Highland Spitfire

by Mary Wine

  Waiting for her.

  It was a tender concern, one that stroked something inside her. He still cupped her hips, rubbing them with slow motions as she started breathing again.

  “Ye’re a kind man.”

  His lips twitched. “Do nae be sharing that little secret. It will ruin me fine barbaric reputation.”

  “We would nae be wanting that,” she teased him softly.

  “They’re back at it…”

  She stiffened. The sound of Finley’s voice was like a bucket of icy water. Bhaic grunted with frustration.

  “We are going to have to take this to a place with a solid door,” he said before he lifted her off him. “Or risk having the details fodder for winter evenings.”

  Her face exploded in heat at the mere idea. Ailis kicked at her skirts, trying to gain her footing. Bhaic hooked her under her arms and lifted her.

  “I can nae believe yer brother set them on us both.”

  “Meaning ye would understand them trailing yer heels, but no’ mine?”

  Bhaic scooped up his doublet and shook it to dislodge the straw. He shrugged into it. “Marcus takes his duties as seriously as ye do. Besides, ye can choose yer friends but no’ yer family.”

  He reached out and plucked some straw from her hair.

  “Where are me pins?”

  He contemplated her for a moment as he worked the buttons halfway up his doublet. “I’ve half a mind to not give them back to ye.”

  “Then everyone will know—”

  “Aye,” he confirmed smugly. But he reached over and collected her hairpins from the top of the stall wall. “No’ that we could expect Finley to keep his jaw shut.”

  He offered her pins to her. Reaching out to take them felt horribly exposing.

  “I suppose ’tis a good thing we’re wed, Ailis. For yer reputation is sure to be tarnished.”

  She looked up and locked gazes with him. “I’ve enough troubles without worrying I’ll end up in the pillory for loose morals.”

  His grin faded. “Aye. Duana. She slapped ye?”

  There was a look in his eyes that caught her by surprise. The man was feeling protective.

  Of her.

  It was a hard idea to grasp.

  Yet welcome.

  “Stay out of it.” She was likely bound for the pillory for being disrespectful to her husband now, but she didn’t regret the words or her tone. “I’d have settled it meself if Finley and his lot had nae brought me up here. I will get me house in order.”

  “I suddenly see a bright side to me brother’s orders.” He nodded gravely. “At least I will nae have to worry about finding ye dead on the kitchen floor.”

  “Oh…enough. I am no’ about to go sit in me chamber and cry because yer father’s Head of House is as stubborn as yer brother.” She went to pass him, but he captured her, binding her against his body as he buried his face in her flowing hair once more.

  “Sweet Ailis, that was nae nearly enough. Come to me bed, and I’ll show ye how much more there is.”

  He kissed her again, letting his passion free. It was a hard, blunt merging of their mouths. He mastered her, moving her to suit his needs. Holding her head in place while his lips ravished hers.

  And left her sagging against the stall wall.

  More?

  She was certain she couldn’t take anything else.

  Yet very sure she was wicked enough to desire to attempt it.

  * * *

  Clansmen started filling the yard early in the afternoon. They were men who had farms farther out from the castle. They set up cooking fires, suspending large black iron pots from tripods. More than one unlucky rabbit was hanging from a belt as they arrived. There were a few women, but Highlanders knew their way around a cooking fire. Many of them had bread cooked by their wives and chunks of cheese that always traveled well.

  Ailis headed up to her chamber, needing to right her hair. Helen was nowhere to be found at the stable, forcing Ailis to walk back to the castle with her hair flowing down her back. A few men turned to look at her, their faces splitting with grins until they recognized the Robertson colors of her arisaid. Their expressions turned harsh, but they held their insults, likely due to Finley and Lyel following her with their hands on the pommels of their swords.

  It was a welcome reprieve. One she would be best not to look at the details of.

  “There she is.”

  Ailis stopped with her foot on the bottom stair of the staircase that led to her chamber. She turned to see Skene and Kam standing down the hall. Skene reached over and opened a door to one of the cells lining the passageway.

  “Ye can come out now. Yer mistress is here.”

  Helen appeared, the two retainers backing well out of her reach. Skene tried to placate her. “Now, we were only following orders.”

  Helen gave him a look that told him how little she thought of him before she turned to look at Ailis.

  “Let’s get ye put together, mistress. I’d certainly no’ have made ye walk all the way up from the stables looking like a strumpet if I had nae been locked away. Little wonder no one respects ye.”

  “There will be respect as well as courtesy,” Bhaic interrupted as he came down the aisle. He stepped aside, revealing Duana and two of the head cooks. They had the kitchen books in their hands.

  Ailis felt her cheeks catch fire.

  “It seems I did nae notice I was thrusting a duty on Duana that was no’ hers to shoulder,” Bhaic said. “I’ve asked her to forgive me ignorance in no’ knowing it was the lady of the castle’s duty to make certain the books were kept in good order.”

  “I enjoy serving ye,” Duana said clearly.

