by Amanda Scott
“I ken fine that you would not have let him in,” she said. “But his lordship is right to remind me that I did not properly thank you for your swift action. You saved us, and I did not even know that you carried a dirk.”
“Nay, and me mam doesna ken that neither,” he said with a wry look. “Likely, when ye tell her, she’ll say I’m no to carry it anymore.”
“I’ll see that she does not forbid it,” Fiona said, giving Kirkhill a look that dared him to gainsay her.
He did not.
“But, Davy,” she added, “what you did was gey brave. I dare not think what might have happened had you not thought and acted so quickly.”
“I didna think at all,” Davy said. “I just flew to stop him the only way I could. I kent fine he were too strong for me, but me da’s dirk be ever sae sharp.”
“A good thing it is, too,” she said. “But I want you to know something more. I have been trying and trying to think what to name my wee son, and now I know just what I shall call him. He is to be David Jeb Jardine, Davy, after you and your father. Do you think my David Jeb will grow up brave enough to suit his name?”
Davy stared at her. “Ye be a-naming the new Jardine after me… and me da?”
“I am,” Fiona said, this time not even looking at Kirkhill. Just let him object, she thought fiercely.
Kirkhill said, “’Tis a great honor, Davy-lad, and well deserved. Go now, find two stout men below, and tell them I want them to remove that beast from the landing and give it a decent burial—not in the graveyard.”
“Aye, sir, I’ll do that straightaway,” Davy said, squaring his thin shoulders.
“Oh, and, Davy,” Fiona said as he turned to leave, “now that we shall have a much smaller David, no one will call you Wee Davy anymore. They will have to make do with plain Davy, or Jeb’s Davy, or our fierce Davy from now on.”
“Coo,” Davy said, grinning at her. Still grinning, he hurried away.
Kirkhill watched Fiona, wondering if she had forgotten that she was awash in the dog’s blood. She had talked to the boy as if she dealt with such things daily, but he knew from her display of temper with her mother and the slight sob when he’d ushered her into her bedchamber that the incident had much disturbed her.
After the boy left, instead of following him, he shut the door and said, “That was a frightening experience for all of us, lass, and particularly for you. Moreover, Mother Beaton has warned me that it is normal for a new mother to tire easily, so—”
“You are about to issue orders again,” Fiona interjected. “But I have been looking after myself now for some time, sir. If you think that either Old Jardine or Will ever looked after me, you are much mistaken. I am also capable of looking after my son,” she added with a darkling look at her mother.
Kirkhill said, “I will leave you to look after him then, but before I go, I do have one more thing to say.”
She hesitated, visibly bracing herself, still facing her mother. But when he did not continue, she turned at last and met his gaze. Although she strove to look as if nothing he might say could affect her, he knew as if he could taste them that her lips were dry, that she was dying to lick them but would not do so because such a reaction would reveal her uneasiness to him.
Gently, he said, “Davy is not the only one who showed courage, lass. You put yourself between your mother and that vicious beast. You may say that you did it only to save your bairn, but had that been your sole purpose, you would have snatched him from her and let the dog attack her.”
“Nay, I would never—”
“Just so,” he said.
After a reflective pause, she said, “How did Dobby get inside, anyway?”
“I told Hod to keep him out, but I expect that whilst Hod was attending to the burial, what with folks coming and going, someone just left the door open,” he said.
“Aye, they often do,” she said with a nod. “And Davy said it was open.”
“I should have spoken to the porter as well as to Hod about the dog,” he admitted. “But now, lass, go and feed your babe. I’ll have them bring food enough up for you and Lady Phaeline to break your fast. I expect Flory has already eaten.”
“Aye, m’lord, hours ago,” Flory said.
Nodding, he waited only to see if Fiona would argue with him. When she did not, he turned toward the door.
“I will go with you, my lord,” Phaeline said. “I am not needed here.”
