Saving Grace (34 page)

She decided to go to Glynis’s cottage and confess her sin. She was drenched from head to shoes, thanks to Dumfries’s misbehaving in the creek, and she was given several stares on her way back to the well.

“M’lady, what happened to you?”

Leila asked her the question. She backed away from the dog and kept her gaze on the hound while she waited for her mistress to answer her.

“I gave Dumfries a bath. He pushed me in the creek,” Johanna explained. “Twice as a matter of fact. Where does Glynis live? I wish to have a word with her.”

Leila pointed out the cottage. Johanna dragged the dog along by her side, muttering over his stubbornness. She reached the cottage, hesitated for only a minute while she pushed her hair out of her face, and then pounded on the door.

Glynis pulled the door open. Her eyes widened when she saw her mistress. Johanna noticed Glynis’s eyes looked teary. Lord, had her cruel remark made her cry? Johanna’s guilt intensified. She was a little surprised, too, for Glynis was such a big, strapping woman, almost manly in her build, she didn’t think she was the sort to ever weep.

She spotted Glynis’s husband sitting at the table then. She didn’t want him to overhear what she was going to say.

“Could you spare me a moment of your time, Glynis? I would like to speak to you in private.”

“Yes, of course,” Glynis answered. She glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to her mistress. She had a worried expression now. Johanna guessed she didn’t want her husband listening in either.

Introductions were made. Glynis’s husband was a head shorter than his wife. He had red hair, freckles on his face and arms, and handsome white teeth. His smile seemed sincere.

Johanna was invited inside. She declined as graciously as possible, using her sorry condition as her excuse.

She asked Glynis to please step outside instead. When the Maclaurin woman had closed the door behind her, Johanna motioned her close.

Glynis started to walk forward, then stopped. Dumfries’s low growl obviously intimidated her.

Johanna ordered the dog to quit his bluster before she gave her apology.

“I came here to tell you I made up the nickname. No one calls you Pure,” she announced. “I did it out of spite, Glynis, and I’m sorry for my sin. I caused you needless worry, but in my defense I will tell you I was thinking to teach you a lesson. It stings to have the tables turned on you, doesn’t it?”

Glynis didn’t answer her question, but her face turned pale. Johanna nodded. “I know you’re the one who came up with the name for me. I also know that when you call me Courageous, you’re really meaning I’m a coward.”

“That was before, m’lady,” Glynis stammered out.

“Before what?”

“Before we knew you well and realized you weren’t a coward at all.”

Johanna wasn’t going to be swayed by that bit of praise. She was certain Glynis was only trying to ease her way out of an awkward situation.

“I do not care for your foolish games,” she announced with a nod. “Father MacKechnie boasted that the Highlanders never hide their feelings. They don’t use subterfuge.”

She had to take the time to explain what that word meant before continuing. “I find I admire that trait, Glynis. If you think I’m a coward, then have the courage to say it to my face. Don’t make up silly games. They’re hurtful . . . and very like something the English would do.”

If Glynis nodded any more vehemently, Johanna thought her neck would snap.

“Did you tell our laird?” she asked.

Johanna shook her head. “This matter doesn’t concern him.”

“I will stop giving nicknames, m’lady,” Glynis said then. “And I apologize if you were hurt by my cruelty.”

“Were you hurt by mine?”

Glynis didn’t answer for a long minute. Then she nodded. “I was,” she whispered.

“Then we are even. Auggie isn’t daft,” she added. “He really is clever. If you spent any time at all with him, you’d realize that.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

“There,” Johanna announced. “We’ve settled this problem. Good day to you, Glynis.”

She made a curtsy and turned to leave. Glynis followed her to the edge of the path. “We only called you Courageous until you put Dumfries back together with your threads, m’lady. Then we changed your name.”

Johanna was determined not to ask, but curiosity won out. “And what did you change my name to?”

She braced herself for the insult she knew was coming.

“Timid.”

“Timid?”

“Aye, m’lady. We call you Timid.”

