The Highlander's Enchantment Read online

  Fortunately, Edan strode into the stable right then, his narrowed gaze flicking back and forth between her and the stable master.

  “What is the problem, Master Arthur?” he asked gruffly.

  Master Arthur gestured wildly at Bluebell. “The lady seems to be under the impression ye gave permission for livestock to be housed with the horses.”

  Livestock! “Bluebell is not livestock.” Her eyes were starting to sting, signaling tears would be coming soon.

  “I did,” Edan said, staring hard at the stable master. “In future, my lady’s requests shall be granted without my permission required.”

  “Aye, my laird.” Master Arthur turned red in the face, but not from anger. Instead, he looked at Blair with genuine regret, the first of which she’d seen from anyone today. “Apologies, my lady. We shall take verra good care of your lamb.”

  “Her name is Bluebell.”

  He pressed his hand over his heart. “She will be as my own.”

  Blair watched, forcing her tears at bay, as Bluebell trotted happily beside the stable master down the walk until he found an empty stall to place her.

  “All is well?” Edan asked.

  She nodded, though right now it felt very much like not all was well.

  Chapter 15

  Edan had been on his way back to the keep to see how his wife was settling in after gaining a report from the gate master, when he’d spotted Blair walking determinedly out of the barn and toward the stables with her sweet lamb in tow. She’d looked visibly upset, though the line of her jaw was set in purpose.

  He’d been of a mind to let her figure things out on her own when he’d seen a few of the women who helped about the castle gathered in a trio and pointing toward the stable. Blair didn’t see them, and Edan didn’t like what he was able to deduce from the scene.

  It would seem his order for Bluebell to be taken and given housing with the horses had been ignored. Instead, she’d been stuck with the livestock—which would have been disastrous, had anyone decided lamb was on the menu.

  Good God, she never would have forgiven him, and Magnus Sutherland would very likely have descended upon Rose lands like a wolf on its prey.

  The fact that the lasses were having a good fit of giggles over it had Edan wondering if the wrong placement of the lamb had been done on purpose. He’d not dealt with any lasses while growing up, other than the few who’d flirted with him and those he’d stolen a kiss or enjoyed a tupping with, so he had no idea how the feminine mind worked.

  As a lad thrust into the king’s army, he’d gone through his own fair share of cruelty and teasing in order to fit in. Did women have something of the same? Well, it didn’t matter. He’d not allow his wife to be tormented, and he certainly wasn’t going to allow her sweet pet to be murdered, especially after having made a promise to her to see to Bluebell’s well-being.

  Edan had marched into the stable and set things to rights. Now, he stood outside of his mount’s stall, listening to Blair’s soft murmurs after she’d insisted on seeing to Bluebell’s comfort herself. Having given her privacy to do so, he could see that she was seeing to her own as well. The sheep seemed to have the ability to calm her.

  What he was supposed to do with a wife, he had no idea. There hadn’t been any training on it. Aye, he knew he needed to bed her, and he would this very eve and hopefully every eve after, in order to gain heirs, but what else did one do with a wife? He knew not the first bit of business about a mistress’s place in the castle, and so he’d determined to leave that to the housekeeper.

  Edan held out a palmful of fresh oats toward his horse, who gingerly lipped the kernels from his hand.

  Housekeepers worked very closely with the lady of the castle to keep everything set to rights, and thus, Agnes would know more about the running of it than he would, or at least the way it had been run. As lady of the castle, Blair was free to change anything she wanted. He had men to train, fortifications to see to, crofters and clansmen to care for. There were taxes that had to be paid, revenue to be calculated and a myriad of other confusing details he was still trying to learn himself. His brother’s steward had been as helpful as he could be, but Edan still felt rather hopeless.

  He was a knight, a warrior, and he knew how to take orders as well as dispense them. In a battle, he could kill a man with no weapons, and taking on three at a time was easy, even with the damage to his eye.

  The elders were pleased he’d come home with a wife, no doubt relieved they would not have to pester him anymore into marrying. They were especially happy with whom he’d aligned their clan.

