Laiden's Daughter

by Suzan Tisdale

There was a knock at her door and she embarrassedly put the mirror down. She assumed it was Duncan and she felt a momentary sensation of what could only be described as excitement. Reminding herself to stop acting like a foolish twit, she pushed the feelings aside.

  Bree cheerfully bid whomever it was to enter. A moment later the most beautiful woman Aishlinn had ever seen entered the room. Her hair was so black that the candlelight cast streaks of blue to the braid that cascaded over her shoulder and landed at her narrow waist. Her slender neck held up the most exquisite and soft face. Her full pink lips sat under a perfectly proportioned nose and dark eyelashes surrounded beautiful dark green eyes.

  She possessed the kind of beauty and grace that would make other women jealous and men daft for her. There was something quite familiar about her as if they had met before. Aishlinn supposed the familiarity was because she looked so much like Bree.

  “Mum!” Bree said before going to hug her. As the woman held her daughter’s embrace her eyes fell upon Aishlinn. For a fleeting moment the woman’s face held the oddest of expressions, one that made Aishlinn’s heart fall to her feet.

  “Aishlinn! This is me mum, Isobel.” Bree said excitedly. “Mum, this is the orphan we told ye of.”

  Aishlinn quickly stood and curtsied the most elegant curtsey she could manage. “My lady,” she said, averting her eyes to the floor as she had been taught to do.

  The woman remained quiet. Aishlinn wondered if perhaps she was upset with her for wearing her daughter Bridget’s clothes or for taking up residence in her room. The longer Isobel remained quiet and staring the more uncomfortable Aishlinn became. After several agonizingly long moments of silence Aishlinn began to wish she could shrink to the size of a mouse and scurry away. The longer they were silent the more her shoulders began to shrink with fear.

  “Aishlinn.” Isobel whispered her name.

  “Yes, my lady.” Aishlinn said as she felt her knees begin to quake.

  “Bree, dear, please leave us.” Isobel said without taking her gaze from Aishlinn.

  Bree looked rather confused but nodded her head slightly before leaving the room. Isobel came and sat upon the bed her eyes still glued to Aishlinn. “Aishlinn dear, come.” she said as she patted the bed with her hand.

  Aishlinn swallowed hard and found it quite difficult at the moment to will her feet to move. Isobel patted the bed again. “I won’t bite ye, I promise.”

  Finally finding the nerve to move Aishlinn went and sat beside her. Knowing it an insult to look royalty in the eye she kept her gaze firmly planted on the leg of the table in front of her.

  Isobel let out a small sigh, “Aishlinn? Why do ya not look at me?”

  Aishlinn continued to stare at the table leg. “Twould be an insult to do so, my lady,” she whispered.

  She took Aishlinn’s chin into very fine and soft hands and lifted it. “That is an obnoxious English custom, lass. We do no’ hold such customs here.”

  Aishlinn could not move and knew not what to say or do. Isobel studied Aishlinn’s face for a few moments. “My, but yer a beautiful young lady” she said. Aishlinn wondered if the woman had suffered some horrible accident that had caused her to lose her vision or her mind. Or both. Aishlinn began to feel pity towards her. To possess that kind of beauty only to be blind and witless; it was a shame.

  “What be the matter, dear?” Isobel asked her.

  Aishlinn shook her head. How did one address a lady such as this in her current predicament?

  “Ye act as though no one has ever told ya that before!” her voice was laced with wonder. She stared into Aishlinn’s eyes. “Ah,” she said. “Ya dunna believe me.” She put her arm around Aishlinn’s shoulder. “All is right, lass. I’ve not lost my mind as yer thinking.”

  Aishlinn’s eyes flew open. The woman must be bewitched! How could she have known what Aishlinn be thinking if she were not bewitched?

  “No worries lass. I’ve not lost my mind and I canna read yers.” Aishlinn started to speak when Isobel held her hand up. “I was a young girl once and ‘twasn’t so long ago that I dunna remember it. And I’ve two daughters of me own. I ken what its like to think ye be too plain or too tall or too this or too that.” Her expression had turned warm and soft.

