Page 5 of Bound to a Scot (Sins in a Kilt #2)
CHAPTER FIVE
F resh out of a hot bath, Emmeline put on a clean dress and sat down at her dressing table to relax for a minute. The road back to Castle Macfie had been long and uncomfortable, cold and wet. The storm had ended at some point in the night, but a frosty drizzle had continued to sprinkle down on them the whole way back. While she couldn’t say she was glad to be “home,” Emmeline was happy to finally be warm again.
The door to her bedchamber opened behind her and in the looking glass, she saw her handmaiden and closest friend Kenna walk in. At twenty-nine, Kenna was a bit older than she was. The woman had lustrous ash-blond hair, rich, brown eyes, a cool, marble-colored complexion and a curvy, womanly figure that Emmeline had always envied. She drew eyes in any room she walked into and had men pledging to fight to the death for her.
Kenna closed the door, then danced across the room and hugged Emmeline tightly from behind. She leaned into her friend’s embrace and smiled warmly.
“Welcome back,” Kenna said. “I’m so happy tae see ye.”
“I’m happy tae see ye tae,” she replied. “How have things been here?”
“Tense. Yer husband’s been a bleedin’ grump, he has.”
Emmeline grimaced at the mention of her husband. But then she cocked her head and turned around on the bench to face her friend. Kenna took Emmeline’s hands in hers and gave them a squeeze.
“What’s happenin’ then?” Emmeline asked. “What has him in such a mood?”
She shook her head. “I dinnae ken. But he’s had everybody jumpin’ like mad, gettin’ things cleaned and ready for the man who arrived today. Must be somebody important to have been makin’ such a fuss.”
“Which man? Who?”
Kenna shook her head. “I dinnae ken. I wasnae in the hall tae serve when he arrived. I did make up his chambers though.”
Emmeline frowned, curious about this strange man. Of course, her husband hadn’t mentioned having somebody of import visiting Castle Macfie like a proper laird should have. As the lady of the castle, she should have been included in greeting their visitor’s arrival. It was just one more glaring example of his disdain for her. As if she needed another one.
“Speakin’ of which though, yer husband sent me tae fetch ye,” Kenna said.
“Fer what then?”
“He wants ye tae join him in the family dinin’ hall for supper this evenin’.”
A cold chill stole through Emmeline. “Did he say what this is about?”
She shook her head. “Ye ken he daesnae tell me nothin’ other than when tae fetch ye.”
“Aye. But I also ken ye hear things all around the castle,” Emmeline said. “People tend tae have loose tongues around ye.”
She smiled. “Aye. That they dae.”
“So? What have ye heard?”
“To be true, I’ve nae heard much. ‘Tis a wagonload of secrets bein’ kept around the castle these days,” she replied somberly. “But I did hear from the women in the kitchens that the laird’s mystery guest is goin’ tae be there. They’re makin’ a special meal fer it.”
Emmeline pursed her lips, her mind spinning. Who was this mystery guest? Why were they having a special dinner in his honor? Ordinarily, her husband did not take meals with her. He did everything he could to avoid her, in fact. The only time she ever saw him was either by accidental meeting in the corridors or when he wanted to couple, which wasn’t very often—a fact that Emmeline thanked God above for.
“Maybe I’m bein’ paranoid, but I dinnae have a good feelin’ about this,” Emmeline said.
“Maybe this mysterious stranger is a good man and yer husband is goin’ tae give ye tae him.”
“Aye. Maybe he’s the bleedin’ King of the Fae and we’re goin’ tae live among them.”
Kenna laughed. “Maybe yer husband just wants tae dine with his beautiful wife tonight.”
Emmeline rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Ye cannae even say that with a straight face.”
“Well, ye should probably get down tae the dinin’ hall,” she said. “Yer husband will be waitin’ fer ye.”
Emmeline groaned. Just when she’d started to relax a bit, knowing that her husband had summoned her for supper erased it all. Tension crept back into her shoulders and her stomach churned wildly. What could this be about? She reluctantly got to her feet and let Kenna help her finish dressing and getting ready. Despite his disdain for her, Burchard still demanded she look perfect when in his presence.
When she was done, Kenna escorted her down to the family dining room. She gave Emmeline a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“’Tis goin’ tae be fine,” Kenna whispered. “Ye’re strong enough tae endure. Remember that.”
Emmeline watched her walk away, her heart sinking a little deeper with her every step. Once she was alone, she took a deep breath, held it while she counted to five, then let it out as she opened the door and stepped into the chamber. Unlike the formal reception hall, the family dining hall was smaller. More intimate. The wall to her left was dominated by an oversized fireplace that filled the chamber with bright, flickering light and blessed warmth.
