by Wine, Mary
“Fools,” Rolfe muttered.
Buchanan stepped closer to Rolfe. “Return me wife.”
“Her father agreed to my wedding her.”
There was a gasp from Rhedyn. “He would not.”
Rolfe kept his gaze fused with Buchannan. “He did. The contracts were drawn up. Column wanted to have me court her this season, to make the matter easier for her. But between us men, the deal was struck.”
“Do ye expect me to call ye friend after ye take me wife and point to contracts with her father?” Buchanan asked in a low tone.
Rolfe had squared off with him. He leaned in, his expression hard. “Aye,” he uttered in barely a whisper. “And for this.”
Rolfe landed a hard blow on the side of Buchanan’s jaw. It sent him back a step before he was growling and lifting his arm in retaliation.
“Ye shall not fight over me!” Rhedyn declared. There was a flurry of movement as she stomped on Brawley’s foot and broke free.
Buchanan turned and swept her behind his body to protect her from Rolfe’s next blow.
“I am his wife!” Rhedyn yelled.
Rolfe drew himself up. “He stole ye. Are ye going to tell me that ye choose him over me? A man who went to see yer father and ask for yer hand?”
Rhedyn was trying her best to get around Buchanan. But Rory had gripped her by two handfuls of her skirt and was pulling her back.
“That is precisely what I am saying, Rolfe Munro!” Rhedyn raised her voice to make certain she was heard. “Ye’d better listen to me, for I swear I will never love ye as I do him.”
“Love is for fools,” Rolfe answered her. “Buchanan does nae return yer affection.”
“I do, Rolfe Munro!” Buchanan charged at Rolfe.
They both went rolling across the ground. But Buchanan suddenly realized that Rolfe wasn’t fighting back. Flat on his back, the other laird was choking on his amusement as he put up a halfhearted defense. Buchanan leveled himself upward. Rolfe winked at him.
“Ye’d best thank me, Buchanan Mackenzie,” Rolfe muttered as he rubbed his jaw. “I’d no’ let just any man hit me.”
There was a gasp from Rhedyn. Buchanan got to his feet and offered his hand to Rolfe.
“Go and kiss yer woman, Buchanan,” Rolfe muttered as he wiped the blood from his nose. “And remember ye owe me a favor. A large one.”
“I do.” Buchanan offered him his hand.
They clasped wrists in a solid hold before Buchanan turned and started toward her. Rhedyn was suddenly free, Rory releasing her and hightailing it away from her.
Buchanan closed the distance between them, the look on his face stirring her temper.
“How could ye get into a fight…”
The rest of her demand got caught between their lips. He pulled her against his body, binding her to him as his mouth took hers in a kiss that stole her breath.
It was hard.
Fierce.
And absolutely perfect.
She reached for him. Without a care for how many pairs of eyes were on them. He was her husband, the other part of her soul. When he lifted his head, her heart was hammering, but she wasn’t alone. With her hands on his chest, she felt his heart keeping perfect time with hers.
“Ye are the most frustrating man I have ever known,” she informed him.
His lips lifted into a grin. “And I am all yers, Rhedyn.”
“You’d better be,” she warned him. “I choose ye Buchanan, so don’t think I will be tolerating any mistresses.”
He stroked the back of her head, his eyes turning serious. “I have never once played the villain with ye, lass. And I never will.”
It was a promise she felt all the way to her heart. It warmed her from the inside out, banishing every last doubt. Was there logic to her feelings? Yes and no. But she wasn’t choosing a life based on negotiated terms.
No, she was taking flight with love.
And there was no looking back.
*
The laird had brought his bride back.
Innis tossed and turned throughout the night as her mind refused to grant her any peace with the matter. At first light, the boys who laid the fires in the hearths came into the kitchens. She heard their steps as they hauled wood in and stacked it. The first scent of smoke teased her nose as she rose. The two youngest maids looked at her, but they didn’t dare question her.
