by Wine, Mary
“I forgot about them.” Faolan turned back. “Me apologies, lass.”
She really should have been upset. But the truth was, Cora discovered herself blushing as she realized he’d been so intent on her, he’d forgotten everything else. A man such as Faolan didn’t lose his focus easily.
His eyes narrowed as his gaze lingered on her face. He moved closer, slowly closing the distance between them. She reached up to tuck some hair behind her ear, unable to stand still beneath his stare.
Faolan’s attention shifted to her hand, and his expression tightened. He reached out and grasped her wrist. Cora jerked back. He’d shifted so suddenly between a suitor and the man she’d met at the towers. It was a jarring change, one that sent her looking for space between them.
“Ye are no stranger to me touch, Cora,” Faolan groused. He settled the matter in his normal way.
By scooping her off her feet.
“Faolan.”
Her temper earned her a grin. Frustration flared up inside her, and she flattened her hands on his chest, pushing at him. He rewarded her with a wide grin.
“Ye are a beast, Faolan.”
“Aye,” he agreed as he walked toward the bed and sat her down on the mattress.
Cora laid back and watched passion flare in his eyes. There was no moment of trying to decide what it was. No, she understood fully now. In fact, the thing stretching inside of her was growing stronger in response. Her body was hot, her blood on fire.
There was a dark timbre in his tone, which made her shiver. Her belly was twisting with anticipation as he leaned so close, she caught the scent of his skin. It was insane the way she responded to it.
She pulled him closer by the fabric of his shirt. “I do enjoy yer personality, Faolan.”
He tilted his head so he might fit his mouth against hers. The kiss was firm, and it pleased her greatly. Cora tugged him even closer, nearly frantic to taste him in return. She wanted his kiss but needed to kiss him in return. All of the heat building up inside her demanded release.
Faolan’s chest rumbled. It was a growl which seemed to fit the moment perfectly. Words didn’t hold any appeal. Instead, Cora found herself dispensing with thought. All she wanted to do was respond and elicit a response from Faolan. She reached up for where the collar of his shirt was open. The fabric was suddenly something nearly unbearable to suffer between them.
She wanted to have her skin pressed to his.
But he suddenly pushed up and away from her. His breath was ragged as he fisted his hands in the bedding on either side of her head.
It hurt.
The rejection sliced her to the bone. Her eyes filled with tears, which were impossible to control. Turning her face aside was the only thing she might do to preserve even a morsel of her dignity.
Faolan touched her face.
“I want to,” Faolan muttered intently.
He lowered his body back onto hers. The contact was jarring, but in a manner that saw her understanding for the first time just how much she was capable of feeling. Never had she suspected she might enjoy a man’s touch so very much. It seemed to penetrate all the way to her bones, leaving her reaching for him once again, in spite of how much his rejection had stung.
He buried his face in her hair, drawing in a lungful of air. She was poised on the edge of something. Whatever it was, Cora felt desperate to discover what lay beyond the level of excitement currently coursing through her. But Faolan moved away again, leaving her feeling desolate and abandoned. His eyes were mere slits when he raised his head above hers.
“Ye are a temptress, Cora, but ye have no place in me life. Ye can nae understand the dangers.”
The bed rocked as he left it. The night air suddenly rushed over her, making her keenly aware of the loss of his heat. But along with his departure came a clearing of her wits. His words penetrated the fog that had obscured her thinking, leaving her very much aware of the judgment he was leveling at her.
He stood with his back to her and his hands clenched. When he turned to look back at her, there was firm resignation on his face.
“Ye are so very tempting in that bed. I want to join ye very much, but the circumstances of me life do nae allow me such comforts.”
“Life is hard for many, Faolan.” Cora swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. “Ye have no right to judge me as having had everything handed to me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “While ye have been running free, able to indulge yer whims, Cora, I have been fighting to stay alive. You have never wondered where yer next meal is coming from.”
