by Alisa Adams
“I am hoping she is just exhausted,” explained Flori.
“Aye,” Ceena added, “she has been up nearly every night guarding us.”
“From Mungan Ross?” Gordon asked as he pulled Godet easily back onto his lap.
“Aye.” Ina nodded her head. “The bampot is always trying to get to us. He gets himself blootered with the whiskey and lurks about trying to catch us unawares he daes. He is a vile, mauchit, cocky, scunner of a sard he is.”
Gordon raised his eyebrows at the young girl’s colorful language. Ceena was trying not to laugh as was Aunt Hextilda. Flori was looking at her and frowning.
“Dae ye even know what any of that means, Ina?” Flori admonished her.
“Aye, I dae. I know he is a sard.”
“Goodness! Where did ye learn such language Ina?” Flori said with a look of shock on her face.
“Mungan’s warriors talk like that. So, I dae know he is a bowfin, boggin, blootered bampot,” she explained quietly and shook her head. “I dae like the way that sounds…”
Tristan could not help laughing out loud. Ceena was in a fit of giggles. Gordon just shook his head at Ina.
Aunt Hextilda finally spoke up, trying in vain not to laugh. “Ye are a young lady Ina, ye musnae talk like that, though it be true or not. Still ‘tis not ladylike. Ye’ll not be fetching a husband with that mouth, dearie.” She shook her finger at her. “Even though he is an unpleasant, foul-smelling, drunken idiot.”
“Yes, aunt,” Ina said docilely. “Though it doesn’t sound as good as it does in the Scottish. Bowfin, boggin, blootered bampot, it just flows off the tongue it does. So lovely like.”
“Ina!” Flori cried.
Aunt Hextilda looked up at Godet in Gordon's arms. “Ye just hold her tight, it could be her head paining her again,” she said looking up at him. “One never knows. She’s been through too much that one has. Yes, just hold her tight. I’ll take sweet Bluebell here, he’ll follow King Bobby anywhere.” She crooned to the big horse, taking his reins and leading him behind her pony.
5
Gordon had Godet back in his arms. He felt a certain sense of peace and contentment. He did not know why that was, it was an unusual feeling for him. But she was sound asleep against his chest, nestled between his thighs, and in his arms. All was right in his world. He looked up to the stars, now visible in the night sky, and then looked ahead of him. He could make out the towers of Castle Conall. Soft light glowed from the windows.
Home.
He lowered his chin to Godet’s hair, dark as midnight. He inhaled the flowery scent of her and lightly rubbed his lips along her forehead, gently so as not to disturb her or hurt her bruises further. She moved her head slightly and he looked down at her face. She was looking up at him. Her eyes were sleepy and dazed but she smiled a small smile up at him. Her silvery eyes were catching a bit of moonlight. He felt his blood quicken and a sharp knot hit him square in the chest.
He wanted this woman, more than he had ever wanted any other. He cupped her face in his free hand and stared down at her. Her lips parted slightly to ask him a question, but he did not give her the chance. He lowered his lips to hers, inhaling slightly as he ran his lips softly over hers. Gordon felt her intake of breath, but she did not retreat. So, he continued and captured her lips with his own. A deep growl emitted from his throat as a soft whimper came from Godet. Her fingers were clutching his linen shirt. He plunged his tongue into her mouth and rubbed it against her own. Enjoying the silky warmth of her mouth, he growled again. He slanted his mouth over hers again and again. The kiss became deep and slow as their breaths came shallower and quicker. How he loved the taste of her, the feel of her full, soft lips under his own.
This woman. Here in his arms. She was a warrior. Perfect for him.
Then he froze.
Gordon pulled away. She was not for him. Up ahead in that castle was Brigda, his future wife. He felt the blood drain from his face. He gently tucked her head back against his chest and heard her mumble something that sounded like, “What a lovely dream.” He frowned. He would find her a husband and her sisters’ husbands—all of them. They were all warriors. It would be a challenge but one he could manage. If he could train men to go into battle, to win those battles, and live through the injuries and pain of those battles, how hard could it be to find four beautiful and young warrior women husbands?