Johanna was suddenly in a fit mood again. She smiled all the way home.

They called her Timid. It was a fair start.

Johanna didn’t see her husband until dinner. The men were already seated at the two tables when she walked down the steps into the great hall. No one stood up. Gabriel wasn’t there yet. Both Father MacKechnie and Keith were also absent. The servants were busy putting oblong platters of meat on the table. The aroma of the mutton filled the air. A wave of nausea caught Johanna by surprise. She thought the soldiers’ behavior was the reason she was suddenly feeling ill. They were grabbing handfuls of food before the trenchers were even placed in front of them. They weren’t waiting for their laird to join them or for the priest to give the blessing before dinner.

Enough was enough. Mama would have heart failure if she witnessed such shameful behavior at her dinner table. Johanna wasn’t about to be shamed in front of her dear mother. She’d die first.
Or kill a couple of the Maclaurins,
she thought to herself. They were the worse offenders, though the MacBain soldiers were certainly trying to keep up.

Megan noticed her mistress standing by the entrance. She called out to her, realized Johanna couldn’t hear her over the noise the men were making, and walked across the hall to speak to her.

“Aren’t you going to have your supper?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“M’lady, you don’t look well. Are you feeling all right? You’re as pale as flour, you are.”

“I’m fine,” Johanna lied. She took a deep breath in an attempt to get her queasy stomach under control. “Please fetch me a large bowl. Bring one that’s cracked.”

“Whatever for, m’lady?”

“I might have to break it.”

Megan thought she’d misunderstood her mistress. She asked her to repeat her explanation. Johanna shook her head. “You’ll understand soon enough,” she promised.

Megan ran to the buttery, grabbed a heavy porcelain bowl from the shelf, and hurried back to her mistress.

“This one’s chipped,” she announced. “Will it do?”

Johanna nodded. “Stand back, Megan. Sparks are about to fly.”

“They are?”

Johanna called out to the soldiers first. She knew they wouldn’t hear her over all the racket, but she thought she should at least attempt ladylike conduct at first. She tried clapping her hands together next. Finally she whistled. Not one of the soldiers looked up.

She gave up trying to be diplomatic. She lifted the bowl and hurled it across the room. Megan let out a loud gasp. The bowl crashed into the stone hearth and splintered to the floor.

The effect was just as she’d hoped. Every man in the hall turned to look at her. They were silent, looking incredulous, and she couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Now that I have your attention, I have several instructions to give you.”

Several mouths dropped open. Calum started to stand up. She told him to stay where he was.

“You meant to throw the bowl?” Lindsay asked her that question.

“Yes,” she answered. “Please listen to me,” she explained. “This is my house and I would therefore appreciate it if you would follow my rules. First, and most important, none of you will eat until your laird has been seated and served. Do I make myself clear?”

Most of the soldiers nodded. A few of the Maclaurins looked irritated. She ignored their frowns. Calum, she noticed, was smiling. She ignored him, too.

“But what if our laird doesn’t come in for supper?” Niall asked.

“Then you’ll wait until your mistress has been seated and served before you eat,” she answered.

There was a considerable amount of grumbling over her dictate. Johanna held onto her patience.

The men turned back to their trenchers.

“I’m not finished giving you my instructions,” Johanna called out.

Her voice was drowned out by the clatter again. “Megan, fetch me another bowl.”

“But m’lady . . .”

“Please.”

“As you wish.”

Less than a minute passed before Megan handed her mistress a second bowl. Johanna immediately hurled it at the hearth. The loud crash turned everyone’s attention again. Several of the Maclaurin soldiers were giving her surly looks now. She decided a threat or two would be appropriate retaliation.

“I won’t throw the next bowl at the hearth,” she announced. “I’ll throw it at one of your heads if you don’t pay attention to me.”

“We’re wanting to eat, m’lady,” another soldier shouted.

“I’m wanting your attention first,” she replied. “Listen carefully. When a lady enters the room, the men stand.”

