The Winter Laird by Nancy Scanlon

Author:Nancy Scanlon [Scanlon, Nancy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781626817241
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2015-11-15T16:00:00+00:00

• • •

When Nioclas found her the next day, Brianagh was directing the activity in the great hall. Tables were pushed against the wall, and women everywhere swept the rushes into manageable piles. The tapestries that lined the walls were carefully removed and taken outside, and men hauled buckets of ashes from the large fireplaces at either end of the hall.

“Come and walk with me, Brianagh,” Nioclas said as he approached her.

She considered, then turned to one of the women. “Mary, would you please ensure the tapestries are free of any dirt before they are hung again? I’m going for a walk with Laird MacWilliam.”

“Aye, Lady MacWilliam.” Mary bobbed, then continued her duties as Nioclas sent someone to fetch his wife’s cloak.

“No training today?” Bri asked Nioclas.

“I’ve finished for the afternoon and thought to take some time in your company,” he replied easily.

Brianagh’s warning flags rose from orange to red. From everything she’d heard at the castle, on his training days, Nioclas never finished training before dark unless there was a battle. From everything she’d seen, that was the truth—he never put his sword down while there was still some semblance of sunlight.

Suspicious.

He helped her fasten her cloak, then led her away from the men outside the door using clubs to beat the soot from the tapestries. Brianagh quickly told them to cover their mouths and noses so as to not breathe it in. They did as she asked without question and continued on with their work.

“The clan certainly seems to listen to you well,” he said approvingly.

“They respect my title. But soon they’ll respect me as well,” she replied, side-stepping a muddy puddle in the dirt.

“Sensible. What was your home like?”

Bri paused in midstep. “Um…comfortable.”

“Comfortable in what way?”

She had a sinking feeling her second inquisition had started. “I felt safe and loved.”

“Your sire told me you stayed with an uncle. How did he put food on your table?”

Brianagh watched the blacksmith pound something at his anvil, marveled briefly at his strength, and contemplated her answer. Connor worked for a major passenger train company. She wasn’t sure how to translate that into medieval-speak. Finally, she just said, “Connor ensured we got to and from different places safely.”

“As a guardsman? A stable master, perhaps?”

Biting her lip, Brianagh replied, “He made sure the horsepower was safe.”

Nioclas frowned, not entirely satisfied with her answer, but he seemed to let it go for the moment. He peppered her with more questions as they continued their walk through the castle grounds, past the women beating the laundry with sticks, through the gardens that looked as though they’d be overflowing in spring and summer, and up to the battlements.

They reached the top of the stairs and immediately Brianagh was hit with an icy wind. She shivered as it went right through her cloak and crept into her bones. The walkway was narrow, about two-and–a-half people wide. The walls were low, measuring at just below her hip, and they were at least three stories above the ground.

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