Cicely shook her head. “I have never known a man so big or so softhearted as you are, my lord. You are a conundrum.” But she gave him a small smile as she turned and, gathering the young maidservants to her, began to direct them in their duties.
“You have discovered a treasure for yourself, Ian,” the priest said, low. “Now you must find a way to keep her. Will the king send after her?”
“Undoubtedly,” the laird answered his uncle. “My ladyfaire is Queen Joan’s best friend. They were raised together.”
“Sweet Jesu!” the priest exclaimed. “Could you not have fallen in love with an ordinary lady, nephew? Aye, they’ll be coming for her, and for your head as well.”
“She’s mine,” Ian Douglas said, and his eyes went to Cicely, who was now showing the new maidservants the proper way to polish his ancient oak sideboard. “Look at her, Uncle. Does she not belong here in this hall directing her staff? I will give her anything she wants to make this the home to suit her.”
“Perhaps if you get lucky we’ll have an early winter, and they’ll have to leave her until the spring. That will give you time to work your wiles on the lady. Aye, that’s your only hope, Ian. And I’m going to pray for it,” Ambrose Douglas said.
By day’s end the hall was cleaner than it had been in years. But while Cicely had worked side by side with her new maidservants, old Mab had sent for several of her older relations, for she was determined that the lady not spend another uncomfortable night in the hall. Mab meant to see that the bedchamber was ready for an occupant.
Gabhan spent half of his day in the chimney that drew the hearth in the bedchamber. He swept the passage free of soot, and removed several birds’ nests, one built on top of another. Then he lit a small torch and, stooping down, held it to see if the chimney would now draw properly. When he saw it did he notified Mab, and immediately a trio of women he recognized as his own kin hurried to the chamber with mops, buckets, and brooms to sweep, wash, and dust its furniture, window, and floor.
By day’s end the bedchamber was clean, a bright fire burning merrily in its hearth. The room had a lead-paned double window that could be opened by swinging the twin halves out. The window had a wide stone sill. There was a large, comfortable oak bed-stead with a tall linen-fold headboard and two turned posts at its foot to hold up the plain wood canopy. The natural-colored linen bed curtains that old Mab found in a trunk had seen better days, but they were clean and serviceable. Mab set Gabhan to polishing the brass curtain rings, and when he was done the bed curtains were hung.
There was a small round oak table by the bed. It was now topped by a small brass candlestick that contained a short beeswax candle. There was a beautiful brass-bound trunk at the foot of the bed and a single tapestry-backed oak chair by the hearth. The rope springs on the bed were tightened, and a newly made mattress placed upon it, along with a feather bed. Fresh linens, plump pillows, and a warm comforter completed the bed.
Mab came to inspect her relations’ hard work. “Ah, cousins, you’ve done well, and I thank you for it. Her Ladyship will be most comfortable here.”
“You like the lass,” one of her kin said. “I saw her in the hall with my daughter and the others scrubbing with her own hands. For all she is a lady she has no fear of hard work,” the woman noted approvingly.
“She’ll make a grand mistress for Glengorm House,” Mab said.
“If she’ll have him,” another of the women said. “I heard the king is sending to fetch her back to her mistress, the queen.”
“The laird needs but a bit of time with her,” Mab replied. “He’ll win her over.”
“I hope our laird does,” the first woman agreed.
“She looks strong too,” the third woman said. “She’ll give Glengorm heirs. I’ll not rest easy until we have them, and know we’re safe for another generation.”
The others nodded in agreement with her. Then Mab had them pick up their brooms, buckets, and mops, and they returned them to the kitchens, departing for their own cottages in the village. Cicely had sent the maidservants home just before dark. The servants’ quarters weren’t ready for them yet, and after all the hard work they had done that day she felt they deserved a comfortable bed to sleep in this night.
Mab came back up from the kitchens to see Cicely walking slowly about the hall, taking the measure of it, inspecting it all, her hand running over an ancient sideboard as she wore a smile that bespoke her pleasure in a job well-done. “My lady,” Mab addressed the girl.
Cicely looked up. “Aye, Mab, what is it?”
