still hard at work. “Aedan MacLeod is a good laird, then? You all seem to regard him highly.” Gwen continued to talk to her brother, and Abby thought to take the opportunity to learn more about the family.
“Oh aye, we do, Abigail, lass. Ever since he inherited the lands from his father, he’s ensured his people are cared for, his two sisters the most. Times are hard, but knowing our laird has our well-being in his thoughts makes things a little easier. Hosting the Highland Games this year will enable us to sell some of our chattels we’ve made and look after our families for the coming winter.”
Abby started at the mention of another sister. “I haven’t had the honor of meeting the laird’s other sister. Does she reside here, too? Or is she married and living away?”
They cast furtive glances at each other and Abby’s interest piqued.
The oldest woman met her gaze, a tinge of sadness in her eyes. “No, not anymore, poor lass. After being returned from the O’Cain clan after marrying one of the laird’s sons, she’s entered a life of solitude with the church.”
“Well, I’m sorry I haven’t met her.” How odd. Abby knew they were holding something back from her, but what, she couldn’t imagine. “Maybe she will return before I depart.”
“A great wrong has been done to her, and she’ll not be back. There are rumors the laird will declare war on the O’Cain clan after the games. And rightfully so,” the older woman stated, her jowls wobbling in temper.
“What did the other clan do?” Abby thought back to what she’d read on the MacLeod family before being drawn back to their time. She couldn’t recall what the older woman was talking about.
“She was handfasted, as I said, to one of O’Cain’s sons, and for a year and a day she lived at their home. I do not know of what horrors she endured there, but I imagine there were many. The laird’s sister returned blind in one eye, and to cause offense, they sent her home seated on a partially blind horse, led by a partially blind servant, and followed by a partially blind dog.”
The other ladies mumbled their displeasure, and Abby stopped sewing, wondering how people could be so cruel. “And you believe your laird will declare war over this?”
“Aye, he will. The rumors will prove true, I’ve no doubt. There isn’t any love between the two clans, hasn’t been for more than a hundred years. This marriage was our laird’s last attempt for peace, and Jinny was thrown back in his face like a worthless pebble.”
What husbands, brothers, sons would go off to battle and never return home? When it came to such actions, were there ever any winners? With her boyfriend David, she’d certainly been the loser when he’d died. A life cut short for no substantial reason at all. It may not have been a clan war David had battled, but a cop caught up in a gang war didn’t end well, either.
“Are ye looking forward to the games, lass?”
Abby was happy for the conversation change, but the mention of the games left her feeling a little guilty for thinking marriage was the only thing that occupied the laird’s mind. With talk of war, it was any wonder the clansmen were looking forward to the revelries.
Not to mention, these people relied on this type of activity to live, to make a hard life a little bit easier. “I am. I’ve never been to one before. And please, if you need any help, with anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask me. I’d like to be useful while I’m here, if possible.” As much as she hated being stuck in this harsh time, stuck she was, and she may as well be helpful, if she could.
“Oh no, my lady. You’ll be busy enough with the Highland Games and entertaining the visiting clans to worry about our stalls and such. Being the laird’s guest you’ll have many a brawny, attractive Highlander looking to make ye his wife. I should imagine you’ll be quite the popular lass.”
She laughed, while also feeling a little sick at the idea of being courted. The last thing she wanted was to be carried off into the sunset on some laird’s shoulders, his rank breath breathing all over her. “I’m not looking for a husband.”
The women stopped what they were doing and stared at her as if she’d lost her marbles. “But you’re a woman of means