But Lady Sineag didn’t miss a beat.
Her smile widened. “It is with great pleasure that the Laird of Greum Dubh and I wish to formally announce our betrothal…”
There was polite clapping from all around the table. But Roseann barely heard it.
It is over, she thought. It is done.
19
Domhnall gasped. He was momentarily so dazed, he stood at the table and simply stared at the woman. He felt his mouth drop open and was unable to utter a word.
Dear God. Has she just announced our betrothal without any prior warning? When I specifically asked her to wait for her father’s presence?
He kept staring at the smiling woman. She looked like the cat that got the cream. Slowly, she turned and gazed at him, her smile widening until it became so dazzling, he was almost blinded by it.
His heart plummeted. There was simply no way that he could retract her words now. The whole banquet table had heard her—important people who would spread the word. Along with servants who would gossip in the kitchen, spreading it wider still.
Slowly, sickeningly, his eyes were drawn to Roseann. She was staring up at the woman, looking as shocked and sickened as he felt.
My love, he thought desperately. My love.
As if drawn by some invisible thread, that only he could see, her eyes turned to him with those striking amber eyes that always unstitched him. He had seen them shine with delight and glisten with desire. Now, they were so full of sorrow that he could barely gaze into them.
She blinked twice, trying to clear the tears that swam in them. But then, to his utter surprise, she smiled wanly, shrugging her shoulders slightly.
His own eyes widened in shock. She looked like she was accepting what had happened; that she didn’t blame him. As if she thought that what had happened was inevitable. She wasn’t angry or bitter.
His heart surged with a wild hope. He couldn’t undo what had been done—the betrothal had been announced now, and he was honor-bound to go through with it.
The Lady Sineag seated herself again, staring at him pointedly. Slowly, he became aware that everyone at the table was gazing at him expectantly. He had to say something.
He stood up slowly. The room was so silent he might have heard a pin drop. With difficulty, he picked up his goblet, raising it into the air. He cleared his throat.
“It is good news,” he said. “I would like everyone here to raise their glass to the betrothal between the good Lady Sineag and myself. To the alliance between our two clans.”
Everyone picked up their goblets and raising them into the air.
“To Greum Dubh and Lios,” he said, toasting the assembly.
“To Greum Dubh and Lios,” the crowd repeated, returning the toast.
He gazed at Roseann. Her face was as pale as a lily, but she drank, as well.
“To the defeat of the English renegades,” cried someone, further down the table, raising their goblet again.
The crowd repeated it, and they drank deeply again. Domhnall knew that this would keep going on until no one could think of anything else to toast to. By the time it was over, the men would be well into their cups, and the ladies would not be steady on their feet either.
The night had turned, quite unexpectedly, into a celebration. A bittersweet celebration, with the threat of Howard and his unruly renegades hanging over them, but a celebration, nonetheless.
Slowly, he drank. All he wanted to do was grab Roseann by the hand and take her somewhere quiet and private. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that this had happened. That he had tried desperately to stop it, even as the threat of Howard pushed him inexorably towards it. He wanted to plead with her to stay with him, regardless; that he would still make her a happy woman if only she would stay by his side.
He sighed deeply. That wasn’t going to happen any time soon, now. He was the Laird, and he was expected to stay and attend to this. It was the way of it, and he simply had no choice.
It was during the fifth toast when his head was swimming slightly from the mead that he noticed that she was no longer at the table. She had drifted away into the night, as if she had never even been there.
Roseann’s eyelids fluttered open. One of the servants, Grizel, was walking around her bedchamber. Bright sunlight streamed through the windows.
Disoriented, she sat up slowly. Had she slept in? Judging by the brightness of the sunlight, it seemed like she had.
“Grizel,” she said, speaking to the red-haired servant. “What time is it?”
The woman smiled slightly. “It is well past the time to break yer fast, lady. But daenae worry—everyone is sleepin’ late this mornin’, after the news last night of the Laird’s betrothal to the Lady Sineag.”
Roseann’s heart sunk like a stone in her chest. It was true. She had clung to the faint hope that she had somehow dreamed it.
She had stolen out of the banquet hall, when everyone was distracted, and wouldn’t notice her leaving. They were drinking toasts, each one rowdier than the last, the mead flowing with reckless abandon. Her head had begun to thump from the revelry, the shouts of congratulations, the loud ribald laughter. And it had become increasingly hard to keep the smile plastered on her face.
Domhnall hadn’t noticed her leave. He had been talking to Fearghas and MacCain, and his eyes hadn’t strayed towards her. But she turned her head, feeling someone else’s eyes upon her, as she had silently slipped through the crowd.
The Lady Sineag. The beautiful auburn-haired woman was watching her with her blue eyes, in a speculative way. Roseann’s skin prickled slightly, now, remembering it.