  His warriors were equally pleased and eager for him to send out an invitation to Magnus, his brothers, and every one of their sons for a tournament. The Rose clan warriors prided themselves on being proficient with their weaponry and fighting skills, but to put it to the test in a tournament was always a pleasure, and for the most skilled of Scotland’s warriors to now be aligned with their clan was a boon.

  Blair should be able to figure things out on her own. As a lady born and bred to be mistress of a castle, she would indeed have what she needed in hand.

  Even still, he would have to keep his ears and eyes open for any hints of her or Bluebell being abused.

  “She is settled,” Blair said, approaching from the direction of Bluebell’s stable.

  “And are ye?” He raked his gaze over her, from the flush of her face down to the booted toes peeking from beneath her skirts.

  “Aye.”

  “Then we should go into the great hall for supper. I’m starving.”

  She smiled, though her expression was guarded as she nodded her agreement.

  Edan narrowed his brows, taking in the slightly forlorn look of his bride. “Ye would tell me if ought was amiss, aye?” he asked.

  “Of course.” She touched his elbow, drawing his attention to her long, slim fingers and making him consider what it would be like for those elegant hands to be on his bare flesh.

  Och, but supper couldn’t be over soon enough. He was ready to take her up to their chamber right now and make her his. To pleasure her all the night through. With his thoughts having turned decidedly southward, he took her hand in his and headed back toward the castle keep. The sooner they ate, the sooner he could take her above stairs and make her his wife in truth.

  The great hall was full of bustle, as clanswomen worked to set the tables and hounds were shooed outside. Trenchers, and even a few flower centerpieces too, had been set on the long trestle tables. They were trying to make it special for their lady, and that pleased him well.

  He led Blair toward the dais, where their two chairs were in the center. Several other chairs had been placed on either side for the clan elders. The scents coming from the kitchen were incredible, making his mouth water. He pulled out Blair’s chair, and she murmured her thanks as she sat and placed her napkin primly on her lap. She looked guarded. Not her usual self, and certainly not the same as she’d been at Castle Ross. But he suspected it was because here she was not surrounded by her family.

  The housekeeper approached, giving a slight curtsy in their direction as she held out a jug of wine. The rest of the cupbearers poured ale or wine for those in attendance. Edan would have normally done so for himself, but he suspected Agnes was trying to make a good impression on her new mistress.

  Edan indicated she could pour the contents into their goblets. She started first with his and then moved to Blair’s. As the red liquid decanted into his wife’s goblet she stiffened, and he could only think that perhaps it was because she’d had a bit too much the night before.

  But Agnes saw fit to pour her wine to the very top, until Blair said, “That is plenty.”

  Agnes startled, seeming to have forgotten what she was doing, because her hand jerked back with the jug, and a large splash came out of it to slap against Blair’s cheek. His wife gasped, as did the housekeeper, who set the jug down and grasped for a napkin. She reached over the table to help dab at Blair�
�s face, tipping her wine goblet in the process—but quick with his reflexes, Edan snatched it and uprighted it before more than a few drops could fall on the table.

  Blair’s nostrils flared as Agnes reached for her again. “I’ve got it,” his wife said more sharply than he’d heard before, but then she quickly softened her voice, adding. “My thanks for your attempt to help.”

  She wiped the wine from her face, her cheeks flaming red, poor lass.

  Beneath the table, he squeezed her knee, hoping to ease her worries, but she jerked toward him, seeming surprised at his show of comfort.

  “Do ye want to wash your face, lass? I will tell them to wait in serving supper.”

  “Nay,” she hurried. “I dinna want to make anyone wait for me. Besides, ye said yourself how hungry ye were. I’ll be fine. I’ve wiped it good enough for now.”

  “If ye’re certain?”

  She dragged in a long sigh, blinked her eyes a few times, as if trying to find the answer. “Aye. I’m certain.”

  “At any time, ye just give me the word, and I will take ye upstairs.”

