Surviving Scotland by Kristin Vayden Page B

promise.” She patted my hand with a chuckle and rose from the padded wooden chair.
    “Cullon, have ye shown the lassie her room yet?”
    “No, I tho’ ‘twould be best if ye did.”
    “Aye.” She nodded and touched her son’s shoulder gently and motioned for me to follow. It was clear that Cullon adored his mother by the indulgent grin he offered as she left.
    I followed her up the stairs and into a beautiful room with a soft bed and glowing hearth. Pressed flowers were put on my nightstand with lavender floating in the water pitcher. The room was heavily scented with lavender as well. Clearly they had gone to a lot of work in preparing my room. I was overwhelmed at their generosity, especially from people I didn’t know.
    “‘Tis beautiful! But ye dinna need to go to all the trouble fer me. Donna misunderstand, I’m thankful. ‘Tis the most beautiful room I’ve seen. I just feel bad that ye went through so much work,” I spoke to Margaret, but at her dismissive wave I continued to glance about the room.
    “‘Twas a pleasure. We hope that ye’ll be happy here, Elle.” I glanced back at her. Was there an underlying meaning to her words? Perhaps it wasn’t only my uncle that wished our families to unite. My heart ached and my chest constricted at the thought of being pressured to marry Cullon. There was nothing wrong with him, at least that I could see upon only meeting him a short while ago, but he wasn’t Ioan.
    “I thank ye for yer hospitality.”
    “‘Tis our way. I’ll let ye freshen up a bit afore supper.” She closed the door gently behind her and I lay on the soft bed. What was I going to do?
    ****
    Life fell into a regular rhythm. Cullon was a perfect companion at mealtimes and for the occasional walk, but I didn’t feel any sparks in our relationship. He was a great friend and made me laugh, but I would often find myself searching for Ioan. Ioan, however, was rarely found.
    After about two weeks into my stay at Dumbarton, Cullon pulled me aside after we’d taken a walk on a path that passed by the blue-green sea.
    “I’ve been meanin’ ta speak with ye, but I donna know how ta ask such a question.” He spoke softly and narrowed his eyes at his boots. After a moment he sat on a large bolder and gazed intently at me. Foreboding clenched in my chest. No, he couldn’t already offer for my hand, could he? My hands grew sweaty, and I tried to think of a valid reason for refusing him other than, I ’ m in love with your cousin.
    “Aye?” I croaked and then cleared my throat.
    “‘Tis a sensitive subject, and I donna want ta betray a trust, do ye ken?”
    “I promise no’ ta speak a word of it beyond this conversation.”
    He nodded and stood, pacing around the rock where had just sat, his heavy boots making a muted thud against the marshy land. He gestured for me to sit and I did with reluctance.
    “‘Tis my cousin, Ioan.” Cullon glanced down at me and then resumed his pacing. “He isna himself, and I was wonderin’ if ye knew anythin’ about why.” He regarded me with a shrewd gaze. “Ye have been friends fer a while, and I tho’ that perhaps, there was more ta it than that.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose, what I’m askin’ is…” He paused and took a deep breath. The restless pacing stopped and he gazed at me with a piercing intensity.
    “Did ye break his heart, lass?”
    Of all the things I had expected him to ask, that was not one of them. My eyes grew large at his implication, but shock was soon replaced by anger. Anger, because I was the one rejected, and now I was the one taking the blame for Ioan’s attitude.
    “If ye want ta know, ask yer cousin. But donna blame me! That man is more confusin’ than a walkin’ fish, and I give up tryin’ ta figure him out.” I crossed my arms and walked away, not caring that I wasn’t sure of which way to go. If Ioan wasn’t driving me to distraction with his annoying jabs, then he was making