The Eternal Highlander by Lynsay Sands, Hannah Howell Page A

the courage to ask Cathal if Edmee had any good reason for thinking that she had some claim on him.
    “The laird doesnae want that woman.”
    Bridget was a little startled at how well Mora had guessed her thoughts. “Ye read minds, do ye?”
    “Nay. Tisnae hard to guess what any woman would think or feel when a woman like Edmee eyes her mon. When the laird was a randy wee lad, just coming into his monhood and all, he and Edmee tussled about some. But, then, Edmee has tussled about with near every mon at Cambrun. It didnae last long. She couldnae be faithful if she tried and I think she made her contempt of Outsiders too sharp and clear to see. She could ne’er seem to understand how that insulted the laird’s mother, may God bless and keep her sweet soul, and the laird. And now Edmee insults ye, the laird’s chosen wife.”
    “I would have thought she would be cleverer than that.”
    “Ye would think so. But, nay, she has that arrogance, that blind pride of blood. She thinks the laird ought to renounce his Outsider blood, seems to think he cannae help but do so. What worries me is that she will see his choice of bride as an insult to her.”
    “Aye, I suspect that she will, or already has.”
    “Tis all blind pride, for she kens all is lost now that ye and the laird are mated. He willnae, probably cannae, be hers now.”
    “I should like to believe that is the way of it, but, weel, she is verra beautiful.” Bridget frowned when she saw how intently Mora was staring at her. “What is it?”
    “Didnae the laird explain the mating ere he did it?”
    Bridget blushed. “Weel, nay, but it wasnae really necessary.”
    “I dinnae think we are speaking of the same thing.” Mora grasped Bridget by the hand. “Ye and I need to have a wee, private talk, a verra private talk.” She saw the woman whose cloth they had been examining watching them from the doorway of her cottage. “Dinnae frown, Jean. We will be putting some coin in your palm ere we leave today, but I must have a wee private talk with my lady.”
    Jean smiled and nodded. “A new bride needs counsel now and again, aye? Go inside. I will make sure no one troubles ye. Have yourself a wee drink, too. I have some verra fine cider.”
    Mora nodded and led Bridget into the small cottage that obviously served as Jean’s shop as well as her home. She let Mora pull her along until they reached a room at the rear of the cottage which served as the family’s main living quarters. Bridget sat down at a large well-scrubbed table while Mora poured them each a tankard of cider. When Mora set a tankard in front of her, Bridget started to thank her only to be startled into silence when Mora closely examined her neck.
    “Aye, I feared as much,” muttered Mora as she sat down across from Bridget and took a hearty drink of cider. “That big fool. He hasnae completed the mating. Tisnae good. Nay, ’tisnae good at all. Especially if that bitch Edmee finds out.”
    “Mora, what are ye talking about? The marriage has been consummated. Quite thoroughly.”
    “Ah, lass, the laird obviously waits to be sure ye have fully accepted him, accepted him for what he is, all that he is. He hasnae given ye the bite yet.”
    Bridget frowned, not certain she liked the implications of that. “He does bite me.”
    “Love bites, wee nips, but nay the bite . Being that he is a halfling, mayhap he doesnae have to. I hadnae considered that. Halflings are always different in some way from Purebloods.”
    After taking a long drink of cider to calm her rising temper, Bridget said, “Tell me, Mora, what ye mean by the mating and the bite . Ye keep starting to tell me, then wander off the subject, and, weel, end up talking more to yourself than to me.”
    “Pardon. Tis nay widely kenned. Tis one of the MacNachtons’ most closely guarded secrets. I learned of it because, weel, a wee bit o’er twenty years ago I was in love with a Pureblood. Ye ken my son David, aye?”
    “David is the son