Between a Highlander and a Hard Place, page 15
“But if he tried to make her his mistress!” Dorothy exclaimed.
The countess raised her delicate eyebrows. “Marriage is about gain, Daughter. Blood or riches, preferably both.”
Dorothy nodded. Her own husband preferred the company of young men, which only meant she had to make sure to bring along a few of them when she visited his bedchamber so that they might get on with begetting heirs as well as making very sure none of his lovers ever spoke about the earl’s tastes. It wasn’t the most horrible thing she might have found herself facing when she wed, and she was a countess. In a few years, once the children were born, she could have all the lovers she desired with her husband’s blessing.
Her mother was correct. Queen Elizabeth would forgive Lord Leicester for they were truly in love, and Elizabeth Tudor would be a fool to ever marry. She was Queen in her own right, and all the nations of Europe were holding back their armies as they tried to gain England through the hand of its monarch.
Yes, Elizabeth played the Virgin Queen very well, so she would forgive Robert’s need for an heir. He’d be at her side before the summer’s end. It would seem Dorothy had a great deal to learn from her mother still. Dorothy leaned closer to her mother.
“How shall we play this?”
* * *
Scotland
Hidden behind Grant Tower was a lake.
Athena was fascinated by the sparking surface of it.
There was also a mill. The wheel turned in the morning light as she wandered down to explore her surroundings.
There was work aplenty, and she was far from the only one up at first light. Two men were working the mill. They grinned as she came close and tugged on the corners of their bonnets before they went back to their labor.
She walked around the outside of the mill, enjoying the sound of the water.
Another sound intruded, as did a very large dog. It had a thick coat of hair and ran toward her on long legs, not stopping until it had its nose pressed beneath her skirts. The animal sniffed her before sitting back on its haunches and howling long and loudly.
“Good boy,” Symon praised the dog as he came around the edge of the mill.
“Did you set a hound to track me?” she asked incredulously.
Symon offered the dog a piece of meat before rubbing its shaggy head for a moment.
“Aye, I did,” Symon answered. “But only because ye were more clever than me this morning in escaping the hall. But ye left me there to endure the suggestive looks from everyone.”
“Decided to join me?” she inquired.
He shrugged. “Are ye going to make me admit to me own cowardice, lass? That’s right unkind of ye when I’ve brought ye something to break yer fast with.”
Symon set a small bundle on a rock near the river’s edge. The ends were tied up around something. He pulled at the knots until they opened, revealing an assortment of food. There was a round of newly baked bread, a hunk of cheese, and half a roasted chicken. He pulled a pair of mugs from beneath the bread and scooped up some of the fresh water.
“You’re correct, Lord Grant,” she muttered as her belly rumbled. “I am being far too harsh. Even if you do somewhat deserve everything you receive because you brought me here.”
He chuckled. “I do nae regret it…well, perhaps I was rethinking the matter as I sat at the high table and realized how many were staring at me.”
Symon pulled his dagger and cut the cheese into slices which he offered to her.
She claimed a piece of the cheese. “Why are your people so desperate for you to wed?”
It wasn’t a very polite question.
Symon swallowed before fixing her with an honest look. “Me wife died in childbed four winters ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And me father died last season, as did Brenda’s husband, only that was more of a blessing, except there was no issue,” he continued. “My father lingered, and I was by his side. The years passed. I should have attended to the matter of finding another wife, but it seemed such a cold thing to do when I knew me attention was on me father.”
Not many men would have felt the same. She chewed on the chicken leg.
“Ask more questions,” he said.
Athena looked at him over the rim of her mug. “You enjoy a woman who chatters?”
He chuckled. “Brenda advised me to allow ye time to come to know me. So ask questions.”
She laughed.
And realized it had been a really long time since she’d laughed out loud.
Symon noticed. His gaze rested on her as she looked away because she felt unmasked.
“Thank you for thinking of me this morning.”
Symon grunted before pointing the tip of his dagger at her. “Ye’ve been alone, haven’t ye? With that merchant.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to keep company with Will Tinker and his comrades,” Athena exclaimed. “But it was to be expected, that I’d have to keep to myself.”
“Ye’ve got a solid spine, lass. More than one woman would have taken the position of mistress and considered it the best that might be had under the circumstances.”
It was a compliment. One of the most honest ones she’d ever received.
“I suppose it was pride that kept me from it,” Athena said. “And the knowledge that Uncle Henry had done well by me. Disgracing him hardly seemed a fitting reward. He sheltered me from those who advised him to turn me out. He’d chosen to keep me when my father’s family would have seen me die in my swaddling cloth. My uncle is a moral man. I will never disgrace him.”
They ate in silence for a long moment.
“I still say ye could grow to like it here,” Symon said.
But it was a teasing suggestion now, which made her contemplate it so much more deeply.
“Yes, and you could grow to realize you don’t like me at all,” she answered. “We really know very little about each other.”
