The Highlander's Enchantment Page 20

  Her stomach growled, but it did not appear that breakfast was being served, else she’d already missed it. She headed toward the kitchens, planning to grab a crust of bread and try again with Cook and those present. She was determined to make this work, for them all to get along as well as her mother did with her own kitchen help. But inside, the servants eyed her with suspicion and what looked like censure.

  “Good morn,” Blair offered, smiling warmly.

  Only one smiled back and was quickly elbowed by Cook who stood beside her.

  “Might I have a bite to eat?”

  “Breakfast has already been served,” Cook said. “We serve it when the laird wakes.”

  Blair was taken aback. Had the cook really just refused to give her something to eat? Perhaps they thought she expected to be served in the great hall. She continued to smile, hiding her shock. “’Tis all right. I dinna need to be served. I’m plenty capable of serving myself.”

  “As we know,” someone muttered. “Whore.”

  Blair whipped to the right, certain now that she had heard what they whispered. Her face grew red with embarrassment. Had they heard her and Edan making love the night before? That seemed the only reasonable notion for such an insult. Suddenly, what she and Edan had shared felt shameful. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and forced herself to speak. “Beg your pardon?” Her voice was calm, though it held an underlying note of steel.

  “We know why ye married our laird,” piped up the woman who’d called her a whore so outright.

  She was young, perhaps even younger than Blair herself. Pretty, with freckles around her cheeks, and her hair the color of freshly churned earth. Her lips, however, were not pretty and formed a sneer that had the power to turn her whole face ugly.

  “Ye carry his babe. Gave yourself to him afore ye were wed.”

  “Aye, we’ll not serve a whore.”

  “Soon enough, the laird will see ye for what ye are.”

  Hateful words came at her from all sides.

  Blair narrowed her eyes. Why on earth would they think that? Then she knew—the night before when she’d been sick, Agnes must have assumed it was because she was pregnant. All of them must have thought as much.

  Well, they would know soon enough when they saw the sheets. Now she wished she’d left them proudly on the bed, brandishing her a maiden until last night.

  Agnes came into the kitchen then, clucking her tongue and the words of the scullions ceased. “What’s this?” Her voice was sharp in the direction of the servants. “Dinna criticize our laird’s choice in a wife. Besides, the bairn will be born legitimate. And we canna starve the laird’s bairn.” Agnes reached into a basket and produced two bannocks. “Here. One for ye and one for your bairn.”

  Tears threatened the backs of her eyes, stinging. Agnes, who’d seemed so kind the night before, who’d said she wanted to turn a new leaf, was behind these rumors? Even now as she held out freshly baked bannocks in Blair’s direction, she had the nerve to smile sweetly.

  Without a word, Blair whirled from the kitchen and fled their vile slurs and the offer of food. As she rushed toward her chamber, she could hear their laughter and knew Agnes was indeed no friend of hers. Every cutting remark sliced into her chest. What had she done to deserve such anger? Such hatred? Who were these women to think they could treat her that way? Had they treated the last laird’s wife so cruelly?

  How was she going to survive this?

  Up in her chamber, Blair fought tears as she paced the solar, fists clenched at her sides.

  “My lady?” A chamber maid around Blair’s own age stepped out from her bedchamber, the sheets clasped in her arms. “Are ye all right?”

  The lass looked genuinely concerned, her warm brown eyes welcoming as she gazed on her.

  “Should I get his lairdship?” she prodded, setting down the bundle of sheets.

  “What is your name?” Blair asked.

  “Willa, my lady.”

  Blair regarded the sheets and nodded toward them. Willa’s gaze followed hers, a slight blush coloring her skin. The proof she was no whore was right there.

  “Ye didna have to strip the bed, my lady. ’Tis my job.”

  Blair sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to force her emotions at bay. All her life, she’d longed to belong. To find a place, to find herself, and just when she thought she could start anew, to truly be herself, she was running from the shame of what people would make her into.

  Willa cast her gaze toward the ground. “Are ye in need of…women’s linens, my lady?”

