Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“It sounds easy, but it will take vigilance on our parts to make sure we confuse people.”
“We should be extra cautious around Tarr,” Fiona suggested. “His warrior skills will keep him alert to our every action and response. He will grow annoyed when he realizes there is little he can do in determining our true identities.”
“Hopefully he will tire of the charade and leave us in peace.”
“What if he does not?” Fiona asked, knowing it was best when going into battle to have covered all possibilities. “What if he simply grabs one of us and demands a marriage, thinking the more courageous twin will step forward to save her sister?”
The dire thought faded Aliss’s smile.
Fiona however brimmed with confidence. “If that should prove true then we both will turn into weaklings who cry and protest and beg for his mercy. He would certainly grow disgusted and think twice before chancing a marriage to such a childish woman.”
“A good solution,” Aliss said.
“Part of the battle plan,” Fiona warned, “however, we will enter a far different battle than the imposing warrior is accustomed to. We will enter a battle of wits.”
Chapter 2
“We look a fright,” Aliss said, trying to shake her brown wool skirt free of dirt and hay while attempting to keep pace with her sister.
Fiona did not bother to pluck the bits of hay stuck to her white linen blouse or protruding from her red hair. “It is better we appear unkempt, another reason for Tarr of Hellewyk to find fault with us.”
“Better that he would have watched us rolling around in the hay, then he would have thought us mad and want nothing to do with us.”
“When we are through with him he will want nothing to do with us. Besides, Leith’s second summons left no room for us to freshen our appearance,” Fiona said. “His message was clear—get to the common house now.”
“Then let us not keep him waiting.” Aliss grinned and hurried her steps, Fiona now having to keep pace with her sister.
As they entered the common house, they saw that the clan was gathered, waiting word on the final arrangements that would secure the MacElders’s safety by joining forces with the clan Hellewyk. Eyes rounded with curiosity, mouths dropped open in shock, heads shook in bewilderment, and whispers ran rampant when clan members caught sight of the disheveled sisters.
Whispers turned to wagging tongues as grins appeared on many a face and bets were soon being made as to the outcome of the meeting between Tarr of Hellewyk and Fiona of the clan MacElder.
The sisters stood for a moment surveying the room where important matters were discussed between the elders and the chieftain, disputes settled, and celebrations enjoyed. The common house was a good-size, wattle-and-daub walls, a timber frame, a thatched roof and it could hold nearly all the clan members. Trestle tables and benches occupied most of the room and a large stone fireplace consumed a good portion of one wall. Today it was brimming over with men, the tables providing seating along with the benches. Not all of the men wore the MacElder colors, yellow, green and red, yet the others wore the Hellewyk colors of green and black.
Their cousin Leith stood at the far end, tankard in hand. He was tall and broad and thick in the waist, with long brown hair and a crooked nose, and at twenty and five years with the death of his father Tavish, was now clan chieftain. He looked to be in good spirits, laughing and often raising his tankard to drink. The tankard stilled at his lips when he saw the twins, and then a towering shadow above him began to move. Slowly at first, then it appeared to drift away from Leith, taking shape and form until, from the dark into the light, a man emerged beside Leith.
He appeared to stand a good two to three inches past six feet, and for once Fiona was glad for her five feet seven inches. She would not feel thwarted by the size of this man Tarr of Hellewyk, for he could be no other.
His stance was one of pride and confidence. He was bulky and broad, though his mass was muscle not fat. His face was round and his features sharp, his shiny auburn hair fell past his shoulder while slim braids hung along both sides of his face.
His green and black plaid was wrapped tightly around and crossed over his broad shoulder and full chest. He wore a pale yellow linen shirt beneath and brown leather boots. A dirk was tucked at his waist and his claymore was strapped to his back, the silver handle visible behind his head. His features were more compelling than handsome, and the look in his dark eyes—one of warning. He was not a man to cross.