Gordon walked into the great hall with Godet in his arms. Tristan was by his side and behind them were Aunt Hextilda, Flori, Ceena, and Ina. Servants immediately came to greet their Laird and were sent off for food and drink and to ready rooms for the women. The great hall was lit by a huge fireplace that took up a large portion of one wall. The stones of the walls had been covered by brightly colored tapestries and the floors had thick rugs. There was a long table set before the fireplace. An ornate wooden staircase rose from the center of the back of the hall. There were huge windows set into the wall of the first landing framed by heavy blue velvet that draped from the top of the window, all the way to the floor.
“I believe we’ve stepped back in time,” whispered Ina reverently, “’tis a castle, rather like our Fionnaghall but not the same.” She spoke with wonder in her voice.
“Ye mean it isnae falling down around our ears,” Ceena commented.
“It’s huge and frightening,” said Flori in a hushed voice.
“This is the original great hall of the castle,” explained Gordon. “The rooms off this main hall have been added on as have the upper floor. The original upper floor caved in long ago.”
“And the dungeons?” whispered Ina.
“Still there.” Gordon winked at her “When we need them.”
Ceena had wandered over to a wall containing an assortment of weapons that dated back over a hundred years. Tristan came up beside her. “These have been in the MacDonell family for generations,” he explained, “we pride ourselves on our fine weapons and, in particular, our blade making skills.”
“May I?” Ceena asked reverently.
“But of course,” he answered her.
Tristan watched as Ceena reached up and lifted a short-hilted knife off of its brackets on the wall. She hefted it and experimented with the weight and the feel of the handle. “It’s beautifully crafted and perfectly balanced,” she said with a smile, not taking her eyes off the knife.
Tristan was just about to say something when a harsh voice broke into the peacefulness of the fire lit great hall. “Gordon! There ye are my darling! Where have ye been?” called a female voice.
Gordon turned to stare at the red-haired woman coming toward him. He stared down at her saying nothing, just studying her. Gordon knew he was frowning at her. He did not care overmuch. Flori, Ceena, and Ina came to stand beside him.
“And just who are these poor women?” the woman asked in a high-pitched, nasally voice as she looked the girls over from head to toe. Her lips were thin and tight and formed a small smile that was just slightly more condescending than welcoming. When she looked back at Gordon, her smile broadened. Then her lips instantly turned down as she looked at Godet there in Gordon’s arms.
“Lady Brigda, this is Lady Godet Ross and her sisters Lady Flori, Lady Ceena and Lady Ina,” Gordon introduced. His voice was deep and gruff, yet quiet in deference to the woman sleeping so trustingly in his arms.
“What is wrong with the girl? Won’t she wake up?” she asked and reached out to pinch Godet’s arm.
Gordon instantly pulled Godet out of Brigda’s reach. At the same time, her sisters stepped forward, blocking her from touching Godet. They just stared at her, looking her up and down from head to foot as she had them. Brigda was dressed elegantly in heavy brocade fabric. Her waist was pulled in tight and her overly large breasts were close to spilling over and out of her gown. Her red hair was done up in an elaborate coiffure that was complete with pearls placed here and there in her hair.
Ceena leaned in closer. Did she have some sort of paint on her face? When Brigda turned sharply to stare a
t her with narrowed eyes, Ceena snatched her head back. Brigda’s look had been more of a glare. This one needs watching, she thought.
“We ran into some trouble on the way back to Conall. The Ross warriors have taken exception to the sisters seeking the protection of the MacDonell clan. Lady Godet suffered an injury in a small skirmish,” Gordon told her.
“Only in the first one. In the second one, she killed one of them,” Ceena said. She still had the knife in her hand and was rapidly flipping it around her fingers, twirling it expertly as she stared at Brigda. She watched in smug satisfaction as Brigda recoiled in fear or perhaps it was disgust—or maybe both.
“Ye mean to tell me that these… these… girls fought some Ross warriors?”
Tristan came forward. “Indeed, they did, quite well too,” he said and casually took the knife out of Ceena’s hand. He gave her a stern look and she smiled mischievously back at him.
“Why dae they need protection from their own clan and why have they come to the MacDonells?” Brigda asked in a barely concealed rude tone of voice.
