“She isn’t who ye say, Rory, and I’d suggest ye stop stating such tales, less I take offense.”
Aedan pulled her behind him, and she went willingly. The other laird seemed to think about Aedan’s words and stepped back, laughing. “An honest mistake then.” He bowed toward her. “Please accept my apologies, Mistress Cross.”
She nodded, not willing to speak to the man again. He was well-built, with arms the circumference of both of hers put together. His face had a large, deep cut that had healed across his cheek, the corner of one eye a little droopy, probably resulting from nerve damage. The thought of anyone betrothed or married to this man left her chilled. There was nothing comforting about him. He was all hard angles, menace, and strength.
Brutal strength that she imagined had been one blow too many for his bride-to-be and he’d killed her. Making a scene tonight in front of all these people could well be a way to take care of the murder rumors that were following him all over Scotland.
And after meeting him, seeing him even now, glaring at her while speaking politely to those around him, as if nothing untoward had happened, she had no doubt his fiancée was dead.
“If you’ll excuse me, my lords. I’m off to bed,” she said, as evenly as she could. Not wanting Rory to hear the fear in her voice.
Aedan nodded and let her go. Gwen joined her at the stairs and they headed to their rooms together. Abby had an overwhelming urge to run, but she didn’t. If she was to survive the dreadful Rory Kirk then she must look as unflustered as possible.
Easier said than done.
The next day Abby sat in the great hall, Gwen having headed upstairs to gather more wool for a shawl she was teaching her to knit. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows facing west, the afternoon warm and welcoming.
Most of the guests had dispersed down toward the games to watch the events, but Gwen, not feeling the best today, had decided to stay at the castle. Abby leaned down and grabbed another ball of wool, tying it to the knitting needle as Gwen had shown her.
Footsteps sounded on the flagstone floor, and Rory Kirk strode into the room. He looked about, and spotting her near the fire, walked over and sat in the chair opposite to her.
Abby tentatively smiled, and continued on with her knitting. “Lovely day today. Are you enjoying your stay at Druiminn?”
He leaned back in the chair, his hands tapping the side in manic rhythm. “I’m finding my stay most opportune, as you’re fully aware. As I said last eve, I’d heard ye were here, but I hadn’t expected it to be true. Although yer way of speaking is new, it does nay fool me, lass.”
She took a fortifying breath, sick and tired of hearing she was someone she was not. “I’m very sorry your betrothed has gone missing. I’m sure you miss her very much, but it’s not I who you seek.”
“Is it not?” He stared at her a moment, before beckoning a passing servant to fetch him some ale. His coarse speech and demeaning manner toward the staff irked her, and Abby glared at him.
“No, it’s not.” She thanked the servant for the cup of ale that was passed to him. “As I said, last night was the first time I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you. I do not doubt that I may look familiar to the woman you loved, but that’s where the similarities stop.”
“So you’re not Coira Travis, the woman who, the night before our handfasting, disappeared into the night like a ghost?” His attempt at a smile turned into a scowl. “’Tis been a tiresome few months, and I think you owe me an explanation as to how you came to be here.”
She sighed, inwardly cursing the idiotic man who refused to believe who she was. Perhaps she ought to tell him of the time she really was from, that might shut him up for a while. Go and get her cell phone and take a photo of him and scare him shitless. But as he stared at her mockingly, waiting to hear her lie, or so he thought, Abby took a calming breath instead.
“I came here at the invitation of Gwendolyn. I’m not Scottish or English, and travelled from France to be here. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you want, but it’s all I have to give.