Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Deirdre loved the market in the castle town—well, village, really, but they called it a town. It was a vibrant place full of life and noise, sweet and savoury scents, colorful fabrics, and more. The trade in fabric dye had gone up recently, as people grew a little richer and wanted to explore beyond their standard browns and greys and clan colors. Deirdre, though nowhere near as interested in such things as Aoife was, found it interesting to watch as the clanspeople grew brighter.

She saw women in dresses of dusty pale pink or light blue, even one daring woman who sported a dark yellow color. No woman wore full green, of course; they were a traditional people and, even if the fae were less believed in these days than they once had been, there was no point in tempting fate by doing such things. That being said, though, she saw pops of even that color here and there, adding to the collage of brightness around her.

This late in the day, the air was scented with freshly cooked meat, and the delicious smell of stewed lamb reached Deirdre's nostrils, making her stomach grumble. She'd missed the midday meal thanks to her unexpected sleep, and she'd eaten breakfast so early that it felt she hadn't had any food at all.

She made her way through the crowd toward the vendor, who smiled when he saw her coming. Before she could even ask, he'd spooned a generous helping of the thick stew into a little bowl and cut her a hunk of bread.

"How much?" she asked him as she took the offered food gratefully.

The vendor shrugged. "Nae charge for me Lady's sister," he said, sounding sincere. "No' when she's done so much for us since she got here."

Deirdre's eyes widened in alarm. It wasn't that she was truly surprised to be recognized, not really, but she didn't want it announced so loudly either. She raised a finger to her lips and the vendor seemed to understand, winking at her and nodding without a word.

The food, after Deirdre had taken it to one of the benches and began to eat, was truly delicious. It was a simple stew, but it tasted as good as any fine feast concocted in the castle kitchens, in her opinion. Not that they ate particularly extravagantly in the castle; James was very much against using his wealth for frivolous matters, and only on extremely special events like weddings or baptisms would he allow needless excess.

She liked that about him. She liked a lot about him, and was truly glad that he and Blair had found each other. She only wished they would relax a little and give her some freedom. It had been a long time since she was a ten-year-old girl in desperate need of her big sister's aid.

"Deirdre?"

She looked up, surprised to hear her name, to see Gracie standing before her. Gracie had Faith in a sling around her chest, though the baby was almost too big for that method now, and a basket stuffed with fresh ingredients in the other. Beside Gracie, holding the hand of a toddling little Jack, was an older woman— Gracie and Lachlan's mother, Maggie, who now helped out in the stables at the castle.

"Auntie D!" Jack exclaimed, dropping his grandmother's hand and hurrying over. Deirdre hastily put her stew to the side, careful not to let it splash on the little one as he grabbed her legs in a hug.

"Where's yer escort?" Gracie asked, though it was clear by the tone of her voice that she knew the answer.

"Where's yers?" Deirdre countered. She knew she was being silly, but her heart was racing. She'd hoped for just a little more time before they made her go back. In the meantime, Jack clambered up into her lap, and she held him while he babbled a story, though she barely noticed the words.

"She's with her mammy," Maggie replied, an understanding and slightly pitying look on her face. "And the bairns. Moreover, Gracie isnae the target for anybody."

Deirdre sighed.

"I ken ye want yer freedom, but ye cannae keep riskin' yer life like this," Gracie told her. "Dae ye nae ken how dangerous it is for ye tae be out here alone? Dae ye nae understand what it would dae tae me brother, never mind yer sisters, if somethin' happened tae ye?"

"Don't lecture me, Gracie," Deirdre told her tiredly. "I just wanted tae wander around the market for a wee while like any other lassie my age. Is that so wrong?"

"But ye're no' just any other lassie yer age, sweet one," Maggie told her. "Ye an' yer sisters are…"

"I ken who we are," Deirdre said, then sighed. "Forgive me for my rudeness, Maggie. Ye ken I have naught but respect for ye. But I just… I needed a wee break. That's all."

"Well…why no' come wi' us, then?" Gracie suggested. "We're nae hired guardsmen, but they're less likely tae attack ye if ye're wi' two other women an' two bairns."

But Deirdre was already shaking her head. "I appreciate it. Truly, I do. But I just need tae be left alone. Just for a wee while. Please."

Just then, Faith started crying.

"Och, she's hungry, wee puddin'," Gracie noted, looking down at the baby. "We must get her back tae the castle. Are ye certain ye willnae come wi' us?"

Deirdre shook her head. She hugged Jack again, then patted him. "Off ye go with yer granny and Auntie Gracie."

Jack obediently hurried to his grandmother, who expertly swept him up and balanced him on her hip.