“Their deceased mother was a MacDonell. Indeed, Aunt Hextilda is a MacDonell,” Gordon explained firmly, looking over at Aunt Hextilda who had been stood silently watching Brigda. “Ye will not question me anymore, Brigda. They are guests in my home,” he continued in a low growl. “Just as ye are, I may add.”
Brigda’s mouth worked like a fish and her bosom blew up another size as she sucked in great gulps of air. Then she caught herself and smiled prettily at Gordon. “But of course, my darling, ye are so right, I did not mean to be rude, I was just surprised that is all,” she said placating him with a sly side look at the girls.
Godet moaned softly which instantly caught her sister’s attention, they gathered quickly around Gordon. “Godet? We are here, how are ye?” Flori asked worriedly.
“We are in a fairy castle, Godet, open yer eyes and see!” This came from Ina.
“Her bruises look awful, even in this dimly lit hall. Will she be all right?” said Ceena directed to Gordon.
“Awful?!” exclaimed Brigda. “They look positively ugly!” With that statement, she gave a shudder of disgust.
Gordon was watching Godet intently. As she opened her eyes, they stared at one another. Her eyes were questioning. “Yer sisters are worried about ye. How is yer head lassie?” he asked in a gentle, low voice.
“It hurts. Put me down, please,” she said quietly. That kiss must have been a dream. A silly dream. He looked at me so indifferently just now, Godet mused. She knew she was blushing.
Godet stood up, moving away from Gordon’s supporting hand on her arm. She noticed the woman right in front of her staring at her with an openly curious look on her sharply beautiful face. Godet curtsied unsteadily but politely to her.
“How dae ye dae? Ye must be Lady Brigda,” she said to the sharp-looking woman who continued to stare at her so unwelcomingly. Then Godet looked over at her sisters. “Please excuse our appearance. We have had quite a journey here,” she explained as she tried to straighten her skirts and her hair. Her wild curls were tumbling down her back and she knew when those curls were free of their braid, they would be rioting around her face and shoulders and down to her hips in such a way that no known comb could tame.
“Yes, I heard that ye actually fought some warriors,” Brigda said with a slight laugh. “Shouldn’t ye be leaving that up to the real warriors, such as Laird MacDonell here?” Seeing Gordon’s fierce frown, she hastily added, “Ye must be so exhausted.”
“I dinnae know what they would dae when they first came upon us,” Godet said staring at Brigda then Godet tilted her head just a bit and smiled slightly. “But I thank ye for yer concern for us.” At that, she turned to Gordon. “I should think our things will be arriving at first light. They will have stopped for the night. Dae ye have a room for my sisters and I? And one for my aunt too? We are happy to share.”
“We’ve plenty of rooms here.” Gordon looked over at the massive table taking up space in front of the fireplace. “There will be food and drink for us in an hour if ye would like to refresh yourselves first.” He turned to a servant who had come up to him. “Jeanie will take ye to yer rooms.”
The sisters were gathered in Godet and Flori’s room. Ceena and Ina shared a room across the hall and Aunt Hextilda was given her own room at the end of the long hallway.
The wing they were in appeared to be a little newer than the great hall. The hallway was massive. Its walls were a beautiful rich wood with intricate paneling above an elaborate chair rail. Large, ornate portraits hung perfectly spaced down the hall. The doors to their rooms were thick and massive, as well as heavy to push open. Each door handle was a work of art in itself.
Ina was in heaven as she studied each detail. Godet’s room had a large four-poster bed on the main wall. Heavy, light blue velvet swaths hung above it, draping down on each side ready to close in the occupant of the bed in its velvety warmth. Across from the bed was a fireplace that was large enough to walk into. A blazing fire lit up the room and made it cozy and warm. There was a blue rug on the floor that had a lovely pattern with all the colors of blue from light blue to sky blue to navy. Ina was walking all over the rug, looking down as she studied it. The walls of the room picked up on the colors in the rug with a silk paper in soft blue florals that gave the room a feminine appeal.
