and of age. Why are ye not looking for a husband? Are ye entering the church?”
“As a nun? Oh, God no, but I’m young. I’m sure I’ll marry one day, but not yet.”
“Well, you’re a wee sweet-looking lass, and next week when the games begin, you’ll be courted, so ye better prepare yourself as best ye may.” The older woman gestured to the woman around Abby’s own age who sat across from her. “Who was that lad who visited some months ago?” She thought for a moment. “Laird Cullen of Clan Roxborough, I believe. If he doesn’t turn every lady’s gaze, I don’t know who will, notwithstanding our own laird, of course. Our MacLeod will always be a favorite.”
Abby smiled. It was understandable they loved their laird more than any other, and wouldn’t ever gainsay him in front of a guest of his, but she was still deciding what she thought of him. Handsome yes, but as prickly as a cactus bush in Arizona he most certainly was.
“So what will happen at these games exactly?” The women stared at her, and Abby made a mental note to try and remember not to stand out like a nitwit who knew nothing of their life.
“How can ye be a guest of the laird’s but not know anything about a highland game? You must have travelled a great distance to be here and lived a verra sheltered life.”
“You have no idea.” Abby chuckled, placed her sewing down, stood, and dusted off her skirts. “And you’re right, I’m not from Scotland or England, so I know little of the ways here, but I look forward to learning as much as I can before I return home.” She nodded and walked toward Gwen, who stood talking to a man she hadn’t seen before today. The slight flush on the woman’s cheeks made it easy to surmise Gwen felt something for him. Abby came and stood next to them and smiled.
“Abigail Cross this is Braxton MacLeod, the clan’s best swordsmen and distant relative to us all. He’s also competing in the games.”
Abby held out her hand to shake his, and he jumped back as if she were about to grab his nether regions. Heat seized her body, and she dropped her hand quickly. “Forgive me. I meant to shake your hand. It’s how we greet people in my country.”
He threw her a quizzical look, but smiled a little. “I’m honored to meet you, Abigail. Any friend of Gwen’s is a friend of mine.”
Abby smiled at Gwen, knowing what the play was between these two. She would lay money down that the two were in love. “Good luck next week, Braxton. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“I truly hope so. I have high hopes my future will be settled at the completion of the games.”
She nodded and left them alone. It was obvious by the longing gazes between the pair that she was only a third wheel. She walked toward the castle the same way Gwen had taken her earlier, but spying a staircase leading up to the stone bridge near the front, she changed direction and went that way.
The courtyard was still abuzz with servants. She nodded to those who made eye contact, and tried to be as friendly as possible. If she was stuck here for the foreseeable future, she needed to have as many friends as she could muster. These times were dangerous enough, without creating enemies.
Abby entered the castle, the damp, cold stones making her skin prickle with gooseflesh. She rubbed her arms as the small passage opened up into the Great Hall. Trestle tables with long wooden benches filled the space. At the end of the room, a larger table, the dais, ran in the opposite direction to those before it, obviously where the laird sat each night.
She looked up at the wooden beams that spanned the roof. A large window sat at one end, while near the dais, a roaring fire burned behind the table. A minstrel’s gallery ran the length of the room, and from here she could see two servants dusting the dark wooden railings.
Abby walked over to the roaring fire and warmed herself. She watched the wood burn for a moment before a servant came up to her and bobbed a curtsy.
“Will ye follow me, mistress Cross? Laird MacLeod would like to see ye in the anteroom.”
“Me?” At the girl’s large beckoning eyes, she sighed. “Okay. Show me the way.” The girl visibly relaxed and headed toward a passage