“That’s exactly what I fear,” she said. “I’d never want you to give your life for me.”
“That is what a husband does, Marion—keeps his wife from harm.”
She slowly pulled her hand out of his. “You sound like my father, cold and uncaring. What of love? What of a happy life shared between a man and a wife?”
He hesitated, warring with himself. It was as if his thoughts were cleaved in two. Part of him liked her idea of how they should be and part of him feared it.
She waved a hand in his face. “Pay my question no mind!”
“Marion—”
“Please dismiss it from your thoughts,” she replied evenly.
“If that is what ye wish,” he said, feeling as if he had taken the cowardly way out.
She sighed, then spoke again. “If Froste and my father come here, could they defeat you?”
“Nay,” he said with force to assuage her fears. He had confidence in his men.
“But they’d have more fighting men.” Her voice shook with her worry.
“My clan is fierce, Marion, and Dunvegan would be difficult to breach. And I have allies I could call upon.”
“Oh yes!” Relief washed over her face. “King Edward.”
His mouth dropped open at her words. “Nay. He’s using me to draw your father and Froste’s attention, but I’m sure yer king will call on me if and when they turn their sights on the throne.”
She scowled. “I suppose he’s no longer my king.”
Iain smiled even as creases appeared on her forehead. “Why would King Edward expect you to help him if he will not help you?” she asked.
“Because he has David.”
“But I thought part of the reason you married me was to get King Edward to discuss David’s release. I was a condition.”
He didn’t like how she referred to herself, though it was true. “I think of it like this,” Iain said. “Getting King Edward to talk of David’s release has several parts to it, like gates that must be opened. I married and opened the first gate, which brings me closer to the next gate. Now Edward must tell me what more he requires, moving me closer to talks with him.”
She quirked her mouth in obvious thought. “What do you think will open the next gate?”
“Well, if yer father and Froste attempt to take the throne, I’ll refuse to go to King Edward’s aid until he draws up terms for David’s release, but if they do nae attempt the throne and all settles, I imagine Edward will want money. Either way, I expect to be summoned back to England or invaded by yer father and Froste in the near future.”
Her hand fluttered to her neck. “What do we do until then?”
He drew his wife against him once more, wanting to feel her and wanting her to feel safe. “We account for all possibilities, and then we ready for each so we are always victorious.”
Seventeen
Marion thought about what Iain had told her all the way to the kitchen. If her father and Froste came here to wage war against Iain and his clan, she would simply have to dissuade them from fighting. She could not allow Iain or any of his people to be killed because of her. Beyond that, she was haunted by the memory of the seer’s words. If the seer had seen a need for Iain to fly the Fairy Flag, that had to mean her father and Froste would be coming. And if Iain flew the flag, the seer had said it would mean he had accepted his love for her.
Marion gritted her teeth to keep from crying out. The seer had said the third waving could save the clan or destroy it, and while Marion wanted Iain’s love, she did not want it if it destroyed his clan.
As they neared the kitchen, Marion turned to Bridgette, who’d been walking quietly beside her, and whispered so Archibald would not overhear her. “I cannot let Iain ever wave the flag because of my father and Froste.”
“Ye dunnae want Iain to love ye so much that he’d fly the flag for ye?” Bridgette asked in a hushed voice.
“I don’t want him to go to war for me,” Marion said, twisting her hands. “If it ever seems that he might, you must vow to me that you will help me stop it.”
“So ye believe the prophecy?”
“I don’t know for certain,” Marion whispered. “But I’m not willing to risk it.”
Bridgette nodded. “I feel the same. I’ll do as ye ask. I dunnae want to go against the seer, if she may be correct.”
“What are ye two ladies whispering about?” Graham, Iain’s younger brother, asked as he came out of the kitchen and nearly collided with them. Graham was the smallest of the MacLeod brothers—not that he was small. The other men were simply like enormous oak trees while Graham was a slender pine. Marion had only spoken to him for a few minutes since arriving at Dunvegan. Of the four brothers, he seemed the quietest.
