Kara Griffin - Gunn Guardsmen (4 page)

Lora pressed her skirts and patted her hair. “Do I look a mess?”

She laughed at her friend. “Nay, you’re fine. How do I look?”

Her friend chortled and picked a piece grass from her skirt. “Were you traipsing in the woods again? You’re always off trying to save the world, Elisa. You may want to change your clothes before Domhnall sees you.”

Elisa laughed at that. “What does it matter? He is not interested in me, Lora. If he was don’t you think he would have married me by now?”

Lora pursed her lips. “True, true.” She looked back at the warriors. “I vow none of the men here are as fetching. I wouldn’t mind catching one of those warriors.”

Her friend was always affected whenever men came into the village. They didn’t get many visitors and for that simple reason, any man who came was the object of the women’s notice. Most of the men who resided in their sleepy village were retired warriors who no longer had the strength to take to war and were beyond their interest as far as husbands went.

“Gracious, have you ever seen such tall men?” Elisa took her time watching the warriors, sure she’d read about such men in one of the tomes in Domhnall’s hall though it described a battle scene from not too long ago and their foes. The leader was quite muscular with fine strapping shoulders. He walked next to Domhnall and passed them. She surmised he must be the Gunn laird since he was focused on what Domhnall was saying and looked to be the leader.

Next came the others, and Elisa, as with many of the clanswomen, gazed at the stealthy men. Two of the men smiled when they passed by but the last man didn’t seem as amiable as the others. When she got a better look at him, she lost her ability to blink. The man had light hair and dark eyes, dark as night and somewhat mysterious. His gaze settled on her and stayed for several breathless moments. She couldn’t look away and read such woe in his stare.

He seemed severe and formidable. Yet she couldn’t help feeling a little melancholy when she looked at him. Was he beset with worry being there in the village? She wondered why the man exuded a downhearted manner. Elisa had the gift of being able to read people, especially those who had a heavy heart. And this man had such.

As he passed, the tartan over his shoulder fell and revealed even greater shoulders beneath the thinned cloth of his shirt, than his laird had. Elisa’s eyes stayed on him and she forgot to breathe. A finer man could not be found in these parts. What captivated her was his face. He had dark, thick lashes and eyebrows, and a square jawline which showed strength and defiance. His face could almost be described as beautiful if his masculinity could be considered such. But she would never apply such words to a hardened warrior. Some lucky woman most likely claimed the man, she was sure of it. How fortunate for her.

“Come, let us to the manor so we can hear what they’re saying.” Lora grabbed her hand and forced her to run along. “I vow I shall spill many tankards this night, hopefully not on the laps of those handsome warriors.”

She laughed at Lora’s jest. Her friend was now giddy at the prospect of getting closer to the men. Elisa followed her and once inside, she went to the adjacent kitchens to see if Margret, the cook, needed help. Domhnall insisted on having a grand manor and his home certainly boasted of his wealth, but it still dumfounded Elisa why the kitchens had been attached to the back of the residence.

Lora would serve the men and she’d stay safely in the kitchens well away from any fray and especially the notice of Domhnall. She tried to spy through the kitchen entryway to see the men, but Margret blocked her view.

“I wager you were off gazing at the men, Lora, forsaking your duties again. Take this platter out to the table. My lord has guests. Hasten now, do not dally.” Margret handed the tray to her and off Lora went.

“Can I help? What shall I do?”

“How many times do I have to tell you … Domhnall doesn’t want you working in the kitchens. You’re the lady of the manor and not some kitchen serf, sweet.” Margret looked at her as if she intruded on her duties, but then she smiled and gave a wink.

Elisa didn’t like being regarded as the lady of the manor, because she wasn’t. And regardless of her wishes, Margret treated her as such. No one got in Margret’s way when she was cooking unless they wanted to receive a scalding lecture even if she’d done so teasingly.

“Be gone, sweet, my lord wants you to attend supper this night. You’re to wash and be down. Quickly now, be off with you. Don’t let him see you in such disarray.”

