“What could possibly be amusing you this much?” She wanted to scream and shout and kick the man for making such a fool of her.
“Me bird — you thought?” Marcas gasped, still unable to curb his mirth, seeming to find Georgina’s fury all the funnier. When he finally seemed calm enough to speak properly, he explained.
“Lass, ye didn’t give me a chance to introduce ye tae Fiona McGowan, our sister,” he finished.
Well, now, she felt like quite the fool. Why do I always anticipate the worst?
“Your…sister?” Georgina said. It was all she could do to repeat the words back, feeling the passionate fury subside only to be replaced with burning embarrassment.
To make matters worse, both Conall and Fiona had heard the whole thing. Conall did nothing but laugh at her expense and just when she thought she’d die inside, their sister stepped in to save her dignity, if only slightly.
“Well Marcas, ye should be flattered that ye could pass for being me sweetheart, very few ladies would get the honor o’ being awarded such a title. As fer ye, Conall, hald yer wheest and let me give our guest a proper welcome.” Fiona scolded her two brothers and turned to face Georgina.
“It’s fair fine to meet ye, Georgina. I’m Fiona, the sister o’ this pair o’ half-wits. Come in, come in, ye must be tired, especially after puttin’ up with Conall and Marcas all this time.” Fiona’s eyes were as kind as her words and she ushered Georgina inside the castle, nattering away as they walked. She apologized profusely for her brothers’ pig-headedness, showing her around inside the McGowan home.
“It’s right fine to have another young woman about to talk to finally, it gets lonely not having a friend,” Fiona said as she ushered Georgina to the great hall.
“You know, I was thinking just that a couple of days ago,” Georgina piped up in response. She was starting to feel an affinity with Fiona — Fiona had spoken all that Georgina had been feeling.
“Well, whatever the reason ye’re here, I’m glad of it.” Fiona smiled. “Now ye just make yerself at home. Get some rest and don’t worry aboot those two blockheads doon there. I’ll get ye something clean to wear when ye’re ready.”
Fiona left the room and Georgina was struck by how friendly and welcoming she was. From what she’d seen of the clansmen and women so far, they certainly were much more spirited, and simply said what was on their mind without reserve. It was a refreshing change from what she was used to, but this unfamiliarity brought on mixed emotions.
Perhaps it was her mind trying to process all that had happened in the past few days, or maybe it was just the tiredness, but suddenly she wanted nothing more than the comforts of home. But home was a long, long way away, and she felt a wave of exhaustion hit her, so she slid under the blankets of this strange bed and let her eyes close, bringing on the oblivion of sleep.
She awoke to the sound of a knock on her door and it took her a few minutes to make sense of her unfamiliar surroundings.
“Georgina, it’s teatime. I’ve got ye some clothes to wear. Ye alright in there?” Fiona’s voice sang out from the other side of the door.
“Yea — ” Georgina stopped to clear her throat for it was raspy with having been awoken from her slumber. “Yes I’m fine, thank you,” she called out in response, sitting up and stretching out her stiff muscles.
“Shall I come in?” Fiona responded, not waiting for Georgina’s answer before barreling into the room.
“Here we are, now I ken it’s a bit different from the clothes ye had on when ye arrived, but I’ve picked out one o’ my best plaids for ye and found a skirt that should fit ye just fine.” Fiona talked, seeming completely comfortable in Georgina’s presence, not fazed at all by her lack of responsiveness.
“Thank you,” Georgina said. She pawed through the clothes that Fiona put down next to her. Fiona was much taller than Georgina and was more womanly in her figure too. She wore it well though, with an air of confidence like she wasn’t afraid of anything.
There was a long skirt which was chequered in red, blue and green colors — much like the pattern that Marcas and Conall both wore, along with a plain white shirt and a big length of cloth. On top of the pile was a beautiful pin, shaped like a spiky flower with an amethyst gem at the top.
“Scotland’s national flower,” Fiona explained as Georgina held the pin in her hand. “It will teach enemies never tae sneak up on a Scotsman,” she joked. Georgina just looked at her blankly, not understanding the reference.
“They’re prickly little devils the thistle. A daft Norseman tried to ambush our lot back in Alexander III’s time, only the bugger stood right on a thistle and woke everyone up wi’ his howling. So, it’s a symbol o’ protection in many ways,” Fiona explained as she helped Georgina dress.
“Wow, I had no idea,” Georgina replied. It occurred to her that she’d only heard stories about these northerners from the Brit’s perspective and there must be whole worlds of stories that she had never heard before.
“And this is the McGowan tartan,” Fiona held out the skirt Georgina had been looking at before, explaining that each Scottish clan had its own tartan and that it was something to wear with pride.
As she finished fastening the white shawl around Georgina’s shoulders, which Fiona described as a plaid, she spoke of her reasoning behind choosing this outfit for her: “My brothers filled me in on the whole story while ye were resting. I thought if we dress ye right then ye won’t stand out as a stranger. If anyone asks I can just say that ye’re a cousin whose lost her family and we’ve taken ye in as yer only living relatives. Like I said, whatever it is that’s brought ye here, I’m glad of it,” Fiona said.