  Blair nodded, a tight smile on her face.

  Mo chreach, but the lass was having a troubled time of it today. If anything else were to happen, he wouldn’t be surprised if she sent a missive to her da to come and get her, just as Connor’s wife had.

  Edan signaled for the meal to be served, and as the trenchers came to the table, he took his time choosing the choicest cut of meat for his wife, and the thickest slice of bread. She wrinkled her nose, however, and he realized too late that the meat being served was mutton. Gritting his teeth at his error, he quickly removed the mutton from her trencher and put it on his own.

  “Mrs. McQuinn,” he called, “is mutton all that is being served this eve?”

  “Aye, my laird. Does it not suit?”

  Blair placed a hand on his arm, and when he glanced down at her, she gave a slight shake of her head.

  “Is her ladyship not pleased with the meal? When she visited us in the kitchen, she said it smelled delicious.”

  Blair stared at the housekeeper; her expression unreadable. “A personal preference, nothing more,” she said.

  “Is it because we didna slaughter the one ye brought for us? I can be certain ’tis done tomorrow; we simply did not have time this afternoon.”

  “Nay!” Blair all but shouted at the same time he did.

  “The lamb ye are referring to,” Edan said, “is not to be harmed. She’s a prized pet of her ladyship’s.”

  Agnes McQuinn looked confused but nodded all the same. “I shall see if we’ve any leftover rabbit stew from luncheon. Will that suffice, my lady?”

  “Aye,” Blair nodded. “Thank ye.”

  He could have sworn he heard Agnes ask under her breath if her ladyship had a prized pet rabbit too, but she’d wandered off before he could ask. He supposed even if she had said it, it would do no good to call attention to it if Blair hadn’t heard. He’d have to speak with the housekeeper separately to make certain she was not deliberately trying to offend his wife.

  “Please, my laird,” Blair said, “tell the people they can eat.”

  It was then he noticed the whole of the great hall staring in their direction. No one would normally eat until the laird and his lady first had a bite.

  “Eat!” he said jovially.

  But he would wait, even despite Blair encouraging him. “This is our first meal together as man and wife in our castle. I’ll not do it alone.”

  A moment later, a steaming bowl of stew was brought out by Mrs. McQuinn. She smiled triumphantly. “As hoped for,” she said, and had the intelligence to look at her lady with genuine pleasure, which of course pleased him.

  She set the bowl down on the table exuberantly and it tipped forward, spilling a stream of brown broth over the lip of the bowl, onto the wood of the table and into Blair’s lap. Despite her leaping back out of the way, the broth rained down on the lap of her gown like a waterfall.

  “Oh, dear me, not again,” wailed Agnes.

  Blair flashed angry eyes on the woman, which were quickly shuttered, and her frown was replaced by a bitter smile. “’Tis quite all right.” She took her napkin, already stained with wine, and dabbed at the ruined gown.

  “My laird.” Agnes turned pleading eyes on Edan. “I swear ’twas an accident. I am so sorry. To think in all my years working in fine households, I’ve never had so many accidents in a year as I’ve had today.” She dropped to her knees; hands clasped as if in prayer. “Please forgive me.”

  “Stand.” Edan had no choice but to believe her. “I’m certain my wife will agree that ye’re simply overcome with having a new lady present. All is forgiven but see to it yourself that her gown is washed clean on the morrow.”

  “Aye, I will.” She crossed her hands over her heart and scurried away.

  Blair sat motionless, her face red and her lips thinned and white. She was clearly furious.

  “I dinna think she did it apurpose,” he murmured, settling his hand on her leg once more. “But if we find out she did, ye’ll have first hold of the flog to her back.”

  “Aye, ye’re probably right.” Blair’s tone was quite clearly filled with cynicism. She glanced down toward her bowl. “I’ve no spoon, but if we call her back, she might hit me on the head with it.”

  Edan chuckled, squeezed her leg gently again, and motioned one of the cupbearers forward. “A spoon for my lady wife.”

  “Aye, my laird.”