  Ah, so she thought the blood on the sheets was from her monthly.

  “Nay, last night…we… I…,” Blair’s voice wobbled. It wasn’t as though she could come right out and say that she’d been a maiden until last night.

  “There was blood…” Willa’s voice trailed off, and then her mouth formed an “O” and she glanced at Blair in understanding. “Och, I see.” She beamed a smile, and again Blair was taken aback by a friendly face.

  Was this going to be a trick as Agnes’s show of warmth last evening had been?

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but I am ever so pleased,” she gushed. “I knew what they were saying couldna be true.”

  That was enough to make Blair want to cry all over again.

  “I’m in need of a lady’s maid,” Blair said. “I dinna want to interfere with your duties as chamber maid, but if they can spare ye, I would like to offer ye the position.”

  Willa gasped and dropped into a curtsy. “My ma would be so proud, and I’d be honored.”

  “Who is your mother?” Blair asked, praying it wasn’t Agnes.

  “She’s gone now to her maker,” Willa explained. “But she was the housekeeper here before she took ill.”

  “Oh. When was that?”

  “Around the time the old laird married a year or so ago. She brought several of her own staff with her, and Mrs. McQuinn was one of them. She’s been housekeeper ever since and endeared herself to everyone.”

  “It is uncommon to have a housekeeper in the keep who has not always been a clanswoman, is it not?” Blair asked, knowing the answer already.

  “Aye, but the servants love her, and it was her ladyship’s request.”

  “Why didna Agnes return with the lady when she went home?”

  “She begged his lairdship to stay. Said she’d found more of a home here at Kilravock than she ever had with her own clan. She married one of the laird’s men, too, ye see. Taking his last name.”

  “Ah.” And those words could be true. Agnes seemed to have formed quite a band of servants, mostly women, clinging to her every word and directive. Enough so that they were willing to torment their own lady.

  But perhaps she had not gotten her claws into one—and if Blair could gain an ally in the old housekeeper’s daughter, she just might be able to turn things around for herself here.

  “Willa, it seems I’ve not gotten as good a start here as I would have liked. I need someone I can trust.”

  Willa’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “I know it, my lady. And I swear to ye, I was not part of any of the tricks that have been had on ye.”

  “That is good to know.”

  “I will talk with the others. ’Twill not bode well for them to go against the mistress of the castle.”

  “Ye need not say too much yet. Agnes seems the sort who will only gloat in knowing I’m fully aware of her intentions to sabotage me.” Blair walked toward the window of the solar and stared out at the landscape, wondering if she’d catch a glimpse of her husband training. “I’d rather know what Agnes hopes to gain. I am married to the laird, and our marriage canna be annulled. Ye’ve the evidence there in your hands. I’m not a… I’m not what they say I am.”

  “And I’ll be sure they know that. But beyond that, I will try and figure out any plots against ye.”

  Blair let out a long sigh. “Thank ye, Willa.” She didn’t want to voice any of her other concerns. But she’d be a fo
ol not to think there was something quite nefarious in Agnes’ plan to disrupt the household.

  It felt personal, as though Agnes wanted to hurt her, and Blair couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. What she did know, instinctively, was that she needed to watch her back.

  “Oh, and my lady, have ye yet told your husband?”

  Blair shook her head. “I know I should, but he’s already got so much to worry over with the death of his brother and becoming laird.”

  “Aye, but he could help ye.”

  “Ye dinna think he will be upset, and believe that I’ve been causing trouble?”

  “Och, nay. But if ye want, I can tell my brother, and have him relay it to Edan.”

  “Aye, perhaps coming from Raibert, it will be better received.”

  She felt foolish, but one of the reasons she’d been so nervous to tell Edan herself was that she worried over whether or not he’d just think her a troublemaker. After all, they’d met under circumstances which though weren’t her fault, theoretically, she was responsible.

  “What a mess,” she murmured.

  Willa patted her on the back. “Dinna fash, my lady. We’ll get it all sorted out.”