She didn’t much care for her own words. They felt wrong, as if she was fighting the current, trying to swim upstream when there was nothing better there for her.
“Are ye telling me that ye snore?” he asked.
She laughed again, earning a smile from Symon. “How would I know such a thing?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Fair enough. Perhaps ye should spend the night in me chambers so I can learn the truth of the matter meself.”
Athena aimed a smile at him. “Will Brenda be there?”
Symon made a sour face. “That sort of thing does no’ happen in our family. Now, I’ve heard it might be true up on Gordon land…”
“Stop,” she admonished him. “You’ll end in the stocks with talk such as that.”
His eyes flickered with heat. “I assure ye, lass, I’m in far more danger of ending in the stocks for seducing ye.”
“So sure I would submit to you?”
Challenging him wasn’t the wisest thing she might have chosen to do.
But she enjoyed it more than she’d ever imagined.
Something flashed in his eyes that awakened an answering flicker of heat from her insides.
He suddenly groaned and pushed to his feet. “We’d best get back before that look on yer face makes me forget my intention to woo ye.”
He tied the cloth around what was left of her meal and offered her a hand. She put her hand into his, feeling the connection all the way to her toes.
Yes, she could come to like it here, with him.
In fact, she rather thought she’d already gone and done so.
Not that she was planning on telling him.
No, not just yet.
* * *
England
Galwell looked at his father in shock. “I had no way of knowing Athena had such a dowry!”
His father, Baron Scrope, sat on his chair with his hand gripping the armrest so his signet ring caught the candlelight.
“It would seem your ability to enchant the Queen has brought us gain, just in a different way,” the baron explained. “The girl didn’t know of it either. Her father’s family are not fools. They have kept the matter secret. If her uncle had investigated, he’d have discovered the inheritance left to the girl.”
Galwell smiled with victory. “Elizabeth is becoming enamored of me. She even sent Lord Robert Leicester away tonight in favor of sitting with me.”
“Yes, I am well aware of that,” the baron said quietly. “Lord Leicester is not a man to be slighted, Galwell. He is the Queen’s favorite.”
“I am her favorite,” Galwell exclaimed.
“You are her current fascination,” the baron informed his son. “Someone she is using to remind Leicester of his place, so he remembers that she is the master of her realm.”
Galwell’s eyes widened with anger.
“Mind your tongue, Son,” the baron warned him. “I have known Elizabeth Tudor since her birth and her mother before that. Elizabeth is every bit her father’s daughter. She will never share the crown, but she loves Robert Leicester too. His wife is for breeding, and you will wed Athena Trappes for the same purpose.”
Galwell paced, his father watching him in his agitation. “Athena won’t have me.”
“I have already sent for her uncle,” the baron replied. “We shall come to an agreement, and I will have him produce the girl. It will be for her kin to make her see the value of obedience. You will answer to me in the same manner.”
“She might well be wed to another by now,” Galwell answered. “What better way to cover the scandal of her setting fire to my townhome than by arranging a very quick wedding?”
“We shall see,” the baron muttered. “However, you will make it known that you are seeking reconciliation with her.”
Galwell stomped his foot on the hard floor. “The Queen will be upset with me.”
“Yes, she will,” the baron agreed. “It is Lord Leicester’s favor we are courting now, for that is the favor you can expect to keep. Elizabeth is merely toying with you. Robert Leicester will not forget who clears the path between him and the Queen.”
Galwell left his father’s house, stewing with anger.
Elizabeth enjoyed his company, and he knew he could make it last if he was just given the time to win her. By the time he’d made it to his townhome, his servants were almost finished packing. He’d depart at first light to accompany the Queen on her progress.
It would give him the time he needed to win her heart. His father might rule the family now, but Galwell was a second son. He’d always known he’d have to secure his own fortune.
The heart of England’s Queen was far more important than one tract of land.
* * *
Scotland
Symon looked into the kitchens at first light, catching his Head of House’s attention. Feenet wiped her hands on her apron before she came out to meet him.
Symon looked both ways before speaking.
“See that the mistress is dressed for dinner in something a little less likely to allow her to tend to her own needs.”
Feenet took a moment to think through his words before understanding dawned on her. “A dress more suited to the hall, perhaps?”
Symon nodded.
Feenet lowered herself before she turned and went back into the kitchen.
Courting was a matter of strategy, after all. Athena wouldn’t wander from the hall if she didn’t have a warm enough dress.
* * *
“Good morning, Mistress,” Feenet declared as the bed-curtains were swept aside to let the morning light in. “We’ve come to help ye dress.”
Athena rubbed her eyes and looked at the window. Dawn had broken, but the hour was still very early.
“You do not need to dress me,” Athena said.
Feenet and the two maids with her didn’t stop. They came right into Athena’s chamber, their arms piled high with clothing. Feenet pulled the bedding down, letting the morning air in.
