Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

Oh, that’s right.

“She was born just nine months after the King’s marriage to Margaret of Denmark.  ‘Twas rumored to be quite the scandal when the Queen might hae born the King his first child if he had only kept to their marriage bed.”

“How did your father meet her?” Scarlett couldn’t resist asking.  A part of her wanted to know more.

“Father met Lady Mary long before his marriage to Lady Ishbel.  Long before their betrothal even.  I’ve heard from some at court that they were much in love and wished to wed.  The King even supported the match but Father’s father, the auld Earl of Bothwell, forged a betrothal for him wi’ Lady Ishbel.  Her dowry from her sire, the Earl of Errol, was quite large, ye see.  For all that he loved and spoiled Lady Mary, the auld King wisnae willing to dower her so.  So Father wed wi’ Lady Ishbel even knowing Lady Mary was already swelling wi’ his child.”

With him.  “How sad for her.  Your mother, I mean.”

His shoulder lifted in a dismissive shrug.  “’Twould no’ hae mattered in any case.  Lady Mary died no’ long after birthing me and the auld King shortly thereafter.”

“Still, I feel for your mother, losing the man she loves,” she said then added, “I suppose I can sort of understand Lady Ishbel’s position, too, bless her heart.  It couldn’t have been easy for her knowing her husband only wanted her for her money.  That she was your father’s second choice.”

“That’s no’ why she hates me, lass,” he said, looking down at her, his silvery eyes shimmering beneath his thick brows.

“It’s not?”

“Nay, Lady Ishbel hated my mother for giving my father his firstborn son,” he explained.  “She hates me because I might hae been his heir.  Mayhap because she suspects I should be.”

Scarlett shook her head confusedly.  “What do you mean?  I thought illegitimate children couldn’t inherit titles.”

“They cannae,” he said.  “But my father once told a tale… Och, he was drunk.  This I ken, but there are times when I wonder if it is true and Lady Ishbel knows.”

“What?”

“My father claimed to hae wed secretly wi’ Lady Mary ere I was born.  ‘Ere he wed wi’ Lady Ishbel,” he explained.  “If it were true, I would be his heir and all her children would be the bastards.”

“Oh.”  Scarlett’s eyes widened at his confession.  Yes, she could definitely see why Lady Ishbel might hate him then.  Why she would feel the need to constantly remind him of his place, just to assure herself that it was the truth even if it wasn’t.  What a soap opera.  “No wonder she doesn’t want you around now.”

“No’ just now,” Laird corrected.  “Upon her insistence, Father kept me at court as a bairn.  It wasn’t until I fostered wi’ the Earl of Drummond as a lad that I met Patrick and Rhys.  Lady Ishbel dinnae ken that Father fostered us all to him so that we might grow up together.”

“You don’t resent them? Knowing that all they have might actually be yours?”

“Nay.  ‘Struth I dinnae envy them a’tall.  They are good men all, my brothers, but subject to Lady Ishbel’s wishes where I am no’.”

“They care for you very much, you know.”  Laird’s brothers gave him all the respect Lady Ishbel did not.  Rhys especially was very protective of him.

Laird shrugged again.  “Mayhap.  I dinnae see Patrick often as his mother often calls him home and I am rarely here at Crichton.  After Drummond, I was squire to the Auld King’s second son, the Duke of Ross, until he was made Archbishop of St. Andrews.  Rhys went to court to serve as a squire for the King.  I did battle in France whilst Rhys cut the King’s meat.”

All because he wasn’t completely welcome at Crichton.  What a sad childhood.  Compassion for Laird flooded her.  It sounded like a rather lonely life.  Something Scarlett understood all too well.

“Now ye ken all there is to know about me, lass,” he said.  “I think the time has come to learn more aboot ye.  Ye cannae avoid my questions forever.  I hae nae forgotten where I found ye.  Who are ye, lass?  More importantly, I need to discover how ye came to be in my holding.  Why were ye at Dunskirk?”

A pinpoint of cold prickled against her arm and a shudder racked her body as her dread over those first few questions froze in her veins.  “Dunskirk?”

“My keep,” he said, tossing the last of his pebbles into the water and dusting off his hands.  “Ye should kent the place well enough, lass.  Since it is where we found ye.  Why were ye there?”

Another icy prick.  Scarlett shivered as her vision darkened.  Stretching her fingers outward, she slid them over the blade of his Claymore, finding the steel warm to the touch.  What was going on here?  “You own Dunskirk Castle?”

“Castle?  ‘Tis little more than a pele tower, but aye, ‘twas gifted to me by the auld king.  I’ve told ye this before.”

He hadn’t said it was Dunskirk he owned, had he?  Now, his link to her future was stronger than just the sword beneath her fingertips.  All the years she had spent there while filming!  It had been as much a home to her as it was to him.

Her bare skin tingled again.  And again.  Scarlett looked up at the dark clouds overhead.  Not a metaphorical shadow then, but a real one.  She hadn’t paid them much attention with the sky to the north so clear.

More drops fell, splashing on her nose and chin.

“Shouldn’t we get out of the rain?”

Laird looked up at the sky and shook his head.  “No’ for a mere sprinkle.  Now, dinnae change the subject, lass.  Answer me true.”

The rain might have taken that as a challenge.  Big, fat drops fell.  Faster, harder.  Within minutes, Scarlett would be drenched and cold if she continued to sit there.  “Laird!”

“It will pass quickly, lass.  Dinnae fash yerself.”

“I’m a sweet,