The Devil in Plaid(34)

“Ye’ve championed me,” she said, turning to look at her husband. “Thank ye.”

He smiled down at her. “Had my opinion of ye not changed, I still would have championed ye today. As yer husband, ‘tis my duty to protect ye, whether from my clan or even from yerself.” His lips curved in a sideways smile that made her knees weak. “My speech would have been different, however, had we not reconciled as we did last night.”

“I awoke this morrow, and for a moment, I feared it had all been a dream. I cannot wait for Esme and Abby to arrive so that I can tell them ye’re not the devil we believed ye to be.”

“Yer maids fear me as well?”

Fiona nodded. “Every MacDonnell maid has been taught to fear the MacLeod men. I can remember having nightmares about yer sire as a child.”

Jamie shook his head. “Like my grandfather, my da was a fierce warrior, but he was a gentle father and a loving husband.”

“My maids will need convincing.” She glanced at the doors anxious for their coming. “Is there still no word on their progress?”

“I have sent out riders to track them and report back to me. I would expect them no later than tomorrow. Remember, their way is a difficult one for wagons.”

She felt her heart quicken. “I pray they will not encounter the trouble we endured.”

Jamie squeezed her hand, wanting to soothe away her worries. But her reminder of their attack set his thoughts racing. For the life of him, he could not reason how Ranulf MacKenzie had known his course home. Matthew had already pointed out that it was likely the MacKenzie warriors had spotted them by chance and circled around them to get in front of their path, but Jamie was unconvinced. Despite the logic of Matthew’s council, he could not help but believe that someone had betrayed their route to the enemy. But whom?





Chapter Twenty One


Fiona spent most of her day meeting clan members and learning her way around Castle Làidir. Làidir was not as large as Castle Creagan, but she was beautifully imagined with four towers surrounding the keep, connected by bridges, complete with parapets. The chambers were all generous in size. Many boasted glazed arched windows. The woven rushes throughout the hall and family rooms were fresh enough, but, as far as she could tell, they had never been sprinkled with herbs. It was natural for her to address such issues, and it had been a challenge to hold her tongue throughout the day. Jamie had yet to establish her role at Làidir, but that would have to wait. Having glimpsed her laird from a distance throughout the day, she knew his attention was where it should be—helping the recent victims of the MacKenzie raids and planning their clans’ counter attack.

At nightfall, Julia came to her in the solar.

“Come with me, my lady. I will take ye to yer room so that ye might settle in for the night.”

Fiona had yet to view the lady’s quarters, and so she eagerly followed. But when the maid swung open the door to Jamie’s chamber, Fiona hesitated. “Is this right?”

“Excuse me, my lady?”

“I mean to say, are ye certain our laird wishes me to sleep here, in his chambers?”

“Aye, my lady. The wardrobe over there is empty. There will be plenty of space when yer clothing and affects arrive. Is there something wrong?”

“Nay, ‘tis just…I am just surprised.”

“Isn’t it obvious,” Julia said with a coy smile. “He wants ye close to him.”

Fiona blushed, pleased by the idea of Jamie wanting to keep her close, but then she frowned.

“What is wrong, my lady?” Julia asked before circling around her to untie the laces of her overdress.

Fiona shook her head. “Nothing,” she lied. A tightness filled her chest. What if Jamie wanted to keep her close because he still didn’t trust her? What if it was all a lie—the truce, his kindness, his vow never to hurt her.

“Enough!”

“Forgive me, my lady. I’m nearly finished,” Julia exclaimed, her fingers working at a sudden frenzy.

Fiona turned and gently clasped the maid’s hands. “Ye must forgive me for startling ye. I was admonishing myself, not ye.”

Slowly, the tension eased from Julia’s shoulders. “For a moment, I thought ye might not be as kind as I’ve judged ye to be.”

Fiona smiled to put her maid at ease, but then she expelled a slow breath. “Trust is a funny thing, isn’t it? Ye can’t trust someone a little. Either ye trust them or ye don’t. Ye must leap with yer whole heart to escape the trap that is suspicion.”

Julia eased Fiona’s surcotte down her arms. “I don’t ken much about leaping, and I’ve never given my heart away. But I do know what I saw today—a hall filled with MacLeods cheering for a MacDonnell.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “My mother used to pray for such a day, may God rest her soul.”

“May God rest her soul,” Fiona repeated.

After Julia helped her remove her tunic, the maid curtsied and started to leave, but she whirled around when she reached the door.

“If I may be so bold, my lady,” Julia blurted.

Fiona smiled. “Ye can always speak yer mind with me.”

The young maid held her gaze, her eyes bright. “Trust is earned, and ye have mine, my lady.”

Fiona’s heart swelled. She pressed her lips tight against the sudden rush of emotion. “Thank ye, Julia,” she choked out. “Yer words mean more to me right now than ye could possibly know.”