  “Aye but ’tis a poor laird I’d be if I did nae learn no’ to overburden those who serve this castle. Forgive me,” Bhaic informed her smoothly. It was clear to one and all what they were truly discussing. Duana didn’t want to bend. Her lips were pressed into a hard line, but Bhaic didn’t budge. The Head of House finally nodded and lowered herself.

  “Naught to forgive. I knew ’twas only a matter of time until ye or yer brother took a wife.”

  Neither of them meant what they were saying, but the words granted everyone a measure of pride. Duana and the cooks brought the books to Helen and piled them in her arms.

  Duana managed a nod before she turned and left.

  Bhaic watched her leave, casting a look toward Ailis once the Head of House was gone. His lips curved just a marginal amount, and he winked before disappearing.

  “Well, it seems we have something to set our attention to,” Ailis said.

  Her mind was already full, but the books offered a diversion from the matter truly weighing on her.

  Come to his bed?

  Bhaic MacPherson had best watch himself, because she just might take his offer. After all, a wife had rights too.

  * * *

  The household books were spread out on the long table in Ailis’s chambers. The rows of numbers looked impossible to make sense of. There were half-finished computations and an entire basketful of slips of paper with amounts written on them that had yet to be entered into the books. All of it was smeared with flour and drops of dried sauces.

  In short, it was a disaster.

  Either there were some six hundred chickens penned up somewhere, or the slips of paper accounted for them. She had no idea how Duana had managed to keep a decent meal on the tables when there was no clear record of what was in the storerooms.

  Ailis was fighting to make sense of it all when someone rapped on her door.

  Finley pushed the door in. “The laird will be starting manorial court soon.”

  Clearly the retainer wanted to enjoy the spectacle. He was jerking his head toward the stairs, trying to encourage her to
leave her chamber.

  “We’ll be along in a bit.” Helen had appeared outside the chamber door, holding a large platter with a cloth covering it. “The mistress needs to eat.”

  “She’s no’ the only one,” Finley groused.

  “Off with ye then.” Helen paused in the doorway.

  Finley shrugged but aimed a pleading look at them. Considering the way he so often glared at her, it was nearly friendly. “I can nae. Lyel is nae here, likely down in the kitchen making wagers on tonight’s cases, and Marcus said she’s no’ to be left unattended.”

  “I’m attending her,” Helen responded.

  Finley rolled his eyes. “As if ye are any different! Both of ye were brought here to keep yer kin under control. Naught but hostages.”

  Helen had brought her burden into the chamber. The scent of fresh bread came from beneath the cloth. She sat the tray down with a clunk as she turned on Finley.

  “Why thank ye, Finley, for such a charming description of me new home,” Ailis said.

  He bristled. “I did nae bring either of ye here. Besides, Duana weighs double what ye do. If I had nae been there this morning, she might have crushed the breath from ye by just sitting on ye.”

  Ailis shook her head to dispel the image his words evoked.

  “Nae, ye did nae bring me here,” Ailis conceded, keeping her comments confined to the more important matters, such as doing her best not to make an enemy of a man who was going to dodge her footsteps whether she liked it or not. “Is it the kitchens ye wish to go to?”

  His face brightened. “Aye.”

  “Well then.” She walked through the door. “I suppose I can eat there as well as here.”

  Finley fingered his beard for a moment. “Ask ye?”

  He was watching her, seeing what she’d make of his question. Ailis nodded on her way past him.

  “This is to be me home, Finley. I do nae intend to be difficult about settling into me proper place.”

  She stressed the word “proper” just a bit. It wasn’t lost on her escort. His expression tightened, but she continued on down the stairs, not insisting on a formal agreement from him. He’d likely see that as treason, since she was a Robertson. It was certainly going to be a delicate thing, settling in.

  But at the base of the stairs, she paused. Shamus was already at the high table. He caught sight of her and raised his hand in her direction.

  “Come here, lass.”

  She couldn’t very well ignore him. Finley groaned but followed her.

  “Off with ye, lad,” Shamus said with a gesture of his hand. “I’m still young enough at heart to want to have such a fetching lass to meself. Besides, there are plenty here to look after her if she wanders.”

  Finley considered the retainers watching his laird. He nodded and pulled on the corner of his bonnet before making haste toward the passageway. The retainer’s hesitation sent a little chill through her, one that was familiar.

  Shamus was clearly getting old. He might still be laird, but the MacPherson retainers answered to Bhaic and Marcus now.

  Her father was in a similar condition.

  “Sit with me.”

  For all his age, there was still a keen mind inside of Shamus MacPherson. Ailis caught hint of a calculating flicker in his eyes as a retainer pulled one of the huge chairs out for her.

  “Eat something. I understand ye have put in a full day.” Once more, Shamus was proving he wasn’t as withered by time as his wrinkled face suggested.

  No one waited for her to decide if she wanted to eat. Serving girls and younger lads who attended the head table began to fill her plate and goblet. It was done in a flurry of motion before they retreated to the back of the high ground. They watched those who were dining, waiting for any indication their services were needed.

  “Do ye plan to call out me Head of House tonight?”