“I’m stunned to see a man in the kitchen,” Bridgette teased.
Graham’s neck flushed red. His friendly dark-brown gaze flicked over Marion briefly and then turned to Bridgette, where it lingered. Marion inhaled slowly as she watched him staring at Bridgette. He liked her! She’d bet her last coin on it, if she had a coin.
“Graham!” Bridgette, grinning mischievously, snapped her fingers in his face. “Are ye woolgathering?”
Marion felt instantly sorry for him. It was clear that Bridgette did not see him as a possible husband.
“Sorry.” Graham cleared his throat. “I was in the kitchen asking Cook to make baked pears for the last course tonight.”
“But that’s my favorite!” Bridgette exclaimed.
“Is it?” Graham said, as if he was surprised, but Marion didn’t believe the surprise was genuine. He’d known baked pears were Bridgette’s favorite. He shrugged. “I had a strong hunger for it. It’s my favorite, as well.”
“I kinnae believe that in spite of all the meals we’ve all eaten over the years, Graham MacLeod, I never kenned that about ye.”
His dark eyes grew even darker, almost black. “There is much ye dunnae ken about me, Bridgette MacLean.”
Marion blinked. Graham was trifling with Bridgette! Marion held her breath and prayed Bridgette would sense his adoration and be gentle with him.
Bridgette laughed. “Such as?”
“Why do ye nae take a walk with me in the garden and I’ll tell ye?”
Bridgette frowned, as if she could not think of a single excuse to give him. “I dunnae think—”
“If Bridgette walks with ye, so do I,” growled Archibald.
“I dunnae need a minder!” Bridgette snapped.
Graham immediately stepped to Bridgette’s side. “Ye heard the lady.”
“I heard,” Archibald snapped. “But I’ve orders from the MacLean to nae leave her alone.”
“She’ll nae be alone,” Graham said with a smirk.
“She needs a man by her side who can defend her,” Archibald barked.
Oh good Lord! Marion saw a fight brewing. She moved closer to the men, who were now standing so close they almost touched. “You are both strong, bold men capable of defending Bridgette. However, I need someone to come with me to move some things in the kitchen,” Marion lied and stared pointedly at Archibald. She knew Bridgette likely didn’t truly want to stroll with Graham, given she desired his older brother, but Marion pitied him. Being the youngest and the smallest could not be easy among this lot.
Archibald sighed but nodded. “I’ll be happy to aid ye any way ye wish, my lady. I’m sure ye picked me because—”
“Yes, yes, come with me,” Marion interrupted and hurried off, leaving Bridgette and Graham standing alone in front of the kitchen doors.
The chaos of the kitchen was shocking. She stood in the entrance with Archibald beside her and gaped at the scene. A score of cooks ran around shouting at one another, and women who surely had to be the bakers—if the dough covering their arms was any indication—traded nasty and very loud barbs. Meanwhile, the poulterers—ten of them that Marion could see—all seemed to be waving their knives and cursing instead of actually preparing the birds for supper.
She glanced quickly at the shelves and saw that many were almost bare and not properly stocked, either. Fiona may have been mistress of the castle, but she clearly did not care about it, or at least not the kitchen, which was odd since she would benefit from a well-run kitchen.
Marion cleared her throat. When no one even glanced her way, she turned to Archibald. “Can you whistle?”
He narrowed his eyes at her, confused. “Aye.”
She’d tried for years to master whistling, but the only way she could manage it was by inhaling air, and that never produced the loud, shrill whistle she longed to make.
“Would you mind?” she asked him.
His brow stayed wrinkled for a moment, and then it slowly smoothed and he grinned. “I’d love to.” He put his fingers up to his mouth and let out the loudest, shrillest whistle Marion had ever heard. She was awed, jealous, and immensely pleased.
The occupants of the kitchen came to a complete standstill, and silence permeated the room.
