Page 28 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

“Breakfast?” he asked through the door, his voice harsh and raspy, as though demanding to know where his own repast waited.

He seemed angry at being denied his husbandly rights, even though it had been of his own choosing.

Irritable or not, she realized upon opening the door, he bore a tray of tea and parritch, with cream and mashed berries for the oats. “I can fetch something different if you prefer. Bacon or sausage perhaps.”

She shook her head and sat down at a small table where he’d deposited the tray.

Suddenly ravenous—when had she last eaten, beyond the bannock in the castle kitchen?—Ellen studied the food, but he studied her, so her skin prickled.

“Are you ill?” he asked, his eyes lingering on the flush of her neck where the nettle rash had crept up too high.

She shook her head and pulled her shawl tighter.

“Are you sure? Keith may yet remain in the village. Or I can ride to Dingwall for the physician.”

She shook her head again and poured a cup of tea for him.

“Truly, you look unwell.”

“Trust me to know my own health,” she muttered, barely a whisper, but his eyebrows lifted and he nodded.

Suddenly Ellen’s appetite fled. He wasn’t meant to hear her. No one ever heard her mutterings. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure she said them outside her own head.

“A letter arrived for you,” he said cautiously, nodding towards a sealed parchment nestled between the cream and fruit preserves.

Dear Mother Mary, had her own mother sent a missive with further advice on surviving the marriage bed? For whom else could be writing to her?

“D’you not wish to read it?” he asked, looking pensive, probably supposing she was too stupid to even read. Yes, he must be having very serious buyer’s remorse, though she supposed since he received her dowry, it was her father who had done the buying. Jory would have so many things to say about all of that.

She shook her head to chase away blue thoughts of her cousin and picked up the letter. The cramped, even hand was certainly not her mother’s. Heavens, would it be from Logan? She’d never known him to write, but there was always a first time.

Milady Ellen,

It is my greatest hope that someone already mentioned just how lovely you looked outside the kirk this morning—like a ray of sunshine sent from heaven itself.

Truly, when the clouds parted and the sun shone down upon your hair, I was overcome, and I know I’m not alone, for I watched my laird’s son closely and saw he did not draw breath. Flowers turned their petals towards you, and all the birds stopped singing just to listen for your voice upon the breeze.

Ellen blushed at this stranger’s words, imagining herself as he described her, as though she were Lady Len and not dowdy Wee Ellen, the tutor’s girl.

Her eyes skipped to the foot of the page to see the anonymous sender’s scrawled Mac. Truly, how many dozens of Macs had been present at the kirk on both sides? She couldn’t begin to guess. But one of them had taken the time to write to her!

This must be a terribly uncertain time for you. I believe it is such for the laird’s son as well, for all the same reasons and perhaps more besides.

Ellen paused. Uncertain for Silas? Because he’d not yet decided whether to send her away?

I hope you can look past his coarseness and not despise him. He is a man raised by men, and never learned the genteel manners to which you must surely be accustomed. To a lady such as yourself, he must seem a proper bear with a temperament to match, but you needn’t fear him. Si is harmless, even to the fish in the loch and the mice in the stable, and while he has studied a great many battles, it was so he might prevent future wars rather than lead them.

Rest assured, he means well, even if he is an intolerable prig.

It was wrong for his kinsman to write of him in such a way, and Ellen found herself wanting to defend her new husband, even though the writer clearly held some affection for him.

Husband. She shook her head at the strangeness of this new world.

It seems impossible his disposition will not improve merely by knowing you. Indeed, we are all counting on it. You have friends among the MacKenzies, milady. Those who know would say he cannot rule without you by his side.

You’ll see it’s true at the Gathering. We are a proud and rowdy lot. We fought alongside Robert the Bruce—and we’ll ne’er let any forget it. Our motto is to shine, not burn, and I think I’ve never seen one shine so bright as you, milady. You elevate Si merely by your presence, and he knows it, too. If you should want for anything, you need only ask.

Your servant,