"Be careful out here," Maggie said, her voice so gentle and motherly that it made Deirdre want to cry. "Though I still think ye'd be better off comin' wi' us."

"I'll be fine," Deirdre promised.

She held her breath, but Faith kept crying, and Jack started fussing too. So, the other women had no choice but to leave her, and Deirdre was soon alone again with her rapidly cooling stew.

Deirdre ate quickly. It was still delicious, if a little less so than it would have been if she'd been able to eat it right away and take her time about it. She knew, though, that if she wanted to fully enjoy the market, she'd need to move quickly. Gracie might have kept her secret if she was alone, but Maggie would definitely tell Lachlan that she'd seen Deirdre here—and even if she didn't, little Jack wouldn't keep his mouth shut.

If she considered the time it would take to get the children back to the castle, ensure that Faith was fed, and take care of Jack's grizzling, she probably had around an hour left to enjoy herself, and she intended to do so to the fullest extent that she could. So, after returning the bowl to the vendor, she set out deeper into the market.

Deirdre was starting to feel a little uneasy, if she was honest. The village was so close to the castle that it had almost been inevitable that someone she knew would see her; she'd just been lucky it was Gracie and Maggie in the first place. She thought back to her horse, Cider, who right now must be enjoying the fresh hay in the well-supplied stables along with the other horses. Perhaps instead of coming here, she should have gone and saddled him and ridden off somewhere.

The thought made her laugh a little bitterly to herself. Though she had visited her horse in the stables recently, and often rode him for exercise within the extended walls of the keep, it had been years since she was able to actually freely ride anywhere. She'd tasted freedom only briefly, during their flight from Bram to the safety of the McFerguson clan, a freedom that had awakened new curiosities at every turn as she rode her horse, the wind in her hair, fear at her back and only discovery ahead.

But now she was confined again, for her safety yes, but still confined anyway. Perhaps she should marry, have James arrange something that would be beneficial to the clan and to the war efforts, as Aoife had done. It was a way to escape, to gain a new kind of freedom: and by law, when they were wed, Bram's grip and claim upon them loosened. It would be a sensible decision.

But the very thought made Deirdre's stomach curdle. She would not marry some stranger just to satisfy everyone else. After all, how could she, especially now that she'd seen true love in the hearts of her two oldest sisters? She was not Aoife, dreaming of a prince, but she did believe that love existed and created the strongest marriages. That knowledge so owned, she would not accept anything less when it came to her own matrimony.

Of course, that means I'll never be married, she thought to herself wryly as she wandered through the stalls of the market, occasionally stopping to glance at trinkets or fresh wares. After all, it was hard to find true love when one could not leave the four walls of their home.

To be loved. To be free. Both of these longings combined in her heart, causing a dull ache in her chest. Until the war with Bram was over, she knew that she'd never be able to achieve her deepest desires. Her cousin's mad determination to see her and the rest of her sisters dead had overruled any hope she had of a normal life, and now she was the last sister left to reap the consequences.

The baby of the family. The little one. How sick she was of hearing those words! Yes, she had been sheltered, protected, and perhaps even spoiled as a child, but she was a child no longer. How long would it take before everyone else could see that?

A caw from above startled her from her thoughts and she looked up to see a raven fly overhead, its black wings shining with ink-blue in the sunlight.

My dream. Her pulse quickened as she remembered the bird in her vision, its fierce claws as dangerous as any wolf's teeth, its wings spread out in defiance. What had the dream meant? Was there anyone she could ask about it, or should she simply forget it?

No, she must forget it. Their lives had been controlled enough by portents and omens. Even if it was such a thing, Deirdre wanted no part of it. Let the fates play whatever games they wanted; she was tired of them.

So caught up was she in her thoughts that she didn't notice until it was too late—and walked right into someone.

The man made a surprised oof sound as they both staggered from the impact, though he managed to right both himself and her after a moment.

Blushing furiously, Deirdre exclaimed, "I'm so sorry, sir! Are ye hurt? I wasn't paying attention, I…"

The man chuckled and shook his head, adjusting his hat that had fallen a little askew. He was dressed in the French style, though when he spoke, his accent was clearly as Scottish as her own. "Dinnae ye fret, I'm fine," he told her. "And ye, lass? Ye didn't take a faintin' spell, did ye?"

She looked up and met his gaze, and her breath caught. Those eyes were unlike anything she'd ever seen, the dark blue-grey of the North Sea churning in a storm. He was clean-shaven with a strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, and his hair, peeping out from under his hat, was as blue-black as a bird's feather.

