understand your brother will be competing in the games. What are his strengths?” Abigail asked.
A dismissing laugh escaped Aline as she sipped her wine. “My brother excels in all challenges, not just one.” She smirked. “I haven’t seen you before today, Abigail. Tell me, how is it that you came to be here?”
“We invited her,” Aedan said, meeting Abigail’s eyes. “She’s a life-long friend of the family’s. ’Tis only right she comes to stay with us for the foreseeable future.”
“You intend to stay?”
He didn’t miss the shock in the girl’s tone, yet why she would be threatened by Abigail he couldn’t fathom. He had always seen her as a sweet girl, but nothing beyond that. He’d certainly never wished to tup her. Abigail, on the other hand, was closer to him in age, with curves in all the right places and a woman he’d certainly tup, was she not so aggravating.
She leaned across him, and the action afforded him a sweet view of her bosom. Her breasts would be a good handful, and her skin, pale and freckle-free, looked as soft as her palm. His body hardened, and he took a sip of mead. ’Twas fortunate his kilt, with its many layers, covered him well.
“For the moment, yes, but it won’t be for a long duration. As much as I love the Highlands, the beautiful country and most welcoming hospitality of Laird MacLeod, I won’t be trespassing on them for too much longer.”
Abigail blinked up at him, mischief in her gaze, and his lips twitched. “Just so,” he replied, taking another sip of mead.
“’Tis probably for the best. The Highlands in winter can be hard for a foreigner. Where are you from, if I may ask?”
“France,” Abigail said, motioning to the servant for more whisky.
“Oh, you poor thing. It’s any wonder you’ve come to stay with your relatives. France is a ghastly place to live.”
Aedan inwardly smiled as Abigail bristled at the derogatory remark. From what his sister had told him about the future Abigail hailed from, “ghastly” wasn’t one of the words he’d associate with her way of life. Gwen had explained marvellous industries, suitable housing for all, and plumbing that involved more than a bucket and window to throw it out of each morn.
Abigail’s time sounded almost divine compared to the hard life they lived now. “Abigail is well cared for. I expect nothing less for a friend of mine.” Aline’s eyes widened at his stern tone. Whether Abigail was wanted here or not was irrelevant, and no matter his feelings on the matter, he wouldn’t have her treated with little respect. It wasn’t her fault she’d been pulled through time and plonked in his. His sister had a lot to answer for, and he would have to watch her more closely in the future to ensure she didn’t try anything so dangerous again.
“Clear the room. I have a need for dancin’ this night,” boomed a voice from the other end of the hall.
Aedan laughed at the Laird Grant’s declaration and his daughter’s resounding blush at her father’s drunken joviality. What was life without a little fun?
“Will ye dance with me, lass?” he asked Aline. She smiled and nodded, only too happy to dance, no matter her embarrassment.
He pulled her from her chair, but not before leaning down toward Abigail, enjoying the wariness that entered her dark eyes. “You’re next, lass.” She raised her brows in obvious challenge, and his skin prickled in awareness—an emotion he’d not felt for a while. ’Twas refreshing to feel anything, after feeling nothing at all for so long.
“I look forward to it,” she replied, not taking her gaze off him until he turned away.
Chapter 8
Abby clapped to the bagpipes and singing from the two clans. The great hall echoed with laughter and joy and resembled what Abby assumed a medieval night club would sound like, should there ever be one. Whisky and wine flowed freely into goblets, and people danced, kissed in corners, and enjoyed the gathering of two great families, with little worry, for this night at least.
Gwen stood and pulled Braxton to the floor, and Abby laughed. The way the two looked at each other, was similar to two love struck couples in the twenty-first century. It was strange seeing love, true love in this time. She’d always assumed historical marriages that involved affection were limited to the works of fiction and hearsay, but there was nothing fake about what Gwen and her guy felt for one another.