“Aye, I ran free,” Cora replied. “Because no one bothered to mind where I was. My mother died, and me brother was too young to know he should have assigned someone to me. It might sound like a dream, but it was a very lonely one. I learned that no one wanted to be responsible for me because I was already betrothed, and there was naught to gain by grooming me. I was left to find me way as I would for the years until I was sent away for the alliance it would gain.”
His eyebrows lowered as she spoke.
“Mind ye, I am no’ complaining. Being ignored meant I witnessed a great deal,” she continued. “I’ll not be sorry for tasting life either. It seemed a better choice than sitting about feeling sorry for meself. Do ye know how hard it was for me to convince the stable master to teach me to ride? He made me shovel out the stalls every day and night for an entire season before he’d allow me to even ask him. Then I had to wax and polish all the saddles through the winter.”
“Every lad does so,” Faolan remarked. “Where else would ye gain the strength to sit in the saddle? Or the strong fingers and hands to control the reins?”
“Aye,” she agreed. “I learned that after I was riding and some of the other girls got the notion to try it.”
Faolan chuckled, and Cora smiled at him.
“Well, I’ll admit ye would no’ have been able to ride if ye had no’ earned the right by building the strength, lass.”
“Why then do ye judge me as too weak to be yer wife?” Cora hadn’t realized she’d meant to ask the question so bluntly. It opened her up to be rejected again, yet the words were across her lips before she ever considered them.
“I am laird by some unknown twist of fate, Cora.” Faolan stepped closer to her. “Do nae doubt there are many who would enjoy watching me be buried next to Malcolm tomorrow morning. Me brother turned McKay against McKay, and I fear there are many wearing me own colors who know no other way of surviving. Spending the day in the laundry would no’ have opened yer eyes to such circumstances.”
“Ye are very, very wrong Faolan. The laundry is where those who were trampled over ended up, at the bottom of the heap. I’m very good at going unnoticed. Such a skill ensures I hear many things.”
They locked stares. Faolan was unwilling to budge a bit, and it stirred her temper. All of the anticipation which had nearly driven her wild transformed into frustration, and she bared her teeth.
“Go on with, ye,” Cora growled. “I will not beg ye. And since ye do nae want me for a wife, ye do nae belong in me bedchamber.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose.
Something snapped inside her. Cora picked up her hairbrush and sent it flying at him.
“Get out!”
Faolan evaded the brush.
“Do nae ye dare touch me again. I am no’ a slut!” Cora reached for a bowl and sent it toward him. The bowl was made of heavy pottery. It hit the door with a huge thunk. A moment later, the door was pulled open.
“Laird?”
“Ye pig! Get out of me bedchamber!” Cora yelled as she bent and picked up a stool.
Faolan’s eyes widened as she lifted the piece of furniture above her head. He turned and dove through the open door as his men shifted out of the way.
Cora growled as she was denied her goal.
“And stay out!”
*
Cora was strong.
Faolan felt the amount of force the
stool crashed with.
Aye, and feisty…
He grinned. But there was a very poorly muffled chuckle nearby. He turned his head to see Reece and three other McKay Retainers standing there.
“Ye waited?” It wasn’t the brightest question he might have asked since the answer was obvious.
Reece’s grin faded as his expression hardened. “Aye, Laird. Me and the lads here, we’re right glad to have ye. The McKay needs a man with integrity leading them.”
“So, we’re determined to ensure ye stay healthy.”
Something else smacked the door. Reece titled his head to one side. “As for yer wife, well, ye’ll need to handle her yerself.”
“That will be me pleasure.”
*
“Gilmor, the child is too young to make such a distance with winter beginning.”
Gilmor sent his Aunt Una a hard look intended to make her bend her will to his.
“I’m too old to be intimidated,” Una continued. “For yer plan to succeed, Kalan must be alive. Not dead in a snowstorm. And her sister is barely weaned.”
