The Bride (6 page)

"He's trying to turn the topic," Mary told her sister. "I'm going to get an apology from you, Jamie, before I move from this spot. And if I don't think you're sincere, then I'm telling Father Charles. He'll give you a penance you won't soon forget."

"It's your fault, not mine," Jamie countered. "You're as easy to lead along as a pup."

Mary turned back to Beak. "You'd think my sister would be a little more understanding of my predicament. She doesn't have to stand before the Scottish warlords and pray to God she isn't chosen. Papa's bent on hiding her away."

"Only because I wasn't named in the king's order," Jamie reminded her sister.

"I ain't so sure you weren't named," Beak interjected.

"Papa wouldn't lie," Jamie argued.

"As to that, I won't be saying you're right or wrong, Jamie," Beak said. "Mary? Jamie hasn't told you anything terrible about the Scots as far as I can tell. You're fretting over nothing, lass."

"She told me other stories, Beak," Mary said. "I was suspicious, of course, because her stories were so outrageous. I'm not that gullible, Beak, no matter what my sister thinks."

Beak turned to frown at Jamie again. "Well, milady?"

Jamie let out a soft sigh. "I'll admit I did make up some of the stories, but just as many are really true, Beak."

"How could you be knowing what's true and what's false? You shouldn't listen to gossip anyway. I taught you better than that."

"What gossip?" Mary asked.

"Scots throw cabers at one another just for the sport of it."

"Cabers?"

"Pine trees, Mary," Jamie answered.

Mary let out a loud, inelegant snort. "They don't."

"Aye, they do," Jamie countered. "And if tossing cabers at one another isn't a barbaric ritual, then I don't know what is."

"You really think I'll believe anything you tell me, don't you?"

"It's true, Mary," Beak admitted. "They do throw cabers, though not at one another."

Mary shook her head. "I can tell by the way you're grinning at me that you're teasing me, Beak. Oh, yes, you are," she added when he started to protest. "And I suppose it's true the Scots wear women's clothing?"

"What—" Beak strangled on a cough. He hoped the warriors had already left the stables, after all, and couldn't overhear this shameful talk. "I think we should stroll on outside to finish this discussion. It's too fine a day to be cooped up inside."

"It is true," Jamie told her sister, ignoring Beak's suggestion. "They do wear women's gowns. Don't they, Beak?"

"Where'd you hear that blasphemy?" Beak demanded.

"Cholie told me."

"It was Cholie?" Mary asked. "Well, if you'd bothered to mention that fact, I wouldn't have believed any of your tales. You know as well as I do that the kitchen help tips the jug of ale all day long. Cholie was probably sotted."

"Oh, spit," Jamie muttered. "She wasn't sotted."

"Oh, spit?" Mary repeated. "Honestly, Jamie, you talk just like Beak."

"They do," Beak said, trying to stop the budding argument.

"They do what?" Mary asked.

"Wear clothing that stops at their knees," Beak explained.

"There, I told you so, Mary."

"Their clothing is called their plaid, Mary. Plaid," Beak repeated with a growl. "It's their sacred dress. I think they'd take exception to hearing it called a woman's gown."

"Then it's little wonder to me why they have to fight all the time," Jamie interjected. She hadn't really believed Cholie's tale, but Beak looked so sincere she was beginning to think he was telling the truth.

"Aye," Mary agreed. "They have to defend their gowns."

"They aren't gowns."

"Now look what you've done, Jamie. You've got Beak shouting at us."

Jamie was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Beak, for upsetting you. My, you are nervous today. You keep looking over your shoulder. Do you think someone's going to pounce on you from behind? What in—"

"I missed me nap," Beak blurted out. "That's why I'm surly."

"You must go and have a proper rest, then," Jamie advised. "Come along, Mary. Beak's been so patient with us and I can tell he isn't feeling at all well."

She took hold of Mary's hand and started toward the door. "Good God, Mary, they actually do wear women's gowns. I didn't really believe Cholie, but now I'm convinced."

"I'm running away and that's that," Mary said, loud enough for Beak to overhear. She suddenly stopped, then whirled around. "One last question, please?" she called out.

"Yes, Mary?"

"Would you be knowing if the Scots hate fat women, Beak?"

He didn't have any answer for that absurd question. After he shrugged his shoulders, Mary turned around and chased after Jamie. Both sisters lifted the hems of their skirts and started running toward the upper bailey. Beak let out a soft chuckle as he watched the pair.

"She was given a man's name."

The stable master nearly jumped out of his tunic. He hadn't heard Alec Kincaid's approach. He turned around and came face to shoulders with the giant warrior. " 'Twas her mama's way of giving her a place in this family. Baron Jamison weren't the man who fathered Jamie. He claimed her for his own, though. I'll give him that much kindness. Did you get a good look at her, then?" he added in a rush.

Alec nodded.

"You'll be taking her with you, won't you?" The Kincaid stared at the old man a long minute before answering.

"Aye, Beak. I'll be taking her with me." The choice had been made.

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Chapter Three

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Jamie didn't find out about the Scotsmen's early arrival until Merlin, the keeper of the pasture cattle, chased her down to tell her there was yet another great commotion going on up at the main house and her papa wanted her to straighten it all out for him.

Merlin failed to mention the Scotsmen in his stuttered announcement. It wasn't his fault, however, for his beautiful mistress had turned her gaze directly upon him just when he was beginning his explanation. Those violet eyes had made him quite awestruck. Then his mistress smiled, causing Merlin's heart to start fluttering like a silly little lady's maid. His mind didn't flutter, though. No, it merely emptied of all thoughts save one: Lady Jamie was giving him her undivided attention.