He glanced back at Fiona, but she had turned toward her child. With a nod to Phaeline, he opened the door, drew it shut as he followed her onto the landing, and politely preceded her down the stairs, as a gentleman always did on such stairways lest the lady in his charge trip and fall. At the hall landing, he offered his arm.
“You might want to send someone to invite Mother Beaton or your woman to join us at the high table, my lady, so that you are not the sole female in the hall.”
“Aye, sure,” Phaeline said. “See you, Mother Beaton stayed with Mairi only three days after Wee Thomas was born, so doubtless she is ready to depart now, too.”
“You are thinking of leaving us then,” he said as he waved a gillie to them.
“Aye,” she said. She fell silent while he sent the gillie for Mother Beaton and then to have someone take food up to Fiona. When the lad had gone, Phaeline said, “Fiona is thinking only of her child now, sir, and that is as it should be, I expect. In any event, I shall be nearby at the Hall if she wants to send for me.”
“You don’t mean to return at once to Annan House, then.”
“Nay, for Lammas quarter day is nearly upon us, so Mairi and Rob—aye, and our Jenny and Hugh, and their children, too—will soon be arriving at the Hall. All of us mean to stay with Rob and Mairi until the end of August. Mairi wants to celebrate Lammas Day with minstrels and feasting for all who will come.”
He nodded. “Fiona will miss you long before then, I think, madam.”
“Do you? I doubt it. I was not a good mother, sir, but I did not realize that until my lord husband died. See you, I was his second wife, and I had failed to give him a son. I could give him only Fiona, and I fear now that because of my desire for a son, my daughter felt so unloved that she ran off with that scoundrel Will Jardine in search of love. I doubt she found it with him, but mayhap someday, she will.”
“I am sure she will,” Kirkhill said, wondering why the thought should irritate him. To be sure, he’d dreamed of possessing her himself, but that was lust and nowt more. Ignoring the sensation, he gestured for Phaeline to precede him to the dais.
He broke his fast quickly, explained that he had arranged for Evart to show him as much of the Jardine property as he could, and left Phaeline to finish at her own pace, assuring himself that she would not depart until afternoon.
With that in mind, he cut short his time with Evart to join her again at high table for the midday meal and wondered if Fiona would join them. When she did not, he motioned Hod over and learned that she had ordered a light meal in her chamber. Wondering if the lass, despite having shown her courage that morning, was avoiding him or her mother, he exerted himself to get to know Phaeline better.
He was still enjoying hearing what Fiona and her half sister Mairi had been like as children when his porter entered to tell him that guests had arrived.
“’Tis Sir James Seyton and the lady Anne Seyton, my lord.”
“Then you had better fetch them in,” he said. To Phaeline, he said, “You are about to meet my younger sister and my uncle, madam. I shall endeavor not to throttle them both until after we have finished our meal.”
“Why, I look forward to meeting your sister, sir. I believe I may have met Sir James at Stirling some years ago.”
“Then if you speak well for him, mayhap I will spare him. I have no doubt whose idea this visit was, in any event. However, before they come in, I beg of you, madam, do not hurry away this afternoon as you had planned. I have many duties to attend each day, and it would be most unsuitable for Nan to rattle
around here by herself when I am out or away, or to be the sole lady at meals in this hall full of men even if I am here. I cannot expect the lady Fiona always to bear her company.”
“Nay, for Fiona is not fully recovered yet,” Phaeline said. “I would gladly oblige you, my lord, but this tower is small. Unless you mean to turn the room that Fiona calls the solar into a bedchamber, my room is the only one that that would be suitable for your sister. But if you think she’ll agree to share it with me, I’ll stay.”
“We will get through one hour at a time, madam,” he said. “You are right, though, about Spedlins’ size. It is beginning to feel most confining. Good afternoon, Uncle,” he added with a wry smile as Sir James and Nan entered the hall. “What—or should I more accurately say who—brings you to Spedlins on this fine day?”
Sir James bowed deeply to Phaeline, saying, “You know who brings me, lad, but I’d nae notion that I’d find this lovely lady acting as your hostess. You will not remember me, Lady Dunwythie, but we met at Stirling Castle some four years ago.”
