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“She's a brazen little cattle thief, my dear sister,” the laird replied. “She has already stolen a dozen head of my cows, and had the gall to bargain for eight more for her younger sisters’ dowers. Don't waste yer outrage on Fiona Hay.”
“Did ye breach her?” Janet Stewart demanded of him.
The laird flushed. “What kind of a question is that for a respectable matron to ask a man?” he countered.
“Yehave!Dammit, Angus! Ye were ever greedy with a new toy! Now ye have absolutely no choice but to wed the lass.”
Fiona had heard enough. Pushing past the startledNelly and her two younger sisters, she found her way into the hall. “I'll not wed with him, madam,” she said loudly as she entered the room. “I'll not be shackled to a man I don't love, like my poor mam.” She glared defiantly at the pair of siblings.
“Ye'll marry me if I say so!” Angus Gordon shouted.
“Go to hell, ye pompous jackass!” Fiona shouted back.
Janet Stewart burst into a peal of laughter. “Why, bless my soul, Angus, yer lassie has more spirit than I think ye can handle.”
“I am not his lassie!” Fiona said fiercely.
“Come here to me, Fiona Hay,” Janet Stewart said quietly. Reaching out her hand, she drew the girl closer to her, looking into one of the fairest faces she had ever encountered. “If ye will not have my brother for yer husband, then no other will have ye, lassie. ’Tis a good marriage for ye both, and Angus already has a dowry in yer grandfather's lands.” She gently caressed the girl's cheek. “Yer mother, may God assoil her good and sweet soul, loved my father. Having to wed with Dugald Hay must have been hell on earth for her. Nonetheless, we canna all wed just for love. Love usually comes afterward, lassie.”
“Did ye not love yer man when ye wed him?” Fiona asked.
“Hamish? No.” Janet Stewart laughed. “His family wanted a suitable bride. The match was made when I was in the cradle. He's almost twenty years my senior, and I didn't see him until a month before we were to wed, for he was a soldier for the French in France. But he's a good man, my Hamish, and I have grown to love him as the years passed. We have made two sons, and three daughters.”
“He's besotted over her, and ever was,” the laird of Loch Brae muttered in response to his sister's words.
“Meg didn't know her David well either,” Janet Stewart continued, “yet she's happy.” Then she explained, “Meg is our younger sister, and she's wed to David Hamilton. They have two of the dearest little twin laddies. Ye see, Fiona, marriage must be worked at as ye would work a fertile field. Little will grow if ye don't plow it, seed it, and water it. Love comes with time, with respect, with knowing a man day by day. It all takes time. Ye and Angus, for all yer rough start, are, I believe, an ideal match.” Her smile encompassed them both.
“I'll not wed him, nor any man I don't love,” Fiona said stubbornly.
“Nor will I wed a thief and besmirch the honor of the Gordons of Loch Brae,” the laird said in equally stubborn tones.
Janet Gordon Stewart looked discomfited by her brother's attitude. Why did Angus always have to be so damned difficult? Fiona's mood she discounted. The lass was obviously proud and idealistic. She could be gotten around in time, but Angus was a different matter. Perhaps, she decided, if left alone for the winter, love would actually bloom between the adamant pair. Then the matter would be solved.
“Where are your little sisters, my dear?” Janet Stewart asked Fiona.
‘Jeannie, Morag,” Fiona called, and the two younger girls came into the hall. “Make your curtsies to Lady Stewart.”
“How adorable they are!” Janet Stewart cooed. “The wee one is yer spit, Fiona Hay.” She cocked her head, and stooping down said, “Are ye Jeannie or Morag, my pet?”
“Morag, lady,” came the lisping answer.
Janet stood again. “Then ye must be Jeannie. Do ye like ponies, Jeannie Hay?”
“Aye, lady.” Jeannie nodded slowly, wondering what this was all about. She suspected from the lady's dulcet tones she wouldn't like it.
Janet Stewart turned to Fiona and her brother. “These two bairns must come to Greymoor to live with me” she said. When Fiona opened her mouth to protest, Janet continued,“Yehave made yer decision, Fiona Hay, but that decision when spread far and wide, will make ye known as a high-priced whore.”
Fiona blanched, but her lips were tightly compressed as she listened to Janet Stewart's further explanation.
“If ye expect to find respectable husbands for Jeannie and Morag one day, then they canna remain here at Brae else they eventually be considered fair game for yer fate.Yedo understand, don't ye?”
Fiona nodded slowly, but there were tears in her eyes.
“For God's sake, Jan, don't speaksoharshly to her,” the laird protested. ‘Jeannie and Morag are but bairns. No one will think ill of them. Fiona's mothered her sisters admirably. Yer being unnecessarily cruel.”
“No,” Fiona spoke, surprising them, “she is not cruel, my lord. She speaks the truth. I wanted to leave my sisters up upon the ben with old Flora and Tarn,” she explained, turning to Janet Stewart, “but yer brother said ‘twould not be safe now. I did think of them, lady!”
“Of course ye did,” Janet said. “I can see yer mettle, Fiona Hay. Angus was right, however, about leaving two little lasses unprotected but for two servants. Still, they canna remain with ye and be respectable. They must come home with me.”
