Chapter 152

Thorburn sent ten men to the inn with Stuart and Ailene. He and Frang conducted business, selling their goods and making purchases for their respective households. Teárlag accompanied Thorburn and he introduced her as his fiancé every stop they made. Several people congratulated Thorburn on the beauty of his new bride, others looked at him askance before finally wishing him well. Thorburn wondered why he received the odd looks from the occasional person until Teárlag reminded him of her somewhat tarnished reputation around town and the ones most critical of her were the ones giving him the most surprised looks. They were at the dressmaker when she explained.

"They probably think you're marrying a trollop, Thorburn, and wonder why you've lowered yourself to my level," she explained, equanimous, "when you could do so much better. I stopped caring what people thought for me." She continued looking over the fabrics for a wedding dress which would never be made. Her eyes filled with tears which thankfully, didn't spill over.

Thorburn nodded in understanding, yet he remembered he might have happily married Teárlag and not cared a fig for it two short weeks ago. People were so small minded.

"If you could put ten yards of this aside for my dress," Teárlag said to the shopkeeper, pointing out a beautiful gray and cream brocade, "I shall send for it after we've set our wedding date."

"Yes, Lady Mackintosh."

Their business concluded, they all went to the builders and looked at the plans which he'd designed to Frang's specifications. Thorburn suggested a couple changes for increased security. The builder said the changes wouldn't be a big problem and Frang gave him a substantial sum to purchase the building materials. He said they would be able to start the new home within the week. After they adjourned to the inn for lunch.

"Bjarkë, Stuart and Ailene have had the entire morning to get reacquainted. Why don't you knock on their door and find out if they're hungry for something other than each other?" Thorburn asked.

"Aye. I hope I ruin the moment for them," Bjarkë laughed, "coitus interruptus."

"Bjarkë," laughed Isobel, "have a little pity on them. They haven't seen each other for two whole weeks."

"They've been married near nine months now," Frang said, "not yesterday. They act like us and we just tied the knot."

"They're in love and young," Teárlag said. "I would hope my husband would still want me so much after we'd been married awhile. It would be nice," she ended simply.

Bjarkë left and returned a few minutes later. "They've consented to join us. I think they were taking a brief rest though Ailene still sounded breathless."

Fifteen minutes later, they joined them. Ailene's hair was disheveled and unpinned, but she beamed. They ordered their food and sat down with the others.

"You're glowing," Isobel whispered. "Did you enjoy yourself."

"Oh, aye," Ailene responded. "There's nothing like a good fucking to put a smile on a girl's lips. I was well used and loved every minute of it."

Their conversation soon settled into the easy conversation and gentle banter of people who knew and cared deeply for each other. Even Teárlag was drawn into the conversation, unable to remain somber in the face of such humor and teasing.

Bjarkë stood up at one point and bowed down to Stuart. "Nephew, I'm most heartily sorry to inform you I knocked your wife unconscious while engaged in a bout. She was forced to instruct us how to drill holes in her head should it be necessary to heal her."

"What! When?" Stuart demanded.

"Nigh near two weeks now, Stuart," Ailene said. "It was nothing really."

"Nothing?" He said. "But you were talking about putting holes in your head. Why didn't you inform me?"

"Because it was nothing. By the time you would have arrived, it would either be unnecessary or dangerous."

"Why would it be dangerous if I came?" Stuart insisted.

"Because you wouldn't have allowed them to drill the hole even if it were necessary and needed doing, Stuart dear. I know you and you would have forbid it and I would have died if you did. I knew Frang and Isobel would have done it if necessary. It was not and I was fine. Just a sleepless night as they had to keep me up to make sure I was okay, then I slept the day away after, so pointless for you to come, dear husband."

"How did it happen, Bjarkë?" Thorburn asked. "You usually have such fine control of your blade."

"She was beating tar out of me, just as Frang did to you, Laird," Bjarkë admitted. "She'd killed me five times over already and I was about to concede myself as well bested, but she made a tiny mistake and I took her blade in my arm and went for her. I admit I struck harder than I should from sheer frustration this tiny lass whipped me so soundly. Even you don't best me so completely, Thorburn. I have a small chance against you. I had none against her."

"It's when I realized our training was incomplete, brother," Frang said. "It was the kind of maneuver only one well versed in the battlefield would ever make, sacrificing his limb to save his life. I'd been training Ailene and Isobel school fencing, not well suited for the real world of battle. It's why we've changed our training, and why I think you should change your own."

"You have me very curious. I'm going to have to see it now."

"I think you'll be very surprised, Thorburn," Bjarkë said. "Our lasses will shock you."

Both Ailene and Isobel blushed at the praise. Thorburn looked at them, two small lasses sitting there with wide grins on their faces.

"If I'm coming to Lady Luck, we'll forgo our meeting until later," Thorburn said, intrigued.

"You'll not regret it," Bjarkë said.