He looks like one of the fae, here tae spirit me away. Or a pirate here tae rob the shores. The thoughts were nonsense fancy, of course, but they made Deirdre smile anyway. Though Aoife had always longed for her prince, Deirdre had preferred the darker side of stories. The intrigue and adventure in a good pirate tale, or the twisted seductions of the male fae who stole women away to be their wives.

"A fair smile ye have on ye there," he told her. "As bonnie as that hair of yers."

Deirdre grinned. "Ye're awfully forward, sir," she told him. "Hasn't anyone ever taught ye manners?"

"Me, manners?" he asked, cocking a dark eyebrow. " Ye're the one who ran intae me ."

"And as a gentleman, should ye not be graceful in the face of me trespasses?" she shot back.

"What makes ye think I'm a gentleman, me lady?"

She could barely believe her own daring. How freely she was speaking to this man, and how blatantly they were teasing each other! Aoife would faint clean away if she could see such a thing, and even Blair would probably raise an eyebrow at the behavior.

But Deirdre… Deirdre felt alive, all at once. Something new had just sprung to life inside her, something wild and daring and free, all of her curiosity and longing culminated in this one moment. This man, whoever he was—right now, he was every longing for freedom she had ever experienced, all wrapped up in expensive European clothing.

"And what," she asked, taking a step closer to him, an unfamiliar kind of excitement bubbling in her chest, "Makes ye think I'm a lady?"

He stared down at her with those stormy eyes, and Deirdre felt her whole body heat up under his gaze. She didn't even know his name, had no idea who he was, and yet she felt spellbound by that look. How intense it was! How packed with some meaning she could not understand!

The stranger reached toward her and Deirdre felt her heart stop, but all he did was touch one of the pins in her hair, gently. "I can tell ye're a lady," he said, "Because only a lady would forget herself enough tae wear a pin of pure gold in public where anybody could see it."

She gasped, her hand flying to her hair and feeling the pin there. She'd put it in without even thinking about it this morning—after all, there was no danger in wearing such things within the walls of the castle—but he was right. How foolish of her! Embarrassed, she removed it and placed it in the inner pocket of her cloak.

"Well," she said, trying to recover, "Ye're obviously a gentleman dressed in all that finery. Are ye even Scottish? Ye look like an old-fashioned troubadour."

He laughed, obviously not offended by the comment, even though it was untrue—while he was clearly in French clothing, it was much more modern than that. It was ostentatious, though.

"That I'll grant ye," he said amiably. "I've been travelin', and I guess I forgot somewhere how tae dress. I'll repair that once I get back tae me clan, ye have me word."

Deirdre had to laugh as well. This strange, charming man was something different from anyone she'd ever met. "Well, I'll hold ye tae it. Am I keepin' ye frae returnin' there now?"

He hesitated then, very briefly, before saying, "I'm not sure I'd say that, but ye are probably keepin' yerself. I'm sure ye're expected somewhere."

She sighed, his words breaking her illusion. Yes, as much as she would love to stand and trade playful barbs with this stranger all day, she had to return to the castle. Her sisters would no doubt be aware of her absence by now, and she'd be lucky if a full regime of soldiers didn't descend on the village to look for her.

The man smiled faintly. "Wait here a second," he said. He vanished into the crowd, then returned a moment later with a single rose he'd bought from a nearby vendor and held it out to her. "Tae remember me," he said.

She took it, inhaling its delightful scent. "I have nothin' tae give ye in return," she told him. "How will ye remember me ?"

He took off his hat in deference and nodded his head to her in a little bow. When he straightened, he said, "Me mysterious lady, that smile ye just gave me is trade enough. I'd be a strange man if I ever forgot it."

Then he was gone, disappearing into the crowd once more. A mad part of Deirdre longed to run after him, to ask him to take her with him—wherever he was going, she didn't care. But she knew that, even if she pursued, she'd never find him in this crowd. And besides, he'd been right. It was time, however reluctantly, to go home.

Holding on to her rose, she turned and made her way back through the market and into the quieter section of the village, cutting through alleyways in order to make the quickest time possible back to the castle. The sooner she arrived home, the less of an ordeal it would be to deal with her sisters' censure.

Deirdre turned a corner, her head still full of her strange encounter in the marketplace, hurrying as quickly as she could. The sun was starting to set now, and she knew if she stayed out after dark, there would be no getting away from their anger.

"Well, perhaps they should be happy. I've proven it's not as dangerous as they seem tae think it is," Deirdre huffed out loud to herself.

And that was when a strong, restraining hand suddenly grabbed her, and she saw from the corner of her eye the tell-tale glint of a knife.