“Must I?” she mumbled to herself. Elisa didn’t wait for an answer, for she knew better to disobey Margret or Domhnall. Elisa hurried out of the kitchens, taking the back stairway and went to her chamber. Changing from her frock to a light green overdress, she decided on something simple and plain so she wouldn’t draw any attention. After quickly running a comb through her hair, she washed her face. All the while wondering why her lord would wish her to sup with them. It wasn’t her place to question him, but still it worried her.

Mayhap Domhnall wanted ladies present to ward off any misconduct by the warriors. Then she laughed to herself. If they wanted to misbehave, there didn’t seem to be anything anyone could do about it.

A bang sounded on her door, startling her. Her hand flew to her chest and she gasped a quick breath. “Come in.”

Elisa had not expected Domhnall to come and see her since he had guests to attend to. She was breathless, seeing him stroll into her chamber. He stood tall, but not quite as tall as the warriors below. His hair lightened, likely from being outside during the past summer months. It still appeared a lackluster shade of brown. He had grown facial hair and a beard started to dip beneath his chin. He could be considered handsome, but Elisa knew he had a dark side. She’d tested that side of him once, and learned that hard lesson and bore the consequence of it.

Domhnall always dressed in plain, dark garments and never wore anything constricting. She imagined he did so because he was always at war with some clan or foe. Still, he presented the image of a severe, fearless leader. He frightened her and caused a shudder to weave its way to her heart.

“I see you fare well, wee Elisa. How are you?”

She couldn’t form words, but tried to answer. “V-very well, my lord. You have returned.”

He took three steps toward her. “I am here for a short stay and wanted to ensure you were well.” Domhnall’s darkened eyes gazed at her with a look that cautioned her.

“I’m v-very well, my lord.”

He now stood before her, too close. “Have you any answers for me?”

Elisa scrunched her eyes closed for a brief second and then bravely answered. She wanted to step away but that would be a sign of disobedience. “N-nay, my lord, answers to what?”

“Your sister only shared her secrets with you. Surely you know where she hid the parchment. I have no time to dawdle and need to find it. Have you thought on it? You told me you would.”

Relieved, Elisa calmed. He’d only wanted answers about the parchment. “I-I have thought, my lord, long and hard. Mauri didn’t tell me about any such parchment. I promise. I want to give you answers.” Elisa wished with all her heart she knew more, but she didn’t. Her lord asked the same questions each time he visited her. He’d claimed her sister had stolen a parchment from him, one which he was inclined to get back.

Domhnall touched her cheek with his knuckles, gently stroking her. “Have I not been kind? Have I not left you in peace? You have led a good life here, have you not? Time is dwindling. I will have answers before I leave this time, Elisa.” He meandered his hand to her hair and gripped it tightly in his fist, bringing her against him. “Else there is no reason to keep you here, is there? Do you understand my meaning?” Domhnall towered over her, his hooded eyes fastened on hers. He slackened his grip on her, and caressed her hair.

Elisa slunk backward, releasing herself from his hold. She smelled the scent of horse on him. He stood too close and could easily strike her though he had never been so forceful before. Except for the time she tried to leave, he hadn’t ever harmed her. She backed up another step and nodded. He could harm her, but to her dismay she had no answers for him. There was nothing to say to appease him.

“You might have seen we have company. I would like you to attend supper with me. I wish them to see me as a family man and not just a warlord. They shall be amiable if I can present myself as a lesser threat. Aye, I need this alliance. You will not speak to these men, Elisa. Do you understand?” His dark eyebrow rose.

“Aye, my lord.”

“Come down when you are ready.” He left the chamber door open when he left.

Elisa stood still, trying to calm her racing heart and shaking hands. She took several composing breaths before she was able to regain control.

Domhnall’s visits were always the same. He’d come to see how she was and inquire if she’d recalled Mauri telling her of the parchment she’d stolen from him, and then he’d leave. Something changed, for he insisted he needed information now. There was just one small problem with that. Elisa didn’t know anything about any parchment of Mauri’s. Her sister had been secretive in the last days she’d seen her.

Why didn’t Domhnall ask her himself? Elisa wondered if she’d wed Alexander as she’d said she would. Mayhap Domhnall couldn’t ask Mauri, for she’d been wedded to the king and he couldn’t get to her. Often a queen or lady of high rank was secluded at a secure sanctuary. At least her sister was safe from Domhnall.

