The Border Trilogy (26 page)

Douglas made no attempt to cheer her, and she decided he must still be vexed with her. She was sure of it when some perverse spirit caused him to greet his cousin enthusiastically, complimenting her looks, her gown, her cheerfulness. If he mentioned anything to Megan about her flapping tongue, Mary Kate saw no sign of it.

She glowered at them both. So much for plain speaking. Obviously, she thought, her criticism had only spurred Douglas on to more outrageous behavior. That opinion was bolstered later by his actions on the way to the village. They waked in pairs along the dusty road, and with Mary Kate silent beside him, he had no qualms about carrying on a conversation over his shoulder with his cousins. Ned tried once or twice to draw Mary Kate into the discussion, but her responses were brief and unencouraging.

Douglas and Megan were in high spirits, their chatter punctuated with bursts of hilarity. When a courageous toad made a sudden appearance in the roadway and an equally sudden retreat back into the bordering scrub, they roared with laugher.

“Oh, Adam, do you remember when you put the toad under Mr. Browder’s lecture notes at Tornary kirk?” Megan’s lilting voice was full of merriment.

Douglas chuckled. “Aye. How the poor man jumped when he turned his page and the wee beastie flew out at him!”

“I remember, as well,” put in his lordship wryly from up in front of them, “that someone else jumped a bit once we got back to the castle that day.”

Douglas grimaced and cast a speaking glance over his shoulder at his cousin, making her laugh again, and although the two of them had to affect more sober demeanors when they reached the little stone kirk, they were still in excellent spirits when they took their places in the family pew. Lord Strachan entered first, followed by his lady. Then Megan gave smiling precedence to Mary Kate, allowing her to enter behind Lady Strachan, and Mary Kate found herself seated between her husband’s mother and Lady Somerville before she recognized the latter’s purpose. Douglas took his place next to Megan with Ned on his other side.

Several times during the service Mary Kate heard her husband and Megan whispering and thought angrily that Parson MacDole, back in the
clachan
, would have made short shrift of their lack of attention to the lesson. She well remembered more than one occasion when the dour man of the cloth had halted his sermon midsentence until some disturbance had been stifled. Once he had actually remonstrated with an errant soul right then and there, recalling him to the proprieties in no uncertain terms.

After a curious glance at Mr. Cory, the local parson, who also appeared to be a stern man, she sat quietly with her eyes properly downcast. Even the irritating whispers failed to arouse her enough to look up. But suddenly the minister’s voice took on a new note, one more in keeping with her own feelings.

“Rose MacReady!” he bellowed. “Thou art condemned! Step forth and confront thy neighbors in thine infamy!”

Startled, Mary Kate looked up as a pretty young woman, barefoot and wearing sackcloth, was led up the aisle by the bailie and forced to climb the steps to a raised dais near the parson’s lectern, to sit there upon a high stool. The young woman’s cheeks burned scarlet with shame as she gazed steadfastly at her hands, clenched tightly in her lap.

“Our Lord,” continued Cory in stentorian accents, “condemneth whoredom in deed or thought, Rose MacReady! Thou knockest at the gates of hell! Adultery, though it be committed only in thy mind, be yet a grievous sin. Repentest thou, Rose MacReady, before it is too late!”

The harangue continued, and it became clear that poor Rose MacReady, having been accused by her own husband of secretly lusting after another man, had been condemned without right or recourse to the cockstool, as highlanders called that seat of repentance for offenders against chastity. Mary Kate had never actually seen the stool put to use before, but she knew that poor Rose must sit there through at least one entire service, maybe even two or three, to suffer the agonizing humiliation of formal, public reprimand from the parson, after which she must confess her crime and repent of it before the entire congregation.

Mary Kate felt sorry for the girl, but the other witnesses did not seem to share her feelings. Several nodded in stern-faced agreement with Mr. Cory’s searing words. Others hid smiles of derision behind lifted hands. One—a man with a bristly red beard—sat stiffly, staring straight ahead with no expression at all upon his face, and Mary Kate wondered if he was Mr. MacReady or even the “other man.”

