“But, I wouldnae have thought it a good color for me when I have brown hair and brown eyes.”
“Ye have honey-gold hair with intriguing hints of red and soft amber eyes, nay just brown. Wear the brown and gold gown.”
Arianna shrugged aside her bemusement over his description of her and donned the gown he had chosen. When she was ready she chanced a look at herself in the large looking glass over the fireplace. Surprise widened her eyes as she stared at herself in amazement. Instead of making her look like a little brown wren as she had feared, the color of the gown made her hair seem brighter, her eyes lighter and more prominent. That Brian could know what color would make her look her best gave her a dangerously warm feeling for it meant he had truly looked at her, honestly noticed what were her best features.
She was startled out of her thoughts by Brian’s kiss on her cheek. He hooked his arm through hers and led her out of the bedchamber. Knowing they were headed for the great hall that would undoubtedly be full to bursting with his kinsmen had all of Arianna’s nervousness returning in a rush.
“Brian, I am nay certain it is wise for us to be sharing a room here,” she said.
“I am nay letting ye out of my sight,” he said. “Whene’er I have, ye have gotten into trouble.”
Before she could protest that, he dragged her into the great hall and through a crowd of curious MacFingals straight to the table the laird and his wife sat at. Fiona sat on Sir Ewan’s right. An older man who looked a great deal like Sir Ewan sat on his left and next to him was a pretty, well-rounded woman with graying brown hair and big brown eyes. Arianna was not surprised when the older man and woman were introduced as Brian’s father, Sir Fingal MacFingal, and his wife, Mab. The man had left a very strong mark on all of his sons.
Brian helped her to a seat and then placed himself between her and Fiona. Arianna looked around and found Michel and Adelar seated at a table with two maids and over a dozen young children. Fertile lot, she mused as she met Sir Fingal’s narrowed gaze.
“Another lass who needs some meat on her wee bones,” said Sir Fingal.
Arianna waited for the pain of those words to strike her and nothing happened. Her slenderness was one of the things Claud had always criticized, yet hearing this man speak of the same thing only amused her. Sir Fingal was one of those older men who felt free to say whatever he pleased, but actually meant no true harm. She then suspected that he always had and that age had very little to do with it. Perhaps, she thought, having a lover who seemed to be more than satisfied with the curves she had had given her some armor against such remarks.
“Lady Arianna is just fine the way she is,” said Brian.
“I didnae say she wasnae fine,” snapped Sir Fingal, scowling at his son. “I said she needed to eat more. And ye need to tell us why there is an army forming barely a day’s ride from here.”
“Oh, Brian,” Arianna began, terrified that she had brought a true danger to his family.
Brian patted her hand, which was clenched into a white-knuckled fist on the table. “We kenned it might come to this, love.” He looked at his father and then at Ewan. “There is an army gathering?”
“Aye. A wee group of Frenchmen are gathering a large number of hired swords,” replied Sir Ewan. “I dinnae think many of the hirelings are verra skilled and probably willnae stand firm when faced with a hard fight. Have ye found out any more about the why of all this?”
As he ate, Brian told them everything he had learned. He also told them some of the questions he and Arianna still pondered and the possible answers they had come up with. As he talked it out with his brother and father, Brian could see it all more clearly. Arianna was right. There had to be more than a wee bit of land, Lucette’s need to be the heir, and the DeVeaux’s need for vengeance against the Murrays behind all of it.
“Aye, there is something ye dinnae ken,” said Sir Fingal. “That fool Lucette sounds a mon who might do all of this just to gain an inheritance. Wheesht, a mon who would kill his own blood, or want to, and then try to beat a wee lass to death will do most anything. There isnae enough there to make that Lord Ignace act this way, though.”
“Nay, there isnae,” agreed Sir Ewan. “Nay sure we will e’er ken what that reason is though, for if these fools attack Scarglas, they will die. Hard to get answers from dead men.”
“I still find it hard to believe that they sunk a ship just to try and kill two boys,” said Fiona.
“That was terrifying,” said Arianna, “and enough to get them hanged. Did Captain Tillet and his men heal?”
“Aye,” replied Fiona, “and they have already sailed for home. Nay certain if anything can or will be done about what happened to his ship, though.”
“I pray he is cautious for, if he points a finger at the DeVeaux with nay more proof than his word against theirs, he could find that his survival is a verra short-lived one.”