Highland Steel (Guardians of the Stone Book 2) (34 page)

He thought about her and his cock wiggled and Una cast him an evil eye. Nevertheless, Cameron felt oddly at ease with the old crone, even with her ancient look and missing eye. “So, then… how should I go about it?” he asked curiously, to which she replied with a wily smile.

“First,” she said. “Ye’ll need to woo her pigheaded brother. And this, my boy, is how ye’ll do it…”

Seated in a circle on the floor of the little room adjacent to her bedchamber, Lael sat with Mairi, Ailis and Kenna, rifling through the remains of Aveline’s coffers.

With her ladies’ help, she planned to refit all of Aveline’s gowns. And since the poor lass no longer had any use for any of her belongings, she took a few for herself, and then gave one each to Mairi, Ailis and Kenna.

As distracted as Kenna seemed, she hardly cracked a smile over her gift, but Ailis and Mairi were beside themselves with joy. Neither had ever had a proper gown, or so they claimed. Neither had Lael, for that matter, but she felt far less deprived than either of her ladies. Forsooth, but she had no inkling why she cared one whit for any of it at all, even now, but somewhere in some previously unbeknownst part of her brain, it mattered to her that she look and behave the part of a proper mistress.

And just for good measure, she gave them each a bauble or two as it hardly seemed appropriate to be greedy with possessions that didn’t belong to her in the first place, nor did she truly ken the purpose of some of the effects she found in Aveline’s possession. For example, amidst her belongings, Lael found a small, thin copper oddity, with folding arms. She held it up, examining it.

“I seen one once,” said Mairi. She reached out to adjust one of the arms, pulling it down and extending the little device. “This one is for cleaning the wax out of your ears.”

Lael frowned, turning the uncomfortable looking device around to inspect it. She had fingers for such things, if she should feel so inclined, but she didn’t particularly suffer an abundance of wax in her ears. It had never occurred to her someone else might.

“This one’s for picking dirt from ’neath your nails,” Mairi added, extending another small arm.

Lael peered down at her short nails. There was scarce room for dirt beneath them, much less a copper needle. She made a face and discarded the frightening tool into the circle between them.

“This part,” Mairi said, lifting it up, and collapsing both arms. “Is for the removal of chin hairs.” And then she proceeded to blindly pinch at her chin with the strange device. Lael peered closer at Mairi’s chin, looking to see what hairs the older woman was speaking of and found a few tiny black ones that she hadn’t previously noted. She ran a hand over her own chin and then peered up at Aveline’s mirror, where she had abandoned it upon the sill. Clearly, there was much she didn’t know about being a proper lady and it seemed an awful lot of work as far as Lael was concerned.

Ailis told Mairi, “I hear tell that to remove one’s hair permanently, ’tis best to mix ants’ eggs, red orpiment, ivy gum and
vin aigre
.”

“
Sour wine
?” Mairi asked. “Drunken hairs.” And she laughed.

Kenna made a disgusted face. “Who would do such a thing?”

Ailis nodded to the group at large, the threaded needle in her hand continuing to sew as though it had a life of its own. “The lady Aveline herself. She wadna rub any on her face, mind ye, but she did rub it quite vigorously…” A slight blush climbed into her cheeks. “
Elsewhere
.”

“Where?” Kenna asked.

Lael made a face. “
There
?”

Ailis nodded again, only once with great flourish.

“Only a bloody Sassenach!” Mairi swore.

“Ye must ha’ known her well,” Kenna suggested with a hint of a returning smile.

All three turned to Kenna, spying her dimples, and realizing she meant it as a jest. All four burst into giggles. And after the giggles subsided, Mairi dared to ask Lael, “How went your first night?”

Lael’s gaze fell to the needle in her hand and there remained. “Fine,” she said, her cheeks burning a little hotter. She had never been particularly bashful; so why now?She stabbed herself and a trickle of blood seeped through the hem of her dress. In truth it went more than fine, but there were matters that confused her. Still she was hardly prepared to share any of it with anyone, not even her new friends.

“Fine, indeed,” Ailis said with a knowing grin. “I warrant ye’ll have the Butcher tamed in no time.” And then she elbowed Kenna. “Ye’d best begin using your wiles while ye’ve still the chance, lass, lest ye find yourself an auld woman without a bed.”

Kenna shrugged. She cast Lael a diffident glance. “I have a bed,” the girl insisted, then returned to glummer thoughts, judging by the dour expression upon her face.

Lael too was suddenly plagued.

Sharing stories, they worked together much of the day, whiling away the hours indoors now that the snow had resumed. They could hear the wind whipping and wailing outside and Lael, not for the first time, wondered where the three maids laid their head at night.

She eyed Kenna, with her sullen expression and private thoughts and wondered precisely where the lass kept her bed. She’d gleaned enough to know that both Mairi and Ailis shared pallets with various lovers, but Kenna always fell silent during such conversations. Perhaps Lael would offer the use of the room they were now in, but first she’d better request the favor of her husband, since in truth this was not her home—not for long.

Despite last night, her home was in the Mounth, with her kinsmen—that is, if her brother would ever have her back.

She thought about Cailin and Keane, and missed their impish smiles. She thought about Sorcha and her heart nearly burst with longing. She thought about Aidan and her contemplation darkened nearly as much as Kenna’s.

