Free Celtic Stars (Celtic Steel Book 4) by Delaney Rhodes Page B

least she would be able to confirm that the food she would eat was clean. She was still sore from tossing and turning on the floor the night before, but she was feeling stronger every day. The abrasions on her face were nearly healed, thanks to the salve administered by the portly Missus Edwards. The black eye would most likely take a little longer. It didn’t appear the scratches would leave a permanent mark and for that she was thankful. She had survived most of her life on her looks alone, and lately that was literally all she had left.
    Reluctantly on her way to a foreign land, to marry a man she had come to resent, Aisling McTavish was now a picture of desperation.  She hadn’t made it to her destination in time to intercept the missive she sent. She regretted that. She regretted a lot of things. Mostly, she regretted that her station in life required that she “marry up” in order to have anything. The missive to Flynn would have long since arrived. The missive would tell him she did not love him, that she would not agree to be his wife and that she would never, ever, ever leave Skye or her people. He was a fool for expecting her to do so. Their engagement was off and she never wanted to hear from him, ever again.
    It would tell him, more likely it already had. Before she had a chance to intercept it, before she could arrive at O’Malley port before the letter would arrive. She had constructed a scenario in her mind a thousand times and in a thousand different ways on why she sent it and why she came to marry him anyway. She would plead and beg forgiveness and hope beyond hope, he would have her because there certainly was nothing left for her anymore, not in Scotland.
    She watched as Ochnar discussed what appeared to be something of great importance and, evidently, some secrecy with Missus Edwards.  He nodded, she nodded, they patted each other on the shoulder. The Missus appeared to be making a list of things in her head, adding things up, measuring her skirt, and bending down under her cupboard to look for something. Something was going on and Aisling wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
    “Aisling, dear,” said the Missus, “bring me that clay jar from above the hearth, there. Aye, that one right there, “she pointed.
    Curious, Aisling rose from her perch and tiptoed to reach the green colored, clay jar sitting high atop the shelf just above the hearth.  She handed it to the Missus and returned to her work in the corner, feigning disinterest.
    “Now here, ye take this right here and ye get the cloth I spoke of, take it over to the seamstress's shop. They have her size on hand and tell them to add the gold stringers to it, ye hear?"
    Ochnar mumbled something Aisling didn’t understand and took off quickly out of the cottage.
    “Aisling dear,” called the Missus. “I have some verra exciting news for you, well for us, actually.”
    “Aye,” she replied. “What news? Is it about me leaving?”
    “Nay, nay, nothing of that sort. I think ye and I both know ye haven’t a chance now of making a go in O’Malley lands. We haven’t heard from em, and we’re on the brink of war even, as I told ye.  Me poor dear lass, I think ye know there lies a largely burned bridge between ye and yer Flynn. It’s too late, me dear. If’n he had inkling to come for ye, I’m sure he would’ve afore now.”
    Aisling nodded her head in agreement. It was true, it was too late with Flynn and she wasn’t really all that sorry. She was still angry, and she wouldn’t be the reluctant wife of a man who took her from her country. She just wouldn’t. By now, he’d received the letter and he was just as angry at her as she was at him, and that was that.
    “Well, I can’t see what kind of news ye could have for me which may be ana ‘good’, but do go on. Please,” Aisling whispered. “What has Ochnar to do with it?”
    “Aisling,” continued the Missus, “We have been invited to dine with the Lord of Burke lands and