by Lynsay Sands
Well, she thought with a sigh, recovering some of her earlier mood, mayhap there would be no sweet kiss good morn or discussion of her plans for the day, but that did not mean that she could not at least set those plans into effect. This was her home now. It was well past time she took the trouble to look into its running, see if there were any things that could be improved upon, discuss meals with the cook.
Aye, meals. She would have a special feast arranged for this eve. It would be a belated celebration of their marriage. A grand--
"Ere ye start dashing about setting those plans I see festering in yer poor, woolly mind to action, ye should ken the MacDonald left orders that ye were to rest. Yer not to do anything while he's gone except needlework."
Kyla stiffened at that, wide eyes shooting to her old servant's wrinkled face. "What?" she asked with disbelief.
"Ye heard me. Needlework."
"Blast that!" she snapped after a prolonged pause of dismay. "I am mistress here now and there are things that will need my attention." Whirling on her heel, she headed directly toward the kitchen, aware that the giant Robbie was hard on her heels. It seemed things were not as different today as she had thought, much to her chagrin. She still had a guard, but was determined to ignore him. She was mistress here now. No doubt the man had been left to...Guard the madwoman, she realized suddenly, her steps slowing. Damn, she had not thought to clear that up last night. She frowned over that briefly, then straightened her shoulders and continued determinedly forward. Well, that didn't matter. She would clear that up tonight. In the meantime, she would just ignore her guard and go ahead with making a place for herself here.
So she thought. More the fool her, she realized with a sigh some half an hour later as she sank wearily back into the chair by the fire, defeat hanging over her like a cloud. She had accomplished absolutely nothing. Cook had smiled at her pleasantly, offered her food and drink to break her fast with, and listened politely to her questions until she had asked who ran the manor. He had glanced at Robbie then, and when Kyla had turned to the giant expectantly, he had murmured that Galen had always given the orders. When Kyla had then asked who this Galen was and if she might have a word with him, there had been a dead silence as the cook and Robbie had exchanged blank glances. Then, turning back to her with a wary, though somewhat pitying expression, the cook had suggested she return to her needlework.
Kyla had frowned over the obvious dismissal and had changed tactics, leaving the questions for now to announce her desire to have a celebratory feast that night. Cook had raised his eyebrows, then said that this Galen he'd spoken of had mentioned naught of that. Once again, he'd suggested she rest.
Realizing she would get nowhere with the man, Kyla had given up and stomped from the room, Robbie hurrying to keep up with her. In the great hall once more, she had hesitated, then approached the women working at the trestle tables. She had taken care to be polite and friendly but firm as she had asked them if they might tell her who this Galen was that been acting as chatelaine. Once again she had been met with dead silence for a moment, then they had ignored her question and suggested she rest, reminding her as they did that it was their laird's wish.
It seemed she would rest today, like it or not, she thought with irritation, her gaze shifting to the cold hearth of the fireplace. She sighed. She supposed it was all her own fault. She should have cleared up the issue of her sanity last night. Then, too, her expectations had perhaps been unrealistic. Her husband had given her no power as of yet here, not openly, and the servants were only attending what they saw as his wishes--but she wished they might have at least answered her questions ere ignoring her. Having been forced aside by her brother's wife, she had no wish to do so herself to someone else. She wished to meet and speak to this fellow who had borne the chore of running the estate for her husband. She wanted to compliment him on a job well done and assure him that he would always have a place and be needed here even as she made a little space for herself. But it seemed, as it stood, she had no need to reassure the man. The way things were arranged, she would have little chance of making room for herself.
Sighing, she stood abruptly and waited for Morag to peer at her. Once she had the woman's attention, she announced that since everyone insisted she rest, she would do so...in her room. With that, she swept above stairs and marched into her room, closing the door with a distinct slam as Robbie positioned himself across the hall.
