“She caught a fever the next year and never recovered.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. Sadly, the fever was not one we had experienced before the battle with the English. Our healers did not know what to do.”
“Often there is nothing you can do,” Abigail replied, remembering her own fever that left her life without sound.
Abigail’s further meetings with the men and women of the Sinclair clan continued to go surprisingly well. That was until they returned up to the motte and reached a small cottage located behind the kitchens. Guaire introduced Abigail to Una, the housekeeper and head cook for the residences of the tower.
The widow, who was only a few years older than Abigail and quite beautiful with her dark red hair and doe-like eyes, gave her new lady a once-over that left no doubt she found her laird’s new wife lacking. “You’re his forced English bride, then?”
“Una!” Guaire admonished. “The laird expects the clan to welcome her.”
“She’s English,” Una spit out, her lovely features twisted in ugly disapproval.
A small boy who clung to his mother’s skirts, peeked from behind her and scowled at Abigail. “We hates the English.”
Guaire gave Una a look that would have had Abigail taking a few steps back and served to make the other woman avert her eyes at least.
Ignoring her for the moment, he dropped to one knee and looked right into the young boy’s eyes. “We do no hate our laird’s wife. Where she comes from is of no matter. She is a Sinclair now.”
“Tamara was a Sinclair, too, but she had her English baron lover bring his forces to our land and wage a coward’s war, attacking with fire while our clan slept,” Una replied with venom. “Too many of us lost loved ones to an Englishwoman’s treachery to forget it.”
It was this attitude that had caused Emily so much distress and fed Abigail’s earlier concerns about meeting the clan. However, Abigail had spent the past several years being reviled by her own mother. She had developed a core of solid stone. She would not be cowed by irrational hatred.
“MacAlpin betrayed his own people. We don’t distrust the Chrechte because of what one man did,” Guaire stood and replied before Abigail had a chance to defend herself.
“It’s not the same.”
“No, it isn’t,” Abigail agreed. “MacAlpin wanted power and Tamara had her own reasons for betraying your clan, but I have nothing to gain by making enemies here. I have nothing to return to in England.”
“Why should I believe you?” Una asked belligerently.
“Because I’m telling the truth, but maybe you will need time to accept that.”
“Time is not something she has,” Guaire said, his face set. “I will make sure the laird is made aware of your stand on the matter, Una.”
Una blanched, proving she might be prejudiced, but she wasn’t stupid.
Abigail shook her head though. “No.”
His brows drawn together in a frown, Guaire said, “The laird’s instructions in the matter were clear.”
“My mind is made up.” Abigail crossed her arms over her chest and gave Guaire her best no-nonsense frown. “I will spend the next month getting to know Una and she will come to know her lady, not the English hobgoblin she imagines that has her so frightened.”
“I am not afraid,” Una denied with disdain.
“What will happen in a month’s time?” Guaire asked, ignoring the other woman’s continued posturing.
“If she cannot learn to respect, if not actually like me, then she will be relieved of her position as housekeeper and head cook for her laird.”
Una’s mouth opened and then snapped shut without forming any words.
Guaire shook his head at her. “It is more than you should expect. Talorc made it clear he would consider disrespect shown to our lady as a direct challenge to his leadership.”
Una sighed. “I know. I was there.”
Abigail tensed. “That changes things.” She wished it didn’t, but the fact that Una had witnessed Talorc’s words meant Abigail could not choose her own course in the matter.
For the first time, Una looked at Abigail with something approaching respect. “In what way?”
“I cannot allow such a challenge to my husband’s authority stand. As much as I find it distasteful to do so, I must inform him of our discussion. However, I will attempt to convince him to allow you the month’s grace. In fact, I will ask him to give the entire clan a month to get to know me before he takes seriously any disparaging comments about or toward my person.”
Una and Guaire stared at her in varying degrees of shock.
“You would—”
“Talorc is not known for his patience,” Guaire said, interrupting Una.
“That is quite all right. I am convinced I have enough for both of us.”
Chapter 12
Abigail had reason to regret her certainty not an hour later as she argued with Talorc in their chamber. “Una needs time to come to know me before she will trust me.”
“I am her laird. She knows me well enough.”
Abigail opened her mouth but could not think what to say for a moment. That was an undeniable point. “I do not believe she intended to show you disrespect.”
“I do not agree.”
“Talorc, please! Do you not think this transition is hard enough for me? Must you put me in a place of enmity with your people without giving me a chance to prove myself?”
He looked astonished at her accusation. “That is not what I am doing.”
“But it is. I imagine Una is well liked among the clan. She is beautiful and takes care of not only the laird, but his most trusted soldiers. If you banish her for being a little cranky, I wouldn’t blame the other clan members for finding the fault in me. They’ll have a real reason to hate me, not an irrational prejudice.”
“Our hatred of the English is not irrational.”
She threw her hands in the air. “That is exactly what I mean. If even you, who considers me a friend, can say something so hurtful, how can you expect every member of your clan to be more circumspect?”
“I meant no insult, I did not say that I hate you.”
Cocking her elbows, she fisted her hands on her hips and just looked at the maddening man her king had dictated she marry.
Their gazes locked, but she refused to look away. And something told her he never would.
“You dare to challenge me?”
“Is that what I’m doing? I thought I was disagreeing with you.” She could tell right now this would be an ongoing argument in their marriage.
“I will not allow my people to mistreat you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m not an idiot. I just want you to give everyone a chance to get to know me and realize I’m not like Tamara.”
Talorc picked Abigail up by the waist and drew her to him. “You are nothing like that evil bitch.”
“I’m not, Talorc. I’m really not.” She needed him to believe her.
He didn’t reply, but he did kiss her, long and deeply. Kissing led to touching and touching led to disrobing. Soon, they were writhing together in the furs. By the time she could string two thoughts together again, she was naked and snuggled atop her husband’s chest.
Sound vibrated through his chest and she knew he had spoken. She lifted her head, affecting a sleepy yawn. “What?”
“I said you will be the death of me.”
“I do not think so. You kissed me, if you will recall.”
“You challenged me.”
“Considering the consequences, I believe I will have to challenge you more often.”
He growled in mock outrage and rolled her under him to begin kissing her yet again. She loved his taste and could have kept at their current occupation in perfect bliss for the next hour, but Talorc lifted his head and looked toward the door.
Someone must have knocked. Chills chased down her spine as Abigail acknowledged yet another source of revelation for her secret. What if someone knocked and she did not hear them? She would have to keep the door open when she was in the chamber. There was no help for it. Unlike in her room in her father’s keep, she could not feel the vibrations of the floor when someone approached the door.