Page 11 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
“Aye, that we did,” Arthur replied. “But the lass I brought back wit me last night–she’s the man’s daughter. Some o’ her kin turned against her an’ her maither; war’s been won, but we still have business to take care of. Her kin are now under me protection.”
Nathan nodded. “Ye want us to gather the other kinsfolk who are still loyal?”
“Just the lass’s maither for now,” Arthur insisted. “The wee MacCulloh said she might be tryin’ to meet her there.”
Again, Nathan nodded, staring quietly out towards the sea. A beat passed between them, and his man-at-arms spoke up once more. “Are ye not gonna join the lass for breakfast?”
Arthur turned to face him, his brow now arched slightly.
“Mam’ll be awful cross if ye daenae show,” Nathan continued nonchalantly.
“Aye, she would be, wouldnae she?” Arthur chuckled lightly once more.
“She would,” Nathan agreed, expression never once moving from its neutral position.
Olivia could barely contain herself as she ogled the morning’s breakfast spread. The entire table had been covered in dishes, ranging from sizzling square sausages and herbaceous fish that looked freshly caught that morning.
There were fried eggs, tattie scones, butter-smeared oatcakes; her mouth began to water at the sight of a large bowl of blackpudding farther down the line. Her stomach rumbled loudly in protest, and she quickly found the closest seat and immediately began to pile on her plate. It’d felt like ages since she had a proper sit-down like this.
Before Olivia could begin to tuck in, a quiet clearing-of-the-throat caught her attention. She glanced down the length of the table, surprised to see another young woman sitting near the head of the table, a book closed beside her own, empty plate.
For a moment, she almost mistook her for the laird himself, as she had the same shade of dark hair and brilliant sea-green eyes. In fact…the longer Olivia stared, the more she realized that, if the laird had indeed been born a woman, he’d look exactly like the stranger sitting at the table. She quickly remembered that she, in fact, was the stranger in this scenario, and thus quickly put down her plate and stood to offer her greetings.
“Oh, daenae bother yerself,” the woman offered gently. “I’m glad for the company. Everyone’s either asleep, or out on patrol.”
Olivia blinked, still offering a polite nod before returning to her seat.
“I didnae mean to interrupt yer feastin’,” the woman went on sheepishly. “The maids told me ye came in haggard late last night alongside me braither; I cannae imagine the awful things ye must have gone through to get here.”
“N-Nay, it’s alright,” Olivia insisted, then paused, processing the former part of the sentence fully. “Oh! The laird is yer braither?”
The woman nodded, smiling shyly. “Aye; the name’s Flora, miss.”
“Olivia.” She hesitated, taking a beat before committing to adding, “Olivia MacLarsen, yer ladyship.”
Flora’s eyes widened slightly, though she seemed to take great care to hide the remainder of her surprise. Olivia squirmed slightly in her seat, desperate to take attention away from her heritage. Her own eyes flickered towards the now-abandoned book, its well-loved cover prompting an idea. “What are ye reading there?”
Flora followed Olivia’s gaze, hand resting against the book rather tenderly. “O-Oh! It’s a copy of John Barbour’s, ‘The Brus’. Me braither got it fer me–I must have read it over a dozen times.”
“Aiming fer a dozen an’ one?” Olivia teased.
A small smile crossed Flora’s lips, but before she could respond, the doorway swung open once more, allowing Elspeth to shuffle in with the Laird and another man.
“Aye, good morning,mo laochain!How did ye sleep?”
Flora’s smile brightened, standing to embrace her mother warmly. “Very well, Mam.” She gave her a quick peck on the cheek, remaining upright as her mother found a chair across the way. Olivia’s brow furrowed, wondering why Elspeth didn’t takea seat next to her daughter, when the lumbering giant greeted Flora next with a kiss on the lips. Her face flushed slightly, and she was relieved to have kept her thoughts to herself as the loving couple sat down next.
“Daenae take too long now, Nathan,” Laird MacDonnell ordered. “There’s plenty to get done today.”
The giant–Nathan–offered a slight nod, fixing his own plate with one hand while the other remained holding Flora’s.
“And how about ye, Olivia?” Elspeth inquired. “Ye werenae too cold? The bed was soft enough?”
“A-Aye, m’lady,” Olivia insisted quickly. “It–honestly, it was the best sleep I’ve had in a while.” Elspeth’s beaming face made Olivia feel a touch embarrassed, and she did her best to hide it behind a feigned sip from her goblet. She followed the laird as he sat at the head of the table, taking a few fried eggs and a string of sausages before feeling it was proper to begin eating herself.
“After we eat,” the laird suddenly said. “I’d like ye to call the council fer a meeting, Mam.”
Olivia nearly choked on her pudding as Elspeth nodded. “Aye, I can do that, sweetness. We should make sure they know about our wonderful new guest before rumors begin to spread.”
