The Falconer's Daughter - Liz Lyles Page 0,9

behind it, leaving only one eye gazing out from behind the solid surface. She felt much better like this. Now the fat man couldn’t see so much of her. She had already decided she didn’t like him. Papa looked cross. Too cross for a sunny day. If Papa was cross, she would be cross. She frowned at the stranger, hoping to frighten him off. Her brows pulled forward and her mouth puckered. The frown was working, she could tell. The fat man did not look very happy.

“Cordaella,” the priest tried yet again. “I have come here to meet you. What do you think of that? I have walked for three days to get here. All the way from Inverness, Do you know where Inverness is?”

“I do not care.” She shrugged, pretending disinterest. Actually, she was very curious but she would never let this stranger know.

“Do not be shy, my dear child. I am a friend of your father’s.” He turned to the falconer. “Isn’t that so, Brother Buchanan?”

Kirk stared calmly at the friar, saying nothing. Cordaella looked at her father, trying to gauge his mood. She pulled on the door, causing the hinges to whine. She was very thin, and her knees, exposed by the short plaid shrift, were prominent, even knobby. Her attention was fixed on the fat man, her head tipping back on her long slim neck, thick black lashes lifting to reveal remarkable eyes. “Are you my uncle?”

Brother Lyles blanched. “Do you know your uncles then?”

“You called Papa brother.”

“We are brothers in the blood of our Savior Jesus Christ.”

“You are too fat to be my uncle,” she said firmly.

“Enough of this.” Kirk curtly snapped his fingers at her. “Friar, explain yourself to the child. Cordaella, hold your tongue.”

Cordaella gave her black head a toss, dismissing her father’s temper. His scowl was fierce, but it hid a heart deeper than the highland ravines. She knew he loved her, he loved her almost as much as she loved him. “Papa,” she asked, giving the fat man in the ugly gown a careful look, “what does he want?”

Kirk threw up his hands. “You’re a sassy thing, Cordaella Buchanan. Ask him yourself if you must know everything.”

“Come, child,” Brother Lyles entreated. “I will not bite.”

“My cow does not bite,” she retorted, scurrying around the friar to her father. “But that doesn’t mean I talk to him.”

Kirk dropped down to the stool and she leaned on his knee, staring the stranger full in the face. She was not at all impressed with him. He was ridiculously heavy and half her father’s height. Pfft! Her small nose wrinkled in distaste. She couldn’t help wondering how much of him was real under the robe. His belly was vast! Could all of that stomach be one man?

The croft interior was flooded by sun, the streams of yellow light falling across the floor through the open door and unshuttered window, all silent except for the sound of the grasses rustling as the breeze sang across the highland meadow. The cowbell clanged softly behind the cottage wall. Kirk was comfortable in the silence. He was not accustomed to conversation, except with his Cory.

Cordaella too, accepted the stillness as the natural order of things. She pressed her weight onto Kirk’s knee, content to say nothing and swing her right leg. The shrift of her tartan skirt was pulled high, her legs long and even her bare bottom tan. All of her skin was the same burnished brown, her cheeks still glowing from her earlier run. As she swung her leg, she yawned lazily. Summer was coming. She loved summer. During summer she could run all day through the fields, chasing whatever came before her fancy.

Cordaella stuck a piece of her hair in her mouth, chewing on the ends. A couple hours ago she had pretended that she was one of the little village dogs in Glen Nevis. Dogs could do as they pleased. She ran here and ran there and sat up wiggling, barking shrilly. How much fun to be a dog. If she was a dog, she would always keep her tongue hanging outside her mouth, drooling on everything. She smiled suddenly, her eyes lit by mischief. “Rrruff! Rrruff iff!” She barked, fixing the friar with her pale stare, “Rrrf! Rff!”

Brother Lyles pulled back. “What is that?”

Cordaella grinned. “A dog.”

“You have a dog?”

“No. I am a dog.”

“You are a dog?”

“Aye. Rrrufff! Rff! Rff!” She twisted her head from side to side panting. She was a very hot