A long table sat in the center of the room with a dozen chairs around it. Oil paintings of his ancestors hung upon the walls along with a variety of weapons that had their own famously bloody histories. The clan’s coat of arms hung on the wall to Emmeline’s right. Burchard sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, his back to the fire. He glared at her coldly as she walked in.
“So nice of ye tae join us,” he said, his voice as cold as his gaze.
“Emmy!”
Cecilia jumped up from her chair at the table and dashed around it, throwing herself into Emmeline’s arms, making her laugh. Emmeline loved the girl with everything in her and she knew Cecilia felt the same, although their relationship was more sisterly than like mother-daughter.
“I missed ye,” Cecilia said.
“I missed ye too.”
“Cecilia, take yer seat,” Burchard intoned imperiously. “Ye’re a bleedin’ woman now. Try tae behave like it.”
“Be nice tae her, she’s still a lass,” Emmeline said.
Burchard glowered at her, no words needed to convey his displeasure with her for speaking up. She gave Cecilia another smile and a kiss on the top of her head.
“Go on, lass. Take yer seat, like yer faither asked,” she said quietly.
Her back to her father, Cecilia made a face and rolled her eyes. It was all Emmeline could do to stifle the laugh that bubbled up in her throat. But the girl walked back to her seat and dropped into it heavily, pointedly refusing to look at her father. Emmeline took her own seat, directly across from Cecilia. Serving girls immediately moved in and poured them all glasses of wine. Burchard picked his cup up and took a drink.
“I’m sure ye’re wonderin’ what this supper is fer?” he asked.
“Aye. I wondered.”
“We have a guest with us,” he said. “This supper is in his honor.”
“Aye. I heard.”
A disapproving frown flickered across his lips. There was little more the man hated than gossip making its way around the castle. Especially when it preempted his announcements. He took a drink of his wine then cleared his throat.
“Laird Maddox MacLachlan is stayin’ with us fer a few days.”
“Why?” Emmeline asked.
Burchard didn’t answer at first and when Emmeline cut a glance at Cecilia, she noticed the girl was shifting in her seat uncomfortably, a strange expression that looked somewhere between guilt and nausea on her face.
“What’s happenin’ here then?” Emmeline pressed.
“I have found a suitable match fer Cecilia. She will be married,” Burchard announced.
Emmeline’s heart dropped into her stomach as a cold, greasy feeling churned in her belly. Cecilia lowered her gaze and refused to look at her, shame and fear warring upon her features. Emmeline turned back to Burchard as a dark fury rose up within her.
“Ye made a match fer her and ye didnae think tae consult me?” Emmeline hissed.
A smirk touched his lips. “I wasnae aware I had tae.”
“I am yer wife, the lady of the clan.”
“Aye, but she’s yer step daughter,” he reminded her. “She’s me daughter.”
“I’ve raised her since she was a bairn. This gives me the right tae have a word in this.”
“Nay. It makes ye a glorified wet nurse.”
“Burchard, she’s too young tae be married.”
“Ye were the same age as Cecilia when we were wed.”
She glowered at him. “Exactly, she is too young.”
He returned her fierce gaze. “She’s in her prime child-bearin’ years. She’ll provide Laird MacLachlan with heirs. ‘Tis what every laird desires.”
His words were said with a pointed glare that made his meaning clear. Emmeline recoiled at the slight, then took a moment to gather herself and shook her head.
“She’s too young, Burchard.”
“Bollocks.”
“Look at our marriage,” Emmeline said, her tone more subdued. “Dinnae ye want more fer yer daughter than what we have? Dinnae ye want her tae find love?”
“What I want is an army. And that is somethin’ Laird MacLachlan can provide,” he said, then added, “Unless ye can provide me with one?”
Emmeline lowered her gaze, a thousand emotions swirling around inside of her. Cecilia remained on the other side of the table, staring down at her plate, her face contorted with her own pain. Emmeline recalled the host of thought and emotion that had warred inside of her when her father had told her she was to be wed, and it was a pain she wished she could have spared the girl.
“Nay?” Burchard pressed. “I thought nae.”
“Burchard, please?—”
“Enough!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table hard enough to rattle all the glasses. “Ye may be me wife, but dinnae make the mistake of thinkin’ ye’ve got a voice in consequential matters. Or any matters. I’ll dae what’s best fer the clan?—”
“Ye mean what’s best fer ye.”
“Dinnae test me woman,” he sneered.
Before she could respond, the door opened behind her. Emmeline bit off a withering response as she listened to the sound of heavy bootsteps echoing around the room.
“Laird Maddox MacLachlan,” announced Fingal, the household steward.
Always the proper lady, Emmeline put on her most welcoming and gracious face as she got to her feet. She turned around to see the white-haired man with the intense green-eyed gaze from the inn. All at once, the memory of their kiss and his touch echoed through her mind. Her lips burned as did her breast as she recalled having his hand upon her body.
“Oh, nay,” she said.