A Kind of Magic (28 page)

Rosemary took a seat on the bench beside him. “Busy?” She laughed. “You’ve been staring for the last half hour.”

“If I’ve been staring, it’s because I’m working out sums in my head.”

Rosemary pointed to where Maddie was seated among a group of women across the hall. She was showing them how to use some new device she’d made. Rowan 158

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thought that his wife had very clever fingers but then he knew that from the things those fingers did to him in the dark.

He sighed. Rosemary prodded him again.

“Working on sums you say? While your eyes have been following every move she makes? I doubt there’s room in your head for such arcane things as numbers when it’s lust and longing that’s showing on your face. I’ve been watching you,” she went on before he could protest. “You’re lovesick and too stubborn to know it.”

“I know it,” he acknowledged quietly to his cousin. “I’ll not let the sickness rule me.” He picked up the parchment and began to read. The Latin words blurred together on the page after only a few seconds. He looked up and his eyes focused clearly—on Maddie. He wanted to go to her—he looked at Rosemary instead. The woman beside him was gazing at him with an expression of disgust. “You look like you just drank sour milk,” he told her. “Or one of your own healing potions.”

“It’s a healing potion you need,” she countered. “Or some sense knocked into you.”

He glared. “Why?”

“She’s your bride,” Rosemary answered. “See sense and spend some time with her.

You’re entitled. All newly married folk are entitled to dote on each other at first.”

He stood stiff and proud and unyielding. “I’ll dote on no one. There’s a wedding and a visit from our overlord for you to see to.” He waved a hand toward the records he was studying so he could report accurately on the state of the holding to the lord of the Isles. After waiting nearly two months for the visit, a messenger had finally arrived the day before to tell him that his overlord was within two days’ distance of Cape Wrath. “Be about your own business, Rosemary, and leave me to mine.”

Rosemary rose to face him. “You’re not your father but you are a fool. There’s no talking sense to you.” She walked away, shaking her head in disgust.

No, he was not his father nor was he going to let himself be a fool. Rowan tightened his resolve, looked at the parchment again and made himself concentrate harder. He couldn’t help but look up occasionally to see what his wife was accomplishing. He told himself that it was her work that interested him, even if he did appreciate the fine swell of her bosom when she stretched and arched to work a kink out of her back or bask in the reflection of her bright smile when she turned it on one of her pupils. Finally, he convinced himself that even glancing at Maddie was a waste of valuable time.

An hour must have passed before he looked up again. Then stood up abruptly as shock and rage shot through him. “What the devil is Allen Harboth doing in my hall?”

More importantly, what was Allen Harboth doing sitting among the womenfolk and talking to his wife? Rowan strode quickly across the hall to find out.

He remembered that he’d made peace with the Harboth clan before he reached where they were seated. He still kept his hand on his dagger hilt as he reached Maddie and Allen. “What are you doing here?” he growled as the laird of the Harboths stood to greet him.

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Instead of an immediate answer, Allen smiled down at Maddie. “Didn’t I tell you that’s how he’d greet me?”

She laughed. “I’m glad I didn’t bet on it.”

She stood—at Allen’s side—Rowan noted. He longed to put his arm around her shoulders and draw her safely close but she chose to face him instead of join him. He knew that the hurt he felt was unreasonable for he certainly gave no indication that he wanted her near. It was better not to touch her, he reminded himself. His head would be clearer without the distraction of Maddie’s soft, warm body so close to his.

“As for my business,” Allen said, “my brother’s marrying your sister in a few hours. I’ve come for the wedding. It’s taken long enough to work out the marriage contract. Now it’s time to celebrate.”

“Aye. So it is.” Though the words nearly choked him, Rowan added, “You and your clans folk are welcome at Cape Wrath.”

Allen laughed again. “That’s good as my whole clan is out in the courtyard.”

“That they are,” Rosemary added as she came up. “And they brought ale and beef to add to the feast. For which we are grateful, Allen,” she told the laird of the Harboths.

“So your formidable cook has told me, Mistress Rosemary.”