“Will you come with me for but a moment, my lady?” And when Cicely nodded Mab led her upstairs and to the chamber that had once been the room of Ian and Fergus Douglas’s mother. Opening the door, she ushered the girl inside. “We cleaned and freshened the chamber today. You cannot continue to sleep in the hall, my lady. ’Tis not right that you should. This chamber belonged to the lady before you,” she said.
Cicely looked slowly around. The fire had warmed the room. Beyond the windows she saw the blazing horizon, the sun gone. The room had been aired. The floors were spotless. And the bed! Ohh, how comfortable that bed looked. She was startled to feel Mab’s hand touch hers. The old lady was handing her a key.
“ ’Tis yours, my lady,” she said quietly. “The door can be locked from the inside.”
“Is there a tub that might be brought to this chamber so I could bathe?” she asked. “I am filthy from my travels, and especially from my exertions today.”
“Will you bathe now or after the meal?” Mab asked her.
“After,” Cicely quickly said. “ ’Twill give everyone more time to prepare it for me. Oh, Mab! How can I thank you for this? And you must thank your helpers too.”
Mab smiled, very well pleased. This was the first step in making the lady comfortable, and certainly she would be more amenable if she were content at Glengorm. But instead she said, “It were a mercy you didn’t catch an ague in that hall last night.”
“You were there too,” Cicely replied, knowing who had kept the fire going, and who had covered her with that thick woolen shawl. “It seems I owe you much.”
“After the meal I’ll take your garments, my lady, wash what I can, and brush what I can’t,” Mab told her. Then she bustled off, leaving Cicely to examine her chamber more closely.
The meal that evening was a merry one. Suddenly there were men-at-arms coming into the hall to be fed. The word had quickly spread that Bethia had been sent home, and that Mab was cooking again without interference. There was venison stew, bread, and cheese below the high board. There was a capon and trout at the high board, along with a salad of braised lettuces, bread, butter, and cheese. And Mab had found the time to bake apples for the laird, which she knew were his favorite. Ale flowed generously to the men. Cicely drank red wine.
Father Ambrose, true to his word, was the first into the hall, and ready for his meal. He did it full justice, mopping his pewter plate with bread until it seemed as clean as if it had been scoured in the kitchen sink with sand. There were six baked apples, and having devoured two the priest gleefully took the last one from the platter as the laird eyed it for himself. Ian’s look of disappointment, and the priest’s chortle of triumph, made Cicely laugh. Ambrose Douglas grinned conspiratorially at her.
“Is not greed a sin?” the laird asked dryly.
“I’ll give myself a penance,” Ambrose replied. He turned to Cicely. “Will you come to Mass in the morning? I have a small church in the village, and I say the Mass daily. If you follow the path from the house down the hill you will find the church at its foot. I will absolve you from daily attendance for now, but do come and satisfy the villagers’ curiosity. Bethia is claiming you are a wicked whore, while those who have met you cannot say enough good things about your character,” the priest told her.
“I’ll have Mab awaken me,” Cicely said. Then she arose from the board. “I would go to my chamber, my lord. I am exhausted, and I have a lovely bath wa
iting.”
The laird nodded. “The hall has not looked so well in my entire lifetime,” he told her. “Thank you.”
Cicely curtsied, and departed their company.
“She has a bath waiting? How did she manage that?” Ian Douglas said to his uncle. “If I want a bath I have to swim in the loch.”
“Perhaps you have never asked as nicely as she has for what she wants, nephew. You roar your orders. The lady is courteous. She asks and she says thank you. I am pleased you thanked her for what she did this day. It was well-done, and if you continue to behave in a civilized manner you may have a chance with her.”
“She’s sleeping in my mother’s chamber tonight,” the laird said slowly.
“Aye, Mab and her kin spent the day cleaning. The lad Gabhan swept the chimney directly after the morning meal. I am told he removed three rooks’ nests,” the priest said. “Then the women cleaned and freshened the chamber for the lady. She will be comfortable tonight, and if she begins to become more content and your rough manners improve, you will please her well.”
