by Amanda Scott
He chuckled. “Lass, you have more power in one finger than any man I know has in his whole body. You don’t know the will I am exerting now, or how much I fear that you may learn the vast power that you wield.”
“I do?”
“Aye, but we will not talk about it now, and not in your bedchamber. You want to go to bed, so I am going downstairs to have a mug of whisky with Tony and try to keep him from prying into my personal affairs.”
“Have I become a personal affair?”
“From the minute Old Jardine told me what was in store for me, aye. Now, I’m going.” Resisting the urge to kiss her again first, he went quickly.
Fiona stared at the closed door, pondering what had just happened and wondering why the kiss had not shocked or surprised her. She felt now, instead, as if she had been hoping he would kiss her, and more. Not that she had consciously wished that he would or that she could have asked him to kiss her, but…
What would he have thought if she had? As it was, he was berating himself for it. And what if Will were still alive? She shuddered.
Will would be furious that Kirkhill had been living at Spedlins, and would assume at the least that he had flirted with her and she with him. The rest of what Will would assume was even more frightening. She was glad that Old Jardine was dead and hoped fervently that Will was, too. Crossing herself, she looked upward, hoping that she had not just offended God with such evil thoughts.
She decided the wisest thing she could do would be to sleep, as Kirkhill—Richard—had advised. She could not call him Dickon. Only his family did that, so if she did, too, people would talk. But she could certainly think of him so if she liked.
Sakes, they were already talking about her, and about him, too, if Old Jardine was right. If they learned that Kirkhill had kissed her, that one fact would convince everyone that the two of them had murdered Will just so that they could be together.
Shoving Will out of her mind, she saw to her ablutions and got into bed. But it was long before she slept, because fear had entered her thoughts and would not leave. Why could she not remember what had happened that night? Until she did, she could never be sure that she had not had something to do with Will’s disappearance.
The next thing she knew, it was Wednesday, Flory was at her bedside, and sunlight was pouring into the room. “Ye’ve slept later than usual, mistress,” Flory said. “But his lordship did say that ye’d want to be wakened afore everyone leaves.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. “How long ago did wee David feed? My breasts are aching, and I’ve leaked milk all over myself.”
Flory grinned. “It has been hours now, because Eliza did say ye’d want to feed him yourself when ye woke, but he still sleeps. Shall I wake him?”
“Nay, help me dress, so I can go down and bid my farewells. I’ll come back and feed him before I break my fast.”
Making her apologies proved easier than expected, because everyone was in a cheerful mood and eager to be off to their various destinations. Even so, she made them sincerely, even to Phaeline.
“I thank you, too, Mam, for coming here with Kirkhill as you did when my wee David was born,” she added. “Mayhap I did not seem glad to see you, but I was prodigiously grateful that you had come and even more so to know that I could rely on you to see to our guests whilst I was recovering. I… I have missed you.”
The last words were out before she knew she would speak them. She was not even sure that it was wise to speak so openly.
“I missed you, too, my dearling,” Phaeline said. “Old Jardine would not let any of us see you, or even ride onto Jardine land, and Will never communicated with us at all. I always wondered, though, why you did not send any message to us, other than to say you could not attend your lord father’s burial.”
“By my troth, Mam, I wanted to be there,” Fiona said, suddenly aware that Kirkhill was watching them. “Will forbade me to go. He was sure that you would find a way to prevent my returning here if I went. And when I did not hear from you or from Mairi again, I thought you were both too angry to want me back. I never knew that he and Old Jardine were keeping even your messages from me.”
Phaeline looked hurt, and Fiona could say no more. She had agreed to elope with Will, and she would not make excuses for that or blame him for all that had happened since. She still thought that her mother or sister, or one or another of the powerful men in their family, could have tried harder to learn the truth and save her.
Turning with relief to Nan, Fiona said, “I hope you will visit me.”
