Adrienne Basso (24 page)

There was a knock on the door and two men carried in a tub. They were quickly followed by a line of serving women with buckets of steaming water. Grace sent Deirdre a questioning look and the maid hitched her shoulders as if to say she was equally confused.

“Sir Ewan ordered a bath fer ye, Lady Grace,” one of the women explained.

Grace’s eyes brightened at the thoughtful gesture. Edna soon arrived, along with Grace’s trunks. In very short order, the maid had things organized to her satisfaction. Before she left, Deirdre dipped a respectful curtsy. But it was the welcome in the servant’s eyes that soothed Grace. At least she had found one person in the household who was glad of her arrival. Hopefully, there would be others.

Grace rushed Edna as she assisted her with the bath and changed into a clean gown. She stood impatiently as the maid fussed over her hair and tightened the lacings on her gown, then allowed her to place a white veil on her head and secure it with a gold circlet.

Edna nodded with approval when she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Now ye look like a true lady of the manor.”

Grace let the observation pass without comment. Earlier, while sitting in the hot bathwater, her distress and pique had cooled, replaced by a fit of apprehension. She had been raised to be meek, agreeable, and obedient, but after spending a few minutes in the company of Lady Moira, she knew those traits would not serve her best.

Grace ushered Edna out of the chamber, needing a few moments alone to compose herself. No matter how Lady Moira acted this evening, she would answer with an amiable expression and a firm attitude. She would not stoop to petty behavior or rudeness, yet neither would she allow herself to be bullied. She would be pleasant and gracious at all times.

Pinching her cheeks to bring out some color, Grace took a deep breath, steeled herself for what was to come, and strode down the short corridor. No one seemed to take note when she entered the great hall as all were occupied with their assigned tasks in preparation for the evening meal. Two young lads were diligently trying to coax a blaze in the fireplace while a group of sturdy-looking women were moving heavy wooden tables and benches into the center of the room.

Grace watched as two high-back chairs were placed in the center of the table set at the head of the room. She was not surprised the hall lacked a proper dais for the more important members of the household. From what she had seen of the overall condition of the keep, there were far more important matters to attend to first.

As the servants scurried about finishing their work, men and women began to drift into the hall and take their places at the tables. Grace spied Lady Moira entering on the opposite side. The older woman’s scowl warned Grace this first meal would not be particularly enjoyable, yet she was determined to make the best of it.

There would be time aplenty for disagreements. Time also to determine precisely why Lady Moira had such a displeased reaction to their marriage and held such a low opinion of her.

Eyeing one of the chairs, Grace headed directly toward it, knowing she needed to establish her rank in the household at this very first meal. Lady Moira’s pace quickened noticeably and Grace knew Ewan’s mother had realized Grace’s intent. Realized and decided to try and thwart it.

They reached the table at the same moment. The glance Lady Moira bestowed upon her boded ill for a peaceful settlement. Grace felt her palms begin to moisten. The hall grew eerily silent as everyone ceased what they were doing and watched the exchange with open interest.

“Please, be seated,” Grace said with civil politeness, indicating the bench next to the chair. “I’m sure Ewan would relish his mother’s company during our meal.”

“I always sit beside my son,” Lady Moira declared with a face like thunder. “That will never change.”

Grace looked her straight in the eye. “Sir Ewan conveniently has two sides, milady.”

“But only two chairs,” Lady Moira said. Her words gave away little emotion and Grace was impressed at her self-control.

“Aye, one for the lord and lady of the keep. I shall ask fer a third chair to be built, so that ye may sit in comfort at
my
table.”

Lady Moira raised her brows. The fire snapped, a shower of embers bursting into the air. Voices sounded from somewhere outside the hall. Yet neither woman budged.

“I fear my son has married on a whim,” Lady Moira declared.

“I bring a substantial dowry and a strong clan alliance. I am not afraid of hard work and vow to do all within my power to ensure that we prosper and thrive. I shall make this a peaceful, welcoming home.”

Lady Moira reached for a goblet that had been set on the table, then slowly poured herself a cup of wine. She watched Grace intently as she sipped, giving nary a hint as to what was going on behind her eyes.

“Bold words. We shall see the truth of them in the next few weeks.” Lady Moira took another sip from her goblet. “If ye last that long.”