Marion cleared her throat, suddenly very nervous. “Good day. I wanted to present myself to each of you.”
“We ken who ye are, my lady,” said a woman with salt-and-pepper hair and kind eyes. “Many of us were gathered by the sea when the laird returned and presented ye.” The woman glanced around her. “And those of us who were nae there have certainly been told of ye.” The woman wiped her hands on her dark apron, leaving a trail of flour across its front. She stepped forward and offered an awkward curtsy. “I’m Kyla, Neil’s wife.”
“Neil!” Marion smiled, inadvertently touching her ear as she thought of the man who Froste had mutilated twice now. “I did not know he was married. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The woman grinned broadly. “Likewise. Neil told me how ye risked yer life to help him, and then how ye dressed his ear. I was hoping for the opportunity to thank ye, and tell ye simply to ask if I can ever do anything for ye.”
Marion was aware that the entire kitchen staff was listening to their conversation. This would be the perfect time to tell them of her intention of being involved in the running of the kitchen, but she needed to make certain she didn’t sound obtrusive. She wanted them to see her as a peer, not a Sassenach that suddenly appeared and told them what to do.
“Actually, Kyla, I would very much like to learn about how things are done in the kitchen here, and in other areas of the castle, as well. You see,” Marion said sincerely, “I was mistress of my father’s castle in England, but I fear that is very different from overseeing a grand Scottish castle. Would you help me learn?” Marion purposely met the curious gazes of the women surrounding her, and she was very surprised and pleased to see Elspeth standing among them. Marion settled her attention on Elspeth. “Would you all help me?”
“Of course, my lady,” Kyla immediately replied, and others, Elspeth included, quickly echoed their agreement. “What would ye like to ken?”
Marion smiled. “Well, the first thing I’d like to know is if you would all please call me Marion.”
“As ye wish it, my lady—er, Marion.”
“Excellent!” Marion looped her arm through Kyla’s. The woman’s eyes widened, but she did not pull away. “Are you head of the kitchen?”
“I was,” Kyla murmured, bitterness tingeing her voice. “But when Lady Catriona passed away, her sister Fiona took her duties upon herself and declared that we were nae to do anything without asking her first.” Kyla glanced pointedly at Elspeth. “But Fiona never comes to the kitchen and kinnae be bothered with the needs of the kitchen.”
“Truly, she does nae want to be bothered with much that does nae pertain to her own needs,” Elspeth added, glancing shyly at Marion.
“I see,” Marion replied softly. It sounded as though Fiona simply liked to lord over people. Marion took a deep breath. “Well, I’m mistress now, and I firmly believe it’s good to have different people running different things. You all know this kitchen and the castle’s needs better than anyone. I’d like to appoint someone to head the kitchen, who will then deliberate with me.” Murmurs of agreement filled the room. She had been careful to use the word deliberate because she wanted the women to understand that they had a voice and a say in what was to happen.
“Would everyone be in agreement with my appointing Kyla as head of the kitchen?” Hearty agreement swiftly came. “Wonderful!” Marion glanced sideways at Kyla. “Would you please counsel me as to who you think should head the bakers, and the poulterers, and the other areas of the kitchen?”
For the next hour, Marion followed Kyla around the kitchen as the woman personally presented Marion to each person whom she felt should run a part of the kitchen. At the end of the hour, Marion was parched from all the talking and she noticed Archibald had found a chair in a corner and looked as if he was about to fall asleep. She excused herself from Kyla and went over to Archibald and assured him that he did not need to stay with her. He offered a weak protest but then left at her behest. Once it was just Marion with the kitchen ladies, who seemed willing and ready to accept her, she felt a sense of real hope.