“Just try to stop me,” Nan said with her mischievous grin. “I have already told the lady Phaeline that I mean to ride here next week to visit, if only for the day. She agreed that I might, but she did say that I would have to bring one of the maids with me and a proper armed escort.”
“I am sure that Kirkhill will agree with you, madam,” Fiona said to Phaeline. “I have not ridden as much here as I did at Annan House, but I do know that folks here worry more than we did about raiders. In Applegarth, we always have to remain aware of how near we are to the English at Lochmaben Castle.”
“Well, I want to see as much of this part of Annandale as we can see,” Nan said. “So you must take care to be entirely recovered by the time I do return. And, prithee, do not annoy Dickon, lest he decide to forbid us our outing together!”
After the visitors had gone, Kirkhill and Tony spent the rest of the morning working with their men-at-arms. They took their midday meal at the high table, but Fiona did not join them, making Kirkhill wonder if she might be avoiding him. Only when Tony asked if she were no longer going to dine with them, now that her mother had gone, did it occur to Kirkhill that the departure of the other women had condemned Fiona to taking her meals privately again in her solar.
He explained that likelihood to Tony, who said, “But how unfair! We are not barbarians, Dickon. What harm can come to her with us? Sakes, man, have her bring her woman with her. Surely, you can decree it so.”
“You are, for once, a source of unexpected wisdom,” Kirkhill said as he motioned to a gillie. When the lad ran to him, he said, “Prithee, fetch the lady Fiona to dine here with us and tell her to bring her maidservant with her.”
Fiona soon joined them with Flory hurrying in her wake. “Do you think this is wise, my lord?” Fiona asked, casting a pointed look beyond him at Tony, who grinned so infectiously at her that she grinned back.
“I shall doubtless acquire the reputation of a capricious man determined to order things as he pleases,” Kirkhill said. “In any event, Tony declared it unfair to banish you to solitary meals, and I agree with him. He and I will be spending too much time together for our own good, and will be glad of your company at meals.”
“Then I thank you, sir,” she said, gesturing for Flory to sit beside her.
Leaning forward to speak across Kirkhill, Tony said, “Most folks will think he’s just being a strict guardian, my lady. But you wait until he starts receiving offers for your hand. He won’t let you be alone then, lest one of your suitors rides off with you across his saddlebow.”
Kirkhill winced inwardly at the abrupt introduction of what could prove to be a delicate subject, but he knew he’d gain little by hushing Tony now.
Clearly amused by the absurd picture Tony had drawn for her, Fiona said, “Even if it were at all likely that any man might try such a feat with Kirkhill at hand, sir, it cannot happen until we learn the fate of my husband.”
“Och, aye, I keep forgetting that you’ve got one,” Tony said. “Careless fellow he must be, though, to leave a lass like you on your own without a word from him about where he’s got to. Likely, he’s dead, and his body will turn up in some odd place or other. Then Kirkhill will be fighting off your suitors with both hands.”
“Surely I’ll have more to say about them than he will,” Fiona said, darting a challenging look at Kirkhill. “If I do marry again, be sure that I’ll do the choosing.”
Tony opened his mouth, met Kirkhill’s warning
look, and shut it again.
Kirkhill said, “You may certainly express any preference or objection you have, my lady. But I will have much to say about your reply to any such offer.”
“But why would you?” she asked.
“By law, I must approve of any man you marry unless you decide to leave your child to my sole guardianship. I could not allow you to take him from this household unless I strongly supported your choice of a husband. Of course, if you were willing to leave the laddie behind—”
“You would not be so cruel!”
“Sakes, I’m not threatening any such thing,” he said, stung. “Nor are you likely to receive any offers as long as those fiendish rumors are flying about.”
“That’s true, aye,” Tony said. “To marry a woman who has already killed one husband would incur rather more risk than most chaps— What?” he demanded when Kirkhill caught his eye again. “You mentioned the rumors, not I!”