She finished up, straightening Georgina’s skirt and smiling at her handiwork. She’d also combed out her hair, undoing any signs that Georgina had spent the past couple of nights on horseback and sleeping outdoors on the ground.
Georgina took in her reflection in the looking glass, stunned at her transformation. Her new clothes felt heavy and strange, but they were comfortable and warm and surely Bolton’s men would fail to recognize her if they happened to storm into the castle looking for her.
“Oh, my, you certainly are a genius Fiona,” she said, spinning around in front of the glass so that her skirt whirled out to the sides. “Cousins, it is,” She said and smiled, and the two girls shared a moment of laughter.
“I am grateful for how welcome you’ve made me feel, I certainly hadn’t expected such warmth from strangers,” Georgina said, “in fact, I really had no idea what to expect at all. I hadn’t thought beyond the desperate need to escape my fate back in England and I just know that we’re going to be the best of friends.” She needed a moment to let out the overwhelming rush of gratitude she was feeling.
Fiona gave her a quick hug before announcing it was time to go downstairs for their tea. As they left the bedroom and made for the grand marble stairs, Fiona continued to point out notable details about the castle: paintings, family heirlooms, and which room belonged to whom. Georgina couldn’t help but notice that Marcas’ own bedroom was just across the hall from hers, with Conall’s being right at the other end.
“Of course, Conall should really be living in the master chamber as the Laird but he’s always insisted that his old room will do him just fine. I reckon he doesn’ae like the idea o’ taking over our father’s living quarters. He makes out that he’s this ultra-strong soldier, but he’s just as human as the rest o’ us deep down,” Fiona said fondly.
Together, they descended the stairs and Georgina happily let Fiona dominate the conversation. She was feeling fuzzy-headed after sleeping during the day and coupled with being in unfamiliar surroundings where she was unsure of her place, it all left her feeling unsure of herself. Just as she’d said to Fiona, she really hadn’t thought much beyond the excitement of escaping.
As they’d approached the castle earlier that day, it had occurred to Georgina that she was a complete stranger and unwelcome visitor — what if the McGo
wan family hated her on sight? After all, as a Brit, she supposed she was the enemy. It was a stroke of luck that Fiona seemed to be the matriarch of the family; she couldn’t have asked for a nicer person to make her feel welcome at Carnarvan.
“I see me sister has gotten her hands on ye lass,” Marcas announced as the girls entered the dining room together.
“That she has,” Georgina replied, feeling much more comfortable in the familiar presence of Conall and Marcas at Fiona’s side. Conall sat at the head of the table and a hearty meal was laid out waiting for them.
Marcas stood up to pull out her chair, gesturing to Georgina to sit. Well this I could get used to. His courteous moment gave her a warm feeling inside, and she looked up into his eyes and thanked him.
Her earlier fury at him had all but evaporated, but she still felt an inkling of uncertainty of his motives. Has he just been playing a part to assist Conall’s revenge or should I think his affection is real?
“Tuck in lass, there’s plenty tae go around,” Conall said, raising his glass to her.
She glanced around her and the others were already eating with gusto. There didn’t seem to be much of a ceremony, so Georgina switched her attention to her plate, realizing that her stomach was growling with hunger.
She followed her hosts’ lead, digging into the meal of meat, potatoes and vegetables. She relished every bite, feeling the food settle her anxiety and the hollow tiredness that had taken hold of her body.
It was complete silence at the table until halfway through the meal; food certainly seemed to be the top priority around here rather than polite chit-chat and scripted manners for behavior.
“Here lass, did ye get a chunk o’ bread?” Marcas asked as he passed her the basket of freshly cut bread. He seemed to be tip-toeing around her after her earlier outburst, careful not to say anything that could cause offense.
She chose a piece of bread with care and spread a thick layer of butter over it, her eyes popping in appreciation as she bit into it. Georgina had to admit, she was surprised at the quality of the meal and while it wasn’t the most formal dinner she’d ever attended, there was still an air of ceremony to it.
It was sure at odds with the carnality that Marcas and Conall had shown whilst on the road, eating with their hands and capturing and skinning a live rabbit without blinking. In contrast, this felt homely and welcoming, a place where the family came together to share their meal. She made the conscious decision to lay her earlier anger at the two brothers aside and unwind along with the rest of them.
“Ahhh, that’s the spot,” Conall said after taking several big gulps of the goblet of ale that was set in front of him. “Go on lass, have a sip, it’ll sure whet yer whistle,” he encouraged Georgina before indulging in a few more sips.
“Well I’m not sure I understood the sentiment, but while I’m here…” Georgina peered into the dark amber depths of the ale in front of her, feeling skeptical at the murky look of the stuff.
Well, here goes. She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip, almost spitting it right back out again.
