Page 2 of The Lass and the Laird

The condition of the hundred year old home astonished him. His brother's wife, Analise, was mainly responsible for the impressive care and maintenance. Although Declan had not known his sister-in-law long, the beautiful woman stunned him with her intelligence and no-nonsense management of a household.

Declan aspired to such attributes in a wife of his own. Someone who'd not just warm his bed, but share in his interests and manage the home as well. Perhaps it was too forward a way of thinking and most women would balk at the idea. Yet after meeting his husband's wife, he was convinced another like her was a possibility.

When his stomach growled, Pat smiled at him. "Go upstairs, Laird. We have warm water waiting for ye to wash away the dirt of yer travels. I'll see about the dinner meal in the meantime."

Declan climbed the stairs to his chamber. A comely maid stood just inside the open door, her eyes darting between him and the tidy space.

Other than a four-poster bed and a large trunk, there was a stand with a pitcher and bowl, two chairs before a great hearth, and a large tapestry hanging on the wall over it. A window provided some lighting. Being it was close to sunset, two large lanterns were lit, one on a table by the bed and another beside one of the chairs.

"This is adequate," he told the maid and watched her shuffle crestfallen to help direct the young man who carried his belongings.

Declan waited until she faced him again. "What I meant to say is that the room is more than satisfactory. Very..." he searched for words as the maid looked to him with expectation. "Very nice. You have done quite well, uh...."

"Awena." She beamed and bobbed her head. "I am thankful ye are pleased, my laird."

After the maid and lad left, he was finally alone for the first moment in too many days. Declan stood in the middle of the room attempting to settle his mind. He was not at all sure what to expect of this new, unanticipated start in life. Now he was laird, shouldering the burden of responsibility for not only the people in the small keep, but for the nearby village of Moriag.

The view from his window was impressive. Past hills and valleys, he spotted the village. It was a good size. Although he could not make out more than the outline of buildings, smoke spoke of activity.

As soon as possible, he planned to ride there and get acquainted with the townsfolk. The outlying small farms and homes would be next on his list. Thankfully, he'd done most of his now-deceased father's business in the last years, so was familiar with the duties he was expected to perform.

He removed his dirty traveling clothes and stood nude before the large pewter pitcher and bowl. There wasn't nearly enough water in the vessel to come close to cleaning his entire body so he settled for washing his face, neck, forearms, and between his legs before donning a clean shirt and breeches.

Once done, he left the room to seek the meal Pat promised.

The evening meal went beyond his expectations. He called for the cook and praised her in front of the men and other servants. "The meal was delicious. I'd not expected such flavors and am greatly pleased. I thank you." The flustered Pat seemed about to burst with pride as she hurried from the room promising a delicious meal for the following evening.

The maids hurried to refill his glass, barely giving him time to finish his servings before doing the same to his plate. After two full helpings and plenty of mead, he was more than ready to seek his bed.

Ian laughed when Declan's eyes widened at a maid who, once again, approached with a tray in hand ready to refill his plate. "Nay, lass, the laird is quite full.” He shrugged and pointed to his own plate. "But I would like a bit."

"I fear I'll burst," Declan admitted. "But it's so tasty, it's hard to stop eating."

His friend nodded. "You may have been a bit overly lavish in your praise to Pat. You'll be too heavy to ride if you eat this way every night."

"Aye." Declan laughed and shook his head. "I have much to learn."

A bath was ready when Declan returned to his room. The maid, Awena, waited to assist him and Declan hesitated when her eyes roamed his body, her lips pursed in appreciation. As laird, she was his for the taking, but it was not how he planned to start his life as laird.

"Where is the lad who was here earlier? Edan, I believe. Tell him to come and assist me. He will be my serving man from now on."

"Yes, my laird." The now solemn maid bobbed and left.

Declan made a mental note to hire additional staff to assist with the larger household. He expected Ian and his loyal guardsmen to be cared after as well as any visitors.

An hour later, freshly bathed, he climbed into bed, his eyes already closing. Tomorrow he'd ride out and explore his new lands. Get to know all he could about Moriag. Its village people, the harvests, and the neighboring lairds, all part of his domain now. Making mental checklists, his eyes drooped.

A thought struck and he looked up at the ceiling. What had possessed him to ask his brother to seek for him a suitable wife within six months? If he didn't find a woman on his own in five months hence, his brother would choose one for him. An arranged marriage was suddenly not desirable.

As much as he wanted a wife to start a family with, for the time being, he wasn't sure about settling with someone he didn't find desirable. Or worse, a mousy woman who'd only do as he bid.

There was the added change, he'd never been faithful to anyone, always preferred to seek the company of different women. Each had different gifts to offer, which he enjoyed. A wife would certainly change things.

As laird he could always have lovers, he supposed. After all, he was a virile man who'd never suffered from bedsport energy. Then again, other than the maid, the town was very small. Perhaps his selection would be limited. This was to be an adjustment in many ways. No longer was he living with a large clan and its readily available lasses.

Six months.

A wife.