“I remember you quite well, Sir James,” Phaeline said, smiling demurely.
Kirkhill had not noted before how much her smile resembled her daughter’s.
Nan shifted an astonished gaze from her flirtatious uncle to her brother and said, “I’m starving, Dickon. Are you not going to invite us to dine with you?”
He said, “You, my lass, would be well served if I did now as I was about to do when Jardine’s messenger arrived at Kirkhill, and gave you a good skelping. So heed me well. If I let you stay, I’ll expect you to behave.”
“But, Dickon,” she said, dimpling, “I always behave.”
After tidying herself, changing her clothing, and spending most of her morning confined with Flory and the baby, Fiona looked forward to an even more tedious afternoon. She told herself that she was looking after her baby but let Flory do most of the tending while her mistress paced or stared out one of the windows.
As she picked at food a gillie had brought up for her midday meal, she had heard the commotion of riders arriving. But although she strained to see who had come, she saw no person or banner she knew. She did, however, see a beautiful, fair-haired young woman gracefully dismount from a dun-colored palfrey.
An older man offered his arm to her, and they walked together to the entryway below Fiona’s window and disappeared from her view.
Curiosity overwhelmed her, but apparently, it occurred to no one to send word of the visitors upstairs. She hadn’t felt like going down to eat with everyone in the hall, but now, fuming, she replied curtly to Flory’s suggestion that she could simply go downstairs to see who had come.
“Or I could go and see for ye, mistress,” Flory added diffidently.
“It is just like him nearly to order me to rest and then refuse to send word to me when we have visitors,” Fiona said. “He’s just like all Jardines.”
“Nay, he is not like them! And ye’ve been pacing more than ye’ve rested.”
Fiona looked out the window again. In truth, she did not know what to make of her own emotional state, especially where Kirkhill was concerned. One moment she wanted to challenge the man, the next to please him, even to touch him. She could still feel the warm touch of his hand atop hers on his arm. But such thoughts irked her. Why should she care if she pleased him or challenged him?
One moment he seemed to like her, even to want to protect her, and the next she managed somehow to irk him. There was no understanding the man!
And why, she asked herself then, should she want to understand him? First, she would do better to understand herself.
“Mistress?”
“What is it?” Fiona said. Then, when Flory bit her lower lip, she added ruefully, “I’m as much a beast as that awful dog was, to talk to you so, Flory. In troth, I do not know myself anymore. I begin to say something, and before I know what I’m doing, my words come out in a snap, or I suddenly want to cry.”
“Aye, sure, me mam gets snappish and moped after she has a new bairn, too. Likely, everyone does,” Flory added sagely.
Biting back a retort, Fiona said, “What did you want to say to me?”
“Only that ye never said if I should go and see who has come.”
“Nay, I’ll go myself, and you were right to suggest it. I’m behaving badly to everyone because I need to be doing things, attending to this household and the like. And do not be telling me that Hod is seeing to all that, because he has never heeded anything beyond the old master’s needs before now, so he cannot know.”
“Aye, that be true enough,” Flory said. “Will ye change your clothes?”
“I’ll just wear my red shawl over this gray kirtle,” Fiona said. “If Kirkhill does want to be of use here, I wish he would arrange for me to get new clothes.”
“Aye, sure, he ought to. Ye’ve had nowt to speak of since we came here.”
Reassured by Flory’s always devoted support, Fiona soon felt ready to go downstairs and remind everyone that she was mistress of Spedlins.
Halfway down the stairs, she met Hod coming up.
“There ye be, mistress.”
“What is it?” she asked, striving to sound only curious and not irritated that he was only just now coming to inform her of their visitors.
“I wanted to tell ye I be sorry Dobb got back in. The laird were gey fashed after what happened, and so he should be. But I did also want to warn ye that them rumors about ye and Master Will be flying everywhere, likely even to Dumfries.”
“Mercy, rumors have been flying ever since he vanished,” she said. “What difference could it make if they reach Dumfries?”