The crash of the door made her feel a bit better...for all of a few moments. Then Kyla became restless. She wasn't tired. And she didn't much like being treated as if she had hit her head one too many times. She also didn't care for having her illusions shattered. But shattered they were. All her dreams of the night before had been just that, dreams. This was no love match, despite the passion of their joining. There was no reason for her to hold out any hope for happiness or contentment. She and her husband were strangers. More than strangers, she thought grimly as it suddenly occurred to her that she knew little about him. She had no idea if he had any family. For all she knew, this Galen might be a brother, or even an oddly named sister. Were his parents still alive? From which of them had he inherited his fiery hair? she wondered, sinking onto the side of the bed. And who--
Damn! She shot to her feet with dismay as she realized she had no idea of her husband's name even. Good God! What was the matter with her? At his mere touch the night before she had responded like a bitch in heat, and all to a man whose name she did not even know.
But he is your husband, some part of her brain reminded her, and Kyla shifted, then began to pace the room. Aye, my husband. It was acceptable to respond so to a husband, was it not? Even if she did not know his name. It was her duty even...Well, nay, perhaps not her duty. A wife was to suffer her husband's touch, true enough, but nowhere had she heard she was expected to enjoy it.
Sighing, she paused by the window, her gaze moving over the cloudless sky before dropping to peer at the small stretch of beach below. It was a long way down. The castle was built on a cliff and this side appeared to have been built directly on the edge of it. For protection, she supposed absently. It would be fair impossible to scale the cliff and then the castle wall itself. All in all, the small slash of a beach appeared to be a good hundred feet below her window.
Her gaze slid to the water and she sighed, silently pining to return to the simplicity of the day before. As tangled as her life had been then, between her worries for her brother and her concerns over what would become of her, she had all those concerns and more now. She felt positively enmeshed in problems. Yesterday she had escaped her worries, however briefly, and portrayed herself as a simple village woman with not a care in the world. And, briefly, she had felt that way. Today, she would give much for that feeling again.
And why could she not have it? she asked herself suddenly, stilling where she stood. She had escaped then, why could she not do so again? If she could slip past Robbie...Kyla grimaced at that. She had been lucky yesterday in Duncan's moving to the end of the hall, but Robbie was a solid soldier. Once at his post, he would not leave until someone else had taken his post. She knew that from her first day after the MacDonald had left, Robbie had not left her side for a moment, not even to relieve himself.
But mayhap she could manage something, she thought with a smile as her gaze slid to the small bag on the bedside table that held the salve Morag had been putting on her back. It had been quite useful when her back had pained her so, but her back had been bothering her less of late. She only suffered pain now when she actually put strain on the wound by leaning on it, so had no real need for the salve. She suspected Morag knew as much, for the woman had not asked if she wished to have some applied when she had gone below stairs. Still, Robbie did not know that, which might work to her advantage.
Hurrying to the chest at the foot of the bed, she threw it open to grab up the plaid Morag had replaced the day before. One look at it was enough to make her grimace. She had not noticed yesterday, but the soft cloth
was very badly covered with hay. What had she looked like yesterday?
Frowning, she rummaged through the chest again until she found the second plaid. Quickly unfolding it, she laid it out on the bed. With no reason to rush and after having seen the MacDonald pleat it for her the day before on the beach, she found it a lot easier to manage the garment now. Her pleats were not perfect by any means, but seemed good enough that she would pass for a Scot. That done, she hesitated, then moved to one of her own chests in search of the small chess set her brother had given her on her last birthday. Hooking it to her belt so that it hung half-hidden in the folds of the tartan's skirts, she took a deep breath, managed what she hoped was a pained wince and moved to the bedchamber door.
Robbie looked startled when she suddenly tugged the door open, then frowned as she poked her head out. "Is aught amiss, me lady?"
Expression pained, Kyla nodded. "I fear I forgot my back and lay upon it. Would that you could go below and send Morag to apply her salve?"
"Of course, right away." Turning, he headed quickly down the hall.