  A moment later, spoon in hand, Blair was eating, and so did he. He watched the way she delicately brought the spoon to her lips, taking the smallest of bites. She pulled small hunks of bread and dipped it in the broth, eating that as well. However, she did not finish, and sat back in her seat with a hand to her belly when her bowl was not even halfway eaten.

  “Was it not pleasing, sweetling?”

  She grimaced. “Aye, verra delicious. I am simply full.”

  “Shall I escort ye upstairs?” Mo chreach, please say aye.

  “I think I should like a moment of privacy.” Her face had taken on a paler shade.

  She was worried about the marriage bed. Dammit. He’d no experience with comforting virgins, but he would do his best to ease her worry. Perhaps a few moments alone, and then he would show her she had nothing to fear and only pleasure to look forward to. Well, after the initial bite of pain, and he would do his damndest to make certain it was over quickly.

  He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her softly. “I’ll be along shortly, my love.”

  “Take your time.” She stood, her face going another shade paler, and then she hurried from the great hall as though the Devil were on her heels.

  Ballocks, but he felt like a monster. His bride was fairly fleeing from him.

  Blair barely made it to her chamber before she threw herself toward the chamber pot in the lady’s room and vomited everything she’d sipped and eaten at supper. She heaved and heaved until the muscles of her stomach hurt, and then she heaved some more, until she felt she would die from the pain of it. She fell weakly to the floor and curled in a ball. She shivered at the stabbing within her gut and sucked in heady breaths of air, praying Edan would not come up yet. When at last the cramping in her belly subsided enough that she could move, she rolled onto her back and used the skirt of her ruined gown to wipe at her face.

  The stew had not tasted bad, but clearly, it had not agreed with her.

  Oh, she was so very glad she’d made it back to the chamber before she made a mess of herself in front of everyone. Good God, the way her husband had looked at her, like he wanted to kiss her, as she was trying to hold in the contents of her stomach.

  She flopped an arm over her eyes and drew in a shuddering breath. Any moment, he was going to be up here to take her to bed, and here she was, ill on the floor.

  A soft knock sounded on the outer chamber. Blair did not invite whoever it was inside, for if it had been her husband, she was certain he
would have simply strolled in. She rolled to her side again and stared at the two trunks that had been brought in from their journey but had yet to be put away. The chests did not hold all of her things, but they did hold everything she’d brought with her to Castle Ross.

  “My lady?”

  Blair recognized the voice of Agnes McQuinn. She pushed up to sitting, feeling another wave of nausea roll over her. She wanted to slam the door in the fetid woman’s face. She’d done all of those things on purpose. Blair was no fool, even if her husband was oblivious. Of course, he knew nothing of what had happened earlier in the day to lend credence to the truth. Why hadn’t she told him? But even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. The man had enough to worry over trying to solve his brother’s murder. He need not be bothered with petty problems.

  The housekeeper came in, took one look at the chamber pot and clucked her tongue.

  “My lady, are ye unwell?”

  Blair glowered up at her, the accusation that the woman had tampered with the stew on the tip of her tongue. But it had not tasted bad, and the illness could be a result of nerves and exhaustion, or even an ague from her cold bath, so she kept her mouth shut.

  “I came to gather the gown and get ye ready for bed myself, seeing as how ye’ve no maid quite yet.” Agnes wrung her hands in front of her and actually looked contrite. “I must offer my sincerest apology, my lady, for our earlier conversation and my blunders at supper.”

  “And my bath?”

  “Your bath?” She had the nerve to look confused.

  “Never mind, ye know what ye did.” Oh dear heavens, she gagged again, but nothing came out.

  “Please, I beg ye, forgive an old woman for her blunders.” Agnes was hardly old, only maybe ten or so more years older than Blair herself. “I promise to make it up to ye. By this time tomorrow, ye’ll be singing my praises.”

  “Ye’re bold to think so,” Blair muttered, allowing Agnes to help her to her feet. She swayed and unfortunately had to cling to the wretch.