“Because I am yer mistress, my lord, does not mean I lack honor. We have made a bargain, and I intend to keep it.” She chewed the venison, washing it down with the wine, then reached for the bread and cut herself a chunk. After smearing butter across it with her thumb, she bit off half of it. Her look was intractable. She would not be bullied by the likes of Angus Gordon.
He said nothing more, nor did she. When the food had finally been cleared from the board, a piper came forward, stood before them, and began to play. A faint smile touched Fiona's lips. The music made by the pipes was a raucous sound, yet it touched her heart to its core, understanding her sadness, sympathizing with it, soothing it. She sighed deeply as the piper finally ceased and walked away into the shadows of the hall. Without another word Fiona arose and went to her chamber, Nelly on her heels. Angus watched her go, his look, for the briefest moment, thoughtful.
Nelly helped her mistress to disrobe, handing her lady a soft linen camisia with flowing sleeves. Fiona tied the two halves of the garment closed at the neckline. After bathing her hands and face, then carefully cleaningher teeth with pumice, she was ready for bed. Nelly busied herself with folding the discarded garments and laying them aside.
Fiona went to the window and pushed the shutters open. The night air was cool, autumnal. “Go to bed, Nelly,” she said. “I'm not yet ready to sleep. Too much has happened today.”
“God give ye sweet repose then, lady,” Nelly said, closing the door behind her.
There was a quarter moon tonight. It glowed brightly down on the waters of the loch, silvering the little wave tops. The wind was light, but definite in its course. Fiona smiled as it caught a tendril of her hair before she began to braid it. Fastening the single thick plait with a bit of ribbon, she sighed and, placing her hands on the sill, gazed deeply into the night.
She was alone.
For the first time in her entire life she was truly alone. Her sisters were all scattered. Old Tarn and Flora were gone from her. It was an odd sensation, almost like having no body or floating free and not knowing where she was going. What was to become of her, she wondered, but Fiona was neither sad nor frightened by her silent question. She was simply curious as to what life held in store for her. She could not remember a time when she was not responsible for her siblings. What on earth was she going to do now that they were all settled?
The arm that slid about her waist was not unexpected. She had sensed that he would come tonight. It had been more than a week since he had lain with her, and she was shy all over again, but at least this time she knew what to expect.
“What are ye thinking?” he asked, surprising her.
“Of my sisters,” she said, wondering if he would really understand.
“Ye miss them?”
“Aye, and I wonder what my life is to be now I no longer have them to care for, Angus Gordon,” she told him honestly.
“Ye are my mistress,” he replied, bending to place a warm kiss in the place where her round neckline revealed her skin.
Fiona laughed in spite of herself. “What does a mistress do, my lord?” she queried mischievously.
“Why she … she—” He stopped, confused by her question.
“Exactly,” Fiona told him. “If I were yer wife, I would have the care of this castle and its people, but I am not yer wife. What is it that I am, then? I am not a toy to be put in the corner when ye don't want me, my lord.”
The laird was astounded. By Fiona, by their very conversation. What did she want of him? “Una and Aulay have charge of the castle,” he began, but he realized that had he a wife, they would defer to her.
“Una and Aulay have their proper place, as do all those here at Brae. They know what is expected of them each day. I do not.” Fiona's backbone seemed to stiffen as she spoke. Why on earth had she even begun this conversation? He would think she
He said nothing more, nor did she. When the food had finally been cleared from the board, a piper came forward, stood before them, and began to play. A faint smile touched Fiona's lips. The music made by the pipes was a raucous sound, yet it touched her heart to its core, understanding her sadness, sympathizing with it, soothing it. She sighed deeply as the piper finally ceased and walked away into the shadows of the hall. Without another word Fiona arose and went to her chamber, Nelly on her heels. Angus watched her go, his look, for the briefest moment, thoughtful.
Nelly helped her mistress to disrobe, handing her lady a soft linen camisia with flowing sleeves. Fiona tied the two halves of the garment closed at the neckline. After bathing her hands and face, then carefully cleaningher teeth with pumice, she was ready for bed. Nelly busied herself with folding the discarded garments and laying them aside.
Fiona went to the window and pushed the shutters open. The night air was cool, autumnal. “Go to bed, Nelly,” she said. “I'm not yet ready to sleep. Too much has happened today.”
“God give ye sweet repose then, lady,” Nelly said, closing the door behind her.
There was a quarter moon tonight. It glowed brightly down on the waters of the loch, silvering the little wave tops. The wind was light, but definite in its course. Fiona smiled as it caught a tendril of her hair before she began to braid it. Fastening the single thick plait with a bit of ribbon, she sighed and, placing her hands on the sill, gazed deeply into the night.
She was alone.
For the first time in her entire life she was truly alone. Her sisters were all scattered. Old Tarn and Flora were gone from her. It was an odd sensation, almost like having no body or floating free and not knowing where she was going. What was to become of her, she wondered, but Fiona was neither sad nor frightened by her silent question. She was simply curious as to what life held in store for her. She could not remember a time when she was not responsible for her siblings. What on earth was she going to do now that they were all settled?
The arm that slid about her waist was not unexpected. She had sensed that he would come tonight. It had been more than a week since he had lain with her, and she was shy all over again, but at least this time she knew what to expect.
“What are ye thinking?” he asked, surprising her.
“Of my sisters,” she said, wondering if he would really understand.
“Ye miss them?”
“Aye, and I wonder what my life is to be now I no longer have them to care for, Angus Gordon,” she told him honestly.
“Ye are my mistress,” he replied, bending to place a warm kiss in the place where her round neckline revealed her skin.
Fiona laughed in spite of herself. “What does a mistress do, my lord?” she queried mischievously.
“Why she … she—” He stopped, confused by her question.
“Exactly,” Fiona told him. “If I were yer wife, I would have the care of this castle and its people, but I am not yer wife. What is it that I am, then? I am not a toy to be put in the corner when ye don't want me, my lord.”
The laird was astounded. By Fiona, by their very conversation. What did she want of him? “Una and Aulay have charge of the castle,” he began, but he realized that had he a wife, they would defer to her.
“Una and Aulay have their proper place, as do all those here at Brae. They know what is expected of them each day. I do not.” Fiona's backbone seemed to stiffen as she spoke. Why on earth had she even begun this conversation? He would think she
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