Kyla closed the door with a slight snap, then immediately opened it again, quickly unraveling her hair from its ornate coif upon her head as she waited. Once Robbie had descended the first few steps and disappeared from sight, she hurried down the hall as silently as she could. Robbie was only halfway down the stairs when she reached them, so she waited there a moment until he finished descending, then crept down, her eyes scanning the room as she went.
Positive she was awaiting her maid above, Robbie did not bother to look around as he made his way toward the fireplace. Guin's head was bent to her mending, and Morag was blocked from her view by Robbie's enormous girth. As for the two women by the trestle tables, they appeared deep in discussion as they worked and did not notice her slip silently out the keep door.
Unlike the day before, she did not hesitate on the steps, but moved quickly down them and straight for the gate, relieved to see that no one seemed to notice her exit from the castle. Once through the gates, she quickened her pace, heading for the beach where she had met Aelfread. She had no fear that Morag would give her away. That woman was a trustworthy and smart servant. As soon as she saw the open chest with its missing plaid and Kyla's own gown tossed on the bed, Morag would know what her mistress was about and keep her secret. That meant that she had several hours to enjoy the fresh air and hopefully play a game or two of chess with her new friend before she must return to the castle. Needlework, indeed.
"The salve, ye say?" Morag frowned at the man blankly for a moment, then muttered under her breath and got to her feet.
Robbie waited until she had set her needlework aside, then turned to lead her back above the stairs, his own feet eating up the distance twice as fast as her smaller shuffling steps. Pausing at the door, he glanced back to see the woman still only halfway up the hall and silently urged her to hurry as he rapped lightly on the solid wooden door.
"Morag is here, me lady," he called, then awaited a response...and waited. Frowning, he turned toward the old woman, just catching an odd expression on her face before she suddenly picked up her step and hurried toward the door.
"I will see to her," she muttered, trying to hurry past him, but Robbie had an unpleasant suspicion creeping over him. He thrust the door open before she could get at it. The empty room confirmed his fears quite thoroughly. Growling a curse, he hurried back down the hall.
Aelfread was seated on the sand, sorting through a basket of weeds. She glanced up when Kyla's shadow fell upon her, then raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight, her eyes widening as she realized who it was. Aelfread was on her feet at once. "Me lady!"
Kyla grimaced at those words, embarrassment covering her face briefly. "You know," she murmured unhappily.
Aelfread nodded. "Robbie told me last night ere we joined the table at sup."
"I did not see you at table last night," Kyla admitted, "but I fear I was a mite distracted at the time."
"Aye." Her expression tightened somewhat. "So I heard. We were late to sup. Ye and the laird had retired ere we arrived."
Kyla nodded again, then hesitated, her gaze dropping to the sand at her feet briefly before she took a deep breath and peered at the other woman. "I am sorry I lied. I mean I did not lie, really. Iseabal is my middle name, but I am sorry I did not give you my true first name. I only did so because I was not supposed to be out and I feared being forced back to the castle. I hope it doesn't stop us from being friends."
Aelfread shook her head, a shy smile slowly curving her lips. "Nay. Actually, I came down here today in the hopes that you might come by again. I enjoyed talking to you yesterday."
Kyla sagged with relief. Smiling widely now, she tugged the bag at her waist out for her new friend to see.
"I thought mayhap we could play chess. You said yesterday you missed the game and--"
"Don't tell me there is a board in there?" Aelfread was eyeing the small pouch curiously, so Kyla opened it and tugged the little board out for her to see.
"'Tis small so that it can be carried about easily. My brother had it made special for me." She tugged out a couple of pieces so the other woman could see the fine workmanship in the carving.
"'Tis lovely," Aelfread murmured, then glanced about the beach with a frown. "But I wouldn't wish ye to lose any o' the pieces in the sand." Biting her lip, she glanced up the path briefly, then nodded as if coming to a decision. "Come. We will go to the cottage to play. We can have something to drink there and have no fear of losing any of the little men while we play."
