Highland Hellion (Blades of Honor #1) (13 page)

Mairi bobbed a curtsy, then placed the linen on the bed. “If you change your mind, Lady Arya, or need anything at all, please dinna hesitate to summon me. I will wait outside in the hallway in case you require some assistance.” She bowed then left the chamber, closing the door behind her.

No one had ever referred to her as m’lady before, and Arya found it odd and quite unsettling. She was not Lady Arya, but saw no point in arguing at this moment. Mairi was only trying to be kind and she appreciated the gesture.

Cailin returned to the door and reached for the latch. “While you wash up, I’ll find you a gown to wear. I have a blue one that will match your eyes perfectly.”

Arya bit her lip, trying not to scoff at the comment. Matching clothing to one’s eye color was never a priority and never would be. But she’d do as Cailin requested and humor her by wearing the gown for the time being. “Thank you, I am sure it will be lovely.”

Cailin looked at Arya’s feet then cringed. “I will bring you some matching slippers as well,” she said then left.

Arya quickly disrobed, climbed into the tub, then lowered herself into the hot, fragrant water. It felt so good that she thought perhaps she might skip the meal and sleep in the tub. But that decision would not sit well with Bryce. Her stomach twisted. Alasdair was leaving, and there was no telling how she would fare with the youngest Fraser. However, she felt safe to predict there’d be a good deal of head-butting, demands, and sarcastic words exchanged. “I have never taken orders from any man and am not about to start now,” she mumbled aloud.

“Bryce Fraser is about to meet his match,” she said chuckling, then ducked her head beneath the water.

Chapter 14

Arya adjusted the bodice of her gown, then stared down at the satin and lace, figure-hugging garment Cailin selected. How women wore these damned things and claimed to find them comfortable was beyond her comprehension. The thin fabric provided little warmth or protection. It fit so snuggly, she was afraid to breathe or move for fear of tearing the seams. Doing strenuous chores or riding a horse were definitely out of the question. But the draft on her bare bottom—the one that wafted up from the hemline and crept up her legs—had to be the most disturbing thing of all.

The satin slippers provided their own form of torture. So tight her toes cramped and her arches ached. She’d prefer a sturdy pair of boots, any day. Enough was enough. She kicked off the shoes, deciding to go barefoot.

After braiding, then securing her hair with a leather thong, her gaze traveled to the pile of dirty clothes strewn on the floor beside the tub.

There is still time to change into my garments. To hell with Bryce if he doesna like it
. But as she picked up her tunic, someone knocked on the door. “Aye, who is it?” Arya called.

“Mairi. May I come in?”

“Aye.”

The maid entered. “You look lovely, Lady Arya. Not at all like you did when you first arrived.” With downcast eyes, Mairi quickly brought a hand up to cover her mouth. “I meant no disrespect.”

“No need to
fash
,” Arya replied. “What you said is true. I dinna resemble myself in any way. In fact, I look like a damned buffoon.”

“Och, dinna say such things. You are every bit the lady in your fine gown and slip—” Mairi stopped midsentence and refrained from further comment when she glanced at Arya’s feet. Instead, she rushed to the tub, scooped up the clothing, then headed for the door. “I’ll see to these and come back to clean the room.”

“Wait!”

“Aye, Lady Arya?” Mairi halted and peered over her shoulder.

“You are going to wash those and return them to me by morning, are you not?” Control of her life was quickly slipping away, and Arya wanted to make certain nothing happened to her possessions. “I’ll need them for my journey home.”

“Aye, if that is what you wish. But they are quite worn and in need of some repairs. I’m certain Lady Cailin and Lady Fallon have plenty of lovely things you could wear. Gowns more fitting of your status.”

“I’m sure they do, but my clothes are just fine. Promise you’ll return them.”

“I give you my word,” Mairi said, smiling. “Now, best you get yourself to the great hall. Lord Alasdair is leaving soon, and Lord Bryce grows impatient. He sent me to see what was taking so long.”

“Well, we wouldna want to keep Lord Bryce waiting.” Arya did not try to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

Mairi frowned. “Would you like me to accompany you? I can come back to tidy up once I’ve seen you to the great hall.”

“That willna be necessary. I can find my way.”

“If you’re certain.” Mairi bobbed a curtsy, then left the chamber.

After adjusting her gown one last time, Arya exited her room. She made her way down the hallway, servants nodding politely as she passed, then whispering behind her back once they thought she was our of hearing range. It didn’t matter what they were saying. She never cared what people thought of her, and she’d not be here any longer than necessary.

