Free Highland Warrior by Connie Mason Page B

relaxed. “Did your mother not insist that you learn about such things?”
    “My mother died when I was born. My father left me to run free. My favorite activity was engaging in swordplay with my brothers.”
    “Oh, aye, I heard that you challenged our laird on the battlefield. That was foolish of you, lass. He could have slain you with a single blow.”
    Gillian bristled. “I was holding my own until my father interfered and called for a truce.”
    Hanna, a round woman with apple cheeks and rust-colored hair streaked with gray, chuckled. “If you say so, lass. Mayhap you should tell me if you have any favorite dishes so I can include them on the menu.”
    “If the wedding feast you prepared is an example of your skill, I vow I will like anything you cook.” She worried her bottom lip, wondering if she should mention her breakfast preference.
    “What is it, lass? Spit it out.”
    “I amna fond of porridge. I prefer to break my fast with eggs and a bit of meat, either bacon or ham. Would it be possible to—”
    Hanna cut her off in midsentence. “Say no more, lass. I will personally fix your eggs every morning and cook your bacon.”
    Gillian grinned. “Thank you.”
    Hanna cocked her head, gazing intently at Gillian. Then she shook her head.
    “What is it, Hanna?”
    “You are nae so bad for a MacKay. I am thinking the laird did verra well for himself, although I am sure Seana willna agree with me.”
    “Thank you again. You are nae so bad for a MacKenna. And I like your daughter. As for Seana ...” Gillian shrugged expansively, “I doona care what she thinks. This marriage isna what I wanted; nor is it what Ross wanted. If he prefers Seana to me, so be it.”
    “Methinks Ross will honor his marriage vows. He is that kind of man. Mayhap you should—”
    “Doona give advice when you know naught about the flame, Hanna,” Gizela proclaimed from the doorway.
    Startled, Gillian whirled about. “Gizela, I didna hear you behind me.”
    Gizela shuffled over to Gillian and patted her hand. “Beware, lass: There are some at Ravenscraig who wish you ill.”
    “Almost everyone at Ravenscraig wishes me ill,” Gillian replied.
    “Oh, nay, I like you well enough,” Hanna exclaimed. “And so does my Alice.”
    “Your flame burns bright, Gillian MacKay. You are strong, but so is the laird,” Gizela proclaimed. “Be mindful of danger, lass.”
    “What kind of danger, Gizela?”
    “Och, doona listen to her, lass,” Hanna said. “No one here wishes you harm.”
    “So you say,” Gizela muttered.
    “Doona frighten the laird’s new wife, Gizela.”
    The light in Gizela’s eyes flared, then dimmed as she turned and walked off, muttering to herself. Gillian hastily crossed herself, certain that the old crone was a witch.
    “Sit down, lass; your eggs will be ready in no time.” Hanna placed a loaf of newly baked bread on the table and cut off a generous slice. “There’s fresh butter on the table. Help yourself.”
    Since Gillian had left the hall hungry, she didn’t hesitate to spread a thick layer of butter on the bread and bite into it. It tasted delicious. When Hanna placed a plate of eggs and ham in front of Gillian, she dug in unashamedly.
    “Milk or ale?” Hanna asked.
    “Milk, please.”
    Gillian ate with relish, savoring the milk, which was a rare treat. Most households saved the milk for their bairns. But there didn’t seem to be any bairns at Ravenscraig.
    Gillian cleaned her plate, thanked Hanna, and wandered into the hall. To her dismay, the first person she encountered was Seana.
    “I’ve been looking for you,” Seana cooed. “I thought we might share confidences about Ross. Did you nae find him a magnificent lover? He made me swoon with delight each time we mated.”
    Gillian wasn’t as adept at exchanging barbs as she was at swordplay. Had Seana challenged her, she would have trounced her soundly. This kind of warfare was new to Gillian, but she was a fast learner.
    “I doona have