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“Yes. Yes, all right. All was to my liking. It was… very nice. But I am still a virgin. At least, I believe so.”
“I am quite sure you would have no doubt if you were not, though as I have never married I cannot claim extensive experience in such matters. Still, I expect we can rely upon the laird to address that issue soon enough.”
“Yes,” agreed Roselyn, “I daresay he will.”
“So, you will become his lady—in or out of wedlock?”
Had there ever been any doubt? Roselyn acknowledged that probably there had not. Betsy had simply told her what she needed to hear, answers she should have articulated for herself. She wanted Blair, it really was that simple. There was no reason at all why she should not have him. Except…
“Why would he want me? I am blind, not even beautiful. He could choose anyone, any woman he liked. I have no lands, bring him no power or advantage. He told me he would expect that in a wife.”
“And he could have negotiated an advantageous match at any time. Or his clan could. He has not so perhaps he sets less store by those matters than you think. He wants you. Your blindness is no impediment; indeed, you seem to be managing far better here than you ever did at Etal. As for beauty, my lady, there is none lovelier. Your Highland laird would be fortunate to have you beside him, as would any man. He has had the good sense to pursue you, so I can only assume he sees what everyone else does.” She hesitated, then, “May I speak plainly, madam?”
Roselyn gaped. “You can be more direct?”
Her companion gave a wry chuckle. “Well, perhaps I have been a little forward, but it seemed warranted. I just want to say, do not let self-doubt cloud your decision. Take what is offered, if you want it. The opportunity may not come round again. Ah, I see our little friend returning. Meggie, was it? Shall I send her off on some errand?”
“No, she takes her responsibilities very seriously and will be upset if I do not allow her to hover about me. She is a good girl. But, thank you, Betsy, for your counsel and for your loyalty. I shall not forget what you have done for me, and how you spoke out in my defence.”
* * *
Blair did not return for the evening meal. Roselyn made her own way down to the great hall at the appointed hour with just Freya and the handrail on the stairs to assist, and felt inordinately proud of her new independence. She took her usual seat at the table on the dais, and accepted Meggie’s aid in selecting her preferred delicacies. Her companions at the high table, mostly Blair’s senior men-at-arms, assured her that his absence was no cause for concern.
In response to her tentative enquiry the man to her left informed her that his name was Archie. “The McGregor will seek shelter where he needs it, there’s many a cottage will offer him a welcome. He willna travel after dark if he can avoid it.”
Another man, seated to her right, was already known to Roselyn. She remembered Aiden from Etal, and knew he had been the one charged with the task of gathering the switches which The McGregor later wore out on her unfortunate buttocks. Roselyn would have been embarrassed at the recollection but the man merely asked after her health and comfort and patted Freya. Roselyn learnt that her dog had not, after all, been confined to the stables but had spent that fateful night in Aiden’s quarters.
“She’s a fine animal,” Aiden observed, “and ye’re a fine trainer. Ye have a way with creatures, it seems.”
“I do love dogs. Horses also, and I loved to ride when I was young. I fear I may never get over my nervousness about getting into the saddle again since I fell from my own little mare and lost my sight as a result.”
“Ah, I can understand that, but ye really should try. We have several fine mounts here at Duncleit that ye might like. Quiet, gentle animals an’ I daresay ye could train one tae your needs.”
“My brother said that it would be too dangerous for me, I might be killed the next time.”
“If ye’ll pardon me sayin’ so, my lady, but your brother is a fool. Ask The McGregor his opinion. If he permits it, I would be happy to select a mare from our stables for ye.”
“I shall.” Roselyn beamed at him. “I surely will. Thank you.”
She now had more than just one cause to look forward to Blair’s return.
Later that evening she sat on the edge of her bed having dismissed Meggie for the night. Freya snored softly beside the dying fire, clearly more than content with her new quarters. Roselyn was tired, but restless also and reluctant to clamber into bed quite yet. She wished Blair were here. She wanted him, needed him. They had much to discuss.
On impulse she stood and counted the paces to the door.
“No, you stay,” she commanded as the dog stirred. Freya settled again, and Roselyn slipped from her chamber and out into the solar. She crossed the room to reach Blair’s bedchamber, the one she had occupied with him the previous night. Perhaps she might draw comfort from being in this room, so steeped in his presence. She made her way cautiously to the bed and pulled back the rugs to climb in. She was asleep within minutes.
Chapter Eight
Blair edged his mount down the meadow in the direction of Duncleit. The castle lay before him, silhouetted against the night sky, illuminated in the thin moonlight. He had expected to be back hours ago but a badly swollen ford over the River Drynoch had caused him to make a lengthy detour on his return from settling a dispute in the village of Eynort. He had been tempted to accept the hospitality offered by more than one crofter on his route home, but he had declined. It was a fine enough night despite the recent rain which had caused the river to flood thus creating his current problem and he preferred to lay his head down in his own keep.
The lookout recognised him and lowered the drawbridge as he approached. Blair called his thanks to the man, still stationed on the battlements, and turned his stallion’s head in the direction of the stables. He was glad enough to hand Bartholomew’s reins to the tousle-haired lad who scampered out to meet him.
“See he is well rubbed down and given plenty of fresh hay.”
“Aye, Laird, I surely will.” The lad grabbed at the dangling straps and tugged the horse in the direction of his warm stall. The stallion took little convincing and Blair slapped his taut rump as he ambled after the boy.
“Right, now to see to my own rest,” he murmured to the deserted bailey, “but first, food.”