  “I ken ya dunna believe me now, but someday ye’ll see that I’ve not lied to ye.” She patted Aishlinn on her knee. “I’ve spoken with Duncan about ye,” she said. “He speaks very highly of ye.” Aishlinn felt her face flush again as a rush of excitement washed over her. She wondered what Duncan may have said about her but dared not ask.

  “I’ve heard from Duncan and Bree. Now, I’d like to hear yer trials from ye.”

  There was a warmth and familiarity about the woman that somehow made Aishlinn feel safe. Reluctantly at first, Aishlinn began to tell the story of her life and how she had come to be at Castle Gregor.

  By the time she was done her eyes were swollen and red from crying. There were parts of her life she had no difficulty telling. Others, such as what the earl had done, were heartbreakingly painful for her. She left out no details other than the feelings she found she was having for Duncan. When she finished, Isobel gave her a kerchief to wipe her tears and held her for a long time.

  “Have ya told anyone else the details that ye’ve just shared with me?” she asked.

  “Duncan, Rowan, Tall Gowan and the others know nearly most of it. Bree knows a little, although I did not tell her exactly what the earl had done or that I stabbed him.”

  “Good, lass. We’ll not tell the whole story to anyone for now. If anyone asks, yer simply our guest. A Highlander girl who had been sent to live in the lowlands for a time and now yer back. They dunna need to ken anything else.”

  Aishlinn had no desire to share her life’s story with anyone for she felt out of place enough as it was. These people had opened their hearts and homes to her the moment she had stepped through the castle gates. She could live with them thinking she was simply an orphan for that was a pity she could readily handle.

  “We will have to tell Angus of it when he returns. But for now, we’ll remain silent on the matter.” Isobel told her as she gave her another hug. “Ye’ll find Angus a tall, braw man.” Isobel smiled. “His heart be even bigger than he is. I think ye shall like him and he ye.”

  Aishlinn prayed that Isobel was right. Although she did not like having her entire future hanging in the balance, part of her was glad the chief was not here. His absence would allow her to spend more time with these people that she was quickly beginning to care a great deal for.

  Twelve

  The moment she laid eyes on Aishlinn, Isobel’s heart shattered into a thousand pieces. It was a moment in her life that she could not have predicted and one that would soon have a very profound effect on many people. It was Aishlinn’s deep green eyes that had nearly done her in. Those eyes should have held happiness, promise and hope; instead they held fear and sorrow.

  The only explanation for the young woman who had stood before her so shy, fearful and awkward, was that a lie had been told long ago. When the truth would finally be set free Isobel pitied anyone who had been a part of its telling, if in fact any of them still lived. When her husband would learn of the lass’ existence, not only would his heart break as her own had, but the sheer and utter rage that would come to him, would put fear into the heart of any man.

  She would keep her knowledge secret for now, for she had no other choice.

  Thirteen

  Isobel had left to make certain the kitchens ran smoothly and Bree returned to Aishlinn’s room to escort her to the evening meal. Arm in arm they descended the stairs and entered the large gathering room. Long trestle tables lined the center of the vast space while smaller ones sat against the walls. A high table with eight chairs stood near the grand fireplace. The room was filled with people of all ages chattering, laughing, and enjoying one another’s company.

  The tables were set with all manner of foods. Warm and inviting scents wafted through the ai
r. Aishlinn could smell roast beef and venison, leeks, and fresh bread. Her mouth began to water and her stomach growled with hunger.

  As they stopped just inside the doorway, Bree searched the room with her eyes. Soon a group of smiling young lads approached them. “Bree! Will ya sit with me this night?” The tallest of the group asked.

  “Depends, Young Thomas. How much ale have ye had?” Bree asked as she studied him closely.

  “Only two mugs, I swear it!” he said, holding his hands up in defense of her question.

  “And will ye be promisin’ to keep yer hands to yerself?” she asked sternly.

  “Only if ye want me to!” The young man and his group broke into a fit of laughter. Aishlinn observed quietly with her hands folded together. They spoke in Gaelic and she knew not a word they had said to each other.