Many years passed since she last saw her sister and she didn’t know how her betrothal went. She was certain her sister had to have married the king by now. Unfortunately news didn’t reach them in the tiny village and when news came, the men wouldn’t be forthcoming. Little was known of the happenings in Scotland, let alone, of her family.

Many times she considered writing to Mauri in hopes she could get the king to intercede on her behalf and rescue her from Domhnall’s clutches. But Elisa reconsidered that because Domhnall all but alluded that her father had given her as a bride. The king would never involve himself in her matters, and especially not if she were actually betrothed to the man.

She’d learned long ago not to attempt to leave the village. The one time she tried, Domhnall apprehended her before she made any kind of progress. He threatened her life and that of everyone she knew. She was fortunate to have only suffered a broken arm from his brutal attack, and she vowed never to try to leave the village again.

Elisa had to figure out a way to detain his decision of what to do with her. Something would come to her. It had to or it could very well end her life. She had to get through this evening’s events, hopefully appease him so he would leave, buying her time.

As she reached the lower level, she heard the gruff tones of the men speaking. Their voices echoed to the rafters since the hall wasn’t crowded. Usually many of Domhnall’s men ate with him when he was in attendance. She suspected Domhnall only invited his higher ranking clansmen to dine with him considering there were a few at the table besides the Gunns. Elisa felt awkward as if she was intruding until her lord called out.

“Come, please join us, my lady.”

Elisa did a slight curtsy, unsure what decorum dictated. She sat next to her lord and awaited his command. He didn’t introduce her to the guests, which was fine with her. She contently watched the men, especially the tall, light-haired man who sat diagonally across from her. He didn’t speak as the others were, and kept quiet, much like she.

With nothing of interest on her trencher, she peered at the men from the Gunn clan. The leader appeared strong and capable. He was handsome and seemed kind. Yet she sensed he could handle a fracas with ease. The light-haired man sat next to his comrade, a man who had shoulder length dark hair. His face was as handsome as the one she’d empathized with. The dark-haired man kept gazing at her and caused her to redirect her attention.

Discussion mostly centered on a treaty Domhnall hoped to obtain with some of the clans in the northern regions. Apparently he needed allies in the event Norway attacked the western seaboard. The political matters of her lord didn’t much interest her since she’d never left the village. At the mention of the king, she raised her head. Hoping to hear news of her family or her sister, she listened carefully. They only discussed Alexander’s concerns of the western lands and Domhnall grew a bit amused. She’d never seen him laugh until this day.

Sadly they didn’t discuss her clan or anything having to with her sister.

Elisa used a supper dagger to push around the food on the trencher. She wasn’t hungry especially given that she needed to devise a way to delay Domhnall’s questions. When she glanced up at the table, she noticed the fair-hair man staring. In fact, most of the Gunn warriors watched her. A blush crept over her cheeks and her skin heated. All but the fair-haired man lowered their gazes. No man had ever looked at her thusly, and she wasn’t sure if she liked it. Unable to keep his stare, she lowered her eyes back to the table and was thankful when Domhnall and the others rose. They left the hall; only two of the Gunn warriors stayed behind.

She was about to flee the hall when one of them spoke.

“Milady, your lord did not introduce us. I’m Sean and this is Kenneth. We’re from the Gunn clan. Are you mac Raghnaill’s wife?”

She did a slight curtsy and smiled. “Nay, I am not his wife. Welcome to our home. I am Elisa. If you need anything, please do ask. We will be happy to provide.”

The men’s eyes widened. She thought mayhap they had not been so welcomed in other places they visited. She understood that given their size and their intimidation. To women they presented the greatest challenge: How to make a husband of them. To men they presented a rivalry whether in war or otherwise.

“There is something we need—” the man named Sean said.

“Sean, that is not for us to say.” Kenneth cut him off. He stepped in front of his friend and turned to give him a look of disapproval.

Kenneth. That was the fair-hair man’s name. She smiled despite feeling small in their presence. Her head barely reached their shoulders take an inch or two. Their gazes somehow didn’t make her fearful, for they seemed likeable. She was about to ask them what they had need of when shouting came from the doorway.