“Ye are very, very wrong Faolan. The laundry is where those who were trampled over ended up, at the bottom of the heap. I’m very good at going unnoticed. Such a skill ensures I hear many things.”
They locked stares. Faolan was unwilling to budge a bit, and it stirred her temper. All of the anticipation which had nearly driven her wild transformed into frustration, and she bared her teeth.
“Go on with, ye,” Cora growled. “I will not beg ye. And since ye do nae want me for a wife, ye do nae belong in me bedchamber.”
One of his dark eyebrows rose.
Something snapped inside her. Cora picked up her hairbrush and sent it flying at him.
“Get out!”
Faolan evaded the brush.
“Do nae ye dare touch me again. I am no’ a slut!” Cora reached for a bowl and sent it toward him. The bowl was made of heavy pottery. It hit the door with a huge thunk. A moment later, the door was pulled open.
“Laird?”
“Ye pig! Get out of me bedchamber!” Cora yelled as she bent and picked up a stool.
Faolan’s eyes widened as she lifted the piece of furniture above her head. He turned and dove through the open door as his men shifted out of the way.
Cora growled as she was denied her goal.
“And stay out!”
*
Cora was strong.
Faolan felt the amount of force the stool crashed with.
Aye, and feisty…
He grinned. But there was a very poorly muffled chuckle nearby. He turned his head to see Reece and three other McKay Retainers standing there.
“Ye waited?” It wasn’t the brightest question he might have asked since the answer was obvious.
Reece’s grin faded as his expression hardened. “Aye, Laird. Me and the lads here, we’re right glad to have ye. The McKay needs a man with integrity leading them.”
“So, we’re determined to ensure ye stay healthy.”
Something else smacked the door. Reece titled his head to one side. “As for yer wife, well, ye’ll need to handle her yerself.”
“That will be me pleasure.”
*
“Gilmor, the child is too young to make such a distance with winter beginning.”
Gilmor sent his Aunt Una a hard look intended to make her bend her will to his.
“I’m too old to be intimidated,” Una continued. “For yer plan to succeed, Kalan must be alive. Not dead in a snowstorm. And her sister is barely weaned.”
“Are ye saying we should suffer that bastard Faolan as laird?” Gilmor demanded. “He has slighted me beyond endurance!”
“He has only begun,” Una said in a tired voice. “A new laird will carve his mark. It’s the way things are. If ye seek higher position, best be ready for the turmoil which comes with it.”
Gilmor slammed his tankard down. Kalan had been humming and playing with her doll a few feet away. The little girl drew in a stiff breath before her eyes widened and filled with tears.
“Take care of yer mistress,” Gilmor instructed Mae.
The nurse scooped Kalan up and began to sway gently as she cooed to the child.
“Noreen was born of Laird Grant’s second wife,” Una said. “Cormac, his heir, had a different mother. An English lass. Many of the Grants do not fancy him as their next laird because of that English blood.”
“Yet, he runs the Grants,” Gilmor said.
Una held up a single finger. “In many ways, he does. His half-brother, Lirkin, is the one who brought Noreen for her wedding. He negotiated the dowry and the alliance.”
Gilmor nodded slowly. “He is the man I need to do business with.”
Una smiled. “He might be interested in seeing his niece as heir to the McKay, but this is not England. For a child to hold such a position, there will have to be a majority of captains behind her.”
“I will see to the captains,” he assured his aunt. “You see to the matrons.”
Una smiled. Kalan was happy once again, her nurse having calmed the child perfectly. Una’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the way Kalan’s small hand was holding some of the nurse’s hair. The bond between them was very tight. It was a natural thing, for Mae had raised the child.
Now, such a bond would have to be utilized as a tool, for Kalan was a necessary part of a plan.
*
“This is a fine chamber,” Brynna declared.
Cora had a stiff neck. She watched as Brynna made her way around the room, opening the shutters to allow the light in. The day was gray, with the scent of snow on the breeze.
“Still,” Brynna mused. “I wonder if things might have seemed warmer at the towers.”
The girl looked back at Cora to see what she’d make of the bold comment. Cora slowly smiled. Brynna turned to face her completely.
“I’m bold,” Brynna said. “I thought to confess it straight away before I get too accustomed to the fine bed I was afforded last night. It’s much harder to go without comforts once ye’ve had a taste of them.”
It was a lot harder to think about leaving now that you’ve tasted Faolan’s kiss…
A headache was developing to combine with the crick in her neck. But Brynna was serious and watching Cora for her reaction. The girl didn’t cower, though.
“Ye have courage,” Cora commented as Brynna continued to look straight at her.
Brynna nodded. “It’s nae popular.”
Cora smiled. “With me, it is. I have no stomach for simpering and lowering in me personal chamber.”
Brynna had picked up the hairbrush and replaced it on the vanity. Cora picked it up and began to pull it through her hair.
Brynna pulled the chair out, which sat in front of the vanity. “Let me arrange yer hair.”
Cora shook her head. “I was never one for such things.”
Brynna fluttered her eyelashes. “If ye want to get this house in order, best to make it plain ye are the mistress. Else Orla will never yield even a half step to ye. The new laird seems to think ye can nae manage the Head-of-House, but I’ve seen enough of ye to believe otherwise.”
Cora sat down before she drew another breath. A smile lifted Brynna’s lips as she took the brush and began to part Cora’s hair into sections.
“Do nae think I will be so easy to manage,” Cora groused at the girl.
“I rather thought of it as sharing the same boat.” Brynna began to work on putting Cora’s hair into an upswept style. The vanity had been prepared with all the things a lady might need for her morning preparations. There was a small wooden box with hairpins and another with small pads to help create the shape of the hairstyle. The vanity was an expensive item, for it had a small mirror. Such a costly thing was very rare in the Highlands.
“Orla has no love for ye.” Cora suddenly thought to question the obvious skill Brynna was displaying.
“So, where did I learn to do hair?” Brynna questioned.
“It is a learned art,” Cora remarked.
“Orla will likely delight in telling ye of me less than respectable origins,” Brynna continued with a smooth and steady voice. “Me mother was the mistress of a McLeod captain. When he died in a raid, his wife made sure to have her driven off McLeod land because she didn’t want to dower me. She was a McKay but only a kept woman. Me father acknowledged me, but that wasn’t enough to outweigh the position of his widow once he was gone.”