“You interrupted our supper to tell us that?” Lindsay shouted. He added a nervous laugh and nudged his neighbor’s side with his elbow.

She put her hands on her hips and repeated her dictate. Then she waited. She was pleased to see every soldier finally stand up.

She smiled, satisfied. “You may sit down.”

“You just told us to stand up,” another Maclaurin muttered.

Lord, they were dense. She tried to hide her exasperation. “You stand when a lady enters, and you sit when she gives you permission.”

“What do we do when she comes in and then goes right back out again?”

“You stand, then sit.”

“Seems a nuisance to me,” another Maclaurin remarked.

“I’m going to teach you manners even if it kills you,” she announced.

Calum started laughing, but her glare stopped him.

“Why?” Niall asked. “What do we need manners for?”

“To please me,” she snapped. “There won’t be any more belching at my tables,” she said.

“We can’t belch?” Calum asked, looking astonished.

“No, you can’t!” she said in a near shout. “You can’t make any other rude noises either.”

“But it’s a compliment, m’lady,” Niall explained. “If the food and drink are good, a belch is due praise.”

“If you enjoy your food, you’ll simply tell your host it was a fine meal,” she instructed. “And while we’re on the topic of food. I’ll tell you I find it gravely offensive when I see one of you ripping food from your neighbor’s trencher. That’s going to stop right now.”

“But m’lady—” Lindsay began.

She cut him off. “You aren’t going to slam your goblets together when you give a toast,” she announced. “The ale spills everywhere.”

“We do it on purpose,” Calum explained.

Her eyes widened over that admission. Niall hurried to tell her why. “When we toast, we make certain some of our ale spills into the other goblets. That way, if there’s poison in one, everyone will die. Don’t you see, m’lady? We do it to ensure no one will try trickery.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were the Maclaurins and the MacBains that suspicious of each other?

The Maclaurins dared to turn their backs on her again. Johanna was infuriated by their rudeness. They were being deliberately loud now in their bid to drown out her voice.

“Megan?”

“I’m fetching it, m’lady.”

Johanna lifted the pitcher in the air, turned toward the Maclaurin table, and was just about to throw the thing when it was snatched out of her hand. She turned around and found Gabriel standing right behind her. Keith and Father MacKechnie flanked his sides.

She didn’t have any idea how long they’d been standing there, but the stunned look on Father MacKechnie’s face indicated it had been long enough.

She could feel herself blushing. No wife wished to be caught screaming like a shrew or throwing things to get attention. Johanna wasn’t about to let her embarrassment deter her, however. She’d started this and by God she was going to finish it.

“What in God’s name are you doing, wife?”

His deep tone of voice, added to his frown, made her wince. She took a deep breath, then said, “Do stay out of this. I’m in the middle of giving my instructions to the men.”

“No one seems to be paying you any attention, m’lady,” Keith pointed out.

“Did you just tell me you want me to stay out . . .” Gabriel was too flabbergasted to continue.

She caught the gist of what he wanted to say. “Yes, I do want you to stay out of this,” she agreed before turning her attention to Keith. “They will pay attention or suffer my displeasure,” she promised.

“What happens when you’re displeased?” the Maclaurin soldier asked.

She couldn’t think of a suitable answer. Then she remembered what Gabriel had said he’d do when he was displeased.

“I’ll probably kill someone,” she boasted.

She was certain she’d impressed the Maclaurin soldier with that announcement. She added a nod so he wouldn’t know she was bluffing and waited for his reaction.

It wasn’t what she expected. “You’re wearing the wrong plaid, m’lady. Today’s Saturday.”

She suddenly wanted to strangle Keith. A loud belch sounded behind her. She reacted as though she’d just been stabbed in the back. She let out a loud gasp, snatched the pitcher out of her husband’s hand, and turned to the men.

Gabriel caught her before she could do any damage. He tossed the pitcher to Keith, then turned her around to face him.

“I asked you not to interfere,” she whispered.

“Johanna . . .”

“Is this my home or isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Thank you.”