Dropping the pieces back into their pouch, Kyla tightened the strings to close it, then let it drop to her side as Aelfread quickly picked up her basket.
"I will not be taking you away from anything important?" she asked, following as Aelfread started up the path.
The other woman tossed a smile at her over her shoulder. "Nay. Actually I came to the beach hoping ye might come along." Spying Kyla's surprise, the other woman admitted, "I don't have many friends here yet. I guess I'm not very good at making them. I hadn't realized how lonely I had become until yesterday when I met ye. Yesterday was a nice change fer me."
"And for me," Kyla admitted honestly. "'Tis why I came out again today."
Aelfread glanced at her sharply. "Ye haven't slipped away again, have ye? 'Twas quite a stir over it yesterday, ye ken."
Kyla frowned at that. "'Tis what Morag said as well, but my husband did not appear the least distressed at sup." Her lips twisting, she muttered, "If anything, I seemed the only one distressed."
Catching the half-whispered phrase, Aelfread slowed her steps as they reached the main path, glancing at her curiously. "It was said ye were fair upset when ye retired. They were taking bets when we arrived on whether ye would even allow his lairdship into the room, but he didn't return below..."
Kyla felt herself flush, but, clearing her throat, she merely said, "'Tis true, I was none too pleased when I got above stairs. We had words."
"Words, hmm? I fear there would have been more than words to deal with had it been me," the wee woman announced. "I fear I have something of a temper. Still, 'Twas wrong of them not to mention the wedding to ye."
"Aye. Even Morag did not mention it," Kyla informed her with a grimace.
The woman's eyebrows rose at that. "Yer maid? She knew and didn't tell ye?"
"Aye."
Aelfread fell silent as they reached the first row of cottages along the path. Smiling and nodding at an old woman seated on a bench outside one of them, she led Kyla to the third little hut in the row and ushered her inside.
Robbie hurried down the path to the beach and paused, frowning as his gaze slid over the empty stretch of sand. He had thought for sure he would find Lady Kyla here. He had been so sure, he had come directly here, not even pausing to call out an alarm and gather men to help him search. Now he peered over the abandoned shoreline and cursed himself for a fool. Galen would be furious when he found out he had lost
his wife--for real this time.
Chapter Eleven
Kyla's gaze slid around the cozy interior of the small cottage. A good-sized table seemed to be the centerpiece. There was a fireplace that appeared to be used for both heat and cooking. Two chairs sat before that, both plain but sturdy. One corner of the room was taken up with a bed. By itself, the room would have seemed cramped and gloomy, but Aelfread had added touches here and there that made it charming.
"Has she been with ye long?"
Kyla glanced toward the other woman. While she had been looking around, Aelfread had fetched two mugs and a pitcher of meade and was now setting all three items on the table. Kyla moved to the table now. "Who?"
"Yer maid. Ye said even she didn't tell ye about the wedding and I wondered had she been with ye long?" she explained, reminding her of the conversation they had been having before entering the cottage.
"Oh. Yes." Kyla sank onto the bench and began unhooking the bag at her waist as Aelfread took a seat across from her. "Morag. She is like a mother to me. She has been with me all my life."
Aelfread leaned forward to help Kyla set up the chess pieces on the board. "Why didn't she tell ye about the wedding?"
"She said she wished not to upset me," Kyla said dryly, then sighed. "In truth, I think she was waiting for me to get to know him better so that the news would not be such a blow. Only he was not around long enough for me to get to know. I have yet to even have a conversation with the man...that I know of."
The petite redhead set the last of her chessmen in place, then peered at her curiously. "What do ye mean, 'that I know of'?"
Kyla hesitated, then admitted a bit wryly, "Well, it seems I was a trifle talkative while down with fever. Too talkative. I told one and all of the time my brother Johnny ruined a dress of mine and I filled his bed with manure for revenge."