“But you have no business to be making light of them,” Kirkhill said. “I was simply explaining the facts with regard to any offer that her ladyship might receive after the details are known and we have established her innocence. I did think you ought to know the facts of my authority, lass, that’s all,” he said to Fiona.
Tony looked from one to the other then but, for once, kept his mouth shut.
“I should have known that you’d control all,” Fiona said, ignoring Tony. “I can certainly understand your sister’s refusal to marry a man who insists on controlling everything she does and ordering her every move and thought.”
“Here now, I don’t do all that,” Tony protested.
“You certainly try to do it all,” Fiona said roundly.
Tony looked to Kirkhill for help, but Kirkhill said, “That will teach you to stir coals, my lad.”
When Fiona, having eaten little, stood to leave, Kirkhill did not attempt to persuade her to linger. He knew she was upset and that he had been the one to upset her, but he had known that the subject would arise at some point. And now it had.
After six days of seeing Richard and Tony occupied with accounts, estates, and men-at-arms, and the household running smoothly, Fiona found herself missing their visitors sorely and yearning for activity.
Her life with Will and Old Jardine had been one so full of tension and criticism that she had learned to keep quiet most of the time and busy herself with household tasks. Such pastimes no longer sufficed, though, and with Flory taking over much of wee David’s care, and the servants’ children busy in the kitchen with so many more men to feed each day, Fiona had begun to feel like a prisoner again.
Thus it was that on the Tuesday afternoon following their visitors’ departure, she greeted the announcement of the lady Anne’s return with a cry of delight.
Nan strode in, grinning. “I knew you’d be bored to distraction by now, and your mam agreed. So here I am with an escort of armed men and a maidservant who could talk the feathers off a chicken. Can you ride in that dress, or must you change?”
“I must change to one with a wider skirt, but will you not get enough riding just coming here and riding back to the Hall in one day?”
“Pish tush,” Nan said. “’Tis nobbut three miles each way, and I want to see Annandale. Indeed, I’d like to see that so-notorious Lochmaben Castle.”
“We cannot do that,” Fiona said. “’Tis too dangerous, and your brother would likely have the hide off both of us if we got within a mile of the place.”
“We won’t tell him then,” Nan said cheerfully. “Is Tony still here?”
“Aye, of course, he is, but they are not here at present, either of them. They took a large group of men-at-arms out to some field or other to practice their skills with bows and arrows, I think, and mayhap swords. So it is every day!”
“Good, then they need not trouble us,” Nan said.
Fiona, on the brink of admitting that she had no idea which direction the men had gone, decided that before she entered into what was certain to become a debate, she would do better to learn what orders Kirkhill had left. She had seen enough of that gentleman to be sure he had left orders of some kind with regard to her ordering a horse for herself. Will had never let her do so. If he had not ordered the horses and gone with her, she had not ridden at all.
Taking a more positive view of Kirkhill, she hastily changed her skirt and went with Nan to the stableyard.
Joshua strolled out of the stable as they approached.
Fiona went to him and said, “The lady Anne and I mean to go riding. Will you tell someone that I want my bay gelding?” Hoping she sounded more confident than she felt, she waited with bated breath for his reply.
“I’ll see to that myself, m’lady,” Joshua said. “I ken the beast ye like.”
She had no idea how he could know which was her horse, but he brought it out quickly, along with another that was clearly for himself. Glancing at Nan, she noted that that young lady was displeased to see Joshua but also that Nan refrained from voicing an objection. Nor did she again mention Lochmaben.
It was just as well, too, because although they did go south, riding downhill past the graveyard and then along the boundary of several apple orchards near the river, they had ridden for less than an hour—and more sedately than either Nan or Fiona had hoped—when they met Kirkhill, Tony, and the men they’d been training.
“What have you done with the lady Phaeline, Nannie?” Sir Antony demanded as soon as they were within earshot of each other.
“I cannot imagine how that is any concern of yours,” Nan snapped back.
