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“My god!” Kitty breathed, turning to the rest of the kitchen staff after Bernard had gone. “Good tae look at, an’ good inside. What a man!”
“Aye. Wouldnae step over him tae get tae my man!” one of the others said fervently.
The next morning, Bernard’s visit to the kitchen was all over the estate, told in tones of such reverence that he had achieved the status of a demi-god.
* * *
Bernard went back to his chamber to find that William had managed to get away from the ceilidh too and was dozing, still fully dressed, on his bed. As Bernard opened the door, he woke up and rubbed his eyes.
“Where have you been?” he asked groggily.
“I went to the kitchen for some hot milk and talked to the kitchen maids and the cook,” Bernard replied. “I learned quite a lot that might be useful to us. For instance, did you know that Andrew has a trysting place in the woods where he takes all his conquests, mostly maids and widows? There is also speculation that there are a few little Andrews and Alasdairs out there.”
William yawned and closed his eyes. “Just another spoiled lairdling with too much money and not enough sense,” he mumbled. “He sounds perfect for our needs. Tell me the rest in the morning.” He turned over on his stomach and a moment later, he was snoring.
Bernard climbed into bed and drew the blankets over his chin, then closed his eyes, but sleep would not come. He lay awake in the darkness for a long while, thinking.
His instincts told him that Laird Ballantine’s plan to control the Stewart clan was far-fetched and foolish, but he had to obey the man to whom he had sworn fealty and who paid him rather well. He was much more inclined to support Janice, a woman with a strong will and a good head on her shoulders who had the capability to shoulder responsibility. Why should either of the least deserving men in the world inherit so much?
Was there any way he could achieve both goals? He knew that the only way he could do so was to let William marry and control her, but he doubted that he or any other man had the strength of character to do that, and it suddenly occurred to him that the only way to tame Janice Stewart was with love.
Did he love her? He wanted her more than any other woman he had ever known, but he found himself in a quandary. His loyalties were torn between two different clans, just as his place in society was suspended between two different strata, the upper and the lower. He knew that even if William had loved her, he could not marry her, even if out of duty if the two fathers saw fit to pair them, because William had a secret.
Laird Ballantine’s plan at first had been to marry William to Janet, but he had resisted so fiercely that the laird had given up trying. Bernard knew that he had been in love with Mia McLeod, the widow of a gentleman farmer, but she had not been considered a suitable match. Despite his father’s disapproval, William had secretly married her a year before, and they were expecting their first child. The marriage was to be revealed at the child’s christening.
His thoughts drifted back to his and Janice’s encounter earlier, and once more, his body surged with desire. He wondered if he would ever be able to want any other woman again. He hoped so because he could see no chance of a future with Janice.
14
Bernard took great care with his appearance that morning. He shaved until his face was as smooth as an eggshell and bathed in water that was as hot as his skin could tolerate, then washed his hair thoroughly and scrubbed himself with coarse soap and a pumice stone.
William laughed as he dressed, watching his friend. “I don’t think you could be any cleaner if you let one of the washerwomen scrub you against a rock in the Bonnie Loch,” he remarked, grinning.
He was referring to the boulders against which the women slapped and then scrubbed the washing clean so that they could rinse them in the clean loch water.
“What is the occasion? Are you trying to impress someone?”
Bernard chuckled. “No one at all except myself,” he answered. “It has been a week since I bathed properly, and I did not like the way I was beginning to smell. I could have had a swim in the loch but it is too cold even for me!”
William shrugged. “I don’t believe you.” His tone was mischievous. “You can charm your way up a woman’s skirts in less time than it takes me to shave in the morning, washed or not. I know you—you don’t even have to try. This is someone special.”
“Iam special!” Bernard protested, thumbing his chest. “But I have no desire to woo any woman here, William. This place is too far away from home, anyway. When we get back to Benlieth I might begin to think about courting someone there.” He went back to scrubbing his already-clean feet.
William grinned at him. “I am going to breakfast. Make sure your kilt is clean. You never know when you will strike it lucky!”
Bernard gave a mock snarl and threw his pumice stone at Bernard, who dodged it. “Kilt” was a very old private joke between the two of them, a word which referred to their private parts and therefore to sex.
“I am going for breakfast,” William told him. “The voting starts after that.”
“Who are you going to vote for?” Bernard asked curiously.
William sighed, then shook his head in despair. “You know, Bernard, they are both eejits, but of the two I am inclined to vote for Alasdair because he is a wee bit worse than his brother, an’ that is because he does not know when to stop drinking. Once he is in his cups you can do anything you like with him. Believe it or not, you can still occasionally get the odd word of sense out of Andrew, although I know it is hard to believe.”
Bernard rose to his feet to dry himself, and William left to go to dine with his father and the rest of the lairds and ladies. In his younger days, he had often envied William his place among the “high heid yins” as his mother called the upper class, but not anymore. He was going to eat with the guards and the servants, and that was the way he liked it.
* * *
William was sitting next to his father in the great hall, wondering how his wife was faring without him. So far she was healthy, and the midwife had no concerns about her or the baby, but his mother had died in childbirth, along with many other women, rich and poor, and he was terrified. He had left word with the midwife that he was to be sent for at once should anything happen to her and to hell with his father.