Arya stopped when she reached the door of the great hall and drew in a slow, deep breath. She’d much rather dine in her chamber, but promised Cailin she would attend the evening meal. It was the least she could do to repay her kindness. However, Arya was not in the mood to listen to any more of Bryce’s griping and rude remarks. She’d make an appearance, eat, then take her leave.

The din of conversation ceased when Arya stepped into the room, all eyes fixed on her every move. Had they nothing better to do than gawk at her?

“Arya. I am so glad you’re here.” Cailin stood and motioned with a wave of her hand for her to join them at the head table.

“About time she showed up,” Bryce grumbled. “I was beginning to think I’d have to send out a search party and perhaps the dogs to find her.” He studied Arya from top to bottom, but when he focused his attention on her feet, his frown deepened. “Well, I see the ladies managed to get you clean up and partially dressed. Sit down. You’ve kept us waiting long enough.”

“Dinna be so dramatic, Bryce.” Fallon jabbed her elbow into her husband’s side. “She looks lovely. Come, Arya, Cook has prepared a fine meal to welcome you. You may sit wherever you like.”

Arya nodded, then approached the dais. The center seat, the one she assumed was usually occupied by the Fraser laird, remained vacant. Bryce and Fallon sat to the left of the empty chair, Cailin and Alasdair to the right. The bairns gathered around at a trestle table of their own. Far enough away to give the adults some peace during their meal, but close enough for their mothers to keep an eye on them.

“She is very comely,” Leslie whispered to her older brother, Andrew. “Do you think she will stay with us?”

“I guess she is passable as far as lasses go. But I much prefer my horse,” Andrew mumbled, while shoving some food into his mouth.

Arya found it hard not to chuckle at the innocence comments of the bairns.

“The two of you hush and eat.” Cailin pinned them with a look of disapproval, then faced Arya. “I’m sorry. They seem to have forgotten their manners.”

“I find their honesty refreshing,” Arya replied. “I’m sure you’ll change your opinion about lasses when you get a bit older, Andrew. Especially when the time comes for you to choose a bride.”

“Lasses are nothing but trouble. I am never going to get married,” the lad replied.

“A lass can do anything a lad can do. Can’t they, Elise?” Leslie looked at her older cousin for support, then peered over the rim of her mug at Arya and smiled.

“Aye, they can,” Bryce’s daughter, Elise, replied.

“They canna do anything useful.” Keenan spoke up in defense of his brother’s stand against women.”

“All of you stop your bickering and eat your meal,” Cailin said, then shook her head. “Why is it when your da is away, you insist on misbehaving?”

Alasdair stood. “You can sit here, next to Cailin if you’d like, Arya.” He held the back of his vacated chair. “After spending three days with Bryce and me, I’m sure you would rather have a lady to chat with.” He waited for her to sit before claiming the seat next to her.

“Would you like some mead?” Cailin asked, then handed Arya a goblet.

Arya spotted a jug of whisky on the table in front of Bryce. While she fancied something stronger than mulled wine to settle her nerves, it was frowned upon for women to partake in strong spirits, unless they were ailing. Normally, it would not bother her to go against such an antiquated tradition, but she saw no point in causing any further rift between her and Bryce. She’d have to settle. “Aye. Some mead would be lovely. Thank you.”

Alasdair rose and lifted his mug in the air. “I want you to welcome Arya to our castle. I trust you will make her feel at home and do what you can to help her adjust to her new life as a member of Clan Fraser. We dinna know we had a sister until recently, but are certainly pleased we found out. Now, we can set things to right.
Slainte!

Shouts and cheers erupted from those gathered in the great hall, as tankards of ale were raised in response to Alasdair’s toast.

Arya’s chest constricted as if suddenly wrapped in iron. It was kind of Alasdair to be so gracious, but she had no intention of embracing the Fraser clan as her own. She already had a family and friends she cared about, and that was where she belonged. Not here.

In the commotion, she caught a glimpse Bryce. The glower of disapproval on his face, the fact he remained seated and did not raise his mug in her honor clearly proved he shared her sentiment. The sooner she left, the better.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, brother. This visit is temporary, and there is still no proof she is our sister. Just the word of a dying woman. And our enemy at that,” Bryce growled. “The only reason we brought her here, was because she needed sanctuary and nothing more.” He picked up his tankard, then downed a swig of whisky.

“You can be a thrawn bastard, Bryce. Not to mention a horse’s arse,” Alasdair said.

“Best you eat so you can be on your way, brother. Edina will have that babe without you if you dinna stop dallying.” Bryce slammed his empty cup on the table, then filled it again.

Alasdair leaned closer to Arya. “Dinna pay him any mind. He speaks before he thinks most of the time and his arrogance gets him into a lot of trouble.”

