My Highland Home

MHH Chapter 10

I didn't make it very far down the corridor before I was winded and my knees were trembling. The Harpy was very displeased with my slow pace and soon it felt as though she were dragging me instead of leading me somewhere. When we reached the top of a staircase I knew I was done in. If I even attempted to navigate those stairs in my current condition I'd have to sit down every couple of steps or worse, I'd probably lose my balance in a weak moment and end up breaking my neck in a tumble down them. Mutinous, I jerked my arm from her grip and sat down on the top step. She turned to regard me with an unflinching gaze before she shrugged and plodded down the stairs.

One of my eyebrows lifted as I watched her descend and disappear. Was she really going to leave me sitting here? Turning to glance back the way we'd come I wondered if I could get back to my chamber. I suppose if I rested long enough I'd be able to make it back on my own. Fixing my gaze forward, I decided that that was probably a better idea than trying to go down. With a sigh, I closed my eyes and leaned my upper body and head heavily against the cool stone wall. Just a bit of a breather and then I'd go back. The senseless Laird could come to me if he got tired of waiting.

"If I pick you up you'll not bite me again, will you lass?"

Startled by the booming voice I nearly catapulted myself down the stairs head first. Clutching a groove in the stone, I felt my heart race and nearly lifted a hand to my chest. However, once I opened my eyes and got a gander of the man standing a half dozen stairs below me, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Big and burly like a bear, he nearly took up the entire width of the staircase and had muscles on his muscles. His appearance fairly screamed wild, his hair in curly disarray and much of his face covered by a thick beard, except for a scar that traveled from his brow to his jaw on the left side.

I had bitten him? When had I done that? He looked as though he'd have no trouble defending himself, so how on earth had I managed to bite him? Blinking at him, rather stupidly I admit I slowly shook my head negatively. Although, I was more than a little hesitant about the idea of him picking me up. Taking a second look at his arms, I wasn't so sure he wouldn't break me.

"That's a good lass. Trying to explain the teeth marks to my Eileen wasn't an ordeal I'd wish to repeat. Up you get then," he said, bending over and lifting me with an ease I could never have imagined. "Greer will have my hide if I don't get you down to the hall and in front of the Laird with all haste."

For all his fear inducing and intimidating appearance, he was a rather friendly sort and talked to me while he carried me down the stairs. It had been so long since anyone had been nice to me it almost felt foreign, but as it seemed I wasn't a favourite among these en-actors, I figured I'd better take kindness where I found it. He didn't even seem to mind that I never contributed to the conversation, totally at ease talking to himself. Perhaps he knew that speaking was difficult for me. Or perhaps he liked the sound of his own voice? I mentally shrugged, I didn't mind. It sure beat the Harpy snipping at me or the Scot threatening me.

"Wee thing like you, not sure what Meg's fuss was all about, why you could hardly swat a fly. She caused quite a stir when she came a roaring down from your chamber, saying you were making inhuman sounds and attacking her. Pshaw, said your finger nails were as long as dirks. She might as well make you the devil himself for all her howling. She's a mighty fine healer our Meg, but faint hearted. Greer on the other hand, well, she's as stiff as a dead dog in January. I was telling my Eileen just the other morn..."

"God's teeth Tavis, you chatter worse than an old woman!"

Upon hearing that voice my previous ease quickly dissolved and I felt my whole body tense. Tavis, I assumed was the giant lugging me into what I took for the great hall. Rough, hand hewn wood benches and monstrous tables cluttered the centre of the room in a sort of organised chaos, with one smaller table arranged closer to the enormous fireplace. Behind it sat two much smaller benches and two chairs. In the larger, more ornate of the two chairs sat the Scot who I now came to realize was the Laird to which everyone was referring. It figured. A sigh slipped out.

"There now," Tavis whispered, "It's not as bad as all that and if all else falls short, bite him." Setting me on my feet before the Laird's table Tavis gave me an encouraging, yet discreet pat on the back and backed up several feet.

I had to swallow a giggle which made adapting my mutinous expression a bit of a challenge before I got control of myself. Meeting the hard stare of the Laird, I did my very best to look unimpressed and completed my pose by crossing my arms over my chest. I suppose all this might have been a waste of time, as I had just been carried into the hall, but I chose to ignore that. Tapping my toes in my borrowed slippers impatiently I waited.

"You clean up well," was all he said. I grunted and rolled my eyes. The silence in the room was killing me. Oh what I wouldn't give to be able to fill it. Gritting my teeth, I thought better of trying, since all my recent attempts at vocalization had ended disastrously. For Pete's sake, was he going to answer my bloody questions or get to the point anytime soon?

"To my displeasure I find that you are a constant surprise McDowell. I'd have guessed pigs would fly before a McDowell could read." Forgetting my intent to not speak, my raw voice choked out, "Kenzie!" Probably the dunderhead wouldn't understand that I was telling him my name, since he seemed so fixated on my surname, but I was getting extremely sick of being called McDowell or lass or the combination of the two.

His head inclined, but he made no further comment regarding my outburst. And it seemed to me that he was avoiding telling me exactly what I wanted to know. Or perhaps maybe he was enjoying the fact that he was toying with me, I'm not sure. It was annoying me to no end and I'd never felt so capable of the urge of wanting to throttle someone before. My choices in dealing with the situation however, were far fewer than I'd like. Narrowing my eyes I waited through another long beat of silence before choosing my course of action.

I lifted a hand as though to say, "Is that it?" I waited for a response and got none. Taking a gamble, I finally grunted and pivoted on my heel. My steps were slow and shaky, but they had the desired affect. I hadn't gotten more than six steps when he roared, "Where are you off to? The priest is waiting in the chapel to wed us."