  “And what of yer friend here?” Young Thomas asked while he smiled broadly at Aishlinn. Although she could not understand the language, Aishlinn knew he was speaking either to her or of her. She grew quite uncomfortable and made a promise to learn the language as soon as possible.

  “What do ya think, Aishlinn? Do ye want to take yer chances with these young beasties?” Bree asked, nodding her head towards the young men.

  Aishlinn wasn’t sure what to think of the question. “Do you mean to sit with them?”

  Young Thomas looked at her curiously. “Ye be English?” he asked.

  “Nay,” said Bree. “She be a Highlander. She was raised in the lowlands and has returned to be with her family.”

  Young Thomas eyed Aishlinn suspiciously. With a raised brow he asked, “Who do ye belong to?”

  “Me.”

  The sound of Duncan’s voice as he stood behind her, nearly scared her out of her slippers. He looked so handsome in his tunic and plaids. Why must his eyes twinkle so, she wondered as she swallowed hard and tried to tamp down the excitement rushing through her veins at the sight of him.

  “She’ll not be joining ya lads this night.” His smile seemed to hold a warning of some sort, but Aishlinn wasn’t sure of what.

  Aishlinn was as relieved as she was nervous. Relieved that Duncan was there for she didn’t feel quite ready yet to answer the endless questions she was certain they would have for her. The nervousness shooting down to her toes came from the way her hand felt in his when he wrapped his fingers through hers.

  Bree smiled and bid them good evening while she left with to sit with the lads at a table across the room. Duncan did not let go of Aishlinn’s hand as he escorted her to a center table where many large men were already seated. They were drinking ale and laughing loudly. As Duncan pulled a chair out for her, the men began elbowing one another to stand because a lady was to be seated.

  As she stood by her chair, the largest, tallest man she had ever laid eyes upon stood and bowed his head at her as the others followed suit. She didn’t mean to stare, but it was impossible not to. His immense size and girth was astonishing. At least two heads taller than any other man in the room, he made Duncan look like a bairn in comparison. He had long, light brown hair and hazel colored eyes and sported a full beard that ended in a point in the center of his large chest. Like Duncan’s, his nose appeared to have been broken at least once. The only thing small on him was the faint scar over his left eyebrow. Aishlinn thought that perhaps he could be considered a handsome man, if one could get beyond the fear his gigantic build.

  “Lads!” Duncan began in English. “This be our guest. Her name be Aishlinn. She is no’ English.” he told them, for he knew that would be their first question. “She is a Highlander who unfortunately was raised in the lowlands and no’ taught her own language.”

  The men remained standing and stared at her with pity in their eyes, as if not learning the Gaelic was the worst thing that could have happened to her. Such expressions on such big, tall men made her want to burst into laughter. She bit her tongue as she took her seat.

  “This here be Kenneth the Red.” Duncan said as he went down the line from left to right. As each man was introduced they would give a nod of their head before taking their seats. “Callum MacFarland, William McKenna, Daniel McAllister, Fearghus Campbell, Black Richard, and Tall Daniel.” Aishlinn doubted she’d ever remember any of the names. “Of course, ya remember Rowan, Richard and Findley.” Aishlinn was glad to see them and was about to thank them for all they had done for her, when the living mountain cleared his throat rather loudly. He was rolling his eyes and rocking back and forth on his feet rather impatiently.

  “Och!” Duncan said with a wry smile. “This be Wee William.”

  Aishlinn wondered how a man so tall could be referred to as ‘wee’. She turned to whisper in Duncan’s ear. “If he is ‘wee’ I would hate to see ‘tall’ William.”

  Duncan chuckled and shared what she had said with the others and they all began to laugh rather loudly. She went red with embarrassment at the uproar she had caused.

  Daniel McAllister spoke up. “He is called ‘Wee’ William, lass because he has a weeee,” he was holding his thumb and index finger together as if measuring something quite small. More laughter erupted before he could finish and Duncan held up his hand to stop him. “Daniel! She be a lady, no’ a bar wench!”