“Are ye saying we should suffer that bastard Faolan as laird?” Gilmor demanded. “He has slighted me beyond endurance!”
“He has only begun,” Una said in a tired voice. “A new laird will carve his mark. It’s the way things are. If ye seek higher position, best be ready for the turmoil which comes with it.”
Gilmor slammed his tankard down. Kalan had been humming and playing with her doll a few feet away. The little girl drew in a stiff breath before her eyes widened and filled with tears.
“Take care of yer mistress,” Gilmor instructed Mae.
The nurse scooped Kalan up and began to sway gently as she cooed to the child.
“Noreen was born of Laird Grant’s second wife,” Una said. “Cormac, his heir, had a different mother. An English lass. Many of the Grants do not fancy him as their next laird because of that English blood.”
“Yet, he runs the Grants,” Gilmor said.
Una held up a single finger. “In many ways, he does. His half-brother, Lirkin, is the one who brought Noreen for her wedding. He negotiated the dowry and the alliance.”
Gilmor nodded slowly. “He is the man I need to do business with.”
Una smiled. “He might be interested in seeing his niece as heir to the McKay, but this is not England. For a child to hold such a position, there will have to be a majority of captains behind her.”
“I will see to the captains,” he assured his aunt. “You see to the matrons.”
Una smiled. Kalan was happy once again, her nurse having calmed the child perfectly. Una’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the way Kalan’s small hand was holding some of the nurse’s hair. The bond between them was very tight. It was a natural thing, for Mae had raised the child.
Now, such a bond would have to be utilized as a tool, for Kalan was a necessary part of a plan.
*
“This is a fine chamber,” Brynna declared.
Cora had a stiff neck. She watched as Brynna made her way around the room, opening the shutters to allow the light in. The day was gray, with the scent of snow on the breeze.
“Still,” Brynna mused. “I wonder if things might have seemed warmer at the towers.”
The girl looked back at Cora to see what she’d make of the bold comment. Cora slowly smiled. Brynna turned to face her completely.
“I’m bold,” Brynna said. “I thought to confess it straight away before I get too accustomed to the fine bed I was afforded last night. It’s much harder to go without comforts once ye’ve had a taste of them.”
It was a lot harder to think about leaving now that you’ve tasted Faolan’s kiss…
A headache was developing to combine with the crick in her neck. But Brynna was serious and watching Cora for her reaction. The girl didn’t cower, though.
“Ye have courage,” Cora commented as Brynna continued to look straight at her.
Brynna nodded. “It’s nae popular.”
Cora smiled. “With me, it is. I have no stomach for simpering and lowering in me personal chamber.”
Brynna had picked up the hairbrush and replaced it on the vanity. Cora picked it up and began to pull it through her hair.
Brynna pulled the chair out, which sat in front of the vanity. “Let me arrange yer hair.”
Cora shook her head. “I was never one for such things.”
Brynna fluttered her eyelashes. “If ye want to get this house in order, best to make it plain ye are the mistress. Else Orla will never yield even a half step to ye. The new laird seems to think ye can nae manage the Head-of-House, but I’ve seen enough of ye to believe otherwise.”
Cora sat down before she drew another breath. A smile lifted Brynna’s lips as she took the brush and began to part Cora’s hair into sections.
“Do nae think I will be so easy to manage,” Cora groused at the girl.
“I rather thought of it as sharing the same boat.” Brynna began to work on putting Cora’s hair into an upswept style. The vanity had been prepared with all the things a lady might need for her morning preparations. There was a small wooden box with hairpins and another with small pads to help create the shape of the hairstyle. The vanity was an expensive item, for it had a small mirror. Such a costly thing was very rare in the Highlands.
“Orla has no love for ye.” Cora suddenly thought to question the obvious skill Brynna was displaying.
“So, where did I learn to do hair?” Brynna questioned.
“It is a learned art,” Cora remarked.