“Dickon, did you grant your sister permission to career about the countryside on her own like this?”
“She is hardly on her own,” Kirkhill said, briefly meeting Fiona’s wary gaze as he gestured toward Joshua and the four Dunwythie men who followed them.
“I brought a maidservant with me, too,” Nan said with a virtuous air that made Fiona want to laugh and hope at the same time that neither gentleman learned of Nan’s fascination with Lochmaben. Nan, oblivious, went on to say, “But the poor lass had had her fill of riding by the time we reached your tower, so I left her there.”
“Thoughtful of you,” her brother said. “Tony, why don’t you ride ahead with Nan, and continue your exchange of compliments where they will not stir my wrath. Joshua, you head on back to the tower with this lot and the rest of the lady Anne’s escort. I’ll escort the lady Fiona myself. I want to have a little talk with her.”
As the others sorted themselves out, Fiona said to him, “I hope you are not vexed with us for riding out here as we did, sir. Despite our snail’s pace, I have enjoyed myself more today than on any I can recall since leaving Annan House.”
“Nay, lass, I’m not vexed. The boot is on the other foot. I have not made time to see you alone this entire sennight and feared that you might still be vexed with me over that business Tony brought up about finding you a new husband.”
“I was vexed at the time,” she admitted. “But I’ve given it some thought, and my judgment of men being clearly flawed in some way, I have decided I should be grateful that someone must take a hand to protect my son.”
“You won’t make another mistake, lass. I won’t let you.”
She looked at him, wondering if he could really be thinking about finding her another husband. But she said nothing.
Although it had irked her to learn that she’d need his approval if remarriage became possible, she doubted that it would for a long time, if ever. To be sure, she had thought about it, but the man who came to mind when she did was Kirkhill himself. He had admitted his attraction to her and had likely deduced hers to him, but after Will, she did not trust her own feelings, let alone Kirkhill’s.
They rode in silence until they reached the graveyard again. When she shuddered as they passed it, he said gently, “Do you fear ghosts, lass?”
“Nay, but this place always makes me shiver, and more now than ever.”
“It is a pleasant hillside.”
“Perhaps, but the view from here is just another dull hillside. I want a better place for my grave, overlooking the river or the western hills, perhaps.”
He stiffened visibly, but he said in his usual even tone, “I hope it will be a gey long time before you require a grave, my lass.”
She smiled then and, in return, received a smile that warmed her all through.
Meanwhile, she could hear Tony and Nan enjoying their usual differences ahead. Their debate continued through the midday meal until Kirkhill ordered Tony back outside with the men. He then told Nan that Fiona had ridden enough for her first day in months on a horse and sent Nan and her escort back to Dunwythie Hall.
Fiona, in a much more cheerful frame of mind after her day’s outing, spent a pleasant afternoon with Flory, deciding what clothes wee David would need and compiling a list to give Parland Dow when the knacker returned. Since Dow had known at his previous visit that the baby’s birth was imminent, Fiona was sure he would have at least a few things to sell her that he had collected in his traveling.
Kirkhill ordered his supper served in the inner chamber so that he could continue to attend to estate business while he ate, and Fiona took hers with Flory in the solar. Afterward, she spent an hour with David, nursed him, and put him in his cradle. By the time she slipped into bed that night, she was weary but beginning to think that life at Spedlins Tower had greatly improved.
The forested hillside overlooked a vast green valley, its floor covered with splendid wildflowers. Birds sang from the trees, and a soft breeze rustled leaves overhead. She lay with her head on his shoulder beneath a tall chestnut, feeling drowsy until he shifted beside her and his free hand sought her bodice laces.
In a trice, they were open, and his palm slid lightly over her exposed breasts, his fingers teasing her nipples. She gasped but did not open her eyes, wanting to savor the sensations he stirred throughout her body.
A full moon drifted above the canopy of trees, and she wondered idly why she did not recall opening her eyes again or that darkness had fallen.