Chapter 8

8

T he village tavern to which Murdoch had chosen to guide Lydia for their noon meal was reputed to have hearty food, but it was also situated in a village where his face wasn't well known. Murdoch had deliberately avoided wearing his laird's torc, or any other sign of his rank, in the hope that it would help them avoid trouble.

Clansmen in this village would surely know of the ‘murderous laird', but they were less likely to know Murdoch was the man they spoke of. That, at least, was his hope.

By the time Lydia's carriage had pulled up to the building that served as both an inn and a tavern, Murdoch had already passed his horse off to the stable boy, along with a coin to see that all of their horses were fed, watered, and rubbed down before being resaddled for the remainder of the journey.

He helped Lydia down from the carriage, then glanced at the man she traveled with. "Will yer escort be joining us?"

A quick glance passed between the two, and the man-at-arms shook his head. "I'll be nae more than a shout away, but I prefer to stay with the carriage."

Murdoch nodded and turned to offer Lydia his arm, only to find she'd already entered the tavern. He grumbled under his breath and hurried after her.

He found her seated at a table with a pitcher of weak ale and two tankards. "Daenae go wandering off without me."

"Why nae? Surely tis perfectly safe."

"Ye daenae ken that. Besides, I came to guide ye safely to Lochlann. I cannae do that if ye wander off."

"Tis nae as if I'd kent ye'd meet us on the road." She smiled up at him, but there was an edge to that smile that made him think of Wilma in one of her more curious or mischievous moods. "Besides, I went ahead to get ye something refreshing to drink." She offered him a tankard.

Murdoch sighed and sat down, then took the tankard. He couldn't deny he was thirsty, and the ale, when he sipped it, was a satisfying balance of flavors, as well as cooling to his parched throat. He took a larger drink and drained half the tankard.

Lydia watched him with bright, interested eyes. "Do ye like ale?"

"Tis passable." He'd have preferred a proper ale, but he understood her restraint, given that they still had a fair distance to travel.

Lydia sipped at her own drink. "I suppose. I've never been much of a drinker, but I thought a bit of shared repast between us might help us get to ken each other."

Murdoch stifled the urge to groan and thump his head on the table behind another large swallow of ale. He'd never been one to enjoy conversation for conversation's sake. Still, Wilma would kill him, or at least make him regret his actions, if he didn't make some attempt. "Aye?"

"Aye. Do ye have any kinfolk?"

"Two cousins, an uncle and a son still living."

Lydia smiled. "That sounds lovely. I've three sisters, and three brothers-by-marriage, as well as nieces and nephews. Tis a large family, but I'm glad of it. Do yer cousins have children? How old is yer son?"

"Nae. And me son's seen a year and a half."

Lydia's smile widened. "I like bairns. What's his name?"

"Finn."

"Finn. Tis a nice name. Is it short for somethin', or is he named after someone? How did ye decide the name?"

His wife had chosen the name for a brother who'd passed away in childhood. She'd said the bairn reminded her of the lad for some reason, and Murdoch had never argued, as it had been one of the few civil conversations they'd had at that point.

Still, he wasn't about to bring up his wife. "It was the name of a family member who passed away young."

Lydia's expression softened with sympathy. "Och, I'm sorry I dinnae mean to be insensitive. Were ye close?"

Considering he'd never met the boy, or the man he might have become… "Nay."

"But ye named yer son after him?" Lydia frowned, clearly confused. Murdoch winced behind his upraised tankard. He was beginning to wish he'd either ignored the question or lied.

Blast Wilma for making me deal with this afore I was prepared.

Fortunately, a sense of urgency in a different area presented him with the perfect excuse to take a moment away. He finished his tankard, then rose. "Yer pardon."

Lydia grabbed his arm before he could make his escape. "Where are ye going?"

"Privy. Or a back alley, if there's nay piss pot or privy about." Lydia blushed and released him, and Murdoch took the opportunity to scurry away.

The time it took to find the privy and relieve himself was enough for him to regain some of his composure. Beyond that, he was fairly certain their food would by now have been set before them, which meant he could hope that she'd be too occupied with eating for more questions.