“Where is the Laird, Grizel?” she asked slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. It was imperative that she know so that she could track her movements for the day. She just didn’t feel up to speaking with him, not yet. Not until she had processed what had happened and made up her mind what she must now do.
She knew that he would try to persuade her to stay on at Coirecrag, even though all hope was gone that he might someday make her his wife. She knew that he would plead with her and remind her of how much he loved her and that they could somehow make it work. And she just didn’t know if she had the strength to resist him.
“He is meeting with the men,” replied Grizel, as she adjusted one of Roseann’s gowns, ready to dress her. “Now that the betrothal has been announced, they are plannin’ their strategies. I believe they are anticipatin’ the Laird of Lios to arrive with his men any day now…”
Roseann nodded relieved. He would be busy all day, with preparations for what was to come. She would be able to avoid him.
She stood up, approaching the servant now ready to dress for the day. She would go about her business as normal. Cormac would be waiting for her, after all.
She took a deep breath as Grizel started dressing her and tried to quell the sorrow in her heart. It wasn’t just Domhnall that she would be leaving if she made that decision. She had grown attached to the boy and all who resided in Coirecrag castle. In the short amount of time that she had been here, it had become like a second home to her.
As Grizel pulled her passive arms into the sleeves of the gown, her eyes filled with sudden tears. Could she do it? But equally, could she stay on here, knowing that she could never be his wife, while another woman took that place?
Cormac stared at her over the book laid out on the desk between them.
“What is wrong with ye today, lady?” he asked suddenly, his blue eyes keen. “Ye have been starin’ out the window all day long!”
Roseann jumped slightly. She hadn’t realized how distracted she had been.
“I’m sorry, Cormac,” she said and taking a deep breath. “I think I stayed up a little too late last night, and I am tired.”
The boy’s blue eyes gleamed. “It is happenin’, at long last! They say that the Laird of Lios’ men will be here anytime now, and then my brother will slay the English bastards…”
“Cormac,” said Mairead reprovingly, fro
m her chair near the fire, where she was knitting. “There is no need for that language, my lad! Especially in front of the lady.”
“Sorry,” said Cormac quickly, looking shamefaced. “I sometimes forget that ye are English, lady. It is like ye are a Scot, now.”
Roseann hastily blinked away sudden tears. Only a short time ago, she would have been insulted if someone had suggested she was like a Scot. She had been proud of her English heritage and had believed all the stories about how the people north of the border were barbarians.
How things change, she thought wistfully. Now, she had to admit to herself that the Scots were not barbarians. They were a proud, fierce people, every bit as cultured as the English. There were even some things that she preferred about them.
“It is quite alright, Cormac,” she said slowly. “Although you should mind Mairead, of course.”
Mairead stood up, placing her knitting in the basket beside her.
“Time for yer luncheon, laddie,” she said, her eyes resting on Roseann. “And I ken that the lady needs a break, as well.”
Roseann sighed inwardly with relief. Trust Mairead to save the day. She had felt the old nursemaid’s gaze on her all morning. Mairead knew that something was happening between her and the Laird; she was sure of it. Just as she now knew, as did everyone in the castle, that the Laird was going to wed someone else.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Mairead sighed, walking over and opening it.
Roseann gasped. The Lady Sineag was standing there.
“May I come in?” she asked, staring at the nursemaid.
Mairead looked shocked but masked it quickly. “Of course, my lady,” she said, with a quick curtsey.
Lady Sineag swept into the room, staring around. Her eyes took in the desk with books strewn on top and the red-haired boy.
She smiled. “Cormac,” she said. “I have been meanin’ to visit ye, to introduce myself.” She paused. “Ye are to be my new little brother, ye ken.”
Cormac stood up awkwardly, gazing at her. Then he bowed stiffly. “My lady.”
Lady Sineag nodded. Slowly, she turned to Roseann.
“Ye are the tutor?” she asked slowly. “I have heard ye are from across the border near Berwick.”
Roseann took a deep breath. “Yes, my lady. It is my pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Sineag, her eyes drifting over her. “As it is my pleasure to meet ye.” Her smile widened. “I must say it is unusual for a lady to be so learned. And more unusual still for an English lady to be livin’ in a Scottish castle as tutor to the Laird’s younger brother.”
Roseann nodded. “Yes, you are right. But here I am.”
Lady Sineag’s smile widened further. “Perhaps I could persuade ye to join me for a private luncheon, lady?” She paused. “I would love to hear all about yer adventures and what has led ye here to Coirecrag.” She looked back at Cormac. “And as the lad shall be my future brother-in-law, I should become acquainted with details of his learning, as well.”
She turned back to Roseanne, staring at her expectantly.
Roseann quivered inwardly. What could she do, but accept?
“Of course, my lady,” she replied, and her heart beat faster.
20
Roseann gazed around the room that Lady Sineag had led her to. It was an adjacent room to the lady’s bed chamber. She had placed a small table near a window, with two chairs.
