Page 22 of The Seer
Alasdair defended from the raging man’s sword but did not fight back. “The horse hates ye as much as everyone else who surrounds ye.”
Indeed, the steed kept running, seeming to sense freedom. He’d not stabbed the animal deep enough to give it permanent damage. Alasdair preferred not to hurt animals.
Anger empowered Cuthbert, who continued to strike with obvious intent to kill. Having had enough, Alasdair swerved his sword in a “Z” pattern, sending the other man’s sword flying through the air. He then sliced across Cuthbert’s shoulder just to make a point. “Ye may be the best swordsman in this region, but I have never lost in battle.”
The man’s nostrils flared as he gripped his upper arm. “Ye will die for this.”
Moving with caution, Alasdair rounded the man and reached out just as he passed pressing his palm against Cuthbert’s back. “Yer sexual preferences will come to light. I suggest ye choose yer battles wisely.”
Cuthbert’s eyes rounded, and he searched Alasdair’s face before looking past him.
It was then Alasdair noticed Cuthbert’s guards approaching. The only factor giving him a bit of assurance was that none had drawn swords.
Chapter 8
There was an urgency in the air. Her father was gone for a hunt meant Dallis and her mother were left to prepare for the fanfare of the return. In the kitchen, cooks and maids rushed in every direction. They chopped meat and vegetables, stirred bubbling pots and ground dried herbs in preparation for the feast that evening.
As much as Dallis usually enjoyed the opportunity to take part and help with the preparations for last meal, her mind went constantly to what her mother had informed her of.
Cuthbert would remain behind, not leaving with the Robertson as expected.
He would try to court her, she’d have to find a way of dissuading him without causing a rift between their fathers. From past experience, she knew better than to trust Cuthbert. He’d seize any opportunity and do his best to set up a way so that she’d be unable to get out of marrying him. So far, the one thing she was sure of was that he had bad intentions that included her in some way.
“Dallis, if ye don’t continue to stir, it will boil over,” her mother said looking over her shoulder. “Where is yer mind today?”
Although they were surrounded by people, Dallis did not care if they were overheard. But given all the activity, she doubted they’d pay much heed. Everyone in the kitchen had been with her family since her childhood and was trusted.
“I’m annoyed that Cuthbert has chosen to remain and not leave with his clan. I don’t want him to try to convince Da that we should be married.”
Her mother huffed. “I’m sure there are other reasons he remained behind, the competition for one. He was excited at the prospect of it.”
“Will ye promise me ye will dissuade Da if Cuthbert approaches him? I don’t wish to marry him.”
Her mother chuckled. “Ye are of marrying age. I can only put yer father off for so long. If ye have someone in mind, perhaps we can arrange a hand fast.”
Not sure what to say, Dallis continued stirring the bubbling liquid in the pot. It was thickening and soon would be poured into molds to make flavorful gelled meat.
“He is not of good standing,” Dallis whispered. “I don’t think Da will approve.”
“One of the guardsmen?” Fiona neared and whispered.
“Nay,” Dallis replied, giving her nosy friend an annoyed look.
This time her mother guessed. “One of the Gordon’s men?”
“The handsome archer who won a kiss last spring?” a maid called out.
The cook snapped her fingers at the maid. “Don’t be rude Daisy.” She looked to Dallis. “Is it Connor, the guard?”
“Would ye all please stop.” Dallis gasped as the entire kitchen came to a stop and everyone waited for her reply.
“What if I say he is handsome beyond words, has the most delightful smile and just a look from him makes me float away.”
“Tis a fae then?” Fiona guessed. Everyone laughed and returned to work.
“I suppose in a way he is,” Dallis whispered and Fiona’s eyes widened.
Fiona leaned forward. “Nay. Ye cannot mean Alasdair?” she more screeched than spoke.
