“No’ too bad,” Brynna remarked before she poured a measure of the jug into a small earthenware mug sitting on the tray Cora’s meal rested on.
“Orla brought ye some of Noreen’s personal stores.” Brynna replaced the stopper. “I suppose they are yers now.”
“Ours,” Cora corrected her. “I have never fancied indulging while those around me simply watch.”
Cora lifted her mug in a toast. Brynna smiled and pulled the stopper out so she might raise the jug to her lips.
The brew was strong. Cora felt it burning the top of her tongue and the sides of her mouth. It suited the moment, for there were many things which were ashes now.
She smiled.
Aye, ye’re a woman now…
At least she had ended her years as a maiden. Did that make her an adult? Cora wasn’t precisely sure.
Will he want ye again?
She supposed it was a question every wife asked herself. A bride spent all of her time preoccupied with the thought of her coming wedding night. Cora had never really given much thought to what was on the other side of that, though.
Now? Well, it would seem the day was there, with endless possibilities of just what happened after her vows were consummated. She didn’t feel any more confident in her role as mistress than before she’d spent the night with Faolan.
He’d stayed the entire night.
Was it because he’d been expected to?
Would he ever do it again?
Stop! Ye’ll make yerself insane…
There was a horrible little feeling of comprehension for just why Noreen had flown across the chamber and raised a dagger up high when Malcolm had so brazenly informed Cora that he’d like to have her.
“Not that I plan to quibble with ye over that matter. I can see to filling her belly meself.”
The memory of the look in Malcolm’s eyes chilled Cora to her core. Faolan was demanding and highhanded to be sure, but he’d never looked at her like his brother had.
So cold and calculating.
He’d certainly not cared if she enjoyed being bedded or not.
Cora blushed. Faolan had made sure she enjoyed being with him.
“I fear I have not the strength to hold onto me seed if ye milk me.”
Faolan’s words rose from her memory, as did the way he’d brought her to a peak with just his fingers. She suddenly looked at Brynna.
“Brynna….ye used to live among courtesans?”
Brynna lowered the jug. There was a different look in her eyes now. A far more experienced gleam was there.
“So…might I ask…what a man would mean by…milking?”
*
Gilmor waited for his aunt to speak.
“It’s no’ a bad idea,” Una remarked after a moment of contemplation.
“Since Faolan has decided to take the girl to his bed, if she proves barren, we might use that as a sign that he is not meant to be laird of the McKay,” Gilmor explained again. “Ye would know the way of ensuring Cora Mackenzie dose nae conceive.”
Una held up her finger. “It’s a tricky thing, especially if I am to sneak it into her food, for the brew must be taken every day. That girl Brynna is no closeted laird’s daughter. She knows what concoctions women use to keep their figures slim.”
“A miscarriage would be just as good,” Gilmor pressed his aunt for her agreement. “I know a few maids in the laundry who will let us know if the Mackenzie girl doesn’t bleed.”
“That is more dangerous. Cora may not survive,” Una advised him.
Gilmor didn’t waver.
“We need time for our letter to reach Lirkin Grant,” he said. “So long as there is no issue from this union, we can proceed with Kalan becoming the heir to the lairdship while I have custody of her.”
“But will ye be able to let her go when she reaches maturity?” Una asked.
“I am not set on reaching above me place, Aunt,” Gilmor explained. “I was a captain, and I will be a captain again,” he insisted. “Every member of our family suffered when I was pushed off the high table.”
“That’s true.” Una was still for a long moment. “For the moment, I will see what can be done about keeping the new laird from his bride.”
“The soiled sheet is hanging from the window.”
Una smiled. “Once is sometimes enough. But not always. Ye could no’ stop him from bedding his wife, but there are ways women might get Faolan to thinking about leaving his bride in peace. If we are to claim the lairdship for young Kalan, it will have to be before the McKay see what merits Faolan has. It was only Malcolm and Noreen’s scheming, which kept him down before.”
“The McKay only voted him in because they fear being raided if we have no one to lead us.”
Una shook her head. “Faolan is a man of deep conscience. He would not promise favor for votes. Men talk in the passageways. Never doubt that women hear more than ye might wish us to. We may not have a vote, but we have memories.”
“Aye, well, remember that when I suffer loss, so does everyone else in our family.”
Gilmor wasn’t happy with his aunt’s words, but her agreement pleased him well enough. The deal was struck.
*
The day dragged on.
Faolan had important matters to focus on. Men were coming in from the edges of McKay land to offer their allegiance to him. Letters needed to be written to fellow lairds in order to solidify his own position. Time was running short as the autumn faded. The wind held the bite of winter. The snow had melted, but it was only a matter of time now before more fell.
Aye, he had many things that required his attention, but he found himself looking toward the windows in his office and gauging how much more daylight there was.
Darkness meant he might seek out Cora.
Would she welcome him?
She had the night before.
“Ye’re pitiful,” Gainor remarked.
Faolan cast a disgruntled look toward his senior captain. Gainor chuckled and pointed at him.
“Mind ye, that wife of yers is fetching. Little wonder ye can nae keep yer thoughts on the work in front of ye.”
Faolan grunted. “I can nae spend me days inside this office. Sitting here will make me soft.”
“Aye,” Yestin agreed. “Malcolm was one for comforts, and it’s the truth most of us didn’t care for how ill-equipped he was to lead the McKay with anything more than a quill.”
“To be fair,” Faolan responded, “I did no’ have enough respect for how much there is to do at this desk.”
“Yer father had a fine secretary,” Yestin offered. “I wager the man is still living in the village. He has a grown son as well. One educated by yer father. Malcolm dismissed them both, for he liked to have a reason to sit there.”
Faolan felt his spirits lift. “I’ll ride down to invite them back meself.”
With a solid reason to escape the office, Faolan was up and out of his chair.
And he didn’t look back.
“Ye’ll miss supper,” Yestin remarked as they rode out into the courtyard.
“Aye. We’ll eat when we’ve finished our day.”
And they’d be back by sunset. He felt anticipation surging through him. It might have been the fresh air in his face or the sensation of being atop a horse after spending the last few days inside.