Still, necessary as his actions had been, he couldn't help but feel as if he'd done Lydia a disservice. He hadn't needed to be quite so abrupt, and he should have at least made sure someone was there to watch over her. It wouldn't have taken more than a moment to send her man-at-arms in while he took care of his business behind the stable, for example. The hound could watch over the carriage easily enough.

Perhaps he should stop by the kitchens and ask for the cook or the maid to make something as a treat for Lydia - or else recommend someone who would make such things. Some village taverns served a ‘standard' fare that could be augmented by others in the village. Others could make a little bit of anything, so long as they were paid the coin for it.

He was halfway to the kitchen door before he realized that he'd left Lydia unescorted for far too long already, and that it would be better to ask the serving maid who brought their drinks about that sort of thing.

He entered the main dining area to see that he was correct. The tavern maid had delivered their food as he'd anticipated. Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing that had come to the table while he was otherwise occupied.

Two men, burly laborers in farm smocks, had also taken up places by the table. From the looks on their faces, they'd had more ale than was good for them and they'd clearly gotten the wrong idea about Lydia.

Murdoch stalked closer, just in time to see the first man reach out to grab Lydia's arm. "Come on, pretty wench, daenae be so rude. I can make it worth yer while to be nice…come have an ale with me and me friends."

"Unhand me, please. I daenae wish to join ye. I'm waitin' for me companion."

The second man leered drunkenly at her. "Nae much of a friend to leave ye alone. I'd never do that."

Lydia's eyes were sparkling with anger, and, unless Murdoch missed his guess, she had her free hand on her belt knife. "I wish ye would."

The man's companion sniggered. "Seems like the wench thinks she too good fer us. Oughta teach her a lesson…"

"I think ye're right." The man's grip tightened on Lydia's arm.

Enough was enough. Murdoch surged forward and clamped his hand around the man's wrist. "Unhand the lass."

He squeezed hard, and the man let go with a gasp of pain. Murdoch shoved him back toward his friend, his lip curling menacingly. "Get back to yer table and back to yer drink and leave me companion alone."

"Bastard. Who do ye think ye are?" The man he'd shoved was too busy nursing his bruised wrist to fight, but his friend was apparently both drunk and foolish enough to try his luck. "We'll decide when we want to leave."

"Nay. Ye will both go and do it now, and leave me betrothed in peace afore I stick me blade in yer liver and me fist through yer teeth and leave ye eating soup for the rest of yer life." Murdoch dropped a hand to his sword hilt.

The man was a drunken fool, but he had just enough wits left to know Murdoch was serious, and that he wasn't going to win a battle with either fists or blade. With a final scowl, the two men slunk back to their table, to the laughter of their companions.

Murdoch sat down. Lydia gave him a sharp look. "I could have handled them. I ken how to fight."

"Aye. But I ken how to win without fightin'. And without riskin' the injuries ye might have taken." Murdoch applied himself to his waiting meal. After a moment, Lydia did the same.

It took him a moment to recall the thoughts he'd been having, prior to the distraction caused by the men. He lifted a hand to call over the serving maid. "Yer tavern cook, do they serve standard fare, or can a man ask for something extra?"

"Extra items will cost ye more, and the price depends on what ye want - and double if ye want something that has to be sent for from old Molly down the road."

Having to send for something would take longer, and he wasn't of a mind to linger. "What sort of sweet things can yer cook make, that willnae take too long?"

"Got some scones from the mornin', and a bit of fresh cream and honey. Can also make biscuits with fruit preserves from last fall's harvest."

Murdoch turned to Lydia. "Do ye like the sound of either of those?"

She blinked, flustered. "I…I daenae need…"

"I ken. But I was thinkin' to apologize for leavin' ye on yer own for too long, when I should have had better manners. Besides, tavern was me choice, and I'd like to give ye somethin' while we're here."

Lydia blushed, but after a moment, she nodded to the serving maid. "A scone with cream and honey sounds good, thank ye. And another tankard of ale, please?"

"One silver." Murdoch handed over the money, and the maid sauntered away.

"Ye dinnae need to do that." Lydia said.

