Page 45 of The Winter Laird

“You aren’t as well-traveled as some,” Reilly stated flatly. When Donovan reached for his sword, Reilly shook his head. “I’m not in the mood for your swordplay, Maguire. Ask me your questions so I can go to sleep. I’ll need a chamber,” he added, casting a glance at Nioclas. “I’m not sleeping on the floor of your great hall when so many rooms are unused.”

Nioclas merely raised a brow and silently crossed his arms.

“What clan does she claim?” Donovan pressed.

“O’Rourke.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“Why does she look younger?”

“Because America is a nice place.”

Nioclas smiled into his cup; he could actually hear Donovan’s teeth grinding.

“What are you smiling about, you fool? Don’t you see she could take your clan down?”

Nioclas leaned forward, his eyes hardening. “She is harmless. I agreed to marry her a very long time ago. She was on the continent—in America—for safety. She is here now. She’s an O’Rourke, my obligation is filled, and she poses no threat to me. She is but a woman, who herself admits to not having much of a relationship with her clan.”

“What about the Frenchman?” Aidan asked quietly. At Nioclas’s glare, he shook his head. “It’s important to know, Nick.”

“Frenchman?” Donovan asked suspiciously.

“Matthew de Burgh.” Nioclas’s face hardened.

Reilly nodded sagely. “Ah, de Burgh.”

Nioclas’s chest tightened. Even though he suspected it to be true, a small part of him had hoped she created him as a falsehood to keep him at arm’s length.

Reilly shrugged. “I’m surprised she even mentioned him. Truly, he means nothing to her. He can’t come here. His distance is too great.” He shot a meaningful look at Nioclas. “Muchtoo great.”

Nioclas scoffed. He could believe the lass was from a country he’d never heard of, and he could believe that country was a great distance away. But O’Malley’s insinuation that de Burgh lived in a month or year not the same as now…well, he could only believe so much before sensibilities took control.

O’Malley claimed to be her protector, and though he’d used the same phrase Nioclas’s mother used when she visited Nioclas’s dreams, ’twas most likely happenstance.

Aidan blew out a breath. “So, Lady Brianagh MacWilliam, formerly O’Rourke, is a twenty-nine-year-old woman who can speak the peasant’s English as well as Gaelic—”

“And French, as well as some Spanish,” Reilly added. “She can also read all of it frighteningly well.”

“—and she has no ties to anyone except you,” Aidan finished.

“She also has a keen mind, owned her own trade in America, and made enough money to pay her workers and create a comfortable life.” Reilly folded his arms. “She is what we call a force of nature. Are we done here?”

“Trade?” Nioclas looked at him skeptically.

“Aye.”

Nioclas frowned. Well, that bit of knowledge would have been of aid before he spewed insulting words about it on their wedding night.

“Pray tell, what did she sell?” Donovan asked scornfully.

“You’ll have to ask Brianagh that. Where is she now? As I was tossed from the castle before speaking with her after her vows, I want to ensure she’s doing well.”

“She mentioned something about our cook,” Nioclas said to Aidan. “Did you see her when you went to the kitchens?”

Aidan shook his head. “Nay.”

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