Her attention was diverted by a giggle, quickly stifled, from the young woman next to her. She glanced at Megan reprovingly, but the older girl paid her no heed. She was batting her lashes at Douglas and grinning mischievously, mocking Rose MacReady. Even Douglas appeared to be shocked by her behavior, but when he cast a speaking glance in the direction of his parents, his frown was more amused than angry. Megan subsided, but Mary Kate glared disgustedly at the pair of them.

When the long morning service was done, they walked out again into the open air. Instead of remaining with Lord and Lady Strachan as Ned did, Megan chose to attach herself to Douglas and Mary Kate while they moved from group to group of friends and neighbors. Every now and again she would rest a possessive hand upon Douglas’s arm, playing the lady of the manor to the hilt and even going so far as to introduce Mary Kate to persons whom she had not yet met.

“This is Lady Douglas, you know. Sir Adam’s wife.” As though the explanation were necessary, Mary Kate thought angrily the third time it happened. Indeed, considering the older girl’s proprietary air, perhaps it was necessary. She glanced at Douglas, wondering how he would react to such outrageous behavior. He seemed only amused, however, and not at all disturbed by Megan’s antics.

By the time they returned to Strachan Court, Mary Kate was seething. Lady Strachan had endured the walk very well and readily agreed to her husband’s suggestion that they await the announcement of dinner on the terrace. She added that she would like to have her tapestry-work in hand, in order that her fingers not remain idle, and Ned immediately offered to fetch it from the winter parlor where she had left it.

Megan looked down at her skirts in dismay. “I cannot dine in all this dirt. The dust of the road has all but changed the color of this gown.”

Lady Strachan laughingly remarked that although her own gown was in a like state she refused to bustle about, throwing off one costume only to replace it with another for dinner with the family. She would shake out her skirts, but that was all. Megan insisted, however, and started up the stairs.

Impulsively, Mary Kate announced that she, too, would change her gown and, before any protest could be made, hastened after Megan, catching up with her at the top of the stairs in the window hall. “Lady Somerville, one moment, if you please,” she said in a low, insistent voice. “I would speak with you.”

Megan turned, her head cocked a little to one side, her hands folded demurely at her waist. “What is it now, Mary Kate?” She spoke impatiently, as to a refractory child.

Mary Kate clenched her fists against her skirts, but she was determined. “I can no longer tolerate your behavior toward my husband. ’Tis unmannerly and unsuitable.” She kept her voice low and controlled, since a servant might appear at any moment.

Megan’s mouth quirked with amusement. “Do you think so?” she said gently. “You know, my dear, you made that rather plain last night when you doused me with claret, but I must tell you, I took that little gesture as a challenge, a throwing down of the gauntlet, so to speak. I did not tell Adam, you know, though I might have done and I might well do so yet if you continue to annoy me. To hear such a tale will make him very angry, I promise you. I know him so much better than you do, you see, so if you mean to keep his goodwill, I fear you must exert yourself to keep mine as well.”

The smugness was more than Mary Kate could bear. “How dare you speak so to me!” she snapped. “You are no lady, Megan Somerville. Indeed, you behave more like a wanton.” She was speaking now without thought of what she was saying, and her voice grew louder as her temper rose.

Megan stared at her, that infuriating little smile playing about her lips until Mary Kate wanted to slap it off.

“Have you nothing to say?” she demanded. When Megan only continued her frustrating, smiling silence, she added sarcastically, “And you think yourself so clever. Well, I won’t tolerate any more of this, and so I tell you. Today you dared to mock poor Rose MacReady, who only raised her eyes to another man, whilst you, my fine lady, would raise your skirts if any man so much as snapped his fingers to encourage you.”

Megan gasped, and Mary Kate leaned forward, speaking with caustic animosity. “You seem shocked, madam, but I dare you to deny that you’ve been flaunting your wagtail wares in the hope of bedding my husband. Christ’s blood, Megan Somerville, but you should think shame to yourself, for ’tis you that belonged this day upon yon cockstool,
saidhe
that you are!”

Megan went rigid with anger. “You go too far, madam,” she declared icily. “I do not pretend to understand your barbarous Gaelic, but—”

“I understand it well enough!” snapped a grim voice from behind Mary Kate.