“Ambrose, I have never felt this way before,” the younger man admitted. “It isn’t just lust, though I will admit to wanting to bed her. I know that compared to Gordon I am roughshod and wild. But if she came to me in nothing but her chemise I would want her to wife. She is beautiful, is she not? That rich auburn hair! Those blue-green eyes! I could lose myself in those eyes forever, Uncle. At the sound of her sweet voice my heart leaps. Even when she is scolding me.” He laughed ruefully. “I do not believe that I can live without my ladyfaire.”
“God’s balls, nephew!” Ambrose Douglas exclaimed. “You are indeed in love, and may God and his Blessed Mother have mercy upon you. Well, you probably have two or three days in which to win your ladyfaire over. I will pray that you can.” He arose. “Well, I am off to my bed, having been so well fed. It probably wouldn’t harm your cause to come to Mass on the morrow.” Then the priest strode out of the hall.
The laird came down from his high board and sat for a brief few minutes by the fire. Aye, he would go to Mass tomorrow. It would please his ladyfaire, he had not a doubt. He thought of Andrew Gordon. He didn’t want to be like him, but certainly he could change enough to win Cicely over. “Cicely,” he whispered her name aloud.
“If you need nothing more, my lord, I will go to my kitchens.” Mab was by his side. “The lady is settled.”
“What are you carrying?” he asked.
“Her clothing. It needs attention, for she had been wearing it for several days. I found a chemise that belonged to your mother, and gave it to her to sleep in. You mother has been gone for years, yet there this garment was, neat and clean, in the trunk.” She curtsied and left him after seeing there was nothing more he needed.
The laird stood up. It was time to make his rounds to ascertain that the house was safe for the night. He barred the doors. Snuffed the candles. Banked the fire in the hall and ascended the stairs to his bedchamber. In the upstairs hallway he heard her singing softly, and determined to stop so he might bid her good night. Knocking upon her door, he opened it and stepped into the chamber.
“My lord!” Cicely scrunched down in the small oak tub, clutching the washing cloth to her breasts. Blessed Mother! She had never felt so vulnerable in all of her life as she did at this very minute. Would he force her to his will, thereby sealing her fate?
“I came to say good night,” Ian said, as if bidding such a sentiment to a lady in her bath were quite normal, and something he did regularly. “Do not worry, ladyfaire. You are so hunched over there is little but the graceful angle of your back that is visible to me.” He grinned wickedly. “That and your beautiful, outraged face.”
“Go away!” she said, attempting to shrink herself further from his bold look.
“I can see you will need a larger tub,” he said thoughtfully. “I will order the cooper in the village to begin building one tomorrow, madam.”
“Do not waste his time,” Cicely snapped. “I will certainly be returning to Perth shortly, my lord. I’m quite certain the king’s men will be here for me tomorrow.”
Ian could scarcely take his eyes from her. Her rich, long auburn hair piled atop her head, obviously newly washed. The creaminess of her skin. And those blue-green eyes! He watched those eyes widen as he walked to where she sat in the small tub. She almost cowered from him as he reached out to tip her face to his. She was helpless to resist him else she reveal that which should not be seen. He bent, and his lips touched hers, gently at first, and then more fiercely.
Her heart was beating so rapidly that she could hear the sound of it in her ears, but when his mouth closed over hers Cicely could not resist kissing him back. Blessed Mother, she thought to herself. What am I doing? But she simply couldn’t help herself. There was something so compelling about his kiss, she was unable to withstand him.
He broke off the embrace, smiling down into her face. “Good night, ladyfaire,” he said, and then he left her.
Cicely sat in the cooling tub for several minutes. This was madness. It had to stop. His kisses left her weakened. And what would happen when he did not stop at one kiss? What would happen if one kiss blended into another and another? The very thought of it made her sigh with longing, and that was terrible. Did their kiss make him feel the same way as she did? Probably not. Men were freer with their kisses than respectable girls were. And again the notion slipped into her thoughts that Andrew Gordon had never made her feel the way Ian Douglas did.
She had to escape the laird of Glengorm before she allowed herself to do something very foolish. Surely her rescuers would be here tomorrow.