"And if I wished to?" He met her eyes, and was surprised when Lydia blushed, a shy smile on her face.

"Then, I'll say nay more than thank ye. For the sweet, and for the rescue." Her hand touched lightly on his. "I was a wee bit indignant to be treated like a damsel in distress, but I cannae deny it was impressive, what ye did. And convincin' them to leave without hurtin' more than their pride or riskin' damage to the tavern - tis kind of ye."

The scone and the ale arrived then, and Lydia withdrew her hand to finish the meal. Murdoch had barely finished his own food when she offered him a bite of the scone. "Ye should try this."

"I got it for ye."

"And I'm offerin' ye a bite, as a thank ye for yer courtesy." She smiled coyly at him. "Ye should accept with grace when a lady offers ye a token of gratitude, or affection."

"If ye say so." He took a bite of the scone. It was sweet, the cream and honey melting in his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten something like it. "Tis good enough, I suppose."

The rest of the repast was spent in silence, and within the candle-mark, they were back on the road. Still Murdoch couldn't help tasting the honey and cream on his tongue, even as Lydia's words lingered in his mind.

She'd called him kind, and thanked him, despite the fact that his discourtesy had put her in an uncomfortable position. She'd even called him ‘courteous'. And she'd hinted at some sort of affection for him, even if she had little cause to feel that way.

How long had it been since a woman other than his cousin had given him any of those, much less all three?

Lochlann Castle was slightly larger and sturdier than the castle Isobel and Alex had claimed as their home, but Lydia couldn't help thinking that the structure looked slightly foreboding. However, she was sure that was merely a figment of her imagination.

She kept Hector close as they passed through the gate and entered the courtyard. The sounds of guards practicing filled her ears, but her eyes were drawn to the main doors of the castle.

Murdoch was already dismounting. There were two women waiting by the doors, one of whom was holding a bairn who appeared to be barely a year or so in age. Lydia wondered if the child was his son, or the child of other kin. Perhaps the woman was a maid who'd come to speak to the laird about something and happened to have her bairn with her. For the first time, Lydia wondered about how the common folk of Clan Lochlann lived, and what they thought of their laird. She'd only ever heard about Laird Lochlann, his late wife and the bairn they'd supposedly had together, as well as the rumors of what had happened to the woman. The stories were worrying, to be sure, but she knew as well as anyone that rumors often left out critical information, even when they were accurate.

The carriage rolled to a stop and Alex's man-at-arms helped her down from her seat. Hector jumped down lightly beside her.

She'd scarcely turned to her betrothed to ask for an introduction when the younger, unencumbered woman lunged forward and caught her in a tight embrace. "Welcome to Lochlann Castle! Tis good to meet ye!"

The woman stepped back to look her in the eyes, her wide smile so warm that Lydia felt a smile of her own blossom on her face. "I'm Wilma Nairn, Laird Lochlann's younger cousin, and I think we're destined to be great friends, ye and I."

The servants came to gather her things from the carriage, while Wilma led her over to the others, Hector pacing along at her side. "Ye've met me cousin, Murdoch Nairn, Laird of Lochlann Clan, and this adorable wee lad…" She took the bairn from the other woman and smiled into his chubby face as he burbled adorably at her. "…this fine bairn is me nephew and Murdoch's son, Finn."

"He's a fair handsome child." Lydia smiled and held out her hand to the bairn. Finn grabbed her finger and made sounds that seemed to indicate approval, if his smile was anything to go by.

Beside her, Hector barked softly, his tail beginning to wave from side to side. Wilma smiled and crouched so he could sniff the bairn. "Finn, this is Lady Lydia's companion…"

"Hector. He's me loyal defender." Lydia settled her hand on Hector's shoulder, ready to pull him back if she needed to.

"Hector." Wilma addressed the bairn in her arms with mock seriousness. "Ye'll likely see a fair lot of him, so be kind to him." She turned to the dog. "And ye, be gentle with the wee bairn, for he's nae used to such large, furry creatures as of yet."

Finn giggled and reached out a chubby fist to grab Hector's fur. Hector barked again, a much gentler, softer sound. The wagging of his tail sped up. He snuffled the lad, then licked his face with a quick swipe of his tongue. Finn shrieked with delight.

