How to Handle a Highlander (Hot Highlanders) (5 page)

The maid returned the candle to the holder sitting by the plate. The tinder had burned away, leaving only a thin taper of smoke that lingered in the stale air. She walked to the window and opened the shutters. A cloud of dust billowed up as she pushed out the wide shutters. She wrinkled her nose, but then she turned and offered Moira a smile.

Moira smiled back. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“I am Fann, milady,” the maid said and lowered herself. There was a hopeful note in the girl’s voice. She opened the doors of a wardrobe from which she pulled out a folded bundle of bedding and set to making the bed. Moira went to the other side of the bed to help her straighten the sheets. The work went much faster with two of them. A look of relief crossed Fann’s face; no doubt the girl had worried her laird’s new wife might be expecting pampering.

“The sheets are clean. A bit of time and the night breeze will freshen the air in here.”

She moved to a chair that had a piece of Matheson plaid covering it. When she lifted it, the candlelight sparkled off the dust. The chair was a sturdy one, built in an
X
fashion. Fann picked up the seat cushion and beat it against her hip a few times.

“Do ye wish to take supper below?” She nibbled on her lower lip. “The laird is rather set in his thinking. He’ll insist ye sit at the lower table, because of yer common blood, until ye wed.”

The girl was flustered but obviously eager to help her new mistress adjust. The way she chattered so freely spoke of a household where the line between mistress and staff was very thin. In fact, the only difference might be that she had the church’s blessing to share Achaius’s bed. The Matheson laird clearly felt he was ruler and to be obeyed instantly. She doubted any maid who caught his eye might tell him no.

“I’m weary. Would ye be kind enough to fetch me something?”

The girl lowered herself again and smiled. “Ye may rely on me and me two sisters. They are younger, but our mother has taught us well.”

Fann hurried out of the chamber, likely intent on finding her siblings to help her bring up the supper tray. Moira understood the nervousness eating at the girl. Everyone needed to make sure they had a place. It might be spring, but there would be no new crops for several months yet. Even then, no one was provided for without giving something in return.

Moira would be striving to please Achaius for her keep.

With a sigh, she sat down in the chair but shot back up when she realized how sore her bottom was. She wasn’t accustomed to riding a horse for so many hours in a row. Her cheeks colored as she remembered that she’d be expected to welcome her new husband into her embrace by the next nightfall.

Or sooner. Her cheeks reddened as she recalled the greeting her husband-to-be had given her. It was possible he’d happily claim his rights the moment the Church blessed them. She certainly wouldn’t be the first bride deflowered in the light of day.

Or the first one accused of seeking a lover when she got a good look at her groom.

That fact didn’t make her any less accepting of the accusation Gahan Sutherland had made. Achaius would likely be furious if he discovered she’d lashed out at his overlord’s son, even if the man had deserved it.

Oh, he had. She smiled with satisfaction. Moira doubted she could find any remorse for her actions, even if she ended up locked in the stocks for daring to forget her place. Gahan might be bastard-born, but he was still a blue blood. The man was also a Highlander.

Bari liked to call himself one, but the truth of the matter had been there in the hardness of Gahan’s body. Every retainer following the son of the Earl of Sutherland was lean and bulky with muscle. Sutherland was far north. Most likely, it was still covered in snow. Only the strong survived there. Like Gahan.

She shook her head. She was letting her mind wander into dangerous places. She’d learned long ago not to ponder how much better others’ lives were. Such mental exercises were only going to take her to one place, and that was resentment. There was much to enjoy in her days, and it was best to remember that fact.

Achaius’s face rose from her memory. His eyes had sparkled with glee as she blushed. His laughter echoed in her ears, destroying her attempts to find something positive about her plight. But she had to. Alba needed her to please the old laird.

Though it was clear he would not be making any effort to consider her desires.

***

The bells from the church woke her.

Moira jumped awake because it sounded as if she was sleeping in the bell tower. She pushed the coverlet off her legs and ran to the window. The floor was chilled from the night air, and it stung the bottoms of her bare feet.