“Why only that the Sheriff o’ Dumfries has authority here, too. And the man has a passion for hanging murderers, even women, if they’ve killed their husbands.”
Chapter 9
Kirkhill was chafing to get outside and back on a horse again. He had seen less of the Jardine estates with Evart that morning than he’d wanted to see. But although he had decided that it behooved him to soothe Phaeline after the incident with Old Jardine’s dog, he had realized, too, that he had felt uneasy about leaving things as they were with Fiona.
His uncle’s arrival with Nan ended his plans to rejoin Evart after the midday meal. Instead, he and his guests lingered at the high table, chatting about all and sundry. Sir James had met briefly with Archie the Grim and shamelessly used that meeting as his excuse for letting Nan persuade him to journey south to Spedlins. At least, Nan seemed to be getting on well with the lady Phaeline.
Although he had yet to be private with his uncle, he did not mean to spare him when the opportunity arose. Clearly, Nan had wound the older man around her thumb to get her way. Doubtless, she had been dying to see the place her brother had taken in charge and was even more curious to meet its mistress.
“I do think you should send to tell the lady Fiona that we are here,” Nan said for the third or fourth time. “Surely, it is her duty to make us welcome.”
“Do I not make you feel welcome, Nannie?” Kirkhill asked gently.
Giving him a speculative look, she tossed her head a little. But whatever she might have said he would never know, because Fiona swept into the hall, wearing a bright red shawl casually over a simple gray gown, and looking magnificent. She strode briskly toward them, her head high, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks revealing nearly as much color as her shawl did.
Only as that comparison struck him did he realize that she was in a flaming temper. Wondering if she had overheard the exchange of comments with Nan and decided to take umbrage, he stood politely as she approached the dais.
When her angry gaze collided with his cool one, he said, “As you see, my lady, we have visitors. Allow me to present my uncle, Sir James Seyton of Lothian, and my youngest sister, the lady Anne Seyton.”
“Welcome to Spedlins,” Fiona said, giving each of them a polite nod. “I am pleased to meet you both. But I would like a word with you, Kirkhill, if you please.”
&nbs
p; “Good sakes, but you look furious,” Nan said. “Whatever is amiss?”
It was only then that Kirkhill took his eyes from Fiona long enough to see Hod hovering in the doorway of the great hall, looking ruefully perturbed.
Fiona looked daggers at Nan but said only, “It is a private matter, I fear, and not one for general discussion. Kirkhill?”
“Aye, sure, I’ll come,” he said. Excusing himself to the others, he followed her swift stride to the doorway, enjoying the view as her hips swayed enticingly.
Hod waited for them, unmoving and silent.
The lower tables had been cleared, so the hall was empty except for those on the dais, and was likely to remain so until servants began setting up later for supper.
As they neared Hod, Fiona said in an angry undertone, “He has spread those dreadful rumors about me all the way to Dumfries and now taunts me by informing me that the sheriff there delights in hanging women who kill their husbands. I won’t have him in this house, Kirkhill. He must go.”
Kirkhill said, “You heard her ladyship, did you not, Hod?” When the man nodded, he said, “What have you to say to her complaint?”
“I can do nobbut beg her ladyship’s pardon, m’lord. I must ha’ been gey clumsy wi’ my words for her to take such dire meaning from them. I meant only to pass on news I gleaned from some o’ the men: that them false accusations may ha’ reached Sheriff Maxwell’s ears. They say he often tries cases on nae more than rumor, and I fear that the ones against her ladyship may attract his attention.”
“I see,” Kirkhill said, noting that Fiona was bristling with indignation at the admittedly glib explanation. Even so, Hod looked and sounded sincere, and she had been reacting emotionally to nearly anything anyone had said to her since his arrival. Had he not noted her cool demeanor at their first meeting, he might have thought her a female who simply lacked self-control. But he had seen her competence and her warmth for the children. He had witnessed her temper then, too, but even it had seemed more contained than it did now.
