Page 27 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

“Sure, but you’re blonde as well as beautiful, and we modern folks all know what that means.

” As Grace glared at her she laughed. “I won’t make any jokes, I promise.

” She finished tying the ribbon and bumped her shoulder gently against the model’s.

“Bet you know some good ones, though. Come on, then, hit me up.”

“How many blondes does it take to screw in a light bulb?” Grace said, looking resigned now.

Ava pretended to think. “Two, but they’d have to be really tiny?”

“Just one. She holds the bulb and waits for the world to revolve around her.” She glanced down at her pretty gown. “This is a mistake.”

“You aren’t all that worried about the other women,” she guessed.

“I like Farlan a lot. Part of me fell in love with him the instant we met. But my mother just died, and I basically existed just for her. Everything I did, in fact, was to make her happy.” Her lips thinned as she met Ava’s gaze. “What if I’m unconsciously using him as a replacement for her? ”

“You don’t seem that thoughtless to me, but I understand,” she told the model.

“Back when I first got here I wanted Tasgall in the worst way, but I had a killer to find and serious responsibilities waiting on me back in our world. I always thought of myself as an FBI agent first and a woman second, too. So, I resisted him and fought with myself long and hard, but in the end I couldn’t think of my life without him anymore.

Tas became more important than anyone or anything to me, and that’s why when we do find our way out, I’m sticking by him—even if it means I have to go and live back in the twelfth century. ”

The other woman’s expression softened. “You really do love the man.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. He’s mine and I aim to keep him.” She smiled. “You do what you need to, Gracie, but you won’t find a better man than Farlan McKeran still on the market.”

Something shimmered in the model’s eyes as a rush of icy air came through the passage, making their skirts whirl.

“As you say, my lady,” she said, and then walked off toward the great hall.

“Guess I’m getting better at this persuasion business.” Ava stared after her, unsure of why all the hair on the back of her neck was prickling.

U na knew the moment Farlan McKeran scowled at her outside the great hall that Elspeth had blabbed to him about how she’d threatened her.

She held onto her composure as she and the other maids filed in to stand ready by the stage.

As was the custom those who had never chosen a husband were permitted to accept an offer first. Since she had married many different lads, Una would be among the last to stand and choose.

She didn’t want anyone among the vassals who served the McKeran, for she’d already bedded all the weak lads in the stronghold.

Those who were strong-minded or unpleasant she avoided.

All that was left for her was to share the bed of a clansman who would agree to be her lover—the few she had approached in the past all had refused her for some reason—or remain unattached for the next year.

Of all she had to endure in this place, Una most hated being alone.

“That blonde harlot shallnae steal my Kurk from me,” she heard Ida, one of the kitchen maids, mutter as Grace and Lady Ava came into the hall. “If she tries I shall scratch out her eyes.”

The newcomer wore a beautiful gown shaded like the inside of a peach, Una saw, which made her golden hair and flawless skin look as ripe as a maiden’s. She would never look as lovely as Mistress Johansen, and a deep, angry part of her wanted to punish the beauty for that wrong.

“I wouldnae test her,” another maid warned. “Seneschal protects her.”

“Why should he, Lorna?” Ida demanded. “She’s only just arrived, and no one’s gone near her.”

Lorna leaned closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “The wench and Farlan, they’ve been lovers since the night she came. ’Tis said she eagerly spread her legs for him the first time whilst they remained trapped in the collapse.”

Ida’s expression darkened. “She’s well and truly a whore, then.”

Ava looked over at them with a frown, as if she’d overheard them.

“Shut your trap, and dinnae act the ninny,” Una said, and rammed her elbow into the other kitchen maid’s side. “As you see plain, our lady’s befriended the slut. So we must curtsey and coo to her as we do Lady Liv.”

“You’re comely, so you can accept any lad you want,” Ida said, sullenly rubbing her ribs and sticking out her lower lip. “I’ve worked for months to have Kurk as my husband. I shallnae stand by and do naught if she means to take my bonny lad from me.”

Lorna sniffed. “’Tisnae as if you may end her.”

“’Tis said Polly burned to death in the armorer’s smelting furnace,” Una said as she saw Elspeth slip to the front of the line. “I wonder if ’twould do the same to a lass from olden times.”

Ida gave her a wide-eyed look. “You’re mad, wench. Even if you could do such, how should you escape the wrath of the laird and his lady?”

She saw Grace say something to Ava, and then hurry out of the hall as if she were being chased. Eachann, who had come to offer the opening prayer, stared after her with a frown.

“Save my place,” Una told the maids, who gasped as she strode off to follow the newcomer.

Una knew full well that she had fallen in status among the female vassals, and suspected that before she had died Polly had blabbed about her allowing one of the scullery lads to fack her.

She hadn’t even enjoyed that, as the evil bitch had directed them to swive in front of her so she could watch.

What she needed was a new position. Being the granddaughter of their chatelaine, Grace Johansen would bestow on anyone who served her a higher rank than the other common maids.

Since the newcomer was facking their seneschal, and would likely do so for some time, that connection would also give her lady’s maid more status.

Losing sight of Grace made Una swear softly under her breath, and she changed direction, taking another hall that would lead her directly to the guest chamber.

When the newcomer arrived there she could be waiting, and say she’d been sent to aid her.

She might even imply the laird’s wife had wanted her to serve now as a lady’s maid.

Then she could work on convincing Grace to name her as her personal servant.

Something flew over Una’s head, startling her, but when she turned around she saw nothing in the passage.

“Why aren’t you in the great hall with the others?” Inga asked as she came around the corner carrying a bundle in her arms.

“I wished to clear my head,” Una lied. “I dinnae ken which lad I may accept this year.”

“If you linger here, you can’t accept anyone,” the chatelaine admonished, and then continued on her way, regal as ever.

Sticking her tongue out at Inga’s back was childish, but Una didn’t care.

The chatelaine had been a lofty one ever since she’d wandered into the trap like a wayward bitch.

Doubtless she knew the whispers of how the newcomer had rejected her affection right in front of Lady Liv and the laird’s wife.

Now that Una thought about it, everything Mistress Johansen did seemed odd, as if she’d never been taught how to behave.

Just like me.

Her skin began to chill as another thing—a bird?

—darted around her, and the sound of high-pitched chittering echoed down the passage.

Her skirts swirled as she tried to follow it with her gaze.

Pain stabbed into the side of her neck, but before she could cry out her throat filled with sand, choking her.

All around her the stronghold began to grow larger, as if the castle were stretching itself in every direction.

Only when her feet slipped into a crack between the floor stones did Una understand what was happening.

The stronghold, ’tisnae getting larger. I’m shrinking.

Her head spun as she grew smaller and smaller, until she was the same size as the small poppets she used to play with as a bairn.

She couldn’t pull her legs out of the floor crack or move at all now.

Something waddled up to her that looked like a rat with large, leathery wings and glowing dark red eyes.

Not a rat. A bat.

Another one came to join the first, and made a chittering sound as it reached out with its clawed feet to seize Una.

She wanted to scream as it yanked her free of the floor crack, but the bat’s bite had paralyzed her.

Still holding her in its clutches, the bat launched itself into the air, and flew down the passage and out into the night.

As the air raced around her, and the creeping numbness reached her head, Una wished for the first time in her long life that she had loved someone in truth. Who would miss her after they realized she was gone?