But they were not. It wasn’t until the tenth day of her captivity that Sir William Douglas and his party rode into Glengorm, even as an icy rain was beginning to fall.
Chapter 8
Maggie MacLeod, wife to Andrew Grey, laird of Ben Duff, was helped into Glengorm’s hall, supported by her husband and Orva. The child in her belly was going to be born soon, and there was no denying it. The hall was warm and inviting. Once Maggie was safely seated by the hearth Orva looked about. She and Cicely spotted each other at the same time, and flew into each other’s arms.
“Ohh, my baby, have you been harmed?” Orva said, stepping back and looking her young mistress over carefully. “I will kill the brute myself with my bare hands!”
“Only my pride,” Cicely said wryly. Taking Orva’s hand, she walked across the hall to where her guests were being greeted by Ian Douglas. “Maggie.” She signaled to Tam to bring refreshments. “You are as pale as the moon.”
“I think my bairn is coming,” Maggie said softly. “Perhaps I’m just weary, so make no fuss lest you frighten my poor Andrew.” She accepted a small dram of whiskey that Tam offered her and, sipping it, closed her eyes.
“I’ll have a chamber made ready for you,” Cicely said. “Tam, fetch Sine to me.”
“You speak like the mistress here,” Maggie noted.
“I have spent my time awaiting my rescue putting the laird’s house in order. It was a pigsty when we arrived ten days ago. I’ve brought in staff from the village, and the laird sent the housekeeper, a nasty creature named Bethia, packing. The cook, Mab, has been a godsend. Who is that with your husband?”
“Sir William Douglas, clan chief of this branch of the Douglases. He’s been sent by the king to reason with your laird,” Maggie said.
“There is no reasoning with Ian Douglas,” Cicely replied tartly. “The man is impossible! He insists he loves me, and that he will wed me.”
“Well,” Maggie said, “you must have a husband, and you couldn’t seem to make up your mind about the Gordon of Fairlea. Do you like Ian?”
“I don’t dislike him,” Cicely evaded.
Maggie laughed softly. “I can see his charm is beginning to touch you,” she said. “Has he made any overtures towards you?”
“He kisses me,” Cicely replied.
“And do you like it?” Maggie probed.
<
br /> “Aye, I do,” Cicely admitted. “I shouldn’t! But I do. He doesn’t force himself on me. Suddenly he is there, and kissing me. One kiss. No more, but oh, Blessed Mother, how sweet that kiss is. ’Tis nothing at all like Andrew Gordon. His kisses were quite nice, but after the first time I never tingled. With this wretched border lord I tingle from the top of my head to the soles of my feet each time he kisses me. And I shouldn’t!”
“Why not?” Maggie asked innocently.
“Because I shouldn’t!” Cicely said vehemently. “He’s practically no better than a bandit, Maggie.”
“I’ve known Ian Douglas ever since I came into the border from my Highlands and married my Andrew Grey,” Maggie said. “He is respected, and well thought of by his fellow border lords, Cicely.”
“He isn’t a suitable husband for me at all,” Cicely said.
“Why not?” Maggie inquired.
“He’s a ruffian,” Cicely declared.
“Most Scotsmen are.” Maggie chuckled.
“His family has no stature,” Cicely said.
“The Douglases are very loyal to the king. If they were not he would not have entrusted Sir William to come and reason with his kinsman in this matter,” Maggie pointed out. “The Gordons, on the other hand, cannot always be trusted. They live in the eastern Highlands, and their loyalties are often torn between Scotland’s kings and the great Highland lords who rule more like kings from their lands.”
“The king, I think, wants me to marry Andrew Gordon,” Cicely said.
“Do you love him?”
“Nay, I don’t, but is not love the exception to the rule when one marries? The queen is the best friend I have ever had. I was sent away when I was barely seven, because even though I did not live in my father’s house, I lived on his estates. My stepmother, Luciana, hated me before she even met me. She was very jealous of any attention my father lavished upon me. She accused me of trying to kill my little brothers. My father knew then that if I were to be kept safe I would have to be sent away. I entered Queen Johanna’s house at the same time Lady Joan Beaufort did. We became friends immediately.
The Border Lord and the Lady Page 18
