“Oh, I am as serious as the grave. You'd be serious, too, had you seen my sister. Wee, wild Bridget, coming at me with a wooden sword. A man tries for a mid-afternoon nap in the stables, and next thing he knows, a berserker in an arisaid sets upon him, flailing a boy's weapon as though it were on fire and she alone could wave it out. ” Marjorie could no longer help herself; she had to laugh. “Bridget attacked you?”
“Indeed. ” He rubbed his nose. “She had it in her head that she could learn to fight as well as any lad. She went at me with her… her cudgel, and I wasn't about to strike my very own sister. Next I knew, the lass cracked the thing over my face. And damned if my cursed nose didn't bleed like a stuck hog for hours. ” Marjorie didn't know if she wanted to swat him again or laugh even louder than he had. All she knew was, sitting there with her hand in his, she felt warmed to her very soul.
The moment was broken by a knock at the door.
Telling his story, he'd momentarily forgotten his miseries, but the intrusion brought him back to himself.
Cormac caught her gaze, and she could almost see the joy bleed from his face, see the shadows seep back into his eyes.
“That'd be our meal. ” He rose from the bed to swing open the door, and by the time he spoke again, his voice had grown rough. “What?”
“Your supper, milord. ” A serving girl stood there, and the smell of ale and roast meat wafted into the room. The girl didn't raise her eyes.
“Aye. ” He took the tray from her hands. “That'll do. ”
“That smells lovely,” Marjorie said, wondering which demons she'd lost him to, and why. She'd do anything in her power to eradicate them and resurrect the old Cormac for good. For now, that meant continuing her bright chatter.
“I do believe I'm quite hungry. ”
“Aye. Beef stew. ”
She watched him survey the small room. Without a stool, the only places for them to sit would be on the floor or on the edge of the bed. Cormac's eyes went to her on the bed, and he stiffened.
He set the tray on the floor.
“Oh, this is lovely,” she said, determined to normalize the situation. She wouldn't let him descend back into his darkness. Hearing his laughter had been too much of a revelation. She moved to sit beside him on the floor, imagining they were on a picnic. Taking a delicate bite of the stew, she hummed her content. “Ohh, I'm a woman starved. ”
He looked away.
Damn him.
But she refused to give up, and so asked the first question that popped into her head. “How's the rest of your family?”
“You saw for yourself, aye? When you showed up at Dunnottar. ” He'd chewed, swallowed, spoken, then resumed chewing.
Difficult man. “Yes. But I didn't see your older sister. How is Anya?” He shrugged. “She spends her days tending her husband. ”
Silence again.
Would he help her even a little bit? Why did the laughter of just a moment before disappear? “What happened to her husband?”
“He lost a leg. At Carbisdale. ” Fork halting in midair, he asked pointedly, “Did you ever meet Donald?” She hadn't, though she knew it'd been far from a love match. Anya's heart had always belonged to another. “No.
But he was from a wealthy family, right? In Argyll?”
“Aye, he's got land and money to spare. A good thing, that. The man is good to no one, particularly my sister. ”
“Cormac! That's a horrible thing to say. ”
“Nay, not horrible, simply the truth. Man's lucky to be alive, though he doesn't see it so. ” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “And now Donald rules the household — and my sister — from his bed. Or so Bridget tells it. ”
“Bridget?”
“She's never much liked our brother-in-law. Girl's got some fool romantic notions about love and marriage. ” He shook his head. “She's young yet. She'll see. ”
“So Bridget is interested in marriage. And a love match,” she mused, surprised. “Well, I think it's a lovely thought. Fool notion, indeed. Truly, Cormac, you can be so gloomy. ” He shrugged a shoulder. But Marjorie had spied a smirk, too, and took it as an opportunity.
“That's you. A real wretched beast. ” She blithely rattled off a litany of complaints, feigning distracted intent on her stew all the while. “Rich folk are