“Please,” said Lady Sineag, smiling. “Take a seat. The food and drink will be comin’ directly.”
Roseann nodded, taking a seat, staring out the window. The lady sat opposite her. At that moment, the door opened, and Brighde walked in, carrying a plate of bread, cheese, and onions in one hand and a jug of mead in the other.
They were silent as the girl served them, filling both their goblets with mead. It wasn’t until Brighde had curtseyed and taken her leave that Lady Sineag turned to her, smiling brightly.
“Now,” said the lady. “Ye must tell me all about yer home in England.”
Roseann trembled inwardly again, but she nodded, taking a deep breath. “My family owns a large estate on the outskirts of Berwick,” she said slowly. “It is called Loughton Hall. It has been in my family for generations.”
Lady Sineag nodded as she carved the cheese. “Yer ancestral home? It must be grand, then. How could ye bear to leave it and come to Scotland?” She gazed at her expectantly.
Roseann took another deep breath. “It was hard to begin with. I did not think that I could stand it.” She blinked, gazing out the window. “But slowly, I became used to Scotland and Coirecrag castle. I still miss my home and my family, but everyone here has made me feel most welcome.”
Lady Sineag took a sip from her goblet. “I am glad to hear that, lady. The Scots are a hospitable people once you get to know us.” She paused. “Young Cormac hasnae led ye on a merry dance? He has been compliant and not given ye any grief?”
Roseann smiled slightly. “Cormac is high spirited and can be reckless at times, but he is a good boy. He is very clever and has taken to his lessons. To tell you the truth, I think that he was bored, and the lessons are occupying him. He is eager to learn.”
Lady Sineag nodded. “That is good to hear! It would make yer life a misery if the lad was nae eager. Most lads at that age daenae want to be stuck in a room, poring over books. They want to be active, out hawkin’ and huntin’ and learnin’ to fight…”
Roseann nodded, taking a sip from her own goblet. “He wants to do all of that as well, of course. And the Laird makes sure that he gets his outside time so that he isn’t too restless when it is time for his lessons.”
Lady Sineag sighed. “The Laird seems to love his wee brother and wants to do the right thing by him. It is admirable, I must say.” She paused. “Although, once we are wed, he will probably leave all of that to me. Men tend to do that, once they have a woman who is willin’ to take over those boring chores…”
Roseann’s heart dropped. It was strange but sitting here talking to the woman about everyday things had momentarily made her forget for a moment. She had almost forgotten that the woman sitting across from her really was going to become Domhnall’s wife.
Lady Sineag took another sip of her mead. “Aye, the Laird will probably not care to think about it anymore. My good lady mother always told me that the role of a wife is to make things run so smoothly that yer husband is barely aware of what ye do. At least, that is how she has always run our home.”
Roseann nodded, tearing off a piece of bread, and staring at it dejectedly. She had little appetite, and yet, she must at least make a pretense at eating.
Lady Sineag smiled again. “And so, my dear, since my husband-to-be will probably leave it all up to me in the end anyway, I must inform ye that yer service is no longer required at Coirecrag castle.”
Roseann dropped the bread she was holding, staring at her wide-eyed. She simply could not believe that the woman had just spoken those words.
“What?” she stammered. “The Laird appointed me. He believes that I am doing an excellent job with Cormac. Why would you just dismiss me out of hand, without consulting him?”
Lady Sineag wiped her hands on a napkin delicately. She took a long, deep sip of mead, then put the goblet down, staring at Roseann.
“I am nae blind, my dear,” she said slowly. “I ken that the Laird has a…special regard for ye. And I do believe that ye also have a special regard for him.”
Roseann flushed painfully. “He has been very good to me. He has given me service when I most needed it for the sake of my family…”
Lady Sineag snorted. “I am sure that is how it started, my dear, but it is different now, ye ken.” She took a deep breath. “Ye must understand that I cannae allow it to continue. I will be the Laird’s wife, and I will nae tolerate any of that folly goin’ on underneath my very nose.”
Roseann stared at her. She felt humiliated and dirty. The woman believed that Domhnall was just amusi
ng himself with her. Lady Sineag didn’t realize that they loved each other—that their relationship was genuine. It wasn’t just about the physical side of it.
“He must be crowin’ about it to his men,” continued the lady, snorting. “The fact that he has bedded an English woman! The fact that he has bedded the enemy!”
Roseann’s flush deepened. “You do not know anything about it, my lady.” She took another deep breath. “The Laird does not think about me like that. I am not his enemy, nor will I ever be.”
Lady Sineag’s eyes hardened. “I daenae care what the Laird thinks about ye, my dear. I daenae care if he has any finer feelings for ye or ye for him. If ye think that ye can stay on here as my husband’s harlot, then ye are sorely mistaken.” She paused. “My mother never tolerated my faither keepin’ his whores around, and I will nae, either.”
A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander Page 14