“It’s not right that the laird’s guest should be wearing servant’s clothing,” Feenet informed Athena with a firm look. One of the maids was quick to set her bundle down and gather up the skirt and bodice Athena had worn the day before.
The bodice had laced up the front, making it simple to see to her own needs. Athena looked longingly at it as the maid slipped through the door and disappeared. A moment later, another maid appeared with more clothing.
“Please, this is all too much,” Athena tried to argue.
Feenet watched as her staff laid out the dresses. “Ye might be able to say Highlanders are savage on account of how they steal women and all, but…” The Head of House held up a finger. “Ye will no’ say we do nae treat our guests well.”
One of the maids failed to hold back her mirth. Athena sent a look toward Feenet. “I won’t be saying you lack creativity, either.”
It would seem the staff had decided on a way to make certain she and their laird were together. At least during meals.
Feenet grinned and pointed at a green dress. Athena stood while being dressed. It was strange how hard it was to remain in place while the maids brought her layers of clothing and laced everything into position. At least there was no farthingale. The stiffened underskirt that would hold out her skirt like a bell was something she did not miss at all. Walking had taken strict attention so her hips’ natural sway didn’t make her look like a giant bell being rung.
“And no working in the kitchen,” Feenet said as the last sleeve ribbon was secured. “This dress is too fine.”
“I was very happy in the other.”
Feenet clapped her hands together. “Let’s get to table before the laird sends someone up here to investigate why we are late.”
There was a flurry of motion as the maids and Head of House swept Athena along in their midst. The hall was full of men. The Grant retainers were enjoying the opportunity to sit and converse before the work of the day began.
“Mistress Athena.”
Symon’s voice echoed through the hall, full of authority and command. The men grew quiet as they looked toward her. At the end of the aisle, the high ground had a table on it. Symon was standing there, more formal than she had ever seen him. His doublet was buttoned most of the way up his chest, and his bonnet was freshly pressed, a brooch attached to its side with three feathers raised.
The sight of him would have made the knees weak in half the heiresses in Elizabeth Tudor’s court.
Athena realized she was no exception.
“Join me.” Symon extended his hand to indicate a space beside him. There were no other women at the head table. Tamhas and Lyall were there, their position made clear by how close they sat to the laird.
And another retainer was pulling a chair back for her.
She lowered herself before moving up the center of the hall. For the first time since leaving London, she found herself somewhat thankful to Galwell, for she knew how to carry herself with grace and poise. Which was a very necessary skill because everyone was watching her.
Symon didn’t sit until she had.
“You are trying to impress me.” She spoke low so her words wouldn’t carry.
“Surprised to discover I have polished manners?”
His topaz eyes were full of mischief, and she found it infectious.
“Perhaps I enjoy you as I first encountered you…”
His eyes narrowed. “I seem to have miscalculated and made a target of meself by dressing the part of a laird.” His voice dipped low. “Ye are going to tease me unmercifully.”
“Shall I remove myself to one of the lower tables…Laird Grant?” she fluttered her eyelashes. “I only wish to please you.”
“Truly?” One dark eyebrow arched. “If that’s so, I’ve no’ gotten into this doublet for naught. We’ll make a fine-looking pair as we take our wedding vows.”
Maids were serving the first meal of the day as the windows brightened with spring sunshine. There was a fresh scent to the air, tempting Athena to simply let the moment carry her along. Symon caught her hand beneath the table.
“Give me hope that yer silence means ye are considering me.”
His playfulness had evaporated, leaving her facing a very serious look.
“You don’t know me,” she muttered, once again losing the battle to keep her thoughts from spilling across her lips. “I might well be a liar.”
“Yer thoughts show on yer face. Why do ye think I cannae keep me hands off ye? I see the desire in yer eyes. The way ye undress me with yer gaze. I am no’ the only one who needs a blessing from the priest.”
Her cheeks heated, earning a chuckle of victory from him. He reached over, pulled a round of bread from a platter, and broke it before placing a generous portion on her plate.
“Eat well, lass.” He dropped his voice into a raspy whisper. “Ye will need yer strength today, for I will have ye to wife.” His eyes snapped with determination. “Soon.”
She wanted to protest.
You also want to smile.
The two urges pulled on her, threatening to rip her right in half.
Which made no sense at all.
Well, neither did Symon and his desire to wed her. Not with all the offers he had for his hand.
Unless…
Athena looked at the newly churned butter as a thought burst upon her.
He might not have offers at all. She’d heard the tales of the Scottish Highlanders who carried brides off for their dowries. The shipyards in Scotland were notorious—brides often found themselves abducted right off the ships they were on as those ships put in for much-needed provisions.
She’d be wise to question the matter.
He’s proved himself honorable…
Galwell had played that part well too.
Symon kissed her hand as the meal ended and he went off to begin his day. His departure left her with plenty to think about as Brenda arrived and took her along to work on the account books.
