Page 76 of Sins of the Highlander

Lord MacLaren’s heart was beginning to mend before this scheme to steal Elspeth Stewart took shape in his mind. The timing of the abduction and the laird’s obsession with it all smacked of witchery.

And if the Stewart wench witched him once he saw her, she might actually have put the thought to steal her in his head. Through some weird incantation, reaching across the distance to call him to her, like a siren on the rocks. Such things were known to happen.

It was the only explanation for her laird’s odd behavior.

And Mrs. Beaton hadn’t missed the fact that Elspeth Stewart divined Hamish’s name out of thin air. An uncommon skill, that. Some might say unnatural.

Mrs. Beaton glanced back at the Stewart girl. Aye, her father was cousin to Queen Mary, but everyone knew the queen was so tainted by her time on the French throne, she couldn’t hardly be named a good Scot except by birth.

Night was falling fast. Elspeth Stewart was looking around at the half-timbered buildings ringing the bailey in Caisteal Dubh as she trailed Mrs. Beaton.

No doubt imagining yerself chatelaine here! Well, may God strike me blind before I hand over the keys to the likes of ye!

“Wipe yer feet,” Mrs. Beaton said sharply when they entered the Great Hall. The rushes she’d strewn on the flagstone floor a few weeks ago would have to last till spring. As she mounted the steps to ascend to the chamber she knew her laird would want for Lady Elspeth, she noticed the girl limping.

“Have ye damaged yourself?”

“No, ’tis nothing,” the Stewart girl said.

Mrs. Beaton led her to the chamber that had stood empty since the laird’s mother died. It was a fine chamber once, with a sturdy bed and a heavy trunk for all a lady’s things, but disuse had rendered the air stale and the linens musty. She bustled over to the window and pushed it open.

“I’ll have the girls air the room now and turn the mattress,” Mrs. Beaton said. She ought to have done it before, as the laird ordered, but she’d been so certain this whole scheme would end differently, she neglected preparing the room. “We were no’ given notice of yer arrival, ye ken.”

“I thank ye,” the lady said with every appearance of meekness while she ran her fingertips along the footboard of the bed.

Well, o’ course, a body will find dirt if she looks for it.

“I suppose ye’ll be wanting the braziers lit to take away the chill,” Mrs. Beaton said.

“If it isna too much trouble.”

Everything about this lass screamed trouble, but there was no help for it.

“I wonder,” the Stewart girl said softly, “if I might have a bath as well. The road was a weary, long way, and I’d like to wash before my father sees me.”

Demanding already. “As ye wish, my lady,” Mrs. Beaton said. “I’ll send a couple girls up to set ye to rights.” She turned to go.

“Oh, Mrs. Beaton, one more thing. If I might ask, whose chamber was this?”

“The chatelaine’s.”

“Fiona’s room,” she said softly.

“Nay, this room belonged to the laird’s lady mother. Young Lady MacLaren and the laird were no’ married long, ye ken. She bided with him in his chamber. Verra fond, they were.” When she saw the words pained Elspeth Stewart, she felt obliged to repeat and embellish them. “Verra fond beyond the common.”

***

Later, Mrs. Beaton was checking the store of apples in the cellar, making sure none had gone bad. Only one with a soft spot was all it took to ruin a whole barrel.

“Auntie?” Her niece’s voice echoed down into the stone vault.

“Aye, come and ye can help me, Margot. Mind the steps.”

Margot was pretty enough, but she needed directions to pull on her own stockings.

The lass came down, her comely face drawn into a frown. “Did ye ken the laird brought her back here?”

“Aye, I settled her in her room, did I no’?”