The Devil in Plaid(38)

“Ye must tell us everything,” Esme exclaimed the moment the door to the lady’s chamber closed.

“Before we go any further, I must be hugged by my dear friends,” Fiona smiled, opening her arms wide.

“Oh, my lady,” both Esme and Abby said together while they wrapped their arms around each other.

Fiona breathed deeply, savoring their familiar warmth. “I was so worried for ye both.”

“Ye were worried?” Esme exclaimed. “I’ve been beside myself.”

After they released each other and wiped happy tears from each other’s cheeks, they crossed the room to the hearth.

Fiona closed her eyes and sighed when she sat down.

“Now, tell us everything,” Abby urged.

Fiona opened her eyes and smiled when she saw both Esme and Abby perched on the edge of their seats looking at her expectantly.

“I hardly even know where to start,” Fiona exclaimed.

“Ye look well, my lady.” Esme said hesitantly.

“I am well,” Fiona assured her.

“Laird MacLeod seems…” Abby started to say, but her voice trailed off. She glanced at her sister.

Esme cleared her throat. “What Abby means to say is that Laird MacLeod does not appear to be…”

Fiona smiled at Esme’s failure to find the right words. “Laird MacLeod does not appear to be the Devil himself?” she said to finish her friend’s sentence.

“Aye!” both Esme and Abby said together.

A slow smile spread across Fiona’s lips as she considered dragging out the suspense. But then she decided that would be too cruel a jest, especially knowing her friends’ true concern.

“Jamie is a kind, strong man, although it took some time for me to realize this.” Fiona went on to give her maids an account of the days they had spent apart, starting with the ambush.

Esme gasped. “Ye must have been out of yer mind with fright,” she said when Fiona told her about the first night she slept in the cave with Jamie.

“I’ve never been so distressed. Well, that is not entirely true. On my wedding night, I thought I would surely die from fear.”

“Even brides who do not fear their husbands, fear their wedding night. Ye must have been driven nearly mad.”

Fiona nodded. “I was, I tell ye, but then…” A smile played at her lips as her words trailed off.

“Aye,” Esme insisted. “Keep going.”

“Then I saw Jamie for the man he truly is.”

She went on to explain how their ancestors had misconstrued each other’s actions. “We realized that assumptions and naked prejudice alone have perpetuated our feud.” She smiled and blushed thinking about how Jamie had stood before his kin the day after they were wed and bade them put the old hatred to rest. “He championed me to his people,” she said, still smiling.

Abby clasped her hands together. “How romantic.”

Esme pursed her lips. At length, she said, “Are ye certain ye trust him? Ye don’t think he’s deceiving ye? Ye know what they say about the devil. He is fair to look upon and sweet to hear.”

Fiona shook her head. “Nay, Esme. Ye can tell by the way his people love him. He is a good laird and a good man.”

“And a good lover?” Abby blurted.

Esme and Fiona both gasped. Then Fiona blushed. She had yet to be truly intimate with her husband, but that was one secret she had no intention of sharing.

“Ye’ve no business asking our lady such a question,” Esme scolded.

“I’m just curious,” Abby said.

“Too curious,” Esme snapped back.

“Ladies,” Fiona interjected, her voice loud enough to be heard over her maids’ argument.

When she had Esme and Abby’s attention, she smiled. “I am a wee bit curious, myself.”

“Whatever about?” Esme asked.

“About the men I saw both of ye speaking rather intimately with in the hall just now.”

Esme blushed and dropped her gaze.

Abby, on the other hand, beamed. “I was speaking with my Thomas. I love him so.”

“Abby!” Esme scolded. “Ye mustn’t say such things. He has yet to make his intentions known.”

Abby scowled at her sister. “I did not stand on the high dais and shout of my love to the entire clan. I have not even spoken to him of my affection, but I tell ye, Esme, I love him with my whole heart.”

“Ye must think about decorum and—”

Fiona cleared her throat, hoping to put an end to the sibling argument before it got out of hand. “Who were ye speaking with at supper?” Fiona asked, looking pointedly at Esme.

“Sebastian MacLeod,” Abby burst out.

“I can speak for myself,” Esme said, scowling at her sister before she turned to Fiona. “Sebastian was very attentive to both of us while we journeyed here.”

“My lady, when Esme said ‘us’ just now, what she really meant was her, and when she said ‘attentive’ what she meant was that he hung on her every word.”

Esme did not scold her sister for interrupting. Instead, she met Fiona’s gaze, and Fiona was left with little question of her maid’s true regard for the young MacLeod warrior.

“Jamie believes Sebastian would make ye a fine husband,” Fiona said, smiling.