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Fiona went to the window and pushed the shutters open. The night air was cool, autumnal. “Go to bed, Nelly,” she said. “I'm not yet ready to sleep. Too much has happened today.”
“God give ye sweet repose then, lady,” Nelly said, closing the door behind her.
There was a quarter moon tonight. It glowed brightly down on the waters of the loch, silvering the little wave tops. The wind was light, but definite in its course. Fiona smiled as it caught a tendril of her hair before she began to braid it. Fastening the single thick plait with a bit of ribbon, she sighed and, placing her hands on the sill, gazed deeply into the night.She was alone.For the first time in her entire life she was truly alone. Her sisters were all scattered. Old Tarn and Flora were gone from her. It was an odd sensation, almost like having no body or floating free and not knowing where she was going. What was to become of her, she wondered, but Fiona was neither sad nor frightened by her silent question. She was simply curious as to what life held in store for her. She could not remember a time when she was not responsible for her siblings. What on earth was she going to do now that they were all settled?
The arm that slid about her waist was not unexpected. She had sensed that he would come tonight. It had been more than a week since he had lain with her, and she was shy all over again, but at least this time she knew what to expect.
“What are ye thinking?” he asked, surprising her.
“Of my sisters,” she said, wondering if he would really understand.
“Ye miss them?”
“Aye, and I wonder what my life is to be now I no longer have them to care for, Angus Gordon,” she told him honestly.
“Ye are my mistress,” he replied, bending to place a warm kiss in the place where her round neckline revealed her skin.
Fiona laughed in spite of herself. “What does a mistress do, my lord?” she queried mischievously.
“Why she … she—” He stopped, confused by her question.
“Exactly,” Fiona told him. “If I were yer wife, I would have the care of this castle and its people, but I am not yer wife. What is it that I am, then? I am not a toy to be put in the corner when ye don't want me, my lord.”
The laird was astounded. By Fiona, by their very conversation. What did she want of him? “Una and Aulay have charge of the castle,” he began, but he realized that had he a wife, they would defer to her.
“Una and Aulay have their proper place, as do all those here at Brae. They know what is expected of them each day. I do not.” Fiona's backbone seemed to stiffen as she spoke. Why on earth had she even begun this conversation? He would think she wanted to be his wife.
“Yer place is in my arms, in my bed ”he told her. “That is the duty of a man's mistress, lassie.”
“I canna spend all my time in yer arms, in yer bed,” Fiona said desperately. “I need something to do. I am not used to being idle!”
His mother had died when he was relatively young. He scarcely could remember what she did with her days, if he'd ever known. He'd been out and aboutas much as possible from the earliest age, a male absorbed in male pursuits. As far back as he could recall, Una and Aulay had run the castle. “What do ye want to do?”
Fiona thought a moment. “I want to learn to read and write,” she said. “Can ye read and write, my lord? My father could not, although my mother said she could write her name. Nothing more, mind. Just her name. I never saw her do it, though.”
“I learned to read and write when I was a boy in England with the king,” the laird said slowly. “My brother, Robert, has learned these skills at Glenkirk Abbey, but neither Jamie-boy nor my sisters nor Hamish Stewart, for that matter, can read or write. If it is what ye want, lassie, I shall teach ye,” he promised her.
Fiona nodded, satisfied.
“The moon is bright tonight, is it not?” he said finally.
“Aye.”
His fingers began to undo the ribbon tie at her neck. Her camisia opened to the navel. His hand slipped inside to capture a breast. It nestled like a small round apple, just filling his palm. Her skin was very soft and warm with pulsing life. He began to rub the nipple with his thumb, his lips again finding the almost invisible hollow where her shoulder met her neck. His mouth lingered for a long moment.
“I left ye alone these past days not because I don't desire ye, but so ye might have time with Jeannie and Morag,” he murmured against her ear. His tongue delicately explored the pink whorl of it.
“I know, and I am grateful,” Fiona replied, shivering at the warm wetness in her ear. This love play of his was exciting, but at the same time it was a little frightening. She shifted nervously, trying to fix her attentionupon a bright star just above the bens on the other side of the dark loch, but it was impossible. She wanted to snatch his hands away. Instead her arms lay by her sides, her fingers clenching and unclenching nervously.
Angus Gordon could feel the tenseness in the lassie, and it was no wonder. An enthusiastic student when her initial fears were overcome, she was still greatly inexperienced. Gently he drew her camisia off her shoulders. It slid down her torso to puddle about her ankles. Slipping his hands beneath her arms, he reached up to cup both her breasts in his hands. He fondled the delicate flesh.
Fiona's breath caught achingly in her throat. Unable to help herself, she shuddered hard.
“No, no, hinny lamb,” his voice caressed her. “Don't be afeared. Do ye not remember how sweet it was between us the last time?”
“Aye!”She forced the word out. It had been sweet between them that only time he had made love to her, taking her virginity in a blaze of hot passion.
“It will be sweeter this time, lassie, I swear it!” He turned her about to brush her lips with his.