The stutter only worsened, of course, but it didn't really matter. Jamie couldn't immediately obey the summons anyway. There was an injury that needed her immediate attention. Poor old Silas, his eyesight as weak as his hands, was carrying on something fierce, bellowing loud enough, in fact, to cause the pigs to squeal in protest.

Silas had accidentally sliced his upper arm instead of the side of treated hide he was trying to carve into a saddle lining.

The injury was minor and didn't require searing with a hot knife, yet Jamie still had to spend a good long while soothing the old man after she'd cleaned and wrapped the injury.

He needed pampering, and that was that.

Merlin stood by cook's side during the commotion. He was a little jealous of all the attention Silas was getting from their mistress. He was also extremely anxious because he couldn't seem to remember that other bit of information he'd been ordered to relate to her.

Jamie finally finished her task and left Silas in Cholie's capable hands. She knew the two servants would share at least one jug of ale between them, but didn't think that was too sinful, considering Silas's upset and Cholie's need to give comfort the only way she knew how.

"I can only put out one fire at a time," she told Merlin when he reminded her of the fuss going on up at the main house. She smiled to soften her rebuke, then left the worried-looking cattle keeper. Jamie ran all the way up the hill, her skirts raised to her knees. Three playful greyhounds ran alongside her. Neither Jamie nor her pets slowed down until they'd rushed through the open door and entered the great hall.

She came to an abrupt halt then. The two warriors leaning casually against the mantel immediately caught her attention.

Jamie was simply too stunned to hide her initial reaction. God's truth, they were the biggest men she'd ever seen. She couldn't quit staring at them.

It was unfortunate, too, for the first words out of her mouth weren't very ladylike. "Good God!"

It was only a whispered exclamation, strangled out at that, but Jamie could tell by the way the bigger of the two giants raised his right eyebrow that he'd heard her.

She didn't dare curtsy, knowing full well she'd land on her face if she tried. And she couldn't seem to pull her gaze away from the taller of the two men, either, the one now trying to stare her to her knees.

He was the meanest-looking man she'd ever seen.

She told herself she wasn't afraid. Nay, she was too angry to be frightened. Jamie stood her ground, meeting the warrior's gaze a long minute until she could regain a little composure, then realized that as long as she continued to stare at him, she'd never be able to accomplish that feat.

Jamie finally noticed the silence that permeated the great hall. She glanced over her shoulder and saw her sisters then. The three of them were lined up like common criminals, looking as if they were about to be executed with arrows.

As soon as Agnes caught Jamie's sympathetic gaze, she started crying. Alice put her arm around her twin's shoulders, obviously intent on offering her solace. The plan failed, however, and she also burst into tears. Within a blink of the eye, the two of them had worked themselves up into hysteria.

Mary stood next to Agnes. She looked as if she, too, wanted to cry. Her hands were clasped in front of her, and after giving Jamie a "dear Lord, will you look at them" look, she turned her gaze to the floor.

Something had to be done. The twins couldn't be allowed to disgrace the family in front of the Scots.

"Agnes, Alice, cease your weeping immediately."

Both sisters mopped at the corners of their eyes and tried to control themselves.

Jamie noticed her father then. He was sitting at the table, pouring himself a drink from one of the two jugs in front of him.

It was up to her to offer a proper, civilized English greeting, she supposed. She knew what her duty was. Yet the urge to shout at the strangers that they were three whole days early, for God's sake, was very nearly overwhelming.

Duty won out. Besides, the two Scots were probably too dull-witted to realize how uncouth their behavior was.

Jamie slowly walked over to stand directly in front of the two men. She remembered the dogs at her sides when she heard them growling at the strangers, dismissed them with a quick wave of her hand, then made a curtsy befitting her status as mistress of her home. A lock of hair fell over her left eye when she bowed her head, ruining the haughty effect she was trying to achieve. Jamie tossed the hair back over her shoulder and tried to manage a smile.

"I'd like to welcome both of you to our humble home, for no one else seems capable of extending that courtesy," she began. "And I do hope you'll forgive our unreadiness to receive you, but if you'll only remember you're a good three days early, you might more easily endure our lack of preparations."

She stared at their boots while she made that speech, then ventured a quick look up when she added, "My name is—"

"Lady Jamie." The shorter of the two giants made that statement.

Jamie had been staring at the space between the two warriors and immediately turned to look at the one who'd just spoken.

He wasn't as mean-looking as the other one. Jamie came to that conclusion when he smiled at her. He had an appealing dent in the side of his cheek when he smiled, too, and his green eyes were alive with mischief.

Jamie was immediately suspicious. The man seemed to be entirely too happy for such dour circumstances, what with Alice and Agnes weeping like infants. Perhaps, she decided, he was too simple-headed to understand the disruption he was causing. He was a Scotsman, after all.

"And your name, milord?" she asked, her voice cool.

"Daniel," he answered. "He's called Alec," he drawled out with a nod toward his companion.

Daniel's smile was proving to be contagious. This one was definitely a charmer, Jamie thought. She couldn't help but smile back, either, for the man had such a ridiculous burr in his speech that she could barely understand him.

She didn't really want to talk to the other lord, but she knew she had to. Jamie kept smiling, then slowly turned to look up at the other warrior.

He'd been waiting for her to look at him. Jamie could feel her smile freeze on her face. His gaze, surely as hot as the midday sun, easily intimidated her.

He wasn't smiling.

Jamie was suddenly embarrassed and didn't know why. She'd never felt this vulnerable in all her days. She felt her cheeks grow warm and knew she'd started blushing. There was such possessiveness in his stare, a look of ownership she couldn't understand.

It suddenly dawned on her that Lord Alec wasn't looking at her the way a true lord would look at a gentle lady of breeding. No, it was an earthy lustful look he was giving her.