It was their task to begin the process of making bread. The rest of the kitchen staff might linger in slumber until true dawn, which was a privilege earned by years of toil.
Innis made use of the water the younger girls heated and scrubbed her face, neck, and hands. The soap was strong and stung her skin, but it was a strict rule in the kitchen. Everyone washed three times a day.
The castle was quiet. There was precious little light in the passageway as Innis made her way toward the stillroom. Years spent working in the kitchens meant she knew precisely how many steps it was from the kitchen to the stillroom door. She was forbidden to go inside without permission because of the expensive and rare spices kept there.
She looked both ways before venturing inside.
“I’d hoped ye would not come, child. Truly, I did not wish to see ye here.”
Fenella stood inside the stillroom. The rod she used to punish those who broke the rules was in her right hand.
“Ye have been warned, Innis,” Fenella began. “I take some of the blame for putting the idea into yer head of being the laird’s mistress, but I cannot look the other way while ye seek to harm the mistress.”
“But…”
“No more.” Fenella sliced through the air with the rod. “Colum Lindsey is innocent. Iain was raiding….” The Head-of-House paused for a moment as she drew in a heavy breath. “And so, the men who rode with him must also accept the risk they ventured into. The marriage will stand, and the laird has pledged himself to his wife.”
Innis looked at the floor for a moment before she raised her face. “Am I to be put out?”
Fenella sighed. “Ye’ve already ignored me warning, Innis. How am I to trust ye? I know ye believe ye understand the way of making concoctions to keep a waistline slim, but I warn ye, lass, it is nae simple. One little mistake can have dire consequences. What would ye have me do?”
“Wed her to me.”
Fenella looked up as Innis whirled around. Tyree stood in the doorway. His scarred face had an oddly uncertain look on it as he ducked beneath the doorway and entered the stillroom. He looked at Innis.
“I am not much to look at…but I can afford a wife,” Tyree declared as he made an attempt to soften his features with a grin. On the face of the hardened Butler, the welcoming expression made both women stare at him.
“Ye have never approached me,” Innis said shyly. Her heart was suddenly misbehaving, thumping and jumping inside her chest.
Tyree offered her a half shrug. “A Butler is best no’ seen until it’s too late,” he said. “I’m good at me duties. No one knows just when I will appear. That way, they don’t get it into their minds to thieve.”
He looked past Innis at Fenella. “Innis is no’ a bad sort. Just young with no one to look out for her. As me wife, I will make certain she causes no trouble.”
Innis felt tears welling up in her eyes. It had been so long since anyone had offered to give anything to her. Guilt tore at her insides. “Wait,” she said.
Tyree turned a startled expression toward her. “Ye won’t have me?”
Innis was stunned to see a wounded look in his eyes. Never would she have believed the huge Butler might have tender emotions which could be hurt if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes.
Her guilt doubled.
“I have to tell ye that I did something very wrong…” Innis stammered. “It wouldn’t be right to wed ye if I don’t confess.” She gulped in a breath but realized Tyree deserved the truth from her. “Egan gave me a letter in the stable one night. I didn’t report it. I just did nothing. It was wrong of me. The laird
could have taken more precautions to protect the mistress and Cora if I had spoken. I don’t deserve anyone standing up for me. I am selfish.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Why had she not seen what was important? How could she have been so dim-witted as to long for a position of mistress when Tyree was there the whole time.
“I am too foolish to be worthy of ye, Tyree.”
“I think ye might just have taken the first step toward being worthy, Innis,” Buchanan emerged from the shadows in the passageway.
Innis sniffled but kept her chin level. Buchanan looked at her for a long moment. “My wife…” he stressed the word, “gave me the benefit of forgiveness.”
The laird looked at Tyree. “Ye have served this house faithfully for years. I asked a hard thing of ye in keeping me wife locked up. I owe ye an apology.”
Tyree reached up and scratched his head. “I had faith in ye, laird. That ye’d no’ hurt the lass.”
Buchanan looked at Innis and back at Tyree. “Do ye want Innis, or are ye stepping up to shield her?”
