Cormac pulled away, turning to heave a basket of fish higher up the shore. “Forget the boy, Marjorie. ” He set his haul down with force, his eyes shut in a grimace. He'd never used such a tone with her. He hadn't called her by her full name in he knew not how long. But he couldn't help that the world was a cruel place.
“Marjorie!” his youngest sister shouted from up the beach. He told himself he was grateful for the interruption, that the pang in his chest was relief.
Cormac busied himself with his nets. He heard a rustling as Bridget enthusiastically embraced her.
“Marjorie,” Bridget exclaimed, breathless. “It is you! I never thought we'd ever see you come calling. I sent you a letter just yesterday, planning my next visit to Aberdeen, but… Losh! Here you are. Are you well?” She added with feigned innocence, “Cormac was asking after you just last week. ” He scowled, untangling and smoothing the twine webbing, even though the nets were already in impeccable shape.
If he could, he'd tan his sister's meddlesome hide.
Bridget trilled merrily on. Cormac could hear from the laughter in her voice that she knew she'd gotten under his skin. “Truly, Marjorie, it distresses me that it's taken you so long to visit. We've lived here nine years!
Imagine that. I do love the times I've gotten to see you in Aberdeen, but, och, what a stranger you've become.
You'll stay for a time with us, of course. ”
Cormac winced. “She'll not want to bed down in our pile of rubble,” he said, not looking up from his work.
“Cormac MacAlpin!” Bridget leaned down to swat his shoulder. “It's not so grim as all that. Come” — she linked arms with Marjorie — “and be welcome at Dunnottar Castle. ”
He rose slowly, meeting Marjorie's gaze. They locked eyes and, for a blessed instant, the rest of his world fell away. He lost himself, the past, his pain, drowned in vivid blue.
She blinked, and
something shifted in her gaze. Cormac swore he felt it shimmer like electricity across his skin. Marjorie narrowed her eyes, assuming a look, her look, the one she used to get before issuing one of her infamous dares. That glint aimed straight for him, and Cormac braced.
Marjorie patted his sister's hand, her gaze never leaving his. Thank you, Bridget. I look forward to my stay. ” Chapter 3
“This was all from the wars?” Marjorie ogled a patch of severely damaged masonry. “Aren't you afraid the walls will tumble about your ears?”
Bridget laughed. “It's not as though we were here when it happened. 'Twas a Covenanter siege that left the castle in a wee bit of disrepair. ”
“Wee bit?” she muttered, then shuffled to catch up to Bridget, who was leading her on a brisk tour of Dunnottar.
“And you wonder why folk call you the Devil's Own!”
Marjorie came to a breathless halt in the doorway of the dining hall. The sight of Cormac seated at the table scuttled her merriment. Intent on a mug of ale and some bread, he didn't look up. Why had she thought he'd help find Davie, when he couldn't even bring himself to look at her?
“Och, the villagers. ” Bridget strode in and squatted before the hearth to stoke the fire to life. “Since Father died, they claim we've been a pack of devils. ”
“It's Dunn's Devils,” Cormac muttered. “For Dunnottar. That's what they say. ” Marjorie watched as he studiously dunked a heel of bread in his ale, just like he used to do when he was a boy.
She fought a sudden smile and marveled at the foreign sensation. Since Davie'd been taken, her pleasures had been rare. But Cormac, he'd always made her smile. He used to tease them from her relentlessly, until she couldn't hold back.
But that had been in the time before.
The warmth that had been spreading through her chest clenched, leaving Marjorie sadder than ever.
“Oh aye. ” Bridget laughed. “A pack of Highland demons we are, for want of living parents. ” Cormac remained focused on his bread. “Demons, just here in our wee slice of hell. ” His sister shot him a hard look. “Dunnottar's been perfectly suitable since we patched the roof. ”
“It's as drafty as a boat on the open sea. ”
Marjorie felt his presence like a stitch in her side; she couldn't seem to breathe easily. She pulled her shoulders back
to stand taller. “It certainly is… massive. ” She looked around, taking in the gargantuan dining hall.
“Aye, 'tis a great big sprawl of a place. There are stables, cellars for wine and beer, even barracks and a chapel… “ Bridget's voice grew distracted as
she stabbed angrily at the stubborn embers. “It's housed armies, kings. ” She straightened and hung the poker back in its spot by the fireplace. “Och, this cursed fire. ”