Dundaff," Aila announced with surprising confidence.
Sister Enid smiled. "God's speed, Lady Aila."
"Thank ye, Sister." Aila knelt before the nun to kiss her gnarled hands.
"I'm pleased you received the guidance you sought. But perhaps before you return, you may want to consider your dress?"
Aila looked down at her soldier's garb and gasped. "Merciful heavens! I will change directly. Thank ye again." Aila ran back to the stables where she had left her horse and her clothes.
Aila found Senga in the stables. The maid had already changed back into her kirtle and was in deep conversation with a lad who looked to be a courier. When told of the decision to return to Dundaff, Senga was visibly distressed. She urged Aila fervently to stay, pleading with her, reminding her of the punishment they both would suffer. Aila gave the maid leave to stay at the convent, not wanting Senga to be punished unfairly for a mistake that was not hers. Though Aila persisted in her determination to return to Dundaff, it was unnerving to see her maid so distraught. In the end, Senga decided to return with her, though she made it clear she was quite ill-pleased.
As Aila mounted her horse to leave, the courier mounted quickly and brushed her out of the way in his haste to leave the stables. Surprised and irritated by his rude behavior, Aila watched him gallop away, resisting the urge to ride after him and give him a stern talking to or, better yet, nudge him off the road. She sighed, suppressing her uncharitable thoughts, and reluctantly accepted the easy walk that appeared to be Senga's top speed.
Twelve
MACLAREN AND HIS WARRIORS TRUDGED BACK THROUGH the castle gates that afternoon after a long night. When dawn had restored their courage, they had tracked the trail of the two raiders northward until they reached the border of McNab's land. It seemed Graham was correct in suspecting McNab was the culprit behind the arsons. It had been a strange, cold night, but MacLaren was satisfied to have prevented the burning of more fields and to have found the likely culprit. There was still much to do and McNab's cowardly attack must be answered, but MacLaren's thoughts frequently wandered to his new wife. MacLaren was tired, dirty, and hungry—hunger that had little to do with food. He sent Chaumont to give a report to Graham. It was time he dealt with his wife.
This time MacLaren did not stop to make himself presentable before going to her. He was protecting Aila's clan from starvation this winter, and she could damn well deal with the dirt. MacLaren burst open the door to her chamber without knocking, but much like the last time he had entered the room, it was devoid of habitation. MacLaren growled. Would it be too much to ask for her to be waiting in her room so I could ravish her senseless? No, o f course not. She was doing this on purpose to drive him insane. Now he would have to go search for her, which would make him look even more the fool.
A maid with an armload of linens obscuring her face entered the room.
"Where be my wife?" he barked at the maid. She dropped her linens and stared at him, horrified. Honestly, he knew he was a little dirty, but he could not look that bad.
"She's… I dinna ken," squeaked the maid. That was clearly a lie. What was going on here? He walked toward her with determined intensity. She shrank away until she had backed against the wall.
"Where be my wife?" He spoke slowly, but his voice rose with every word, saying "wife" with a menacing snarl.
"G-gone, m'lord," stammered the hapless maid, who burst into tears.
"Gone? What do ye mean by gone?"
"She's gone to St. Margaret's. I'm so s-sorry, sir," choked the maid between frightened gasps.
That his wife had gone to visit the convent did not seem overly upsetting. Yet the maid was acting so guilty, he was sure there was more to the story. Patiently, he watched her sob and shake
Sister Enid smiled. "God's speed, Lady Aila."
"Thank ye, Sister." Aila knelt before the nun to kiss her gnarled hands.
"I'm pleased you received the guidance you sought. But perhaps before you return, you may want to consider your dress?"
Aila looked down at her soldier's garb and gasped. "Merciful heavens! I will change directly. Thank ye again." Aila ran back to the stables where she had left her horse and her clothes.
Aila found Senga in the stables. The maid had already changed back into her kirtle and was in deep conversation with a lad who looked to be a courier. When told of the decision to return to Dundaff, Senga was visibly distressed. She urged Aila fervently to stay, pleading with her, reminding her of the punishment they both would suffer. Aila gave the maid leave to stay at the convent, not wanting Senga to be punished unfairly for a mistake that was not hers. Though Aila persisted in her determination to return to Dundaff, it was unnerving to see her maid so distraught. In the end, Senga decided to return with her, though she made it clear she was quite ill-pleased.
As Aila mounted her horse to leave, the courier mounted quickly and brushed her out of the way in his haste to leave the stables. Surprised and irritated by his rude behavior, Aila watched him gallop away, resisting the urge to ride after him and give him a stern talking to or, better yet, nudge him off the road. She sighed, suppressing her uncharitable thoughts, and reluctantly accepted the easy walk that appeared to be Senga's top speed.
Twelve
MACLAREN AND HIS WARRIORS TRUDGED BACK THROUGH the castle gates that afternoon after a long night. When dawn had restored their courage, they had tracked the trail of the two raiders northward until they reached the border of McNab's land. It seemed Graham was correct in suspecting McNab was the culprit behind the arsons. It had been a strange, cold night, but MacLaren was satisfied to have prevented the burning of more fields and to have found the likely culprit. There was still much to do and McNab's cowardly attack must be answered, but MacLaren's thoughts frequently wandered to his new wife. MacLaren was tired, dirty, and hungry—hunger that had little to do with food. He sent Chaumont to give a report to Graham. It was time he dealt with his wife.
This time MacLaren did not stop to make himself presentable before going to her. He was protecting Aila's clan from starvation this winter, and she could damn well deal with the dirt. MacLaren burst open the door to her chamber without knocking, but much like the last time he had entered the room, it was devoid of habitation. MacLaren growled. Would it be too much to ask for her to be waiting in her room so I could ravish her senseless? No, o f course not. She was doing this on purpose to drive him insane. Now he would have to go search for her, which would make him look even more the fool.
A maid with an armload of linens obscuring her face entered the room.
"Where be my wife?" he barked at the maid. She dropped her linens and stared at him, horrified. Honestly, he knew he was a little dirty, but he could not look that bad.
"She's… I dinna ken," squeaked the maid. That was clearly a lie. What was going on here? He walked toward her with determined intensity. She shrank away until she had backed against the wall.
"Where be my wife?" He spoke slowly, but his voice rose with every word, saying "wife" with a menacing snarl.
"G-gone, m'lord," stammered the hapless maid, who burst into tears.
"Gone? What do ye mean by gone?"
"She's gone to St. Margaret's. I'm so s-sorry, sir," choked the maid between frightened gasps.
That his wife had gone to visit the convent did not seem overly upsetting. Yet the maid was acting so guilty, he was sure there was more to the story. Patiently, he watched her sob and shake
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