Tyree suddenly smiled. The expression transformed his face as his eyes glittered with happiness. “I’m right glad ye never took a liking to her, Laird. I was waiting for her to grow past her infatuation. All the maids fancy themselves in love with the laird at some point. It passes.”
Buchanan looked at Innis. “Will ye have him?”
Innis suddenly nodded. “I will.”
Buchanan looked at Fenella. His Head-of-House nodded. “Innis is a good lass. Being alone in this world is hard to suffer. She got a bit off the path is all.”
“Aye, I know such can happen,” Buchanan agreed. “I will provide the dowry.”
Innis gasped. Tyree appeared stunned as well.
“She is the daughter of one of me father’s Retainers who died protecting this land,” Buchanan explained. “The Mackenzie take care of their own.”
Innis clasped her hands over her mouth as a sob escaped her lips. Her eyes were filled with tears, but now they were ones of joy. Tyree smiled at her once more, and she lost track of who was in the room. All of them melted away as she locked gazes with the man who looked back at her with eyes filled with adoration.
There was absolutely no one else she would rather look at.
*
“I wondered what made ye rise from bed so early.”
Buchanan came out of the still room to find his bride in the passageway. Her hair was still flowing down her back as she hugged her arisaid tightly around her upper body to ward off the early morning chill.
He moved toward her, reaching out to stroke the side of her face. “I could not sleep when there was any possible threat to ye.”
Tyree was coming out of the room. He had Innis’s hand clasped tightly in his own. He stopped when he spied Rhedyn, reaching up to tug on his cap. “Don’t worry, mistress. No one will harm ye on Mackenzie land.”
“Blessings to ye both,” Rhedyn offered.
The Butler flashed her a smile before he was hurrying away with Innis in tow. They disappeared into the shadows, sending a touch of heat onto Rhedyn’s cheeks as her mind offered up precisely why the couple wanted some privacy.
“Do ye have any need of the stillroom, lass?” Buchanan asked softly.
Rhedyn looked at her husband. There was no warning in his tone, no reproach in his gaze. Just a steady question that he stood waiting for her to answer.
She slowly shook her head.
His lips began to curl up. She’d seen him grin before, but this was something different. The expression on his face was radiant and so full of love, she felt a shiver go down her back. Buchanan wrapped his hand around hers and winked at her before he turned and pulled her toward the stairs.
*
Fenella smiled, but tears welled up in her eyes, too.
The rod in her hand felt terrible, magnifying the chill she seemed to notice more and more. She shook her head and made her way back to the kitchens. She was lonely.
And old.
There would be no wedding for her or any more children.
She sniffed and drew herself up straight. Never had she failed to face what life challenged her with. The days ahead would be filled with duties, if not with family. She had a place.
“Mistress Fenella,” Una said.
“Yes?”
“There is someone to see ye.” Una turned her head and gave it a little jerk to get the girl hovering beyond the doorway which led out into the yard moving.
She was a half-starved thing. But she drew in a breath and squared her shoulders. She moved through the doorway and stopped to lower herself in a reverence.
“Rise child, and tell me what ye seek. The dawn is fully broken and there is much to do.”
The girl lifted her hand. Neatly folded on it was a length of linen. Its edges were carefully rolled and sewn. On its ends were embroidered flowers which Fenella knew every stich of. It was a binding tie which had been draped over her wrist on the day she wed her husband, and the priest gave the blessing of marriage to her.
“Conrad was my man,” she whispered. “He promised to bring me to ye when he received his earnings on quarter day.”
Fenella reached out to take the binding strip. There was a new set of stiches on it now. A small bird was embroidered above one of the flowers which she had sewn herself.
“But he did nae return,” the girl finished. “I have only a sister. Her husband has put me out.” She laid her hand over her belly. “He can nae afford to feed us both.”
Fenella stared at the little bird and then looked at the girl. She felt like something brushed her back, in just the same place her son had always patted her before he went off. The girl was looking at her with wide brown eyes. Fear was swimming in them as she wrung her hands and waited.
