Page 5 of Claimed Highland Brides

4

BEDROOM BLUES

D aividh loitered about the field, trying to pick up a trail for Fiona and her maid. There were no footprints, no little bits of cloth caught in the rough fencing, nothing to show that they were ever here. He walked back towards the inn and then detoured to the stables to find out if two women had taken out any horses.

“We havenae seen twa women alone today. Have ye men?” the head groom asked as he mucked out a stall.

There was a chorus of denials and Daividh deflated, wondering how he was to find them.

“Did ye see twa women anywhere today? Mebbe they just walked past. One is about this tall,” Daividh said, putting his hand just a bit below his shoulder, “wi’ fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Her skin is pale and creamy. She has a bit o’ a haughty look aboot her but she’s kind enough tae her servant.”

The head groom was looking at him with amusement. “We’re sorry ye’ve lost yer lady but we havenae seen her.”

“She’s nae my lady,” Daividh felt compelled to protest.

“Och aye…” The head groom sounded dubious.

Daividh whirled around and hurried off, unable to keep looking the man in the eye. Truth be told, he wouldn’t have minded if she was his lady. But he had it from her own mouth that she was promised to another. Dreaming about impossibilities would do no one any good. He wandered back into the inn and into her room, seating himself on the bed as he thought hard.

“There arenae many places she can gang on foot. She must be close by if’n she left her bags. She’s a defiant wee thing sae she’s likely just asserting hersel’.” He pursed his lips thoughtfully and nodded in agreement with his own analysis, deciding that the best thing to do would be to wait right there for her to come back.

* * *

Fiona stumbled out of the tent, feeling dazed, and was grateful when Julieta reached out for her and stopped her from falling.

“Miss Douglass are ye alrigh’?” Julieta’s voice was high, breathless, and anxious.

Fiona nodded vaguely, her eyes unfocused. “I'm fine,” she said absently, her mind churning with all the new information she had just acquired.

“Wha’ did she say? Did she tell ye yer fortune? Will ye meet a handsome prince that will sweep ye off yer feet?” Julieta laughed uncomfortably at her own feeble attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Fiona gave her a sharp look in response, much to her relief. She did not like how pale Fiona looked.

“Shall we return to the inn then, Miss Douglass? I think ye need tae rest.”

“Och aye, ye’re right. I’m tired and heartsore. Sleep will do me some guid.”

“Let us gang then. If ye want I can get us a carriage? Are ye very tired? It’s quite a walk.”

Fiona smiled, warmed by Julieta’s concern. “I’m fine. Let us walk quietly. There is a lot to mull over.”

Julieta simply nodded, taking Fiona’s arm in hers, and began to head back down the path. They walked in silence as Fiona pondered the seer’s last words.

“Miss? Ye seem...fashit?” Julieta ventured.

Fiona nodded slowly. “I am.”

“May I ask why?”

Fiona sighed. “The spaewife, she told me something. Something that would change the course of my life should I let it. Now I am wondering what I should do. I find that I am torn between my duty and mayhaps , my happiness. She told me I am at a crossroads. Which route should I take? Happiness or duty?”

“Did she no gi’ ye a hint as to which one’s the right one?”

Fiona huffed a laugh. “She said there isnae no ‘right’ one. Only what I choose. She said the Lord gave us free will.”

Julieta snorted. “Och, mayhaps he gave free will to the lads. Not us lassies.”

Fiona’s eyes softened as she turned to look affectionately upon the other woman. “Ye’re a wise one Julieta.”

The maid beamed. “Aye, I am.”

They turned into the lane leading to the inn and walked the rest of the way in silence. Fiona’s mind turned to Daividh and whether or not he might have discovered their absence. Hopefully, he was still in the hall, drinking the night away with the other men. They could slip back into their room through the kitchen and nobody needed to be any the wiser.

The courtyard of the inn was just as busy as it had been when they left. A new stagecoach had arrived and passengers were alighting, stretching their legs or shambling off to the privy. Julieta and Fiona ignored them all, slipping down the side of the inn and scurrying towards the kitchen. A young boy was sitting by the door. He looked up as their loud footfall announced their presence and smiled, wide and pleased. “Good day t’ye both,” he said softly.

“Good day t’ye lad.” Julieta smiled and waved while Fiona cast him an absent glance. Now that she was here, she could feel the increasing pounding of her heart. She could only focus on getting to her chamber and locking the door behind her so that she could pretend to have been there all night.

“Dinnae fash,” Julieta whispered to her as if she knew Fiona’s fears.

“Easy for ye tae say. Ye’re no the one who will be scolded if’n the soldier kens we left.”

“I beg yer pardon! O’ course I shall be scolded. Ye dinnae think I’d let him scold ye on yer own?”

Fiona laughed. “Och nae. O’ course not. Ye’re the soul of loyalty my Julieta.” She patted the maid on the arm. “Now gang and see if ye can get us something tae eat and drink. I’m hungry again.”

“Ach. Ye've a hungry worm in yer belly I dinnae wonder, Miss. I shall gang the noo.” She turned back to the kitchen, leaving Fiona to proceed on her own.

Almost humming softly under her breath, an amused smile on her face, Fiona strolled the rest of the way to her chambers. She came to an abrupt stop at the door, realizing it was open and a pair of booted feet were visible.

Taking a deep breath, she peered into the relative gloom of the room and sighed with resignation as she caught sight of Daividh, lounging on the bed nearest the door.