Godet watched Ina’s pleasure as she took in the pretty room and sighed. It was lovely and such a stark contrast to their own Fionnaghall Castle. Flori was right. Fionnaghall was a crumbling pile of stone. The velvet hanging over their beds at Fionnaghall was moth-eaten, dusty, and ready to fall apart in your fingers if you even dared to touch the musty things. Godet ran her fingers over the beautiful old wardrobe. The furniture here was ancient but exquisite, in good condition, and well cared for.
Godet sighed, wishing she had her trunks. She would love to change out of her dress into one of her better gowns. She stared at herself in the huge mirror on the wardrobe. Her hair was a mess. She looked over to see Flori and Ceena sprawled out on the massive bed.
“Girls, can I get some help combing these bird’s nests out of my hair?” Godet asked as she tried to pull a comb through her hair.
Flori and Ceena sat up slowly, blinking drowsily. “Aye, I’m thinking we are all a bit of a fright, aren’t we?” Ceena said as she ran her fingers through her tawny hair.
Flori jumped off the bed and smoothed her skirts. Her hair still looked neat even though it too had come free of its braid. Her black locks hung down her back as well, though not with the wildness that Godet’s curls had.
“Give me the comb, Godet. Turn around and let me see what I can dae with all yer hair,” Flori said. Flori worked gently as she pulled the comb through Godets curls. Ceena began smoothing Flori’s skirts. Ina sat on the beautiful rug in a puddle of her own tartan skirts watching them.
“Ye truly have the loveliest hair, Godet,” Ina stated with a sigh. “Like a fairy princess it is,” she added reverently.
“Oh, Ina, ye are such a love, but with yer blonde hair, ye are the one that looks like a fairy princess,” Godet said back to her youngest sister. “Ceena, ye needn’t fuss at me gown, it’s a wrinkled mess, I know, but I thank ye.”
“Nonsense, we are going to have ye looking like a princess like Ina said. That sly woman Brigda cannae hold a candle to ye, Godet!” Ceena exclaimed adamantly.
“Absolutely. I think she was rude, Godet,” Flori said seriously in her quiet voice.
“I cannae imagine Gordon marrying her. I feel quite sure he would be most miserable with her,” Ceena stated as she watched Flori slowly pull the comb through Godet’s hair. “How can he want to marry her when he is betrothed to ye?” She reached for Godet’s boots and began to vigorously brush the dirt from them.
Defending Gordon, Godet answered her, “He didn’t think our betrothal was real, Ceena. Daesnae matter anyway, he is marrying Brigda. We will find another way to get away from Uncle Mungan.”
Ina was studying the colors of the rug again. “She is an ill whilly naff numpty,” Ina muttered.
The girls all stopped and looked at her.
“Ina! Goodness. That is very unladylike,” Godet chastised as she looked at her beautiful, golden-haired little sister who was sitting in a puddle of sunshine and skirts on the lovely blue rug that matched Ina’s eyes.
“But ‘tis true,” Ina said stubbornly. “Naff numpty she is.”
6
Dinner was a painful affair. Brigda’s obscure barbs kept flying, stinging all the girls as well as Aunt Hexy. Brigda had barely concealed sly comments on everything from their clothing to their hair to their looks. She spoke particularly about their actions on the journey to the MacDonell lands.
When they walked down the stairs to the great hall, Gordon was deep in conversation with Tristan and another one of his men beside the huge hearth. The third man was as tall as Gordon and easily as broad. His face had a scar running through one brow. He had blond hair down to his shoulders and Godet thought he looked like a large lion. The man turned his head to watch the girls and his eyes went directly to Flori. He watched her walk down the stairs, never taking his eyes off of her.
Brigda stood at the table as they approached. She smugly looked them over and said under her voice, “At least this time they are washed.” Brigda could not help the look of surprise as she noticed Godets hair. It was now a gloriously shining mass of black curls floating around her head and down her back and it gleamed blue-black in the firelight. Her corset waist piece was black leather which cinched her waist in tightly. She wore a full white blouse under the corset.
As she passed Brigda, Godet heard a distinct “Harrumph.”
The girls smoothed down their skirts and took their seats at the table. Gordon had stopped talking with his men as the sisters had come down the stairs. He had stopped mid-sentence. Tristan immediately walked over to the girls with a wink at Ceena who was staring with a raised brow at Brigda. He walked them to the table with the big, blond giant following silently behind them.
