He returned to the cottage and lit a fire in the small fireplace to chase the chill and dry his garments. It troubled him that someone had followed Sorrell. Had this been the first time or had the person been following her for a while, and why? Could she be in danger? Or had that fool Seth sent someone to keep watch on her?
Possibilities kept swirling in his head, continuing to trouble him as he pulled a chair in front of the hearth, reaching out to warm his hands, never realizing he was settling himself in the cottage.
Chapter 6
“I don’t care if you don’t like it, Melvin, you’ll take orders from John or I’ll find a new chore for you, cleaning out the fish guts and entails’ buckets in the kitchen at the top of my list,” Sorrell said.
“But he’s not part of this clan,” Melvin protested with a wrinkle to his nose as if he could smell the stink of the new chore.
“And yet, he does more chores in a day than you do in a week. Now what will it be? Take orders from John or clean the fish gut and entails’ buckets.”
“He best not be ordering me about all the time,” Melvin said.
“John is a man of few words,” Sorrell said.
John did talk with her, but then she gave him little choice. She noticed he said few if any words to others. In the last two days, he had spent most of the day on the chores she had assigned him. He took his morning meal alone and ate supper in the Great Hall sometimes alone and sometimes with her and her sisters. He never said much, a word here or there, but she had noticed how well he listened, smiling or chuckling just when you thought he had drifted off and had been paying no heed to the conversation.
She was also glad he had yet to take his leave. She enjoyed talking with him. He was a man of intelligence and it made her continue to wonder about him. Who was he? Where did he come from? Was he hiding something? Where had the shackle come from? The shackle bothered her every time she looked at it. It didn’t belong on him and she itched to remove it. But it wasn’t her place, though maybe he needed a little encouragement.
Melvin brought her out of her musings.
“You’re right about that. He hardly speaks a word,” Melvin said, scratching his head. “I wonder why?”
“Why don’t you ask him,” Sorrell suggested.
Melvin shook his head. “No. No. The man has a right to his privacy.”
Sorrell grinned. Melvin was afraid of John and she was good with that, since Melvin worked when he was with John, too fearful not to.
“Go find John and see what chores he has for you today,” Sorrell said.
Melvin turned, mumbling beneath his breath, his gait slow and reluctant.
Sorrell knew where John was… at the smithy, seeing to sharpening some of the tools.
“Melvin doesn’t appear eager to do his chores.”
Sorrell turned and smiled at James. There were days when she looked quick at him that she could see their father in him and not just in his features, but the way he walked with distinction and purpose that was so like their da. It was those times she was glad her mum had welcomed him into the family, and even though she argued with him on occasion, she was glad to have him as her brother.
“Melvin is never happy to do his chores, but he’ll do them now that John is giving the orders,” Sorrell said.
“I wish John would remain with us. He works hard and never complains and he’s probably good with a weapon. He would be an asset to the clan. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s ready to settle down. He seems like a man searching for something.”
Sorrell thought the same, though hadn’t wanted to admit it. He may have taken shelter in the cottage, but he hadn’t done anything to make it truly his, nothing to call it home.
“I came bearing good news,” James said.
“Do I dare hope you decided against my marriage to Seth MacCannish?”
“If only there was another way, I would gladly see it done,” James said. “At least, you have a reprieve from receiving your intended tomorrow. He will not be able to see you. He must go away for a few days and he will send notice upon his return.”
Sorrell folded her hands in prayer, kissed them, then raised them to the heavens. “Prayers do get answered.”
“Aye, sometimes they do,” James agreed and gave a nod, his eyes on her injury. “Your bruise heals well and fast.”
“Thanks to John. If it hadn’t been for his quick action, Seth could have shattered my cheek,” she said, pleased that the bruising was already beginning to fade and she suffered little pain.