Page 51 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
“War is never simple,” Duncan said softly. “But ye sound as if ye can manage one more step to ending it between the neighboring clans.”
“That’s the hope, anyway.” Arthur glanced around, brow furrowing slightly. “Are the others here, yet? Marcus, Hector–I ken Evander will be arrivin’ sometime on the last day, but-”
“Ye came earlier than expected,” Duncan pointed out. “’Tis only ye and meself right now.”
“’Twas necessary,” Arthur insisted. “The MacCulloh clan daenae see Olivia’s family as an authority anymore. Being the immediate neighbor-"
“Och, Arthur, I’m just windin’ ye up.” Duncan chuckled lightly–a rare sight, though seemingly more common now with Alison as his lady–and he slung an arm around his companion’s shoulders. “Ye made the right call. Though, I would have thought ye would simply wipe the MacCulloh’s off the map. Be done with their nonsense.”
Arthur sighed lightly. “Aye; I wish it were that easy. But to quote a good friend, ‘war is never simple’.”
“Wise friend ye got there,” Duncan remarked. “Though, an even wiser friend wouldnae discuss such matters when his guest had just arrived. Come; we’ll get ye a mug and talk further over a plate. I’m sure the journey here was nae pleasant.”
Pleasant enough, given he had Olivia all to himself. Part of Arthur wished it had been a bit longer. “As ye command, Laird o’ Marsden Keep.”
26
Olivia wanted nothing more than to flop into bed and sleep forever. Though their trip hadn’t been too terribly long, she still wasn’t entirely used to sleeping on nothing more than a thin blanket and the hard ground. Feeling the plush mattress beneath her aching back was heavenly; she almost forgot about the lady of the keep sitting in a chair across from her. Almost. “Thank ye for the company while I unpacked,” she said, sitting upright along the bedside.
“Nay worry, hen! Truth be told, I was hopin’ to catch a glance o’ yer gown.” A quiet whimper came out from the baby’s bundle and Alison let out a sigh, suddenly appearing far more tired than she had before. “Ah, Forrester; yer hungry again so soon?” She attempted to undo her arisaid from around her chest, though was visibly struggling to do so while holding fast to the babe. “Olivia, love, would ye mind holding him while I get this off?”
“A-Aye, of course!” Olivia immediately jumped to her feet, nearly tripping over Maesie and the pup, who had long-sincefallen asleep on the floor beside her. She stretched her arms outward to accept the bundle, Alison nodding her thanks. Olivia couldn’t hold back a soft squeal as the babe’s eyes fluttered open, pressing Forrester close to her chest. “Aw! He’s so handsome, yer ladyship. His eyes especially–they remind me of a blooming flower. Blue inside, then green around the petals’ edge.”
“’Tis the same with me own hazel eyes,” Alison chuckled. “Duncan says it’s one o’his favorite parts about me. Though, our son gets the blue from his faither.”
“They’re lovely, yer ladyship.”
Alison’s arms stretched outward, arisaid draped along the chair’s arm and breast exposed for nursing. Olivia passed the squirming babe back, who immediately rooted out his mother’s milk and suckled noisily away. “He got his appetite from his faither, too,” Alison laughed. “Pray yer first bairn isnae so ravenous.”
Olivia offered a small smile, fighting to keep it from a grimace. She couldn’t help but watch Alison as she nursed, a pang of longing ringing out from the depths of her chest. For a moment, she imagined herself in Alison’s shoes, Arthur standing over and braiding her hair while whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It left such a bittersweet taste in her mouth, and she did her best to push the thought away. “So, when do I have the honor of meeting wee Rosie? Arthur has spoken in great length about her.”
“That doesnae surprises me at all,” Alison replied with a smirk. “Absolutely smitten wit’ the wee lass, he is. She’ll likely be busying herself on the training grounds; yer welcome to wander over if ye feel up to it. But daenae think yer escaping me that easy! I want to hear all about how ye managed to tame that wild beast of a man.”
Olivia nodded a promise as she set out the door, dying a little inside as she overheard Alison croon lovingly to her baby boy. She resolved to find the training grounds as quickly as possible, weaving throughout the castle as she offered brief greetings to passersby.
Everyone seemed just as friendly as the kinfolk back at Arthur’s keep, and to a complete stranger such as herself. Briefly, Olivia wondered if they’d be as keen to speak to her as simply Laird MacCulloh’s daughter, instead of Laird MacDonnell’s betrothed.
She eventually made her way outside the castle, following the moat before discovering a smaller bridgeway. Crossing over it, Olivia began to take note of the familiar sight of weapon racks and training dummies, followed soon after by the twang of a bowstring being pulled and a furious outcry.
“Uncle, it’s too hard! I cannae hit a target all the way over there!”
The voice clearly belonged to a little girl, and Olivia picked up her pace, eager to finally put a face to the little girl she’d heard so much about. She rounded through the clearing and spotted an archery field–mostly empty, save for a small, copper-haired girl currently stomping on the ground and bawling her little fists. Asmall bow had dropped beside her, and the angry flush across her face only acted to further accent the bright freckles across her cheeks.
Arthur stood well over her, chuckling lightly as he patted her on the head. “Ye wanted to improve yer archery, Rosie. This is how ye get better.”
Rosie huffed loudly, turning on her heel and crossing her arms tightly.
“Rosie?” Arthur crooned. “Ye havenae given up so easily, have ye?”
Another frustrated huff.
Arthur’s smile softened, his own hands settling loosely against his hips. “Och, well. I suppose that’s it, then.”
“Suppose that is,” Rosie repeated with a scowl. “Cause I cannae do it, and that’s that.”
Olivia couldn’t help but smile sympathetically. She couldn’t help but be reminded of herself at that age, the frustration she'd felt when she, too, started to learn archery. She watched as Arthur got down on one knee, gently setting a hand against Rosie’s shoulder. “Yer new braither’s that much of a scunner, Rosie?”
A gasp slipped out from the little girl’s mouth, and she spun around just as quickly as before. “H-How’d ye ken that?!”