  Edan’s sword clashed against Raibert’s in the field. They were covered in slick sweat, their leines long since removed, leaving them to fight in their trews like most of the other warriors.

  But Edan’s heart was not in it. He found his gaze wondering back to the keep, and his thoughts sliding toward the night ahead with his beautiful bride. Mo chreach, but he wanted to call an end to the training so he could go back to their bedchamber and worship her body all over again.

  “My laird,” Raibert asked, a bit of humor in his voice. “I nearly took your other eye out just now.”

  Edan stilled. “I’ve a lot on my mind.”

  “Might it have to do with your wife?” Raibert frowned.

  “Aye.”

  “I heard what the ladies did to her. Willa was quite distraught over it last night.”

  Willa was Raibert’s sister. They shared the croft that had been their parents before they died, and now the two of them kept it up. Their mother had been the housekeeper all of Edan’s life, until she’d passed some time a year or two before, just after their father had fallen in a skirmish.

  Raibert’s words sank in then, and Edan frowned. “What are ye talking about?”

  “She didna tell ye?” Raibert stabbed his sword into the earth and Edan did the same.

  “Tell me what?”

  “The cold bath. The rude comments.”

  Edan shot a glance toward the keep towering over the castle walls. Anger heated in his chest. What the bloody hell was Raibert saying? “Her bath was cold?”

  “Aye. And Willa’s fairly certain Mrs. McQuinn spilled things on your lady wife apurpose.”

  “Why would she do that?” Edan’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword.

  “Willa doesna lie.”

  “I’m not accusing her, Raibert. I only want to know why she thinks these things happened?”

  “I dinna know. She was marching about the croft last night, and I could barely get a word in.” Raibert wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Edan tugged the sword from the earth. “Why did ye wait so long to tell me?”

  Raibert held up his hands in surrender. “I thought ye knew.”

  Edan’s frown deepened, and he pointed the tip at the man and then jabbed it back hard into the ground. “I didna.” Why didn’t Blair tell him her bath had been cold? Did she prefer cold baths? If the women had been unwelcoming, cruel even, to his wife… Why had she put up with it without telling him?

  Saints, but did she think he didn’t care? After all, last night he’d told her he didn’t think that Agnes had spilled the stew on purpose. And then there was the mix up with Bluebell, which he now believed to have been malicious.

  “Will ye take over from here? I need to go and see my wife.”

  “Aye, my laird. We’ll not expect to see ye again until the morrow,” Raibert teased, which sent up a raucous bit of bawdy jesting amongst the other men.

  Edan would have grinned at the newly wedded jest, but he was too angry. Then he realized that for the first time, the men were all working together cohesively and treating him as their laird, so he tossed back at them, “Dinna come knocking, lads. Leave sustenance at the door.”

  With his men laughing and cheering behind him, Edan marched back up to the castle, not bothering to put his shirt back on. He had one thought only—making sure Blair was all right.

  His wife wasn’t in the great hall or kitchen, and she wasn’t in their shared rooms either. He did find her, however, with Bluebell in the stable, which was perhaps the first place he should have looked.

  She glanced up at him, startled. Her gaze skimmed over his bare chest, and a flush of color rose in her cheeks. Was she remembering the first time she’d seen him like this, when she’d snuck into his tent? Lord, she was beautiful sitting in the hay with her wee lamb. A rush of emotion welled in his chest, a strong desire to protect her. Just as he had then.

  “Edan,” she murmured. “I didna expect to see ye until later this evening.”

  “We need to talk, lass.”

  Her eyes widened, and she looked surprised. “All right.”

  He held out his hand to her and tugged her to her feet. “Let us walk.”

  “Would ye mind if we brought Bluebell?”

  He smiled down at the lamb, rubbing her head as she leaned against his leg like a hound. “Nay.”