The church was inside the curtain wall, the bells eye level with her window. She certainly wouldn’t be sleeping past morning Mass.

“Morning, miss.” Fann hurried into the room and retrieved Moira’s undergown. “This is me sister, Aife.”

The second girl picked up Moira’s overgown and stood behind her sibling as Fann helped her into her undergown. Once it was in place, Aife held up her overgown. Both were simple garments, no finer than what Aife or Fann wore.

“After Mass, we’ll have to see what can be found for ye to wear for yer wedding. There will be nice things in the last mistress’s chamber. Her family sent her with velvet.”

The last bits of slumber evaporated as Moira recalled exactly what the day would hold. She’d spent long hours trying to fall asleep, and now she was paying for it. Her head hurt with fatigue already, and the sun was barely risen. Fann pulled a brush through her hair, and Aife offered her the linen cap.

“Come…come,” Fann urged her.

The bells had stopped ringing, and the sound of song drifted up from the church. It wouldn’t do well for her to be late to Mass. Plenty of lairds were forgiven of the same sin, but it was a wife’s duty to be there even if her husband wasn’t.

In fact, there were a great number of sins Achaius might be allowed that she was forbidden.

Moira followed Fann through what seemed identical tunnels running inside the old keep. She stumbled as she tried to make sense of which direction they were going, but there appeared to be no markings of any sort.

Fann knew the way, though, and soon they were hurrying from the tower to the steps of the church. Others were also doing their best not to be late. There was no time for greetings or even to notice who was next to her. By the time she was in line with the rest of the female members of the congregation, the priest was beginning the Mass.

But there were plenty of people trying to get a look at her. It was by far the most attention she’d ever attracted, and it was more than unsettling. Her confidence tried to desert her, but the memory of the look on Alba’s face kept her standing steady. There was no way she would achieve her goals if she crumpled. Being peeked at would certainly not be the worst of what the day would hold.

She wished she was marrying Gahan Sutherland and would be welcoming him into her bed later. Heat scorched her cheeks at the thought. She had no right to even think such a thing, much less during Mass. But the thought was there, inside her head, too bold to brush aside.

How would she even go about such a thing? A man like Gahan would no doubt have experience with women trying their hand at snaring his attention. He might even have a wife now, or be contracted for one. Without realizing it, she scanned the opposite side of the church. It wasn’t hard to find the Sutherlands. Their plaid was darker in hue, because they used more dye, an expense they didn’t seem to mind. But they were also larger.

Ye
noticed
that
before, which is another thing ye should nae have done…

For just a moment, she allowed her gaze to rest on Gahan. He was several rows closer to the altar, so it wouldn’t matter. Just a fleeting indulgence before she had to devote herself to duty.

***

The hall was bustling with people. The scent of hot porridge drew them once their souls had been cleansed for the day. The tables filled as maids delivered pitchers of fresh milk. On the high table there was also cream and dried fruit, but Moira sat at a lower table. She cupped her bowl to warm her hands and studied the contents of her morning meal.

Simple oats and barley, but it was hot, and that pleased her the most. After a long winter, it was easy to long for richer food, but the rules of Lent were strict. The high table certainly didn’t suffer from a lack of tempting items to make the morning fare more palatable. It was a delicate balance between Church and laird. No laird wanted the Church outraged with him, but no priest wanted the laird irate with him. Still, Achaius poured a generous amount of cream into his bowl, then reached for the dried fruit.

“At least yer sister knows her place.”

The hall quieted as Laird Matheson spoke. Moira looked up to find him staring at her. Bari was seated beside him at the high table. Gahan was there as well, but he’d sat at the end of the table, more than an arm’s reach from the other two men. His mistrust of them was clear, and he didn’t seem to care who knew it.

“She is honored by yer offer to wed her,” Bari said.

Achaius laughed. He pounded the table and coughed several times. “Ye are a liar, Bari Fraser.”

Moira slapped her hand over her mouth to keep her amusement from showing. Bari turned red.

“I am nae!”

Achaius was unimpressed with Bari’s sputtering. The Matheson laird reached for his mug and took a long swig from it, then wiped his mouth across his sleeve.

