Mary?”
Possibilities both exciting and frightening stretched before her. Was
she brave enough to say nay? Was her pride healed enough to lower the
barriers between them?
Chapter Eight
From her seat on a courtyard bench along the castle wall, Mary
watched the two grooms’ movements. She scanned the small herd of
horses penned in a coral at the west side of the stables. Where might the
young mare be? Since Collin had reclaimed the gelding, she had no horse,
and had been eyeing the mare for days. Waiting for an opportunity to slip
inside the stable and find her, Mary leaned back against the wall and
pretended an interest in the blacksmith’s actions.
The ringing of the smith’s hammer clanged against the medal shoe
he melded, distracting and loud. She watched as the sparks flew from the
blows and nearly missed the young groom’s passage across the courtyard
to the gate. She looked about for the other man, but could not see him.
Rising slowly from her seat, she circled the stable’s perimeter
seeking the back entrance. She ducked through the railing of the coral and
wove her way around the horses penned there to the opening.
Once inside, she rested back against a stall door and breathed in the
scent of hay, leather, and horses while her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Something tugged at the hood of her cloak. She turned to find a horse
nibbling playfully on the fabric. She stroked the animal’s forehead and nose
then moved down the center aisle.
The sounds of movement alerted her to the groom’s presence.
Occupied with shoveling out the stall, his back to her, he remained unaware
of her presence as she eased past the open door.
She found the mare in one of the stalls closest to the courtyard.
Clicking her tongue to gain the animal’s attention, she withdrew small bits
of dried apple from the deep pocket of her surcoat. The mare nuzzled her
neck, breathing in her scent, then took the offered treat from her palm.
Looking about for the necessary bridle and saddle, she crept to a
sturdy wooden door along the south wall and pressed her ear to the panel.
Hearing no movement within, she eased it open. The light of a dully-burning
torch illuminated the bridles hung on one wall. Saddles draped across
narrow wooden benches lay in rows the length of the room. Closing the
door behind her, she plucked a bridle from its hook, then wove her way
through the organized clutter until she spied a woman’s sidesaddle. She
rested her hand against her stomach and sighed. She would not chance
harming her child to lift it. She thought about riding bareback and shook her
head.
“Do you wish a horse saddled, Lady Mary?”
She started violently and smothered a gasp as she turned to face the
groom, a slightly built gray haired man.
“Aye, I would.”
The man nodded and scooped up the bothersome sidesaddle and
carried it out of the tack room. He wiped the leather of the saddle down with
a rag. “‘Tis been some time since this has been used. ‘Twas Lady
Isobel’s.”
“My husband’s mother’s?”
“Aye.”
She watched as he checked the leather girth and stirrup straps.
“The Laird will not mind my using it?” she asked.
“Nay,” The man glanced at her. “I’d say he would make a gift of it, had it
occurred to him you needed it. ‘Tis plain he is taken with you.”
Mary smiled. Her father-in-law’s open acceptance of her had
smoothed the way with his people. But what trials might she face with
Alexander’s people?
There was time enough to worry about that at Caisteal Sith. She turned
the thoughts aside. “And what of Lady Isobel?”
A smile played about the man’s lips. “She had a temper as hot as a
forge and a heart as big as all of Scotland. She would welcome your use of
the saddle.”
She watched as he made quick work of readying the horse for her. As
he guided the mare out of the barn, he looked about him. “Have you no
escort?”
“I am only going to the
Possibilities both exciting and frightening stretched before her. Was
she brave enough to say nay? Was her pride healed enough to lower the
barriers between them?
Chapter Eight
From her seat on a courtyard bench along the castle wall, Mary
watched the two grooms’ movements. She scanned the small herd of
horses penned in a coral at the west side of the stables. Where might the
young mare be? Since Collin had reclaimed the gelding, she had no horse,
and had been eyeing the mare for days. Waiting for an opportunity to slip
inside the stable and find her, Mary leaned back against the wall and
pretended an interest in the blacksmith’s actions.
The ringing of the smith’s hammer clanged against the medal shoe
he melded, distracting and loud. She watched as the sparks flew from the
blows and nearly missed the young groom’s passage across the courtyard
to the gate. She looked about for the other man, but could not see him.
Rising slowly from her seat, she circled the stable’s perimeter
seeking the back entrance. She ducked through the railing of the coral and
wove her way around the horses penned there to the opening.
Once inside, she rested back against a stall door and breathed in the
scent of hay, leather, and horses while her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Something tugged at the hood of her cloak. She turned to find a horse
nibbling playfully on the fabric. She stroked the animal’s forehead and nose
then moved down the center aisle.
The sounds of movement alerted her to the groom’s presence.
Occupied with shoveling out the stall, his back to her, he remained unaware
of her presence as she eased past the open door.
She found the mare in one of the stalls closest to the courtyard.
Clicking her tongue to gain the animal’s attention, she withdrew small bits
of dried apple from the deep pocket of her surcoat. The mare nuzzled her
neck, breathing in her scent, then took the offered treat from her palm.
Looking about for the necessary bridle and saddle, she crept to a
sturdy wooden door along the south wall and pressed her ear to the panel.
Hearing no movement within, she eased it open. The light of a dully-burning
torch illuminated the bridles hung on one wall. Saddles draped across
narrow wooden benches lay in rows the length of the room. Closing the
door behind her, she plucked a bridle from its hook, then wove her way
through the organized clutter until she spied a woman’s sidesaddle. She
rested her hand against her stomach and sighed. She would not chance
harming her child to lift it. She thought about riding bareback and shook her
head.
“Do you wish a horse saddled, Lady Mary?”
She started violently and smothered a gasp as she turned to face the
groom, a slightly built gray haired man.
“Aye, I would.”
The man nodded and scooped up the bothersome sidesaddle and
carried it out of the tack room. He wiped the leather of the saddle down with
a rag. “‘Tis been some time since this has been used. ‘Twas Lady
Isobel’s.”
“My husband’s mother’s?”
“Aye.”
She watched as he checked the leather girth and stirrup straps.
“The Laird will not mind my using it?” she asked.
“Nay,” The man glanced at her. “I’d say he would make a gift of it, had it
occurred to him you needed it. ‘Tis plain he is taken with you.”
Mary smiled. Her father-in-law’s open acceptance of her had
smoothed the way with his people. But what trials might she face with
Alexander’s people?
There was time enough to worry about that at Caisteal Sith. She turned
the thoughts aside. “And what of Lady Isobel?”
A smile played about the man’s lips. “She had a temper as hot as a
forge and a heart as big as all of Scotland. She would welcome your use of
the saddle.”
She watched as he made quick work of readying the horse for her. As
he guided the mare out of the barn, he looked about him. “Have you no
escort?”
“I am only going to the
Similar Books