Grace clenched her fist beneath the table, trying to keep a check on her rising temper. Her cheeks felt warm and she knew the rosy color betrayed her, but she vowed Lady Moira would not get the better of her, no matter how hard she pushed.

But Grace’s peevish attitude vanished the minute Ewan, followed by a circle of his retainers, entered the hall. He walked among the tables, greeting all by name, his stride purposeful, confident, and assured. Grace’s heart beat faster.

He moved closer to her, his arm slipping possessively around her waist. Lady Moira stared at them with undisguised disapproval.

“Ye look lovely,” he whispered. “Did ye enjoy yer bath?”

“Aye, and I thank ye fer the gift of it.”

“Next time I shall join ye.” He leaned close, his eyes melting tenderly into hers. Her mind burned with the memory of their lovemaking, the feel of his body possessing hers, the intensity of the emotions he seemed to so easily evoke.

Caught firmly in his spell, Grace simply nodded.

“The food grows cold,” Lady Moira interrupted.

“Then let the meal be served,” Ewan answered, never taking his eyes off Grace. “I, fer one, am famished.”

Lady Moira grumbled. Keeping his arm securely around her waist, Ewan carefully pulled out a chair for Grace. An enormous sense of relief washed over her at the gesture. Striving not to openly gloat, she took her seat. Looking none too pleased, Lady Moira hastily sat on the bench at Ewan’s other side.

At Lady Moira’s signal, trays of hot food were brought into the hall. Grace’s stomach rumbled as the aroma of savory dishes invaded her senses. The servants each stopped in front of Lady Moira, then lifted the lids covering the trays for her inspection. The food was simply prepared, but tasty and plentiful. At Ewan’s encouragement, Grace tasted everything.

The conversations around them were loud and boisterous and laughter floated on the air. Everyone appeared to be in a celebratory mood. Except for Lady Moira. As for Ewan, well, he was perfectly at ease, somehow able to totally ignore the tension swirling between his wife and his mother.

“Are ye pleased to be home, Ewan?” Grace asked.

“Aye, it feels good. Though there is much work to be done. The warmer days pass quickly; we must make the most of them.”

“I am eager to begin,” Grace said.

Ewan shook his head. “Nay, I dinnae expect my lady wife to toil like a servant.”

“But, Ewan, of course I shall work alongside everyone else.” Not wanting anyone, especially her mother-in-law, to be privy to their disagreement, Grace lowered her voice to a whisper. “I insist.”

Ewan favored her with an indulgent smile and patted her hand. “I’m sure we will find something of use fer ye to do.”

Mortified, Grace turned away. One of the men shouted up to Ewan, asking him to settle a wager as to which was more essential to a knight—a sword, a horse, or his armor. A chorus of male voices immediately rose in a good-natured argument as the merits of each were debated.

Grace took a small sip of her wine. Her cheeks burned crimson, a combination of embarrassment and annoyance. Not work! What exactly did Ewan expect her to do all day? Sit around and act ladylike?

With the wager among his men settled, Ewan turned his attention back to Grace. “Have ye tried the venison pie?” he asked. “’Tis Cook’s specialty.” Not waiting for a reply, he skewered a portion with his eating knife and held it to Grace’s lips. A thick, dark gravy dripped from the chunk of meat. Grace’s stomach flipped. ’Twas far too large a piece, yet feeling the eyes of many upon her, she reluctantly opened her mouth.

“I suggest ye cease feeding her like she is a babe,” Lady Moira commented sourly. “All are likely to think she’s a simpleton, incapable of eating on her own.”

“’Tis romantic,” Ewan argued.

“’Tis revolting,” his mother countered.

Grace struggled to swallow. Merciful Mary, would the woman never sheathe her claws? Her cheeks puffed as she chewed the meat, endeavoring not to choke. It felt like sand on her tongue and her mind could only wonder what other unpleasant surprises awaited.

Thankfully, her maudlin thoughts were interrupted as the empty platters were cleared away. Additional pitchers of ale and wine were brought and the evening’s entertainment began. It started with a story by Deirdre, a fine tale of knights and dragons and lost love. There was applause and shouts for another when she was finished, but the pretty maid shyly lowered her head and took her seat.