“Urrgh,” She exclaimed, screwing up her face at the disgusting taste that flooded her taste buds with bitterness. “How can you drink this stuff?”
Her reaction was met with laughter from the others, Conall and Marcas especially.
“Keep at it lass, it’s the nectar of life,” Conall jested, draining his own glass.
“Me brother’s right, but it can be hard tae stomach the stuff at first,” Fiona chipped in, gesturing to her own helping of ale and taking a sip or two. Georgina had only tasted wine before, so the horrid sensation of the ale wasn’t what she was expecting.
She watched as the others enjoyed their food and drink, and the yearning for something new and exciting took hold.
“Right, let’s give this another go,” She announced, picking up her glass of ale like she was about to embark on a dare and promptly gulped the whole thing down to rounds of cheers from the McGowans.
Georgina emerged from the empty glass, gasping and coughing but welcoming the warming sensation that was spreading through her body and the feeling of relaxation that was quickly setting in. “Woooo,” she let out her glee, a giggle escaping from her lips.
“Now that’s how it’s done lass,” Conall congratulated, slapping his hand against his robust thigh. While deep down Georgina knew that she was still mad about his true motives for pretending to rescue her, the heady sensation from downing an entire glass of ale was laughing it off, willing her to loosen up.
Settling into the easy conversation and shared laughter over the remains of their meal, Georgina couldn’t remember having had this much fun in a long time. At home, meal times were a business-like affair, either entertaining her father’s acquaintances or as guests at someone else’s dining room. It had been drilled into her to be on her best behavior, to perform her politest smiles and participate in approved topics of conversation for a young woman.
Georgina often left these occasions feeling fatigued and lonely for the lack of genuine connection and friendship. She’d often thought, just once I’d love to stand up, throw aside these stuffy rules and tell you all what I really think. She supposed she had done just that in her choice to leave the wedding of the Earl of Aylesford on a Laird’s horseback; she really couldn’t have asked for a more dramatic exit from boredom.
The night wore on, ending far too quickly for Georgina’s liking. She’d indulged in one or two more helpings of ale, enjoying the way it made her forget all her worries and joke along with both the brothers and Fiona.
“Right ye all, let’s be calling it a night,” Fiona announced, clapping her hands to rouse them all into action.
“Oh, whyever that?” Georgina called out in response, pouting at her new friend.
“Ach, I do think the lassie is blootered,” Conall announced as they all stood up.
“Blootered!” Georgina exclaimed, finding the expression hilarious all of a sudden, “You mean drunk as a skunk,” She continued, falling into a fit of giggles.
“Right ye are lass,” Marcas leapt in to steady her, for she found herself swaying slightly as she tried to stand upright. “We’d best get ye up tae bed,” he ordered.
“Why I don’t mind if I do,” Georgina purred, the prospect of Marcas taking her to bed being a rather thrilling one indeed.
She continued to spout nonsense in between bouts of giggles as Marcas held on to her firmly, helping her up the stairs and steering her in the direction of her new bedroom.
“Well are you coming in with me or not, Sir Marcas?” She asked as they stopped outside of the door, trying to give him her best sultry stare.
“No, good night lass, it wouldn’t be right for me tae take advantage o’ your vulnerable state,” he said all too seriously. Georgina pouted, sullen at his rejection of her.
“Come on noo, let’s get ye tae bed ‘n’ ye can sleep it off,” Marcas ordered gently. It took some persuading to get her inside the room, undressed and into bed and she tried one last time to entice him in with her, but he stubbornly stood his ground.
“Goodnight Georgina,” he whispered as he left the room, closing the door as quietly as possible.
She was left feeling like her head was spinning, wondering how she would ever fall asleep, when an unwelcome twisting sensation swooped through her stomach. She moved quickly to whip out the chamber pot just in time before she retched and emptied out the contents of her stomach.
Chapter 8
Morning was announced by the distant ringing of a bell. It took Georgina a long couple of minutes to establish where she was and how she got there. She remembered a long talk with Fiona, the dinner, the shared company, the ale…
The ale. Oh, dear god.
As Georgina sat up, it all came flooding back to her along with a pounding headache and an unpleasant wave of nausea. She slowly lowered herself back down, burrowing under the covers and longing to just stay there and never move again.
Not o
nly was she feeling utterly vile, but she had made a complete fool of herself in front of Marcas. He’s going to think I’m nothing but a common hussy.
What on earth had she been thinking? She invited him into her bedchamber. The moment she set foot in the Highlands, some dam inside her had burst open, or perhaps all the fresh air had gone to her head and made her giddy.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Oh, please no, let that be anyone but Marcas. Logically, she knew how improper it would be for Marcas to be awaiting outside her bedchamber, so this was a very unlikely scenario, but given her current state of mind, the worst possible outcomes must surely be possible.
“Hello?” she croaked.
“Georgina? I just came up to call ye tae breakfast.”
Oh, thank goodness. It was only Fiona.
“Shall I come in?” She called from the other side of the door.
The Highlander's Secret Maiden: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel Page 5