  Aishlinn had no idea what they were talking about and could not resist the urge to ask. She leaned closer to Duncan and whispered, “A wee what?” she put her hand on his arm to stop him before he repeated her question to the others.

  “Wee feet, lass.” Black Richard offered from his seat next to hers. Men were confusing animals and it made no sense why they laughed at Black Richard’s answer. She decided she probably did not want to know why they called the man ‘wee’ or why they found his small feet so amusing.

  Large platters and bowls of hot food were soon passed around the table. Her stomach growled as the delightful scents passed through her nostrils. While she had been quite grateful for the broths and bread she had been eating lately, she was thrilled to see roast venison and leeks, two of her favorite foods.

  Someone filled her mug with ale for which she offered a polite thank you. Aishlinn had never cared much for the drink, but had to admit this was far better than the ale she was used to.

  When her stomach was full and her heart content, she took a deep breath and pushed her plate away, certain she had no room left for another bite of anything. That was until someone offered her a small sweet-cake. It wouldn’t do to offend the baker. It was warm and rich and she would have sworn she had never had one better.

  During most of the meal Duncan’s focus had been on Aishlinn. Other men had been paying close attention to her as well. Had she been paying attention to anything other than the food she might well have noticed it.

  Content and full near to bursting, her eyes had grown heavy, but she wanted to stay and enjoy the evening. It was the first time she had ever attended an evening meal as a guest and she did not want to miss out on anything.

  Listening for the first time that evening to the conversation taking place at her table, she realized the men had lapsed back into Gaelic. From the tones of their hushed voices the conversation appeared to be quite serious. She had caught a few of the men as they cast curious glances her way. Uncertain if the men stared because she was the only woman at the table or if perhaps they spoke of her, Aishlinn began to grow uneasy.

  She waited for a lull in the conversation before asking Duncan if something was the matter. “Nay,” he said. “Just a discussion of a clan we feud with.” While his voice sounded reassuring, there was something in his eyes that told her he might be holding something back. She decided not to push the issue and turned her attention to others in the room.

  Isobel sat at the high table with a group of women and most appeared to be close to Isobel’s age, which Aishlinn estimated to be late thirties. The group of women was in a deep and seemingly serious conversation of their own, huddled together and speaking in hushed tones. Perhaps they spoke of the same feud as the men at her table.

&nbs
p; Across the room, Bree and her tablemates seemed to be completely oblivious to anything else taking place around them. They laughed loudly, giggled frequently and the lads seemed quite fond of slapping each other upon their backs. Aishlinn could not help but notice that Bree and a rather handsome young man kept staring at each other from across their table. Aishlinn smiled inwardly, for the two of them looked as though they had a lovely secret between them.

  After a while, it grew increasingly difficult for her to keep her eyes open. More than once she had nearly nodded off to sleep. There was a small group of young children playing in the corner and they appeared to have much more energy than Aishlinn. She envied them and looked forward to the day when she could stay awake past dark.

  Duncan had taken notice of her sleepy eyes. “Och, Aishlinn!” he said smiling. “Are ye tired?”

  “Aye, I am,” she answered, returning his smile.

  Duncan stood and pulled Aishlinn’s chair out for her. To his friends he said, “We’ll be leaving ya hellions now. I’ve a bonny lass to escort back to her room.”

  Aishlinn felt her face grow red at his compliment. Though she knew he was merely being polite, hearing him refer to her as bonny had caused that odd sensation in her belly and toes to return.

  As the men bid them both a good sleep, Duncan took her hand, placed it upon his arm and led her up the stairs to her room. The odd sensations refused to yield no matter how hard she tried to wish them away.

  “Thank ya for sittin’ with me this night, Aishlinn.” Duncan whispered as they stood outside her chamber door. “I hope ya enjoyed yer meal and the company.”

  Aishlinn smiled. “Yes, Duncan. I had a very nice evening. Your men seem very,” she searched for a proper description. “Fierce.” She said with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He seemed to look even more handsome as the glow of the torchlight washed over him. Wanting to rid herself of the thoughts she knew she should not have, lest she make a complete fool of herself, she turned to open her door. It would be best to remove herself from the situation all together, and as quickly as possible.