Page 28 of Bride of the Mad Laird
“His faither, Murchadh MacKinnon was a cruel man, but the Laird Tòrr is nae like him. He has nae streak of cruelty.”
The healer’s words lifted Lyra’s troubled heart. Her doubts that Tòrr was using her in some game of his own requiring him to make her his captive at Dùn Ara were alleviated.
Yet as she made her way back to the keep her burning need to return to her own clan remained as strong as ever.
She’d not been long in her chamber when there came a soft tapping at the door. When she opened it, there was Elspaith with hot water in a large ewer and linen towels slung over her arms.
The maid sloshed water into the washbowl and waited with the linen for Lyra to finish washing her hands and face.
Once she’d dried off, Elspaith handed her a jar of sweet, rose-scented balm, for her to moisten her lips and pat some behind her ears.
“Now, if ye wish, I can fix yer hair.”
While Lyra sat, Elspaith fussed over her long, fair tresses. First, she divided them into two sections which she braided, then, taking a fine ribbon, which she wound through the braids. She positioned them neatly around Lyra’s face, threading the ribbon through them as she went. She then wound the plaits around and over the top of Lyra’s head, drawing them down behind her ears where she threaded them together with the ribbon finishing with two bows at the base of Lyra’s ears trailing the remaining length of ribbon over her shoulders.
Then Elspaith held up a bronze-backed looking glass so that Lyra could see what she’d fashioned.
Lyra gasped at the lass she saw reflected. Surely that could not be plain Lyra MacInnes?
The effect was something Lyra could not have envisioned. She looked the very picture of a fine lady of fashion, in the beautiful gown she’d borrowed from Tòrr’s sister.
“Ye’re very bonny me lady.” The wee maid curtsied.
“I thank ye Elspaith.” Lyra beamed with delight. “If I am bonny, it is because of yer nimble fingers and yer cleverness.”
“Is there aught else ye need me fer?”
Lyra thought about it for a moment. “Aye, can ye hasten down the hall and tell me if the laird is already at the table?”
Elspaith wasted no time. She swiveled and darted out and returned with all speed.
“Aye lady. He is in the refectory with Master Edmund and the maids are ready tae serve dinner.”
“Then I must go. And I thank ye again fer all ye’ve done.”
Elspaith curtsied again as Lyra rose to her feet. The maid straightened her gown and brushed her hand over the velvet. She was already attending to the chamber when Lyra swept from the room.
Her hands were clammy and her heart was fluttering.
Will Laird Tòrr also find me appearance bonny?
She felt his eyes on her as she walked through the arched doorway and walked down the hall to the high table, where he was seated beside Edmund.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Tòrr’s meeting with Edmund in the afternoon had resolved nothing. Although they’d been over the details of everything they knew about Lyra – starting from their first meeting with her in dire circumstances at the Priory gate. There they’d dispatched four of MacDougall’s gallowglasses, yet they still had no knowledge of why the man was pursuing her with such determination.
Edmund had simply shrugged when Tòrr asked what he thought was going on.
Tòrr persisted. “We protected a lass who was being abducted by four men. Since then, we’ve learned that the men we killed were in the pay of MacDougall.”
Edmund nodded, sipping his whisky. “D’ye think it likely that MacDougall is aware it was we who killed his paid men?”
“If him going tae war wi’ us spins on that detail, we could claim we ken naught about it.”
“Aye. His men cannae speak, they’re all feeding the fishes by now I would guess.”
Tòrr gave a short, sharp laugh. “Aye. I think dear Maither Una would have made certain they disappeared without a trace as soon as it was dark enough.”