“Then ye are a blind man. The lass is horrified, even if she has voiced no complaint. As I noted, she knows her place. A fine trait in a wife.”

Moira fought the urge to look away from the high table. It felt like everyone was staring at her, and the hall had fallen as silent as the sanctuary during Mass. But she had to look him in the eye or fail completely. There would be no peace if he believed her discontent.

“She’ll do her duty,” Bari said.

“Aye, I believe ye on that account.” Achaius put a spoonful of porridge into his mouth and swallowed. “Otherwise, I think she would have been much more welcoming to the good earl’s son last night when he followed her down the hallway and tried to suggest she run away with him.”

Her jaw dropped open, and the hall was stunned into silence for a moment that felt like an hour.

“Ye son of a whore!” Bari shouted. He was out of his chair in a flash, but he froze because Gahan had also risen, his expression deadly as he faced off with Bari.

“Keep the sharp side of yer tongue off me mother,” Gahan warned softly. His tone was far more ominous than Bari’s shouting. “Or I’ll show ye what happens to men who insult me family.”

“Ye seem to nae understand where yer hands do nae belong,” Bari growled. “Ye need to leave.”

“Sit down, ye whelp. This is my land and my tower. Ye do nae throw anyone out, especially me overlord’s son. I know me place.” Achaius’s retainers instantly stepped to attention behind their laird. Bari returned to his chair.

“Yer sister did a fair job of dealing with the situation, and I found it interesting.”

Achaius surprised both men. They watched him consume another spoonful of his breakfast, and then a second before Bari lost control.

“What do ye mean by that?”

Achaius turned his head and stared at him. A moment later he pounded his fist on the table, shaking everything on it.

“Are ye me king? Me priest? There are few men I’ll stomach that tone from.”

“I am yer fellow laird,” Bari insisted.

“Blah!” Achaius pointed his spoon at Bari. “I should demand more dowry for that piss-poor reasoning. She’s nae that pretty, and a virgin as well.”

“Of course she’s a virgin.”

“Well now, lad, once ye’ve had as many maidens as I have, it tends to lose its appeal in favor of a woman who knows how to please. Half me retainers think she’ll cry tonight. I’m looking for a warm welcome in me bed.”

Achaius went back to eating, and Bari did too.

Speaking as he was, up at the high table, it was almost possible to believe they weren’t discussing her. She had as much meaning to them as a mare. The unease that had kept her awake left her with a knot in her belly. It was as if she were disconnected from the moment; not really a part of it, and that made it possible to simply dismiss it as insignificant.

She would not cry. There were plenty of things she could not control, but she would master her emotions. Besides, she would not be wasting any tears on a situation in which she had so little worth. Her groom and her brother seemed content to discuss her wedding without her. Well, she’d offer them the same callous disregard. Their plans mattered little to her, and she would repeat that idea over and over until she believed it. Tears were for things she cared about.

She realized that Gahan Sutherland was watching her. His dark eyes were aimed directly at her as he ignored the conversation. Heat stung her cheeks, and she looked away because she realized she was blushing—again.

***

Achaius sat in his private solar and belched. His captain waited for him to settle back into his chair before tugging on the corner of his bonnet.

“Do ye want me to assign an escort to yer bride?”

Achaius shook his head. “And I want ye to forget that ye asked me. Tell the lads outside the door that I’m sleeping.”

His captain’s eyes narrowed. “Gahan Sutherland is determined to corner her again, I’d bet good silver on it. She was watching him during Mass, those pretty blue eyes sparkling. He had his eye on her while ye ate, sure enough. There are nae many things that will pull a man’s attention away from such a publicly issued insult as letting his mother be called a whore in the Great Hall. A woman he wants a taste of is one. Otherwise, I wager he’d be out of the gates by now.”

“He’s staying because of her and no mistake. Ye can see it in his eyes.” Achaius nodded. “But do nae worry. That bastard is going to help me gain every last bit of Fraser land. It’s a stroke of luck having him beguiled by me bride.”

He laughed, and his captain grinned.