Alec distracted the crowd by tossing three eggs into the air, clumsily juggling the delicate orbs. Everyone broke into laughter as the cook began chasing the knight, screeching not to waste any food. Alec ran skillfully around the tables, tossing his pilfered eggs in the air as he moved, much to the delight of all.

Then the singing began and by the fourth ballad, Grace saw her opportunity to withdraw. ’Twas clear the celebration would last late into the night and she was simply too tired to remain. Leaning close to her singing husband, she shouted to be heard.

“I shall take my leave, now. Good night.”

Ewan frowned for an instant, then nodded in understanding. Uncertain if he would follow, Grace took her time getting out of her chair. Ewan appeared to also be getting to his feet, but then his mother clasped her hand on his arm and his attention was diverted.

Tired of sparring with Lady Moira, Grace grumbled beneath her breath and kept moving. She left the hall without incident. As she climbed the stairs, she heard footsteps behind her.
He’s coming!
Smiling, Grace turned. Edna screeched and nearly knocked into her.

“Och, milady, be careful. These steps are uneven and much harder to climb in this dim light.”

Hiding her disappointment, Grace waved her maid away. “Go back to the hall and enjoy yerself. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Edna hesitated a moment, but Grace nodded and the maid complied. Grace took care as she climbed the rest of the staircase, heeding Edna’s words about the uneven steps.

The sight of some of her possessions in the bedchamber eased Grace’s misgivings, for they gave her a sense of belonging. She lit several candles, then began preparing for bed. She had just finished braiding her hair when Ewan entered the chamber.

She was surprised to see he was carrying a pitcher of wine and two goblets, yet even more surprised to see the pleasant grin on his face. She gave him a glower as he passed her.

Ewan either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She recognized that lazy slant to his smile and that sinful, sensuous expression, yet refused to be charmed. He bent his head and she knew he meant to kiss her, but before their lips touched, Grace hauled herself away.

He sighed. “’Tis my mother, isn’t it?”

“How did ye ever guess?” Grace glared at him, then turned away.

Ewan tilted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him. “I know she can be grating on the nerves, but ye must try not to take her remarks so personally.”

“Ha! Will ye listen to yerself. Her barbs are sharp, direct, and meant to wound. She’s eager to pounce on any flaw, real or perceived. ’Tis hardly possible to feel anything but insulted and unwelcome under her constantly condemning glare.” Grace took a deep breath, holding back the sudden onslaught of tears. “Why does she dislike me so much?”

Ewan at least had the good sense to look a wee bit guilty. “My mother is more angry with me than upset about ye. She dinnae want me to marry a lady. She wanted a simple village lass fer a daughter-in-law.”

“One she could mold into her own image?”

Ewan shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Do ye want a wife like yer mother?”

“Nay!” Ewan protested hotly. “Christ’s bones, I cannae think of anything more . . . perverted.”

“Well, now, I suppose that’s a relief.”

Ewan set the pitcher and goblets on the table. “I’m sorry fer my mother’s behavior. I suppose I’m so accustomed to her wicked tongue that I no longer notice what she says. I promise I shall speak with her in the morning.”

Grace slowly shook her head. This was between her and Lady Moira. Ewan’s interference might make things worse. “She’s a grown woman; she can make her own amends fer her behavior.”

Ewan studied Grace’s face. “Ye willnae be waiting fer that to happen, I hope?”

Grace almost smiled at the worried expression on his face. “I know that yer mother’s character will not soon change, nor will her propensity to judge others disappear simply because I desire it.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Ewan leaned closer. His breath tickled her neck, but Grace shrugged her shoulders to move him away. “’Tis not only yer mother that caused me distress this evening. I take issue with ye.”

“I know I’ve neglected ye, but—”

“Nay! I understand that ye’ve got duties that must be attended, especially since ye’ve been gone so long. What I dinnae appreciate is being told that I cannae work with the others. What do ye expect of me, Ewan?”

“I expect ye to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He nuzzled her ear, then bit it gently, making her squeal. “Though I’ve made a muck of it so far, I swear to ye that I will be a good husband.”

His voice was compelling and sincere. The passionate words and affectionate gesture deflated Grace’s anger. She even managed a smile as he tugged gently on the braid that tumbled down her back. Then she turned into his arms.