“Orla will likely delight in telling ye of me less than respectable origins,” Brynna continued with a smooth and steady voice. “Me mother was the mistress of a McLeod captain. When he died in a raid, his wife made sure to have her driven off McLeod land because she didn’t want to dower me. She was a McKay but only a kept woman. Me father acknowledged me, but that wasn’t enough to outweigh the position of his widow once he was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Cora spoke softly.
Brynna didn’t appear disturbed at all. “Me life is not pitiful. I have seen those who need yer sympathies. Me mother had always lived a good life, so when she was left to her own resources, she still had skills she might use to earn a slightly better life than those who were truly without means. My mother took a position in a well-established brothel, where she served as a head maid to the courtesans. The men expected superior women.”
“Yet, you ended up here.” Cora nudged her for more when she fell silent.
Brynna’s eyes narrowed. “My mother died last season. Orla’s son convinced me to return here and wed him. That I might hide only so long in a brothel before I ended up sold to the highest bidder. Virgins go for small fortunes in such places, even if I am no great beauty.”
“Do ye love him?”
“Even if I did, I will never seek his company again since he has forsaken me. I am not worthless, and no man is going to convince me I am fit only for the gutter.”
Brynna looked up to see what Cora made of her confession. They locked gazes in the mirror, and Cora sent her a smile of approval.
“Ye deserve better,” Cora assured her.
Brynna finished Cora’s hair off with a few last tucks and a look of gratitude. While the styling she’d chosen was more elegant than braids, it wasn’t too ornate.
“Ye’ve judged me well, Brynna. I believe we shall get on quite well. Even if I do nae stay here, I have no personal companion on Mackenzie land.”
Brynna inclined her head. “Now, to find a dress which suits ye.”
The dresses Noreen had selected for her were still in the wardrobe. Brynna contemplated them before choosing the least fancy. While it was made of wool, the fabric was dyed a vibrant green, which was very expensive. As Brynna carried it closer, the scent of rosemary wafted out of the dress, for it had been stored with sachets of dried herbs.
“Noreen had quite the taste for gowns,” Brynna remarked as she began to help Cora dr
ess. “All of her clothing came from Edinburgh. For she was forever reminding everyone of her royal blood.”
“Half the lairds in the highlands are descendants of princesses,” Cora remarked as she pulled a stocking up her leg and secured it with a garter.
“Ye wouldn’t know it to hear the way Noreen boasted of her lineage.” Brynna brought a pair of shoes over for Cora.
“I prefer me boots.”
Brynna placed the shoes down by Cora’s feet.
“But these will allow a peek at yer ankles as ye walk.” Brynna lifted her face so she might aim a frank look at her.
Cora felt that thing stretching inside her belly once more. This time she knew it would grow into a raging need if she allowed it.
A need Faolan didn’t want to help her satisfy.
Well, perhaps he needs a peek at yer ankles….
Cora suddenly smiled and lifted her foot so Brynna might fit the shoe onto her foot.
“I will have the cobbler come up from the village to trace yer feet,” Brynna said as she finished buckling the shoes into place.
There was an unmistakable air of mischief in the chamber as Cora dressed. The stays were laced into position to support her breasts once more. Brynna sent her little side-eye glances as she fit the hip roll around Cora and then lowered the skirt into place. The top of the dress was a doublet that the season called for, but the front of it was lined in silk, which allowed the top few buttons to be left open and curled back if Cora desired to show a bit of cleavage. Cora took note of her reflection.
Let Faolan see what he is missing.
Are ye chasing him then?
She didn’t know. But what did it matter? Since the man wasn’t of the mind to keep her as his wife, she might do as she pleased.
And that was something she was well versed in doing.
*
Orla blinked a few times when Cora entered the kitchens.
The Head-of-House was silent for a long moment, something her staff didn’t miss. There was a slowing of activity at the worktables as everyone waited to see what would happen.
“Good morrow,” Cora greeted Orla.