The women gathered around a large rectangular table in the middle of the kitchen and partook in a light morning meal. As they ate, Marion entreated them to tell her what they thought needed improvement in the kitchen. The cooks themselves readily admitted the food was not as good as it could be, but they were adamant that it was because things were so disorganized and the food stores were not properly stocked. Marion told them that she would oversee the stocking of the kitchen herself and that together they would strive to please Iain. While he never complained of the lackluster meals, he never complimented the food, either. Marion could tell it had hurt the women’s pride, and having known just how it felt to want to be noticed for your efforts, Marion was determined to see that Iain and the other men were so impressed by the meals that they’d rave about them.
As she departed, she promised to speak to Iain about gathering the proper spices and supplies the kitchen needed. True to her word, Marion spoke with Iain that night as they lay in his bed.
“Iain, have you noticed the food at Dunvegan tends to be bland?”
He frowned. “Aye. It used to be much better.”
Marion wanted to lay the blame at Fiona’s feet where it belonged, but she restrained herself. “The kitchen is not being properly stocked. The cooks tell me they don’t have the herbs they need, nor enough barley and rye to make the bread and mead. And they don’t have any honey from the beekeepers to sweeten the food.”
“Well, then they should simply procure some,” he said and pulled her toward him to kiss her on the lips. As his hand slid lower to cup her breast, she gently pushed him away. She wanted him very much, but she wanted to discuss this first.
“They are afraid to do so because Fiona told them that she was head of the kitchen and she’d gather all the supplies or appoint someone to do it, but she has not done so.”
Iain grunted. “Did ye tell them ye’re mistress of the castle now and to follow yer command?”
“In my own way. I think it’s best to show them they have nothing to fear by gathering what the kitchen needs myself this first time, but I’ll need help.”
“Ye need me to help ye?” he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.
She blinked at him in surprise. “Heavens, no! I’d not ask you to waste your time on such matters, but I will need someone to carry the heavier things. I wanted to make sure it would be acceptable if I asked Archibald to help me.”
Iain stopped kissing her neck and met her eyes. “Nay. I’ll help ye.”
“You’re sure?” she asked skeptically, aware the offer was only made out of jealousy.
“Aye,” he replied, slipping his hand back under her clothing and cupping her breast. His fingers moved deftly and quickly over the hardened nub. “We’ll go at dawn, and afterward, ye can show me what ye ken of shooting a bow.”
Marion’s eyes widened. “Really? Do you have that much time to give me with all your training?”
/> “I will always have time for ye, Marion,” he responded, his voice low and husky. And before she could tell him how pleased she was, his mouth claimed her breast and all her thoughts fled, save one: her husband certainly knew how to pleasure her.
The next morning, after several hours of gathering what the cooks needed and then taking the stores to kitchen—to the delight of the cooks—Iain and Marion set out into the woods adjacent to the castle. When they arrived at a lovely spot dotted with trees, Iain pulled two bows from his sack. One of them was the perfect size for Marion, and she could not help but wonder if it had been Catriona’s.
It must have shown on her face, because as Iain was passing her the bow, he said, “I had Graham make it for ye.”
“What?” she gasped. “When? There hasn’t been enough time for such a task.”
Iain chuckled. “Aye. Graham is lightning-quick and excels at making all weapons. I asked him to make these the night we arrived.” Then Iain produced a dagger that Marion had not even noticed before. “I also had him make this for ye to replace the one Angus gave ye.”
Tears filled Marion’s eyes as she took the dagger in her free hand. “Iain, I’m so touched.”
He smiled. “Good. I’d hoped ye would be. Look at the dagger’s hilt.”
She handed the bow back to him, so she could do so.
“Teaghlach,” he said when she looked at the inscription. “It means family, and ye are a part of mine. An important part.”
Marion’s heart tugged and she sniffled, even as he lowered his head and brushed his lips to hers. “Vow to me ye’ll never forget it,” he said.
She looked deep into his eyes, wondering if this was his way of offering her something in place of his love, but she pushed the thought away and concentrated on the goodness of his gifts. “I’ll not forget. Now, shall I show you how I can shoot?”
“Aye. And then we can practice using the dagger. Yer skill needs a bit of work.”
When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) Page 24
