daughter now, was it?” he shot back.

Silence fell over the crowd.

“This kind of talk? This is what I willnae tolerate. She is me daughter’s guardian. She will be here for a while. Give her the respect she deserves. I dinnae want to hear her complain about ye lot. Whoever she complains about will have me to deal with. Am I understood?”

The silence lingered. If a leaf had dropped from a tree in the distance, they would have all heard it.

“I said,” Brodrick asked again, his voice louder, “am I understood?”

A brief murmur swept across the crowd, punctuated by mild grumblings and mutterings of “Aye, M’Laird.”

As the crowd slowly began to disperse, a woman who had worked for his father and had watched him grow up moved closer to him, a tense smile on her face. She reached for Brodrick’s hands and held them tight.

“She is quite bonny, nay?” she asked.

Brodrick swallowed, his breath catching in his throat. “Uh—I… I suppose any man would see that.”

Unease stirred in his belly. No one had been that blunt with him, and certainly not about Ava.

The smile on the woman’s face lingered. “She has her maither’s face as well.”

Then, she released his hands and walked away.

It was only as she climbed up the steps to the entrance did Brodrick realize she was talking about Margaret, not Ava.