She whirled in shock to see Douglas nearing the top of the stairs with a wide-eyed Ned close upon his heels. Deafened by her own tirade, she had not heard their approach, but one look at her furious husband was enough. Mary Kate threw dignity to the wind, snatched up her skirts, and fled.

A
S SHE SPED THROUGH
the great chamber, Mary Kate heard Megan burst into tears behind her, and false though she knew such histrionics to be, she was grateful, knowing Douglas would pause to console his cousin and thus give her time to reach the privacy of her own bedchamber before he caught her. There could be no thought of avoiding an immediate confrontation, but his overwhelming fury had caused her to fear that he would bellow at her, or worse, right then and there, and she could not bear the thought that he might permit Megan and Ned to witness such a scene between them.

Her bedchamber was empty, and she continued across it to the half-open window, where she gazed with unseeing eyes at the fountain in the center of the hedged garden below. Birds called to one another, obliviously cheerful, but she did not hear them. While her mind raced, her ears strained for the sound of Douglas’s footsteps. What could she say to him? Cursing her impulsive tongue, she realized that she ought never to have allowed Megan to spark her temper. Indeed, she should have known better, feeling as she did, than to follow her upstairs. Then all thought was suspended. He was coming.

The snap of his quick, firm steps crackled through her mind as he neared her door. She did not turn but stood, waiting, holding her breath as he crossed the room, his footsteps muffled now by the carpet. Suddenly, his hands were upon her shoulders and he spun her roughly to face him. Mary Kate stumbled, but he caught her shoulders again, bruisingly. Then he was shaking her.

“Do not ever, ever let me hear such words from your mouth again!” he snapped, affected not one whit by the tears welling into her eyes. “By heaven, madam, I am ashamed of you, ashamed to find you capable of saying such insulting things to anyone, let alone to a relative of mine who wishes only to befriend you. There can be no excuse!” He stopped shaking her and glared, daring her to respond, but for once she was afraid to enrage him further, so she held her tongue. He continued harshly, “You will apologize for your insults, Mary Kate, and this time it will take more than a simple expression of your regret to satisfy me. Indeed, I won’t be satisfied until you have begged Megan to forgive you and she has agreed to do so.”

That was too much. She looked up disbelievingly, trying to steady her nerves. Her voice shook. “I will apologize, sir, if I must, for I ought not to have said what I did. But I will never beg that woman for anything. She provoked me to it. You do not know the things she has said or how she has taunted me. It is she—aye, and you as well, Adam Douglas—who ought to beg
my
forgiveness!”

His eyes narrowed dangerously when her voice began to rise, but he did not interrupt her. Now a short silence fell while he made a visible effort to regain control of his temper, and when he spoke, his voice was steady but contained a note she had long since learned to recognize. He meant to be obeyed.

“What anyone else has or has not said or done does not matter. What matters is that you have not behaved as Lady Douglas must behave.” He paused but did not take his eyes from her face. “You threw that wine at Megan deliberately last night, did you not?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“I thought so. That being the case,” he went on coldly, “you may count yourself fortunate that I am not a more violent husband, for I am sorely tempted to school you here and now to better manners. Megan has suffered a great deal of unkindness from you. She does not fully comprehend your rudeness today because I did not trouble her with a translation, but she has been hurt and insulted. Since you are entirely at fault, you will humble yourself to her on your knees if necessary. I command it, madam.”

With his last words he let his hands fall from her shoulders but stood looking down at her challengingly, daring her to rebel further against his authority.

Mary Kate said nothing, neither did she move. Her gaze was fixed upon the lowest fastening of his doublet, her damp lashes casting shadows upon her reddened cheeks. Her lips trembled, and her breath caught in quiet sobs. Except for the hushing whisper of the fountain outside and the disinterested chirping of the birds, there was no other sound.

Douglas sighed. “I will make your excuses to my lady mother, for you do not wish to appear at table. You may use the time to compose yourself before approaching Megan. Do not be overlong about that, however,” he added grimly. “My patience is not infinite, and your behavior has already gone beyond what I will tolerate. If you do not make your apologies quickly, the least that will happen is that you’ll find yourself across my knee again, and this time I will not be so gentle.” With that, he turned upon his heel and strode from the room.