“I’ll show you who the troublemaker is.” Bryce glared at Arya, then stood facing his brother. “Perhaps you’d not be so ready to welcome the kinswoman of the MacDougall Clan into our home, had your wife been kidnapped and held prisoner by the buggers.”

“Bryce, please.” Fallon gripped her husband’s forearm. “Sit down.”

“Nay, I willna sit. Have you forgotten what they did to you, Fallon? How they left me for dead, then hung your uncle for helping me? Or how they murdered anyone who tried to protect you?” Bryce asked. His neck veins bulged and his face contorted with anger. “And that is only a small portion of the heinous crimes they committed. I vowed more than once to seek revenge for what those bastards did to you and others I cared about. Taking one of them into my home was not part of that oath.”

“I havena forgotten, nor do I condone what Dungal MacDougall did. He carried out some barbarous atrocities, and there is no arguing that fact,” Fallon replied. “But I also know the war is over. Unfortunately, acts of violence are committed during times of strife. I’m sure you did things you werena proud of in the name of freedom.” However, there comes a time when you must let the past go and live in the present.”

“We learn from the past. Who we can trust and who are our enemies.” Bryce wrenched free of Fallon’s grasp. “Robert was too lenient on traitorous clans like the MacDougalls. Given the crimes they committed, he should have hung their leaders and forbid their clans to exist.”

Fallon crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Bryce. “Then that would make Robert no better than Longshanks.”

A hush fell over the crowd.

“Arya is your sister. Your flesh and blood,” Fallon continued “It is not like you to behave so badly. I’ve never seen this side of you before, and I dinna like it one bit. Perhaps the spirits have loosened your tongue and dulled your senses.” She moved the jug of whisky to a spot in front of Alasdair.

“Think what you want, Fallon. But as soon as Connor returns with a pardon from Robert, I suspect she will be on her way back to her clan and up to her old ways. I say good riddance.” Bryce reached for the whisky.

Arya stood, fisted her hands at her side, and raised her chin. “I could make similar accusations about your clan’s unsavory acts during the war, but Fallon is right, those days are over, and all of Scotland must move on,” she said through clenched teeth. “I dinna ask you to bring me here, Bryce. Actually, after getting to know you these last few days, I hope it turns out my mother’s claim is false. I find you rude, arrogant, and being in your company is most unpleasant. So if you’ll excuse me, I will return to my chamber and prepare to leave on the morrow.” She lifted her skirt and stomped toward the door.”

“Bryce. Do something to stop her,” Fallon demanded. “Apologize at once.”

“I’ll do no such thing. She’s a woman grown and keeps telling us that she makes her own decisions. So let her go if she wants to,” Bryce snapped. “She’s only been here a few hours and already has the bairns spouting nonsense and bickering amongst themselves. Heaven knows the lasses dinna need foolish ideas put into their heads. I dinna want her wild ways influencing Elise.”

“I’ll remind you, husband,” Fallon said, “that I was very much a free, independent spirit when you met me. And like to think I still am to some degree. You said it was one of thing you said you found endearing about me.”

Bryce remained silent.

Arya heard every cross word spoken between Fallon and Bryce. She hated to be the cause of marital discord, but right now, all she wanted to do was get out of the hall and return to her chamber. As she neared the door, she quickened her pace.

“Lord knows what has gotten into you, Bryce Fraser, but if you dinna want to be sleeping in this hall on the floor with your men, your foul mood had better be gone by the time I return. I just hope your sister will listen to what I have to say.” Fallon raced after Arya, catching up as she was about to exit the hall and clasped her forearm. “Please, dinna leave. Hear me out.”

“There is nothing more to say. Bryce said it all.”

“My husband can be very intense when he feels strongly about something, but he isna usually so ill-tempered. Believe it or not, he is considered by most to be the jovial, lighthearted one of the three brothers.” Fallon chuckled. “When we first met, he had quite a reputation of being a smooth-talking lady’s man.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Give him some time. Get to know him, and I think you’ll be amazed how much alike the two of you are. And I mean that in a very good way,” Fallon added. “I guess he harbors his anger about the war and how it affected his loved ones more than any of us ever realized.”

“He carries a very large chip on his shoulders, and I seem to bring out the worst in him,” Arya replied. “I think it best if I depart on the morrow. I dinna want to stay where I am clearly not wanted.”

“But you are welcomed here. Besides, where would you go? Have you forgetting you are a fugitive?”

“Things like that dinna slip your mind, but I will go home regardless. My mother needs me, and I should never have let Connor talk me into leaving her.”

“But you will be arrested and executed if you go back without a pardon from Robert the Bruce,” Fallon argued.