  He took Blair’s hand in his as she attached a leading string to her pet. They left the stable and headed for the gate and out to the River Nairn, just a short walk away. Trees lined the water, providing shade and some modest privacy. The water lapped softly at the shore, grasses waved in a gentle wind and birds chirped from the branches of the trees. He’d come here often as a lad, tossing rocks into the water with his brother. Swimming. Fishing. There were fond memories here that he hoped to someday share with his own bairns.

  Bluebell munched on some flowers, one of which Edan plucked and offered to Blair before she could chew it up. “She wanted ye to have this,” he teased.

  Blair laughed and tucked the yellow flower behind her ear.

  “How are ye…adjusting?” he asked, hoping she would tell him all that had gone on.

  Edan studied her face. The smile from a second ago faded, and her eyes dulled as she looked out toward the water. The forlorn curl to her lips was a punch to the gut. “As well as anyone can in a new place, I suppose.”

  He didn’t doubt Raibert’s trust in his sister, but Edan hadn’t known Willa enough to say whether or not what she’d said was true. However, seeing the way Blair’s shoulders had slumped now had him believing.

  “And the servants,” he hedged. “Are they being welcoming?”

  Her gaze shuttered completely then, and she sucked in her lower lip, but not before he saw it tremble.

  “Blair,” he murmured, pulling her in for an embrace and putting his arms around her . With her face tipped up, he locked his gaze on hers. “I would know if they are nay treating ye well.”

  “Willa has been verra kind to me. I offered her a place as my lady’s maid.”

  He smiled, swiping gently at one of her tears. “Good. She was verra concerned about ye. Told her brother Raibert some things last night that have me concerned, too. Have the other servants been cruel to ye?”

  She drew in a ragged breath, her body giving a slight tremble. She’d kept so many pent-up emotions. “Some have, but I dinna know why.”

  Anger lanced him anew, and if he hadn’t been holding her, trying to ease her ache, he would have marched into the bailey sword drawn and demanded satisfaction. “I will see that it stops.”

  “I dinna want to cause a fuss,” she said, her fingers splaying across his bare chest and making his heart skip a beat. “I think it must be hard for them to get used to a new mistress so soon.”

  “Th
ey dinna need to get used to ye, lass. They need to treat ye with respect. By playing tricks or spewing unkind words, they dishonor ye and me, and our clan.”

  She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I want them to like me.”

  “I dinna know how they couldna. Ye’re the kindest, sincerest lass I’ve ever met. They are fools not to like ye.”

  “I dinna recall my sisters having this issue. Even Cora seems to be having an easier time of it.”

  “I’ll speak with them.”

  “I dinna want ye to solve my problems for me, Edan. I want to solve them myself.”

  “I can well understand that, lass.”

  “Please dinna say anything just yet.”

  He ground his teeth, unable to make that promise. It was in his nature to protect, and she was his wife. If he didn’t do something about it, he’d be a monster. Yet he understood her desire to gain the respect of the women herself, rather than because they were forced into it.

  “We’ll do it your way for now, lass, but if I dinna see improvement by tomorrow’s eve, or if I witness any other blunders as at supper last night, I’ll have words with them.”

  Blair pressed her lips right over his heart and kissed him. The heat of her mouth on his bare skin was enough to make him groan inside, and his body was instantly alert to her presence. Her floral scent, the soft brush of her hair against his wrist where her plait fell down her back. The curves of her body pressed to his. Her breath on his skin.

  He tilted her head up, kissed her thoroughly, hungrily, and would have laid her down on the grass right then and there and made love to her had Bluebell not taken that moment to attempt to make a snack out of Blair’s gown.

  Blair shrieked in surprise as the sheep gnawed on her gown with innocent eyes. With a laugh, his wife tugged her skirt from her lamb’s mouth and examined the damage. There was only a wearing in the fabric where the lamb’s teeth had grinded against the wool.

  “She is jealous,” Blair said, winking at her husband in a way that stole his breath. She was also always so serious; when she became playful, she was stunning.

  “Aye,” he chuckled, then more seriously added, “What can I do to make up for the unpleasantness that has been your start at Kilravock?”