Page 332 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“The lass—have you no idea why she is not here?”

“Ah.” Maude’s nod turned into a shake of her head. “Nay. She comes and goes as she likes.”

“She will not avoid me the whole night,” Iain muttered.

Turning on his heel, he headed back to his seat in the hall. The resolution to seek the lady out later was overshadowed by the giggles that lingered in his ears after his exit from the kitchen.

* * *

All is lost, all is lost. The words from the song rang in Victoria’s mind and she awoke, uncomfortably, from a sleep she hadn’t meant to take. Focusing on the familiar surroundings of the cottage, another moment passed before the remnants of her dream fell into place. Only it hadn’t been a dream, she realized, but a replay of her life.

Bitterness scalded the memory. She had learned the truth too late. Things such as love and trust were nothing more than the foolish musings of a child. Yet, even now, the question remained: If not love, what then? Her father had said, for a man, there was honor.

For a woman, it was duty.

Duty.

The watchword her mother had lived by. It was a woman’s duty to follow the dictates of her lord. Victoria made the mistake of thinking her future lord would be as kind as her father. When her father died and her mother betrothed her to Richard Hockley, Victoria followed duty and married him.

Fifteen years her senior, Richard seemed the answer to what had been missing since her father’s death. Foolish child that she’d been, she believed Richard was sent by God to take her father’s place.

Richard appeared as though he would treat her with the tenderness a young bride required, but the moment he rendered her powerless with the marriage vows, the man behind the handsome mask emerged. The memory of their wedding night brought with it another, more recent recollection when she’d been handled no less roughly. She forced aside the picture of the Fraser men leering at her only to have it meld with one of her husband giving her much the same look.

She laughed, the sound harsh to her own ears. The Frasers she could understand, but even now, after all these years, her comprehension of Richard was almost nonexistent. It wasn’t the fact that he took his cousin as mistress that confounded her. Nay, it was the relationship between the two that was incomprehensible. Victoria shivered. Richard had displayed no embarrassment that long-ago evening when she happened upon them one evening in his bed. He had even laughed when his lover invited her to join them.

“Come now, love,” Lucinda’s voice had moved like silk over Victoria’s skin. “Do not act as if you are shocked.” Her throaty laugh had been that of a woman accustomed to pleasure. “You are an enlightened woman. You understand the benefits of our situation. If I instruct your husband well, you will benefit.” Lucinda then cast a sultry glance at Richard, who pulled the coverlet down and began kneading a full breast. “Perhaps we will both receive some benefit.”

Victoria felt as if Lucinda had actually touched her when the woman’s lustful look trained on her. “It seems to me,” Lucinda said, her voice more breathless, “we both could benefit now.” She drew back the blanket in invitation as the other hand slid downward to fondle his arousal.

Victoria winced, recalling the beating she had received for having fled. Memories, she reminded herself. Nothing more. Richard was gone, and she need never again fear his cold touch. Nay, it was Iain MacPherson, the phantom of a man, who now decreed her future.

A gurgle from her stomach brought her back to the present. The thought of dinner elicited another loud growl. She sighed. Her plan to avoid the present was no more successful than her efforts to forget the past. Grabbing for the tartan that lay on the bed, Victoria headed for the kitchen.

“There you are,” Maude said when Victoria slipped in the back door. “We were beginning to wonder if you were not going to have any supper tonight.”

“I thought not to,” Victoria replied, again unsure she could believe this woman capable of any guile. Why had she lied and said she saw Iain leaving her cottage?

Maude crinkled her nose. “Why would you be thinking that?”

Victoria’s shrug was met with a merry twinkle on the part of the housekeeper. “You might like to know—” she was interrupted by the clatter of pans in the scullery.

“I told you not to stack the pans so high.” Joanna’s voice dripped with righteous indignation.

“Now look what you have done.”

“It was not my fault,” came Catherine’s small reply. “If you hadna’ backed up against them they would not have fallen.”

Victoria sent a considering look in the direction of the pantry where the two women continued to argue.

“I suppose I should make myself useful.”

Maude sighed. “Those two are forever fighting over something foolish.”

A short time later, Victoria reappeared in the kitchen carrying a large pot. She blew at the tendril of hair that had fallen loose from the tie binding her hair.

“Good lord, what happened?” Maude frowned. “Only a little while ago you looked as fresh as heather in springtime.”

Victoria glanced from her soiled dress back to Maude, but the housekeeper seemed intent on something on Victoria’s face. Victoria rubbed shoulder to cheek. “Joanna and Catherine were not quite finished with their—er—discussion.” She laughed. “Catherine decided she would tolerate Joanna’s pestering no more and threw a handful of grease at her. She missed.”