She touched her hair and smiled widely as she gave the laird of the Harboths a long, assessing look. “Welcome to Cape Wrath, Allen,” she said. “It is good that our clans are friends once more. And it’s glad I am that you’re still unwed.”

He nodded. “That I am, lass. I hear you’ve turned down every offer yourself since we met at the Glasgow fair six years ago, Rosemary Murray.”

She laughed. “Do you think it might be for your sake, laddie? When I’ve a holding to manage and people who need me?”

“Pity. I’ve often thought it would be fine to have a woman pining for me the way Micaela did for Burke.”

“Aye, but you’d have to pine back the way Burke did.”

“There’s not many worth pining for, lassie.”

“Murray women are worth it.”

“Perhaps they are.”

Rowan didn’t like the lascivious look on Harboth’s face but before he could complain, Rosemary tossed her head and walked away. Rowan chose not to notice that there was a bit of an extra sway in his cousin’s hips. That she might be thinking of making a match with a Harboth was unthinkable. That the Harboth was now smiling at his wife, Rowan found even more untenable.

That his wife was smiling knowingly back infuriated him. He would not call what he was feeling jealousy. Better not to name any possessive urges. Best still not to acknowledge them at all. He’d seen too many of his father’s jealous rages to ever let that destructive emotion color his thoughts.

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Yet he found that he’d taken a step closer to his wife without noticing doing so.

“What are you doing with Harboth, woman?” he demanded of her.

“We were just discussing the changes in this place,” Allen answered. “I was complimenting your lady on her cleverness with her hands.”

“She’s clever enough,” Rowan conceded.

“You’re so generous with your praise, laddie,” Allen mocked.

Rowan was more than pleased with his wife’s handiwork, but he saw no reason to say so to someone who had recently been his worst enemy. To himself he even conceded that he had made peace with the Harboths because Maddie had made him think about the future instead of day-to-day pettiness. His heart was filled with nothing but pride for the woman but he didn’t think it was safe to let the world know that. His every urge was to protect her. He thought it might be easier to shield her from any who might mean the Murrays harm by not drawing attention to how important his lady was to him and the clan. Allen Harboth was no longer an enemy but he certainly wasn’t yet a friend.

“We’ll soon be family,” Allen said. It was as though he had read Rowan’s thoughts but his words were addressed to Maddie. “Perhaps you can teach this new type of spinning and weaving you mentioned to our womenfolk?”

Rowan was pleased that Maddie looked to him before she gave an answer. It showed that she was well aware of the value of the new things she brought to the world. “Perhaps,” he answered for her. He reluctantly admitted to himself that a bit of openness might prove beneficial to this new alliance. “You are going to be family,” he told Allen. “We have many things to discuss after the wedding.”

“Speaking of which,” Maddie spoke up. “I promised Micaela I’d help her get ready.

I better go.”

“Then be off with you.” Rowan meant the words as tender and teasing but they came out gruff instead, tainted by his wanting her away from Allen Harboth.

Once again, only more strongly than before, Maddie felt as though she had married two men, or at least that he’d been split into daylight and nighttime halves. Rowan had been disagreeable when they were first married and she’d accepted him that way. She hadn’t actually minded his dour Highlander routine because beneath it there had been constant flashes of wit and humor and caring. She was beginning to think of him as Good Rowan and Bad Rowan.

She was just about fed up with Bad Rowan, especially when she knew that tonight he would be all kissing and cuddling and would make passionate love to her. She was tempted to say something right now, to tell Bad Rowan off, but decided it wasn’t polite or politic to fight with her husband in front of a guest. Especially since the guest was someone Rowan disliked and barely trusted.

So she did the only thing she could think of to show her annoyance at her husband and perhaps pay him back a little for his rudeness. She ignored him and turned the 161

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most friendly smile she could manage on Allen. “It’s been lovely talking to you. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Allen bowed to her and returned her smile while Rowan stood beside them and frowned. “I look forward to sitting by you at the feast, dear lady.” He turned quickly to Rowan and pointed toward the courtyard door. He said over his shoulder as he began to walk away, “Come along, Murray. We’ve much to talk about and little time before the festivities.”

