Page 46 of A Fierce Archer

Unlike Clan Fraser, where small groups were entertained perhaps every fortnight, Ross Keep seemed to entertain nonstop.

“Who is this feast for?” Catriona asked Moira, who waved the next group of tray-carrying maids off.

Moira gave her a puzzled look. “For the men returning from battle, of course.”

“Yes, of course,” Catriona replied, attempting to force a smile. “How silly of me to ask.”

The activity continued for hours until Catriona could barely stand upright. How Moira and her helpers could continue on, seeming not to tire, was a testament to their tenacity.

“I will go rest now,” Catriona announced to the kitchen at large. One maid waved her off with a bright smile.

“Thank ye for helping.”

Once in her room, she lowered to a chair. Ewan had volunteered to stay away. It was a relief not to have to bump into him daily. At the same time, it was hurtful that he was not at all the man she’d believed him to be. A married man with a bairn should be home, helping to raise the child, not galivanting about the country in battles and courting women.

How could she have misread him so much?

The next morning, her eyes felt as if someone had thrown sand in them. She’d barely slept a wink, vacillating between worrying for Ewan and being angry at him.

Finally, she decided there was little to be done about it. For one thing, Lady Fraser and the guard contingent, including Broden, had left. Secondly, she had nowhere to go, and therefore had to forge ahead until the opportunity to return to Fraser lands presented itself.

Upon entering the great room, once again, she was amazed at the amount of people present. If ever there was a place for her to face her fears, it was Dun Airgid. Catriona weaved through tables until reaching the one where Esme and her husband, Ruari, sat. With them was an older couple and a woman. They motioned for her to sit and Esme introduced her to the others.

The meal was simple, but plentiful. Soon, Catriona faced what would be another day.

“Esme,” she said when her friend lingered at the table after the other left. “What exactly should I occupy myself with. At Fraser Keep, I mended for the guards. Do ye think there is a need for it here?”

“There is much need for many things here,” Esme replied, blowing out a breath. “There are many men that require help with such things and also the making of tunics. We also weave blankets.”

Catriona could not help but laugh. “Ye, weaving. I do not believe it.” Her friend had always been averse to household duties. Esme had always preferred instead to practice archery or other such things.

“Aye, I have taken on some things. I learned to weave a basket,” Esme said, motioning to a lopsided pitiful attempt in the center of the table.

After a moment of studying it, Catriona gave up on trying to come up with a compliment. “I see marriage can change even the wildlings.”

“I am still part wildling, I’ll have ye know,” Esme rebutted with a saucy grin.

Catriona pushed away from the table. “Come show me where I can get clothing to mend and let us begin with the handsome men.”

Esme’s eyes rounded. “Cat. Ye are back.”

“What are ye speaking about?” Catriona shook her head at the same time she realized that for the first time in a long time, she’d not sat with her back to a wall and she’d just asked to go where the guards were. “I suppose I am.”

Her friend slid her arm through hers. “We will watch the men’s early sword practice for a bit. There are a few that are worthy of study.

“What of the mending?” Catriona protested.

“I will send a lad to fetch the clothing.”

***

Days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months. Catriona remained at Dun Airgid, unable to leave Esme again. Despite missing her parents and Fraser lands, she was becoming accustomed to life at Dun Airgid. With its huge walls and enormous army, it was, in her opinion, the safest region in Scotland.

The women of Ross Keep were all her friends now. Often, they embarked on adventures that ranged from picking flowers to archery contests. More often than not, the husbands would accompany them. But thankfully, because the men rotated in and out of the northern post, there was always a woman for Catriona to pair off with.

This day, it was only the women that went berry picking. Guards stood a distance away, not at all disguising their boredom as the women plucked ripe fruit and dropped it into baskets that hung from their arms.

Esme plopped one into her mouth. “These will make delicious tarts,” she proclaimed. “If I can keep from eating them.”