  Ailis had taken a bite of bread. Shamus had spoken while looking straight ahead, and kept his voice low to keep the conversation private. Ailis shook her head.

  “Why no’?” Shamus tilted his head to the side and looked at her.

  Ailis swallowed. “Because I’d surely be a fool if I thought this union was going to be simple.”

  He considered her for a long moment. “’Tis yer right.”

  Three little words had never had such impact. They were certainly better than any words of welcome might have been. Those salutations she might have doubted. Her father’s most hated enemy agreeing that she had cause to cry for judgment against one of his own? Well, that was a victory. One she’d best handle with care.

  “I expect it to take time. Me being accepted here.”

  Shamus grunted. “Ye might just make a fine lady of this hall. I can see the making of such in ye.” He reached under the table and boldly slapped the top of her thigh.

  She jumped and witnessed a wicked flicker of enjoyment appear in his eyes. The same blue eyes that Bhaic had.

  “Eat something, lass. I can nae have yer father saying I starve ye.”

  Because of the evening court, supper was being served more informally. The center of the hall was already cleared and ready for those clansmen who wanted to bring issues before their laird for judgment. Retainers were eating on tables along the side of the great hall, but most of them had gone outside into the yard. There was a buzz of conversation coming through the open doors.

  But men started coming into the open doorway to peer at her sitting there with their laird. They stroked their beards and leaned in to discuss it with their companions.

  Shamus grunted after a while. “I needs prepare, lass.”

  “Thank you.”

  She stood when he did, lowering herself before she turned and headed back up the stairs.

  “Well now…” Helen joined her. “There will be talk a plenty about that.”

  * * *

  There were pipers at the manorial court.

  Ailis enjoyed the sound of the music as she came down the stairs. The candles were all lit tonight, flickering above the hall in huge chandeliers held with ropes through pulleys, so they might be lowered and the candles replaced. There were also several standing candelabra to add more light. The scent of beeswax and smoke floated through the hall.

  The hall was full. Men talked in hushed tones as they waited for the laird to take his place. The table was pushed back on the high ground, and three of the large chairs moved forward. No one was jesting tonight. There was clearly business to attend to.

  Marcus was there, obviously recently groomed for the occasion. His plaid was secured with a costly brooch tonight, and there was a matching one on his bonnet. He was standing on the high ground, watching the passageway she appeared in.

  “Mistress Duana.”

  The Head of House jumped when Marcus addressed her.

  “Me brother is wed,” Marcus continued as those waiting for the court watched. “Ye seem to have forgotten to direct yer staff to set a chair for yer new mistress.”

  The hall suddenly went silent.

  Ailis was certain the color was draining from her face. Marcus kept his stare on the Head of House.

  “Forgive me,” Duana said at last. She snapped her fingers at two serving boys, but the chair was far too heavy for them.

  Finley scoffed at them and climbed to the high ground. “In a few more years, lads.”

  He picked up the chair and set it off to the side, one pace back from the other three, in the position for the mistress of the castle.

  The pipers began to play, signaling the beginning of the evening. Shamus started walking down the main aisle with Bhaic behind him.

  How many times had she watched her father do the same?

  She was suddenly homesick, but at the same time, enjoying the familiar sight that helped her confir
m she wasn’t so very far from home. Shamus settled in his chair before Bhaic turned and offered her his hand.

  He was a handsome brute tonight. His chin freshly shaved and his dark hair shiny from a recent washing. It was combed back, the tips of it just brushing his shoulders. His bonnet sported ceremonial feathers for the occasion. They were larger and fixed to his bonnet with a gold brooch. She felt disheveled, her gown grubby after so many days in it. She was also dressed like a girl, not the lady of the house. Clothing that had seemed stuffy just a few months ago now appealed to her. But there was nothing for it. She moved forward, trying to recall all the advice her nurse had instilled in her.

  Chin always level.

  Expression pleasing, yet serene.

  Hips controlled so the skirts didn’t sway.

  Hands folded neatly into one another and held at the waist.

  It was exhausting.

  She laid her hand in Bhaic’s, and he led her to her spot.

  The pipers played again, signaling a beginning to the court.

  But Ailis was pretty sure everyone was looking straight at her.

  Well, let them. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  * * *

  He’d promised to wait for her.

  Bhaic looked out over the land bridge that connected the castle to the main land. Everyone had settled down for the remainder of the night, the camp that had formed in the yard quiet now. The sentries were on the walls, slowly walking back and forth to keep themselves warm and alert. The view from his chamber often eased his mind, allowing him to see that the castle was secure, so that he might relax and sleep. Tonight, it wasn’t affecting him that way. The reason was clear, and one floor below him.

  He didn’t want to wait.

  But for all he knew, she’d come up to him, and he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t leave the hall until his father did, and his father didn’t have anything enticing waiting in his bed.

  Bhaic grinned, the fire in the hearth behind him making his reflection show in the windowpanes. He turned around and looked at his chambers. They’d always been his sanctuary. The one place he didn’t have to share.