Without so much as a glance her way, Rowan immediately followed.

* * * * *

“Micaela made a lovely bride.”

Maddie sighed after she spoke, the way women always seemed to sigh over weddings and brides. All Rowan could do was frown in confusion over such sentimentality—even though his sister was indeed a beautiful bride. A pity she’d married a Harboth. Rowan also thought it a pity a Harboth was seated on his wife’s left, she was between Allen and himself at the feast table. The happy newlyweds were seated on Rowan’s other side. They were too lost in looking into each other’s eyes to pay him any mind.

“Aye,” Allen agreed with Maddie. “But was my brother gazing fondly at his bride or at her gown? After the way those Orkneymen chased after him, I think he might fancy wearing a dress over armor for battle.”

Maddie laughed. Rowan saw no wit in the man’s words. Perhaps she only laughed to be polite, he told himself. Or perhaps she laughed to show her interest in Allen, a small, ugly voice deep in his mind added. Rowan chided himself for such an unkind thought and tried to banish it.

It was turning into the longest day of his life. Rowan had wanted to spend the day alone with his wife. He wished—well, never mind what a man wished, it was what he did that mattered. Duty had kept him from that pleasure and was prolonging the time they must spend apart.

Maddie was seated beside him, but he might as well not be there for all she seemed to care. There was that pettiness again. He couldn’t fault her for ignoring him—she was doing her duty by being gracious to most important guest at the feast. The feast might be in celebration of Micaela and Burke’s wedding but Allen Harboth was the dominant force at the high table.

He certainly dominated Maddie’s attention. Allen could easily talk and joke.

Maddie enjoyed these things and Rowan could do none of them, at least not with the cleverness and charm exhibited by the laird of the Harboths. He felt like a lump of dull rock, lichen-covered and weather-beaten. Allen was like a finely cut and polished sculpture who’d stepped straight off a French cathedral, fine to look at, glib and full of learning.

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Maddie was full of learning. Even if she had no understanding of Latin or instruction in Rhetoric or the other Liberal Arts as Allen Harboth and his brother had, she was well-educated for a woman. Rowan was barely able to read and do sums, though that was more learning than most men had. He was still no match for Allen. Nor match for Maddie either, though he enjoyed learning the practical, mechanical skills Maddie was so eager to teach.

It seemed faintly wrong to take instruction from a woman—he certainly had to deal with complaints from the other Murray men on the subject. He hadn’t taken their side in any dispute yet and they were slowly coming around to following their lady’s lead and ways of doing things as time passed.

Was that because she was always in the right? Rowan found himself wondering while the celebration went on around him. Or had he been showing his father’s brand of doting devotion by backing his lady wife in every quarrel with his own people? Was he giving Maddie her head about building, changing and tinkering with every part of their lives for the good of his people? Or was he spoiling her the way his father had his fairy wife when he encouraged her teaching of spells and divination because such intrusion in mortal affairs made her happy?

These questions shook Rowan down to the bone.

Before he had time to pursue these disturbing thoughts, Allen said, “During his sermon at the wedding ceremony Father Andrew mentioned that your marriage to Rowan is a handfast one and that he hoped you and Rowan would follow Micaela and Burke’s example in the future.”

Maddie blushed at the memory of Father Andrew’s exhortation to Rowan and her earlier in the day. She’d been embarrassed then and she was embarrassed now, though she wasn’t sure what she had to be embarrassed about. Father Andrew’s words had been spoken jokingly. Everyone had laughed, except Rowan and her. They had shared a quick, almost furtive eye contact. Then he’d looked away. She hadn’t known what he’d been thinking. She still wasn’t sure what she’d been thinking, though her emotions had run a dizzying, confused gamut at the time.

She supposed she just hated being reminded that her relationship with the man she loved was not a permanent one. She hadn’t thought about the reasons they were together for what seemed like a long time. She was the one who’d insisted on the temporary marriage. In fact, she hadn’t wanted to get married in the first place. The truth was, she’d had to be forced into any kind of marriage with Rowan Murray.