And they were intrigued already, I could see, at the difference. The morning was cold and gray. Outside the windows, winter’s promise hung in the cold wind and the steady drizzling rain. The hall, though, as we entered it, was warm and cozily lit, with the fire crackling in the grand stone fireplace. Candles ensconced into inlaid nooks of the stone walls flickered, casting a pleasant glow into the large space. A large bouquet of late-autumn flowers was placed in the middle of the largest table, giving the room an added measure of grandeur and sophistication. It was I who had gathered and arranged the flowers and I was pleased by the way their rich green and gold colors complemented the tapestries,which had been taken out of doors and beaten until all the many years of dust had blown away. Without the dust, the weaved images came to life, depicting scenes of hunts and landscapes. These tapestries had been weaved by my ancestors, my kin, and I was proud that they were being restored and newly appreciated. They gave a magical aura to the room, as though they presented windows into past glories and future possibilities.
And the hall itself was spotlessly clean. Cleaner, in fact, than I had ever seen it. I’d watched and helped in past days as the staff attended to their work with a renewed enthusiasm, but the overall effect, as I viewed it as though with the fresh eyes of my sisters, was quite remarkable.
“Stella,” Clementine gasped. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchens, and as we entered, all the workers looked up, pausing in their tasks to greet us. Isla seemed especially welcoming and rushed over to me.
“Milady,” she said, “we’ve lit the fire early this morning, since the day is chilled.”
“I noticed that, Isla. ’Tis so inviting. I’m going to mention to my husband what a pleasing job you’ve done.”
She clasped her hands together at this pronouncement. “I thank you, milady. My grandson has already grown an inch, I swear it, since I’ve been feeding him the extra rations of meat your husband has given me. I’ve been promised a fur if my work pleases you. It would be so nice to have the extra warmth this winter.”
“I’m going to tell him as soon as I see him, Isla,” I assured her, “that I think you deserve two furs—one for you and one for your grandson.”
Isla’s face lit up. “Would you? Oh, I’d be so indebted.” She seemed almost overcome with the possibility. “I don’t know how to thank you. I truly don’t.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Isla. You deserve all the rewards you’re given. Your hard work of past days is obvious. This manor is slowly coming back to life. It is I—it iswe,” I said, gesturing to my sisters, “who are indebted to you.”
Clementine stepped forward and weaved her arm through mine. “Aye,” she agreed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Isla.”
I was deeply touched by the extent of Isla’s gratitude. It occurred to me that the workers of our clan had gone unrewarded for many years. It was no wonder they had become lax with their work habits if they’d never reaped the benefits of their labors. My husband’s methods of leadership were indeed much more effective than those of my father.
“Would you like to see the menu we’ve planned for the noon meal, milady?” It was Jinty, one of the cooks, who spoke. “Your husband said he likes herbs with his carrots and fresh bread along with his meat, and butter for his bread and salt on the table. So we’ve been trying a few new dishes.”
“I’m sure he’ll be very pleased, Jinty,” I said.
“We’re a little behind this morning, alas,” Jinty lamented, “although we’ve been up since before dawn.One of the bakers—Mary—she’s taken ill. Nothing serious, I hope, but we told her to stay abed until she’s well. We don’t want her passing on her illness to your husband, now, do we? We’re just a little behind without the extra pair of hands, but we’ll be sure to have everything ready by the time your husband returns to us at noontime. He said he’s not hunting today, but working in the weapons sheds.”
I had no knowledge of my husband’s schedule for the day, but I was glad to hear that he was close by and that I might see him during the day. This knowledge, however, was prickled with the new information Bonnie had given me. Caleb was here, also close by. The thought of both my husband and my first love together, in the same keep—or in the same room—brought an uneasy glimmer to the light, which I made a point to ignore.
And I was distracted by my elder sister, who’d taken an unusually keen interest in the goings-on of the kitchen. “If you need help with the bread...I’d be happy to contribute,” she said softly.
“I will, too,” said Lottie.
Isla welcomed Clementine’s help, and I recruited Lottie to help me set the tables in the hall.
“You know,” said Clementine. “I’ve always—my whole life—wanted to learn to cook. I was hoping to ask for that assignment at the convent.” After an uneasy pause, as though a thought had occurred to her, she said, “Are you sure that Father will allow this, Stella?”
“I’ll handle Father,” I said, experiencing a wash of courage that was entirely new to me. I was tired of beingafraid of him, of hiding away from his misdirected, useless anger. There was work to be done that was not only highly beneficial for the well-being, success and prosperity of our clan, but alsoenjoyable.For the first time in my life, I felt a sense of purpose, and of strength. In fact, I was overcome by a strong yet inexplicable desire to not only clean up this keep but oust my own father from his reign altogether. My father’s power had brought me endless misery—although I hadn’t realized the extent of it until my husband had shone a light on all things remiss. Each and every discontentment of Kade’s, since he’d arrived within our walls, had been astute and entirely accurate. Through my husband’s perspective, I was able to see that the life I had led thus far was not easy, pampered or safe, as my father had always claimed to us. It was riddled with fear, abuse and isolation.
I wanted my husband’s reign to start now.
I hadn’t known Kade Mackenzie all that long—less than two months—but what I did know of him had enlightened me on every level. I thought of him now. His light eyes and the enticing grip of his strong warrior’s hands. The shape of his mouth. His smile.His wicked, wicked tongue.As it always did when I was in his presence or remembering his reverberating effect on me, my skin grew warmer, my body stirred with a muted self-awareness that charged me with restless, undirected urgency.
My husband would protect me, if it came to that. With his assurances, I could follow through on the jobs that I needed to do, and that Iwantedto do. And ifKade wasn’t able to shield me from the consequences of my own actions for one reason or another, well, so be it. I would fight for myself. I would take the hours as they came, and do my best to act honorably and for the greater good, as he did.
Lottie and I chatted idly as we straightened the settings for the tables and lit the many candles placed liberally around the room.
I stopped abruptly as I heard commotion. A number of people were entering the main doors of the manor. There were voices and footsteps.
It was Maisie, Bonnie and Jamie, dressed in his soldier’s garb.
Jamie was followed by his brother. None other than the boy I had once cried for and yearned for above all others, who’d given me comfort when before I’d had none, and to whom I had first promised my heart and my hand.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IFROZEASCaleb approached me, standing only feet from where I stood.
It had been almost two months since I’d seen him, but the change in him was dramatic. He’d lost weight, and his worn clothing hung from his thin frame. His brown eyes were shadowed by the hardship of past weeks, and his fair hair was long and unclean. The trials of his banishment were written across his disheveled appearance. His had been an arduous journey, I could see. And the worry in his eyes brought tears to mine. He knew of my marriage, of course. My unwillingness, my fear. My attempts to flee. I was sure Jamie had been given the full, descriptive version of the story by Bonnie, and that Caleb himself had likely been spared no detail of it. And I could see in his expression that he was, even now, imagining every brutal aspect of my forced marriage bed. I watched the thoughts ripple across his face with transparent emotion, and I could see that the light in his eyes had changed, almost imperceptibly, yet the change was unmistakable. As I had changed, so had he. He had endured much: this was clear and made me wonder what kind of punishment my father had, in fact, subjected him to, beyond merely banishing him to awarm, dry stable somewhere in the heart of Edinburgh, as I had visualized his exile.
