Highland Barbarian is a Webnovel created by Ruth Langan.
This lightnovel is currently completed.
Meredith followed her from the room and made her way to the great room, where the rumble of masculine voices alerted her that the others were already a.s.sembled.
She took a seat between Brice and Jamie and accepted food from the servants in silence.
Beside her, Brice cleared his throat. Odd. When they were alone, he had no trouble conversing with her. Now that they were with the others he felt the old awkwardness returning.
“You look lovely,” he murmured in a voice meant for her alone.
“Thank you, my lord. I would like to go to the scullery later to thank Mistress Snow.”
“I will take you myself.”
They continued to eat while the conversation swirled around them.
There was talk of the queen’s visit, which led to a discourse on the scandalous marriage feast the queen had given her brother, James and his wife. The guests had openly danced, knowing they violated the laws of the kirk.
The discussion then turned to the latest invasion of the Borders by English troops.
Beside Meredith, Jamie fidgeted. He had heard the whispers and rumors this morrow. Brice had banished Holden Mackay from the castle. Some said the lady had seduced poor Holden, while others whispered that Holden had forced himself on her. No matter what the truth of the rumors, Jamie was unnerved by them. He had witnessed glimpses of Holden’s cruel vengeance. He would not wish to endure the man’s wrath.
He glanced uneasily at the beautiful creature beside him. Though he was only ten and two, he was already as tall as she. And stronger, he suspected, asking a quick glance at the delicate hand resting beside her plate.
She was very quiet this morrow. But since her arrival he had heard her say very little. Her voice was unusual: deeper in timbre than most females, and as whispery soft as a lullaby. It was the voice he imagined his mother would have had, if he could but recall his mother who had died when he was a baim.
Meredith sensed the scrutiny of the lad beside her and turned to give him a shy smile. He returned the smile before coloring and turning away quickly.
It mattered not to Jamie what the others whispered about the lady. He knew in his heart that she would never attempt to seduce a man like Holden. To Jamie, Meredith MacAlpin embodied all that was good and fine and n.o.ble.
No one mentioned the absence of Holden Mackay, and Meredith fretted that word of her attack had already been whispered about the castle.
She frowned and quickly dismissed such thoughts. She would not dwell on somber things.
After their meal, she followed Brice from the great hall and through the maze of dimly lit pa.s.sageways to the scullery.
The air was thick with the aroma of fresh bread baking in the ovens. A small deer was slowly roasting on a spit, in preparation for the evening meal. Servants were busy fetching buckets of water, while more servants scurried about, scrubbing, cleaning, cutting and preparing.
“Mistress Snow,” Brice called.
A small, thin woman looked up from a floured table where she was kneading dough. Seeing the Jord of the manor she quickly wiped her hands on a linen square and hurried forward.
Her dress of pale pink was covered by a soiled ap.r.o.n. She touched the end of the ap.r.o.n to her brow as she walked. Dark hair was pulled back from a pretty oval face. Little tendrils of hair clung damply to her forehead and cheeks. Blue eyes danced with laughter as she studied the way her best gown looked on the beautiful woman beside Brice Campbell.
“Lady Meredith MacAlpin came to thank you for the use of your gown.”
“It looks far more beautiful on you, my lady, than it ever did on me,”
she said with a slight bow.
Brice took a moment to study Meredith while she faced the young servant. Indeed she did look beautiful in the heather gown. But it was the exchange between Meredith and his servant that he found most fascinating.
Meredith caught Mistress Snow’s hands in hers, ignoring the dusting of flour that clung to her skin.
“It was very kind of you to entrust me with the use of your gown. I shall find a way to repay your kindness.”
“I desire nothing of you, my lady. It is enough to know that you are pleased with my simple gown.”
“I am more than pleased. I am most grateful. Thank you, Mistress Snow.”
As they turned away, Brice was aware that the entire staff of servants had watched and listened to this exchange. It was a rare thing to see a highborn woman who would take the time to thank a servant for a kindness.
When they left the scullery they were aware of someone who appeared to be waiting for them. Brice’s hand went to the dirk at his waist.
Meredith’s hand leaped to her throat in a gesture of distress.
Angus Gordon stepped from the shadows and put a hand to Meredith’s arm to stop her.
“My lady,” Angus said, his face turning a bright scarlet. “Forgive my boldness for approaching you in this manner. But I must beg your forgiveness for leaving my post last night. I am shamed by my lapse of duties.”
Now it was Meredith’s turn to blush. The young man seemed truly contrite.
“It was not your fault, Angus,” she said, avoiding his eyes.
“Aye, but it was.” Angus took a step closer, forcing her to look up at him.
“Brice had ordered me to guard you. I ignored his orders, and allowed harm to come to you. If Brice had not returned, I shudder to think what would have happened to you at the hands of that coward, Holden Mackay.”
“It is forgotten,” she said in a tone that left no question of her feeling.
“I would ask only that you never mention the name Holden Mackay again.”
Angus bowed slightly over her hand.
“As you say, my lady. The man no longer exists.”
She shivered as Angus accompanied them along the hall. If only Angus’s words were true. But the fact was that somewhere in the forest surrounding Kinloch House, Hol- den Mackay dwelled. And in his heart he could very well be nursing anger and a desire for revenge.
If she ever managed to escape this fortress, there would be another danger added to the elements. A man who would show her no mercy.
Chapter Eight
In the courtyard a dozen horses were being readied for a journey. But though the men awaiting Brice were familiar to Meredith, they were no longer dressed like Highlanders. Instead of being bare legged, they wore trews, the long hose of the Lowland, clans. Many wore breeches, as did Brice, and shirts of gray and dun instead of saffron. The colorful belted plaids they usually wore had been exchanged for simple wool cloaks. All the men wore daggers fastened to their belts.
Most carried swords and had longbows slung over their shoulders. But though they were dressed in the garb of the Lowlanders, nothing could hide the fierce pride or the rawboned strength of these Highland warriors.
“You are leaving with your men?”
“Aye.”
Brice saw the fear that leaped into Meredith’s eyes. “Would Holden Mackay dare to return while you are away?”