Page 95 of Come the Morning

“Aye?”

“The silver coins you gave the widow were an impressive kindness.”

“She will not have her husband to support her.”

“It is something my father would have done.”

He hesitated. “Is that a compliment? I compare with great Adin?”

She stiffened slightly. “No. You will never be my father.”

“Perhaps you should thank God for that.”

He started walking again. She hurried after him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing, Mellyora, nothing more than should be perfectly obvious.”

“Wait—”

“I can’t wait. I have business.”

He left her there, upon the mound. He was anxious to find Donald, Ewan MacKinny, and Angus. The fortress was huge. He wanted to know all of its defenses, and its every weakness. He didn’t intend to be taken from without …

Or within.

Days trailed into more days in a most unnerving manner for Mellyora. Their first night home, she didn’t know where he slept. Nor did she the second. On the third night she lay awake so long that she discovered him crawling into the farside of the expansive bed to sleep. He lay still, and she didn’t dare breathe.

She awoke late, and he was gone.

They were days of unease, but days in which they settled into a strangely comfortable pattern as well. Her father had been a Viking, but this castle had been her mother’s holding, and many ancient offices remained. Donald wasard Ghillean an-tighe, Alaric of Iona wasas seanachaidh, the sennachie, or bard, Mallory MacMason wasam fear sporain, accountant, or treasurer, and Hamlin Dougall, older than Phagin even, Mellyora thought, wasan Clarsair, the harpist. Ewan’s position with her father had beenan Gille-coise, or personal attendant to the chief of the isle, a bodyguard as well, though Adinhad needed little guarding. Since Angus filled that position for Waryk, Ewan became known as the most important of thean Kuchdtighe, fulfilling much of the same function, and continuing to lead the men within the boundaries of the estate. Jon of Wick served as master of the guard, asan Gocaman, the warder. He had sharp eyes, and kept the night watch from the eastern tower, always on the lookout for danger.

Waryk made no changes to the way the castle had been run, appreciating the honor of the titles given the men. To Mellyora’s sheer annoyance, Waryk didn’t seem to need her at all; he learned the domestics of the castle from Donald, and the defenses from Ewan and Jon, and the expenses from Mallory. From his second day at Blue Isle, he began hard training with the men he had brought and the men-at-arms from her people. She knew that many of the isle’s fighting lads were pleased to have so renowned a knight to teach them, and she was glad to hear as much laughter from the training grounds as she did the sounds of clashing steel. He trained men at cavalry, and he trained them to be foot soldiers. They worked with claymores, swords, axes, maces, pikes, Celtic and Viking weaponry, and farm implements.

At first, she kept her distance, and watched. Then, determined to keep her foothold upon her own authority, she spent time with Donald and Mallory, budgeting and planning household expenses and rents. In the great hall, during the day, with Waryk gone to the training field, she settled any disputes that had come up among the farmers, craftsmen, and merchants. She spent time on the mainland, tending to the injured, and to the needs of the homes burned in the Viking attack.

At dusk, the main household—Waryk, Phagin, Ewan, Angus, Jillian, Mallory, and herself—sat to dinner. Hamlin played his harp or another instrument, and Alaric usually entertained with a family tale. He learned Waryk’s family history, and told it eloquently, and she was intrigued to see that Waryk was pleasedwith his effort. When the meal and entertainment ended, Waryk always had some business, and would leave the hall with Mallory, Phagin, Jon, Angus, or Ewan.

At first, Mellyora fled as well. As the days passed, she became more comfortable. She played chess in the great hall with Ewan. She played the lute, or the harp, invented songs with Hamlin, laughed and enjoyed her home once again. She knew one night that he was in the adjoining counting room, and so she played chess with Ewan, laughing, teasing, trying to tell herself that this was what it might have been. Yet she didn’t feel the poetic anguish she should have known, she simply felt an emptiness, and she wondered whether she was angering Waryk, or taunting him. He seemed to show no interest in her at all.

A pattern had been established: He avoided her. He seemed to need very little sleep, and he came to bed late, and rose early. At first, she stayed to her own side of the bed. Then she realized that she could do whatever she wanted, and he would keep his distance. She no longer crept to the corner. He came in upon her bath, and ignored her; she backed her length against him in bed, and he lay still and stiff for hours.

She was amused, and yet irritated—and worried. When she spoke with Donald or Mallory about a matter concerninghercastle, they would tell her that aye, of course, it must be done, if Laird Waryk agreed. By dusk, before the evening meal, she started to stand sentinel on the mound where her father was buried with his dragon-pronged longboat. Why had he died, why had he left her? She was even angry with her father.

She felt someone watching her, and turned. Waryk. He stood higher upon the crest, his tartan mantle waving in the breeze around him. “Mellyora, come back to the tower,” he said.

She turned away from him, stubbornly determined that he wouldn’t tell her what to do. She thought that he would wait, argue with her, make some command again, and she could fightit out. But he didn’t wait, he turned, leaving her there. The wind suddenly felt cold. It whipped around her, biting into her. Still, she remained upon the mound. At long last, she turned to walk back to the great hall.

Jillian greeted her at the second floor arch to the great hall. “Where have you been?” she demanded in a heated whisper. “A messenger came from the king—”

“Why?”

“You’ll not know now. He’s been with Waryk in the counting room for some time.”

“Who came?”

“Sir Percy Warring,” Angus whispered, joining them. As Angus spoke, the door to the counting room opened, and Sir Percy exited with Waryk. “You know my wife, Mellyora, Percy?” Waryk said.

“Aye, indeed!” Sir Percy said, taking her hand, gallantly bending over it. His lips just whispering against her flesh. His eyes touched her with a pleasant appreciation she hadn’t known in a long time.