“My son.” Fenella lost the battle to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. They trickled down her cheeks as she clasped the binding stripe to her chest. “Conrad would never have given this to anyone except his wife.”
The girl drew in a ragged breath. “I can work hard. I swear it.” She held up her hands. “Me skin is tough.”
“Ye will sit right down and eat,” Fenella declared. She pointed at Una. “Get a plate for her…she is eating for two.”
One of the other maids brought a stool over to the edge of the long work table. All of the maids began to bring things to it. A glass of fresh milk from one of the buckets newly arrived. A bowl of steaming porridge from the large cauldron simmering over the fire. A thick piece of cheese appeared on a plate along with a handful of fresh berries.
“Sit down now.” Fenella cupped the girl’s shoulders, ushering her toward the stool.
“But…I can earn me keep.” The girl was on the stool before she finished.
Fenella shook out a cloth with a snap and laid it over the girl’s shoulder. “Time enough for that after ye have filled yer belly. My grandchild must be healthy and strong, and ye must have the strength to suckle the babe. What do I call ye, lass?”
The girl had the cheese in her mouth already, her belly rumbling loudly. Fenella clasped her hands together and smiled. Laughter bounced around the kitchen as the maids shared in the moment of joy.
And Fenella felt that pat on her shoulder one again.
*
The Sow’s Troth…
Colum Lindsey was waiting. Sandra was in her customary location in the loft abovestairs.
“I do nae care for this,” Vychan informed his sire. “We are exposed.”
“Buchanan will come,” Colum voiced his opinion.
“I do nae doubt he will,” Vychan answered. “I question if he’s coming to talk or take advantage of the fact that ye have made yerself available.”
“He has wed yer sister,” Colum offered. “The Mackenzies are an ally worth a small risk to acquire. And I do nae think Buchanan will be any more willing to venture into our stronghold than ye would want to ride into his. So, we’ll wait here.”
Whatever Vychan might
have said was cut off as horses approached. Buchanan rode in with only a dozen Retainers. He dismounted and stomped on the steps to dislodge mud from his boots before he entered the inn. He spotted them immediately. Every man in the common room was watching to see what he’d do.
Buchanan Mackenzie, laird of the Mackenzies, reached up and tugged on the corner of his cap while inclining his head toward Colum Lindsey. The respect being offered wasn’t lost on anyone. It cut through the tension in the room.
Colum slowly chuckled. “Come…” He gestured with his hand. “Come and sit, lad.”
The rest of the common room was filled with Lindsey and Munro Retainers. As Buchanan settled in front of Colum, the men grinned and looked toward the kitchen for ale to be served. Rolfe Munro stood up from where he’d been sitting in a far corner. He offered Buchanan a grin as he settled at the table with Column.
Mackenzie men made their way inside after caring for their horses. They sat among the other clansmen, uncaring about the mixing of colors. Above them, Sandra smiled and waved her girls forward to serve their guests.
It was time to celebrate the new peace.
*
The next year…
“Ye’re worried he won’t come.”
Rhedyn cast an annoyed look at her husband. “We’ve been over this, Buchanan. Ye should ask me what I’m thinking. No’ simply act as though ye can read me thoughts.”
Buchanan cocked his head to one side.
“Oh…why do I bother?” Rhedyn asked with her hands propped on her hips. The posture made her swollen belly stick out even more. “It is not that me father won’t want to come, I just worry that Vychan won’t allow him to venture into our stronghold.”
“Cora brought up that same thought,” Buchanan muttered.
Rhedyn’s shoulders slumped. “It won’t be yer fault if he doesn’t visit.” She rubbed her distended belly. “I will just have to wait until next season when I can travel.”
Two months away from the birth of their first child, her emotions were turbulent. Rhedyn drew in a deep breath, attempting to fend off a flood of tears. It would be foolish to venture onto the road so heavy with child.
And reckless.