Nevertheless, by mid afternoon, they had already mended a trunkful of dresses, despite Lael’s awkward attempts with the needle. Mairi bade her try one on. Her fingers sorely abused, Lael was more than ready to be done. She chose another green woolen gown and put it on to see if it fit. To her immense relief, it did. With a new lacy hem that brushed the ground, she was inordinately pleased with their efforts, and she peered up with a smile.

“Tis lovely ye are,” Ailis declared, clapping her hands.

“Aye,” Kenna said, nodding, and Lael found herself beaming as well—not because of the dress, but because of her newfound friends. She could scarce remember a time in her life when she’d allowed herself to be so free with other women. She’d spent nearly her entire life with the welfare of her family weighing heavily upon her shoulders. As a result she had been far more their mother than she had ever realized, keeping herself entirely apart. Her brother had been her closest friend and he alone filled the void her mother and father left behind. That was probably part of the reason why she’d been so reluctant to embrace Aidan’s bonny new wife—not simply because she’d believed her to be a threat. In truth, she had been jealous of Lìli for a time, until she saw how happy Lìli made her brother.

Lael had learned a lot since then, and no matter what may come of this time at Keppenach, she was beginning to understand herself in a way she didn’t before. There was more to life than knives and worry and preparation against war.

There is more to life than vengeance.

She tried to imagine herself at home, tried to think about who else she might share a bed with, and every time, her husband’s face stubbornly appeared before her.

And then, alas, she thought about Broc Ceannfhionn down in his cold, wet cell, and she reminded herself that she owed him a chance to be away from this place. She feared he would not last the winter down there… She also knew her husband meant what he’d said: Jaime would never release him unless she begot him a child, and that was something Lael could not do if she ever planned to leave. And therein lay the dilemma: She was already coming to realize that her husband was not the scourge she’d once believed, but he was, for all his claims to the contrary, an Englishman through and through. He and David were both poppets for the English crown. Her brother would never forgive her if she lost her heart to an enemy of their kin.

It was one thing to play her part here, yet another to love a man who could not be faithful to his blood.

Blood and kin is all there is.

But… She tried hard to think of Jaime now as the Butcher and could no longer even summon the epithet to her lips. Perhaps in part because of last night, he was merely Jaime now… and she feared that the longer she remained at Keppenach, the more difficult it would be to keep her husband out of the one place he could never be…
her heart.

Little by little, Lael distributed all but the most valuable belongings throughout the castle, adorning the walls outside the laird’s chamber, but no matter what she did the wind moaned like a
bean sìth
throughout the corridors. She filled the empty bracers with pitch-laden torches, vowing to teach the ladies how to make better candles come spring.

Dressed in the same green gown she’d donned this morn, she wrapped herself in her heavy fur cloak and made her way down the tower stairs. Apparently, Jaime was preoccupied, for she had not seen him once since he’d left her abed this morn.

Downstairs, in the great hall, she found torches blazing in every brace. Men hustled for their chairs, although most were already seated, lest they miss the evening meal. A musician sat in one corner, blowing a reed. The song was melodious and soothing, and Lael could almost believe this was not a war-torn donjon in the northern reaches of David’s ill-begotten campaign. It felt for all-the world much like Dubhtolargg in the throes of winter, nestled snugly against Cailleach’s bosom.

Already seated at the laird’s table, her husband’s eyes followed her down the stairs, but this was all just a farce, she reminded herself. The truth was far less hopeful—a notion the fates seemed to conspire against at every turn, for when she sat down in her seat beside her laird husband, her breath caught at what lay beside her plate. At first, she thought mayhap she’d chosen the wrong seat and she rose again to move, only to find her husband’s hand upon her arm, begging her to stay.

Lael peered up at him, blinking.

“My bride gift to you … it was my mother’s,” he disclosed.

Stunned, Lael sat again, the breath catching in her lungs as she turned again to examine the beautifully embellished eating dagger. Not nearly as dainty as the one she’d used before, it was crowned by three hearts intertwined, and in the center of the three hearts a blooming thistle. The craftwork was intricately done, and lovingly detailed. But as stunning as the grip might be, the blade was no less finely honed. In the right hands, it could open a man’s throat or sever his head.

Her heart squeezed a bit. “For me?”

Her husband nodded, and it was far more what he did not say that stole a little slice of her heart, for it bespoke trust… a trust he should never give her, because she had not yet earned it, nor did she mean to.

Lael’s fingers reached out to caress the handle. The etchings beneath the pads of fingers were like perfect jewels. The spine was gently curved, the tip sharp but serrated and the edge sharp as any of her blades. “Thank you,” she said, nearly choking on her gratitude.

He leaned to whisper. “You’ve given me a perfect gift,” he told her. “’Tis only fitting I should return one.”

Lael met his gaze, feeling a bit like a doe in a hunt.

Jaime smiled warmly, genuinely, and her heart faltered in its beat. “Thank you,” she said again, and truly meant it. No one had ever given her such a perfect gift in all her life. It was far, far more meaningful to her than any jewel or silly dress.

Cailleach, merciful Cailleach
… She felt a bit as though she wanted to weep—something she had never,
ever
done.

“It pleases me you like it so well.”

Lael nodded, and held her gaze upon the little dagger.

Laughter rang through the hall, and unlike the time before, this time it didn’t feel much as though it were laughter at her expense, rather it felt more like the cadence of laughter at home… a warm sense of camaraderie between loving folk.