Wilma laughed. "It looks as if yer guard and me wee nephew are destined to be great friends as well."

"Aye. If I dinnae ken better, I'd say I've lost Hector to Finn already, for he looks fair smitten with the lad."

She'd forgotten that Hector was one of the few dogs who could be trusted around abandoned or orphaned newborn animals; kittens and pups without mothers, or foals in need of extra care. Hector had willingly taken on the role of watchdog and caretaker for many of them. Small wonder he'd be so taken with the young bairn.

They stood there for a few moments, until Finn offered a sudden look of distress and emanated an acrid scent that made it clear his nappy was in need of changing. Wilma gave Lydia an apologetic smile. "Och, I need to see to the lad, but I promise we'll talk more later. In the meantime, me cousin can show ye to yer rooms. I trust he'll be a gentleman about it, but if he isnae, ye've only to let me ken. I'll be more than happy to spike his mead with something that will make his guts grumble for a good long while."

She gave Murdoch a glare, to which he responded with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Then, with a final smile in Lydia's direction, she carried Finn inside, followed by the maid, who most likely served as the bairn's caretaker when she was unavailable.

Murdoch lifted a hand to the still-open doors and bowed slightly. "If ye will, me Lady."

Lydia followed him inside, one hand on Hector's head as the large dog padded along beside her. She knew her faithful guard wasn't likely to misbehave, but it was comforting to have him close by.

Murdoch led her through the castle, pointing out various rooms: the Great Hall, the receiving room, the solarium, and the wing that led to the servant's quarters. He then led her into the private family wing.

She expected to get one of the rooms closer to the main hall where guests or extended family might be housed. She was surprised when he guided her to a set of well-appointed, comfortable-looking chambers, clearly meant for a laird or lady of the clan. "These rooms…"

"They're me own. I had them prepared for ye."

Lydia whipped around, startled and slightly affronted by the boldness of his statement, as well as what seemed like a blatant attempt to disregard the terms he'd previously agreed to. "Ye think to be so forward with me? How dare ye presume…" The rest of her words were cut short as his hand covered her mouth.

"I think to house ye in the most comfortable manner I can provide, including these rooms." He gave her an inscrutable look. "But I think ye mistake me. I said these were me rooms, prepared for ye. I dinnae say I was intending to share them with ye. I've had another set of rooms prepared for meself."

Lydia felt her face heat, color rising to her cheeks. "I…apologize. When ye said…I shouldnae have taken affront so easily."

"Nay, ye shouldnae have. I'm a man of me word, Lydia Knox. I agreed to yer conditions, and I'll keep to them. We'll nae be sharing the rooms, or a bed, until ye wish for me to join ye."

The last was said with a small leer that made her stomach clench and her cheeks heat in a renewed blush. "Ye think highly of yerself, to assume that I'll be asking for that any time soon."

"And ye dinnae think well enough of me, if ye're thinkin' that I'll put any less thought into claimin' yer affections than I did in choosin' yer quarters."

His hand shifted to cup her chin, the grip light enough that Lydia could have pulled away, had she not been possessed by the intensity of his gaze. "I daenae ken everything ye've heard of me, Lydia Knox, but I told ye I've never lost a war. Did ye think I'd concede this one so easily, simply because the first engagement ended with terms ye favored?"

She wasn't about to admit that she hadn't considered the matter at all. She'd been too focused on protecting her sisters and their families to consider how he would respond to her demands.

Then again, all she knew of him was that he was rumored to be a bad-tempered man who had killed his first wife and alienated himself from many other clans as a result. Nothing she'd heard mentioned any details of what had happened, at least, not any hard facts that she could cling to, just speculations and whispers of dislike that might or might not have been true.

The rumors and speculations were worrying, yes, but then again, she'd heard similar stories about two of the men who were her kin-by-marriage. She also knew that Alex and Isobel sometimes fought, and so did Nora and Leo, as well as Hunter and Emma. With the exception of Emma, who was more of a peacekeeper than anything, all of them had been known to fill the halls with their tempers.