“Good even tae ye.” His deep baritone was even and calm but she could still tell that he was seething.

“Uh...good even.” She swallowed. “What are ye doing in my chambers?”

He snorted, his mouth twisting as he looked away from her. “The question is, why are ye no in yer chambers? Where have ye been?”

Her heart tripped, rapid and irregular, her vision dimmed and steadied in ever-decreasing circles of blurriness. Her hands shook and her face paled. She did not know why she was so afraid all of a sudden. There was nothing that Daividh could do to her at the moment.

“Weel? Will ye no tell me what was so urgent ye had tae leave wi’out a word?” He bit out every word curtly although his tone stayed even.

Fiona sighed. “I...uh, we went frae a walk. We dinnae go far. The room just felt very close and we needed some air.”

“Is that sae? And ye couldnae tell me aboot it why?”

Fiona shook her head, looking away. She had no viable explanation to give him for her actions. All she had was childish defiance and she suddenly did not want him to think of her as a child. “I dinnae think tae do it. I’m no used to accountin’ frae my presence or absence to anyone.”

“Is that so? Not even yer faither?”

Fiona gave him a sharp glance. “My faither is deid,” she said sharply.

He bowed his head. “And it is sorry I am frae tha’. But ’tis a recent occurrence is it no? Did ye no answer tae him afore he died?”

Fiona pursed her lips in annoyance. “Nae. I dinnae answer tae him. He let me have my freedom.”

Daividh’s eyes narrowed. “He must ha’ been an exceptional man. A man o’ worth.”

Fiona’s bottom lip trembled as she tried to compose herself. She and her father had always been close. Ever since her mother died, Fiona had stepped into her shoes, knowing that she had to be the mother figure for her younger sisters. Their father saw what she did for them and was very appreciative but also worried over her a lot.

“Ye’re a young lassie too, my dear,” he would say gently, stroking her vivid red curls, his sad eyes watching her. “Ye shouldnae have tae care frae yer sisters like this. I should find me another wife.”

His tone was always listless when he spoke of remarrying. Fiona knew he did not want to do that. The flame of his love for their mother still burned bright and strong. No other woman could measure up.

So she did her best.

She had loved him so, and she missed him like a lost limb.

“Aye, he was,” she said quietly.

He got up from the bed and took a step toward her. Very tentatively, he lifted his hand and put it on her shoulder. He squeezed, saying nothing and politely looking away as she tried to compose herself. She dug in her pockets and extracted a kerchief, wiping away the tears.

He inhaled loudly and expelled the breath with force before turning back to her. “However, Miss Douglass, what ye did, just disappearin’ like a ghost…” He shook his head. “It wasnae righ’. Ye should ha’ told me. Something might ha’ happened t’ye and I wouldnae ha’ been any the wiser.”

“I can look after mysel’!” she snapped at him and then sniffed, her eyes still red. It detracted from the effect she was trying to have upon him. He bit his lip so as not to laugh.

“O’course ye can. But yer uncle charged me wi’ yer care. I take that very seriously.”

Fiona sighed, looking away. Suddenly she was very tired, feeling as if her feet would not hold her up. Shuffling over to the bed, she sat down hard with a sigh of relief. “Please gang. I wish tae remove my shoon.”

Immediately he was bending over her. “I can help ye wi’ tha’.”

“Nae! Gang away. I dinnae need ye.”

“Aye, ye do!” He grabbed her leg and began to unlace her boots as she squirmed on the bed.

“Stop!” She tried to pull her foot out of his hands but his hold on her ankle was firm and unyielding.

“Just a few more moments and ye’ll be free of them,” he breathed, most of his attention on unlacing her ties. Fiona did not want him to see her bare feet. Her heart began to speed up again, and she was overtaken by the notion that if he saw her feet, he would know her secret. He would know what the seer said. Fear overwhelmed her and she began to fight in earnest. Her foot kicked out, catching him on the chin.

He made a surprised sound before falling backward and hitting his head on the wooden floor with an audible thunk.

Fiona screamed, scrambling off the bed and diving to the floor as if to belatedly break his fall. “Oh my god, are ye alrigh’? I’m sorry! I dinnae mean tae kick ye.” Her hands scrambled over his face, trying to see where he was hurt. She ran her fingers through his hair and down his jaw in fear, and then she realized he was shaking.

“Daividh?” she whispered breathlessly. “Are ye having paroxysms?”

Suddenly he opened his mouth wide, shouting with laughter. “I-I’m f-fine,” he said amid fits of laughter. “Oh heavens, ye ha-have a stro-stong kick, mo chridhe .”

She sat back on her heel, crossed her arms, and glared at him. “Ye’re laughing at me?”

“Nae, nae…” he wheezed, his face red. “I wouldnae do tha’.”

She reached out without thinking and smacked him on the chest, gasping right after and covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide. At least the smack stopped his laughter as he gaped at her in surprise, then he threw back his head and laughed even harder.

As abruptly as her fear had taken her over, she was filled with anger. She lunged for him and he caught her. Before she knew it, they were rolling about on the floor, his hand in her hair while she tried to scratch his face.

“Stop!” He was still laughing even as he said it. That only spurred her to higher levels of violence and she leaned forward, intent on biting his cheek. Suddenly he turned his head and placed his mouth on hers.

She froze and he took advantage of that to thrust his tongue in her mouth, his hand pulling her closer by her hair. Everything whited out and before she knew it, she was giving as good as she got.