“I’m sorry,” Cora spoke softly.
Brynna didn’t appear disturbed at all. “Me life is not pitiful. I have seen those who need yer sympathies. Me mother had always lived a good life, so when she was left to her own resources, she still had skills she might use to earn a slightly better life than those who were truly without means. My mother took a position in a well-established brothel, where she served as a head maid to the courtesans. The men expected superior women.”
“Yet, you ended up here.” Cora nudged her for more when she fell silent.
Brynna’s eyes narrowed. “My mother died last season. Orla’s son convinced me to return here and wed him. That I might hide only so long in a brothel before I ended up sold to the highest bidder. Virgins go for small fortunes in such places, even if I am no great beauty.”
“Do ye love him?”
“Even if I did, I will never seek his company again since he has forsaken me. I am not worthless, and no man is going to convince me I am fit only for the gutter.”
Brynna looked up to see what Cora made of her confession. They locked gazes in the mirror, and Cora sent her a smile of approval.
“Ye deserve better,” Cora assured her.
Brynna finished Cora’s hair off with a few last tucks and a look of gratitude. While the styling she’d chosen was more elegant than braids, it wasn’t too ornate.
“Ye’ve judged me well, Brynna. I believe we shall get on quite well. Even if I do nae stay here, I have no personal companion on Mackenzie land.”
Brynna inclined her head. “Now, to find a dress which suits ye.”
The dresses Noreen had selected for her were still in the wardrobe. Brynna contemplated them before choosing the least fancy. While it was made of wool, the fabric was dyed a vibrant green, which was very expensive. As Brynna carried it closer, the scent of rosemary wafted out of the dress, for it had been stored with sachets of dried herbs.
“Noreen had quite the taste for gowns,” Brynna remarked as she began to help Cora dress. “All of her clothing came from Edinburgh. For she was forever reminding everyone of her royal blood.”
“Half the lairds in the highlands are descendants of princesses,” Cora remarked as she pulled a stocking up her leg and secured it with a garter.
“Ye wouldn’t know it to hear the way Noreen boasted of her lineage.” Brynna brought a pair of shoes over for Cora.
“I prefer me boots.”
Brynna placed the shoes down by Cora’s feet.
“But these will allow a peek at yer ankles as ye walk.” Brynna lifted her face so she might aim a frank look at her.
Cora felt that thing stretching inside her belly once more. This time she knew it would grow into a raging need if she allowed it.
A need Faolan didn’t want to help her satisfy.
Well, perhaps he needs a peek at yer ankles….
Cora suddenly smiled and lifted her foot so Brynna might fit the shoe onto her foot.
“I will have the cobbler come up from the village to trace yer feet,” Brynna said as she finished buckling the shoes into place.
There was an unmistakable air of mischief in the chamber as Cora dressed. The stays were laced into position to support her breasts once more. Brynna sent her little side-eye glances as she fit the hip roll around Cora and then lowered the skirt into place. The top of the dress was a doublet that the season called for, but the front of it was lined in silk, which allowed the top few buttons to be left open and curled back if Cora desired to show a bit of cleavage. Cora took note of her reflection.
Let Faolan see what he is missing.
Are ye chasing him then?
She didn’t know. But what did it matter? Since the man wasn’t of the mind to keep her as his wife, she might do as she pleased.
And that was something she was well versed in doing.
*
Orla blinked a few times when Cora entered the kitchens.
The Head-of-House was silent for a long moment, something her staff didn’t miss. There was a slowing of activity at the worktables as everyone waited to see what would happen.
“Good morrow,” Cora greeted Orla.
The Head-of-House tilted her head slightly. “Back in me kitchens are ye?”
Cora walked further into Orla’s domain, stopping only a few feet from the Head-of-House. “Is there a reason I can nae venture here?”
Orla lifted one eyebrow. “The sheet is still clean. And I hear ye broke a bowl when ye threw the laird out of yer chamber.”
Cora felt her temper rising. But a memory stirred of her brother’s new wife when she’d arrived on Mackenzie land as a hated captive. The Head-of-House of the Mackenzie had taken a rod to Rhedyn. But Fenella had exceeded the ten blows allowed, and it fell to Cora to restore order by taking the rod to the Head-of-House.
It had been one of the few times Cora had acted as mistress. It had been her first experience with shouldering adult responsibility.
But the hardest part of the lesson had been discovering how important it had been for her and Fenella to work together after the event. For their battle would affect everyone in the Mackenzie stronghold.
A lesson which was very pertinent as she faced Orla. If Cora stayed on McKay land, she and the Head-of-House would have to learn to put aside their differences if there was to be harmony in the stronghold.
If not, well, the winter might be very long indeed.
Dismissing the Head-of-House was in the mistress’s power, but it was a foolish bride who forgot she was a stranger in her new home. Retribution could take many forms, some merely a discomfort, others might be deadly.
“Isn’t the first duty of a wife to ensure the house is smoothly run?”
Orla stiffened in response to Cora’s inquiry.
“Or perhaps I should say a bride with good character should seek to earn her place through more than bed service. Yes?”
It was a scarlet topic, but Cora stared directly at Orla. Cora wouldn’t be the one blushing because she’d answered.
Orla took a long moment to contemplate Cora. Her stern expression relaxed a bit as she appeared to see Cora for the first time as someone more than an unwelcome stranger.
“Not a bad way to be thinking,” Orla conceded.
A few mouths dropped open in response. Orla proved just how alert she was, for she turned and pegged those gaping at her with a stern look. The activity at the worktables returned to normal.
Well, ye won the point, but now ye are stuck in the kitchens.
Cora smiled at her own bittersweet victory. The sharpness of it was far too amusing to be missed!
*
There were two meals a day in the great hall.
With the days growing shorter and the harvest finished, the fare offered was strictly measured. Whatever was in the storerooms had to last until the following summer. The first meal was simple, porridge and some late-season fruit. The main meal was supper. It was served late in the afternoon but long enough before sunset to allow for the cleaning of the kitchens and dishes. Younger children were set to watch for when Orla gave the word to begin serving. They would run in all directions in the stronghold to cry out the news.
The McKays were an impressive clan. When the Retainers filled the hall, their number was formidable. Orla was to be commended, for she knew how to manage her resources.
Faolan was at the head table looking slightly ill at ease. Yestin was seated beside him and sent him a stern look. Cora smiled as she looked in from the passageway opening at the end of the hall. During his banishment at the towers, Faolan had embraced his own wild tendencies.