Despite that, she was keenly aware that all three marriages were filled with love, and none of the three men would raise a hands to their wives in anger, no matter how vexing the argument.

This man before her, who made efforts to see to her comfort and had taken time out of his no doubt busy schedule to greet her; she wasn't sure she knew anything of this Murdoch Nairn at all. He certainly wasn't like the man the rumors had perpetually described.

Still, she wasn't going to let him have his way so easily either. She stepped back, freeing herself from his grip. "I wouldnae care to say what ye might do, me Laird, but I'll promise ye that ye'll not find this match won with just a few polite gestures, a sweet or two, and a few words. I'm nae so simple to sway or easy to win."

He made a sound that might have been a snort, or a smothered laugh. "Daenae fret, lass. I enjoy a challenge. And I'll take victory where I can, including kenning that yer guard has been won over by me son."

Lydia smiled at him offering him sweetness over an edge of teasing. "Tis true that Hector has a soft spot for small things, but I dinnae think ye were the sort to let a wee bairn win yer battles for ye."

This time she was sure she saw a small smile break through his stony facade. "Yer nae wrong. But I'm nae fool enough to ignore the chance for a foot in the door to get past yer walls, either."

She hadn't expected such a frank response. Lydia stared at him, unable to find any words to say that would be a proper rebuff. She couldn't deny that Finn had captured her attention as well as Hector's, and she certainly wasn't going to tell him that she liked Wilma already.

Murdoch's smile widened just a fraction as he pushed open the door to the rooms and led her inside. "I ken ye must be tired from the journey, Miss Knox, so I'll leave ye to freshen up and rest. The maid I've assigned to ye will be here soon, and ye can ask her for whatsoever ye need, including supper, if ye daenae wish to brave the Great Hall tonight."

"I…thank ye." She'd been expecting to have to meet the members of his clan with barely enough time to settle in and shake off the travel dust, and the thought had filled her with trepidation. A night's reprieve, before facing them in the morning for breakfast, was a gift.

"Ye're welcome. If ye will excuse me, I'll see that yer escort and yer horses are also taken care of. If there's something else that ye need me for, then ye can send a maid or a serving lad for mi. Someone will ken where I am." He started to turn away.

His words reminded her of her luggage, still waiting to be unpacked. It also brought to mind one room he hadn't shown her. "I…wait, I did have one question for ye, before ye leave."

He paused, and Lydia took the chance. "Will I be permitted to enter yer library? Ye dinnae show me where it was."

Silence fell. Murdoch blinked, and if she didn't know better, she'd have thought he was genuinely confused by the question. "Library…ye mean ye want to see the books in me study?"

Lydia flushed, this time in awkwardness. She'd grown up with sisters who loved to read, at least, Emma and Nora did, and all her sisters and their spouses had been cheerfully indulgent of her own fascination with the written word. It hadn't occurred to her that other clans might not have such a love for books, or the resources and time to indulge in them.

The idea of living in a place without a library sent a pang through her. Even so, she forced an abashed smile onto her face, "I…never mind. I was thinking…at home, well, I suppose it doesnae matter, as I'm here now. Apologies for the misunderstanding. I suppose I'm just a wee bit more tired than I thought."

"Then I'll let ye rest." With that, Murdoch left, closing the door behind him as he went.

Lydia moved to the chair by the fire and sank into it. She knew she should start unpacking her things, but her mind was whirling with everything she'd seen of Lochlann Castle and Murdoch thus far.

She'd hoped to have access to a library. Her kin kept their family records there, along with the books, and she'd entertained the idea on the journey that she might find documents to tell her more about Murdoch's past. Or, failing that, anything that might give her an idea of what kind of man he was, and what the members of his family were like.

It apparently wasn't going to be that easy, and the only thing she had learned through that approach was that they did not appear to be a clan who valued scholarly pursuits.

If she wanted more information about her new betrothed, she was going to have to find an alternative way to discover it.

Lydia took a deep breath, then released it slowly. Tis fortunate I brought plenty of books of me own. If I cannae look to perusing clan Lochlann's written words, perhaps sharing me own will help me gain the insights I seek.