The Hawk (Highland Guard #2)(9)

Matty frowned. “You’ll look beautiful. The autumnal shades bring out the golden undertones of your skin and the green flecks in your eyes.”

One corner of her mouth lifted. Green flecks? “My eyes are brown.”

Matty’s mouth pursed mutinously. “Your eyes are a beautiful, vibrant hazel.”

Brown, Ellie thought, which was perfectly fine with her. But she knew better than to argue. Her siblings always tried to make her feel special, and they took it as a personal affront if anyone alluded to Ellie’s lack of the family’s dazzling good looks. She might be considered passably pretty in a normal family, but her family wasn’t normal. It never ceased to amaze her—and apparently others—how two such extraordinary-looking people as her mother and father could produce such an ordinary-looking child as she.

But her unremarkable countenance bothered her siblings far more than it did her. She’d learned early on that beauty did not guarantee happiness. It certainly hadn’t for her mother.

She was happy with ordinary, but her family refused to see her as anything other than special.

Matty was watching her as if she could read her mind. “I wish you could see yourself the way I do. You are far more beautiful than the rest of us put together. Your beauty shines from within.” A euphemism for unattractive if ever there was one, Ellie thought. “You are kind, generous, sweet—”

“And boring,” Ellie interjected, uncomfortable with her sister’s praise.

Matty grinned. “And boring. But not for long. Remember, you did promise to think about it. Do say you’ll come. It will be fun; you’ll see.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Maybe that gorgeous fiance of yours will be there.”

Ellie blanched. Forsooth, she hoped not. She could barely manage two words around the man before she broke out in a cold sweat.

Matty gave her an odd look. “I don’t know what’s the matter with you, Ellie. You act as if you don’t want this marriage. Ralph is young and handsome.” Her eyes grew dreamy. “With that dark hair and green eyes …” Her voice dropped off.

Ralph had green eyes? Ellie hadn’t noticed. “You’re so lucky,” Matty continued. “I’d snatch him up in a heartbeat if I were you. I’ll probably end up married to some man older than father with stale breath, doughy hands, and gout.” She looked at her quizzically. “Don’t you like him?”

“Of course I do,” Ellie replied automatically, though her heartbeat fluttered in a panic. What wasn’t to like? “I’m sure he will make a wonderful husband.”

“And a father,” Matty said. She tilted her head. “Is that what’s bothering you? How many children does he have, ten?”

“Eight.” Five girls, the young earl, and two more boys. All under the age of twelve. Nothing she wasn’t used to. She shook her head. “Nay, I like children.”

Matty leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “And they will be as lucky to have you as we were.” She gave an impish wag of her delicately arched eyebrows. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun first.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and shooed her sister out of the small chamber. “Off with you! I need to check on little Joan and Edmond before the evening meal.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Matty said with a sly glance.

Her sister was nothing if not persistent. She made it sound as if Ellie did nothing but eat, pray, and take care of the younger children.

Ellie bit her lip, realizing it was fairly close to the truth. Had she become too serious? Was she—she swallowed hard—boring?

What had happened to the wild urchin who used to swim and roam the countryside? Who used to love a challenge? Who dreamed of adventure? Who once thought the greatest thing would be to step foot on every island between here and Norway?

That seemed so long ago. Perhaps too long. Dreams changed. People changed.

She was four and twenty now, betrothed to an important English knight, and virtual countess of the most powerful nobleman in Ireland.

She could hardly go traipsing around the countryside like a country maid.

No matter how fun it sounded.

Chapter Two

The good humor Erik enjoyed after leading the English into the rocks didn’t last long. As he and his men approached the castle, he knew something wasn’t right. It was well after midnight, but Dunluce was ablaze in light. On the beach to the north, two massive fires roared like the pyres readying a warrior for the road to Valhalla.

“What are those?” Randolph asked, noticing the same thing.

Erik shook his head and squinted into the darkness. They were too far away for him to see clearly, but he could swear there were people swimming in the water.

“It appears to be villagers,” Domnall said.

All of the sudden Erik lightened, remembering the date. “It is villagers,” he said. “Well, the village lasses at least.”

Randolph looked at him questioningly.

“Virgin’s Plunge,” he explained.

Randolph frowned. “The pagan practice? I didn’t realize the Irish still celebrated the heathen festivals.”

“It’s still observed around most of the Isles. Something of a rite of passage. But mostly it’s just an excuse for the young folk to have a little fun. There is no harm in it.”