Page 5

Rosselyn, quick as ever, pressed a worn cloth into Davina’s free hand.

Fife gave a sheepish nod and retreated, shoulders slumped.

Davina dabbed at the sour mess and turned toward the corridor, Rosselyn and Myrna trailing her past the servants’ quarters and the small chapel tucked into the west corner of the castle.

“Davina!” Lilias shrilled down the stairwell, breathless. “Fergus MacLeod is here!”

Davina froze, her hand holding the soiled cloth braced against the wall. “Bother it all.”

She handed Cailin back to Myrna, who took the fussing babe without question.

“I’ll nurse her once this is done.”

Myrna nodded and bustled upstairs, murmuring soft comforts.

“What’re we to do?” Lilias wrung her hands, the joints swollen and red with age and worry.

“Mam, stop that,” Davina said, gently taking her mother’s hands in hers. She brushed her thumbs over the bent fingers. “Leave your hands be, for pity’s sake.”

“But what if he finds out?” Lilias’s whisper trembled.

“The only way he’ll find out is ifyoutell him,” Davina said firmly. “Now, go sit in your chamber and wait.” She guided her mother toward the stairs with a steady hand. “Rosselyn, will you bring her some tea and autumn crocus?”

“Straight away,” Rosselyn replied, already turning back toward the kitchen.

Lilias hesitated at the bottom step. “But—”

“Go,” Davina snapped. “I’ll handle MacLeod.”

Her mother finally climbed the stairs, muttering. Davina blotted as much as she could from her bodice before giving up.

When she opened the front door, Beatrice nearly collided with her.

“Sorry, milady!” The kitchen maid curtsied hastily. “Master MacLeod has just arrived.”

“Aye, I’m on my way to see him now,” Davina said, giving the girl the soiled cloth.

“Milady, should we prepare—”

“Nay. If I have my way, he won’t be staying,” Davina said, brushing past her, and marched into the chilly dusk air toward the stables.

Fergus MacLeod, stocky and broad-shouldered, stepped down from his wagon, his boots slapping against the damp earth. He stretched his back with a grunt, highlighting his round belly. “Gi’ me a minute before ye take the wagon to load up the wool, will ye?”

Davina caught Fife’s eye as he held the reins of MacLeod’s horses, and she gave him the smallest shake of her head.

Fife’s lips tightened, but he said nothing, ducking behind the horses to avoid notice.

“Ah, Lady Davina!” MacLeod turned with a grin that creased his ruddy face. “Good o’ ye tae greet me yerself, but where’s that new hoosband o’ yours, then?”

Davina folded her arms, jaw tight. “My husband is away on business. Why have you come, Mr. MacLeod?”

The corner of MacLeod’s mouth curled into a grin that made her skin crawl. “I dinnae understand how any man could stay away from his own hearth when he has a bonnie lass like yewarming his bed. His loss, I s’pose.”

Davina’s fingers pressed into her palms, her nails biting into the flesh to keep her temper in check.

MacLeod dug into his leather satchel and produced a heavy sack of coins, which he tossed toward her. She caught it with both hands, the weight of it inspiring.

“The earnin’s from the wool I sold up north,” he said. “Give that to yer hoosband when he returns. Just have me wagon loaded with the fresh lot before I leave early on the morrow.”