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“Yes, Keira,” she said meekly, before turning and fleeing to her bedroom. Sometimes her stepdaughter could be quite frightening.
* * *
Keira felt a little under the weather the next morning, even though she had not had much to drink. She drank some warm ale and cautiously put her feet out of bed to test the temperature. Despite the late spring weather, it was cold, and she quickly wrapped herself in a woolen blanket before standing up. She looked outside and saw that it was once again raining, and her spirits plummeted at once.
Presently, Moira arrived with her bathtub and two other manservants carrying buckets of warm water. Moments later, she was languishing in lavender-scented water with her eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of warmth and safety a bath always gave her.
“Dinnae be in too long, milady,” Moira told her. “Remember ye are bein’ fitted for yer new dress today, the one ye are wearin’ tae meet the earl.”
“I had forgotten,” Keira groaned.
Reluctantly, she stood up, and Moira helped her dry off before beginning the tedious process of dressing her.
It had always angered Keira that men could dress in comfortable clothes, whereas women had to be squeezed into dresses that were far too tight for them. She wondered how long a man would be able to last in the tight crimson dress she was being shoehorned into at this moment. When it was at last time to cover her chemise and corset with the dress, Keira could hardly breathe.
“Damn!” she said irritably. “I am going to excuse myself early the night I meet the earl, Moira. I refuse to do myself an injury wearing this thing.”
“But ye look lovely, milady,” Moira said soothingly, smiling at her in the mirror.
“That is no good if my ribs are broken,” Keira grumbled, then her eyes flew open and she jumped backward with a scream as the chamber door crashed inward, shuddering on its hinges.
Her father came barrelling full tilt through the door and rushed toward her, his face flushed crimson with rage. He cannoned into her, almost knocking her off her feet, and her scream was cut off as Archie McTavish’s hands closed around her throat and squeezed so hard that her windpipe closed, cutting off her breath.
Keira tried to prise his hands away from her neck, but they were too strong, and she felt as though her eyes were going to pop out of her head as she fought to breathe. It was becoming more difficult with every second that passed. Her knees began to give way, and her hands fell to her side. She saw that Moira was trying to pull her father away, but he tossed her aside with a swipe of his hand and resumed the pressure on her throat with renewed vigor.
Keira looked with complete horror into the laird’s furious eyes, sure that he had gone absolutely mad. A dark mist was beginning to descend over her vision, and she felt herself slipping away into blessed unconsciousness.
However, at that moment, her father must have realized that he had gone too far, for he seemed to come to his senses. He let go of Keira’s throat and she fell onto the bed, coughing as if she would never stop while she gulped in great lungfuls of sweet, life-giving air.
“Listen to me, my girl,” her father hissed. “You will do everything I say when the earl arrives. You will not show me up in front of a man as prominent as he is, or I will make you regret it sorely. Are you listening to me?”
Keira gathered the tattered shreds of her dignity about her and nodded. Tears had begun to leak from her eyes; they were not tears of sadness but tears of pure rage. She felt like spitting in his face, but she knew that that would only antagonize him further. How she wished she had a dagger in her hand at that moment! She tried to sound calm and reasonable.
“I will do whatever you ask of me, Father,” she replied, with all the self-control she could muster. “After all, if I embarrass you, I embarrass myself.” She stood up again, coughed for a few moments, then, with a heroic effort, pasted a smile on her face. “How does my dress look?”
For a moment, the laird looked surprised at the question, then he, too, smiled, although it seemed to be as false an effort as Keira’s own.
“You look very lovely, my dear,” he replied.
Then, as he kissed her cheek and turned away, Keira felt as if she wanted to scrub her face to wash the taste of his lips from her skin. When he was standing at the door, he looked back and said ominously, “Remember my words, Keira.” Then he slipped out and closed the door behind him a little more gently than he had when he entered.
Keira flopped down on her bed with tears streaming down her face, scrubbing her father’s kiss from her cheek with a damp cloth as if it were dirty. Her neck was aching from the pressure of the laird’s fingers, and her throat felt as if she had swallowed a mouthful of sawdust.
“Are ye all right, hen?” Moira asked anxiously as she handed her mistress a cup of water.
Keira nodded and accepted the cup, but after she had swallowed a few mouthfuls, she coughed it all back up again. Moira patted her on the back and studied her anxiously.
Keira tried again and this time managed to keep the liquid down. She wiped away her tears and stood up, then went to her armoire and took out a ragged old dress that she only used when she was tending to her horse or practicing archery.
“Mistress, what are ye daein’?” Moira was fearful, and she fluttered around Keira as she carried the dress across the roon and laid it on her bed.
“Take this rag off me, Moira,” she ordered, indicating the pretty dress she was wearing. “I have told my father I am going to meet this earl person, so I want to keep it clean. Help me to take it off, please, and I will put on my working dress.”
“Ye’ve had an awful shock, milady,” Moira said worriedly. “Maybe ye should rest for a while.” She unhooked the dress Keira was wearing and helped her into the old ragged one. Keira sighed with relief as the instrument of torture called a corset fell to the floor. She was tempted to trample on it but refrained. She would need it again, but when she was free from her father, she had sworn to burn every single one she possessed.
“No.” Keira’s voice was almost a bark. “No, I will not rest. I have too much to do today, and if I stay in this castle a moment longer, I will be tempted to find my father and kill him, preferably slowly.”
“Keira!” Moira called as Keira stormed out, but her words were lost to the empty air. Keira was gone.
