Page 18

18: THIS CANNOT GO UNPUNISHED

LORNA WAS THE first to recover.

“This creature needs reminding of her place.” Her hand trembled as she pointed at Bonnie.

“She has just deliberately wasted food and insulted both me and one of my daughters.” The head cook drew herself up then, her chin rising.

“I was about to drag her before ye, to demand she be flogged … but ye have saved me the trouble.”

The seneschal didn’t answer Lorna.

Instead, he turned to the laird next to him.

“The only red-haired lass working here is Bonnie Fraser,” he said, meeting Iver’s eye.

“Is this her?”

Bonnie swayed on her feet before realizing she’d forgotten to breathe.

Mother Mary, no! Dragging in a lungful of air, she stared back at Iver.

He didn’t need to reply—the look on his face said it all.

The moments slid by, and then he nodded.

“So, let me get this straight,” Stewart muttered, his attention flicking between them.

“Ye met this woman at the ball, masked and dressed as a lady?”

“I did,” Iver replied, his voice low and flat.

“Bonnie.” The sharp edge to the seneschal’s voice made her drag her gaze from Iver’s.

Stewart was scowling at her.

“Did ye attend the queen’s ball?”

Bonnie swallowed to try and loosen her throat.

She liked Duncan—although the seneschal ruled the castle with a firm hand, he was known to be fair.

He’d never spoken to her harshly or treated her cruelly like her aunt did.

But his dark eyes were narrowed now, and his heavy jaw set.

He looked vexed, and rightfully so.

“Aye,” she whispered.

“It was ye!” Bonnie glanced over her shoulder to see Morag pointing at her.

Behind her, Alba’s round face had paled.

“We saw ye dancing with him.”

Bonnie’s already pounding heart bolted.

Dizziness barreled into her, and she staggered, grabbing hold of the edge of the table next to her to steady herself.

“What are ye babbling about, Morag?” Lorna’s harsh voice cut through the kitchens.

“Ye didn’t attend the ball.”

“We watched from the minstrel’s gallery, Ma,” Alba answered softly, while Morag flushed red.

Their mother’s dark-blonde brows crashed together.

“What do—”

“I’m disappointed in ye, Bonnie,” Stewart cut the cook off.

“Stirling Castle has given ye shelter, food, and employment, and this is how ye repay us.”

Bonnie stared back at him.

There was little point in trying to defend herself.

There was nothing she could say that could make this right.

She was up to her neck in trouble.

“How did she get that gown she was wearing … and the mask?” Morag interrupted once more.

Despite that she’d no doubt be in trouble with her mother later, she was like a dog with a bone now.

Bonnie swallowed hard.

She couldn’t implicate Ainslie in this.

“I took them,” she whispered.

“One of the ladies-in-waiting dropped a mask on the day of the ball … and I kept it for myself.” She paused then, aware that Iver’s gaze hadn’t shifted from her face.

Nonetheless, it was difficult to meet his eye now.

“And the gown belongs to Ainslie Boyd. It was her wedding dress, and she showed it to me a few weeks ago. The morning of the ball, I ‘borrowed’ it without her knowledge.”

The seneschal’s dark brows knitted together at this admission, and Bonnie started to sweat.

She wanted to bolt, gather her skirts and flee from the kitchens, from Stirling Castle.

She wanted to disappear into the wilds forever.

But, instead, she would have to remain within these walls and face her punishment.

It took every ounce of courage she possessed to raise her chin and meet Duncan Stewart’s eye.

“I know I did wrong,” she said huskily, “and I am sorry.”

The seneschal’s mouth pursed.

He then stepped back and jerked his chin toward the stone steps behind him.

“We shall continue this discussion in my quarters,” he muttered.

“Upstairs … now .”

It was overly warm inside the seneschal’s chamber.

The fire blazed in the hearth, and despite that the air outdoors was crisp this morning, the sun poured into the room through the thin layer of glass.

Nonetheless, Iver barely noticed the heat.

The chill that had settled over him earlier still hadn’t thawed.

He couldn’t take his gaze off the chambermaid who stood in the center of the chamber, waiting for the seneschal to deliver his punishment.

The mask she’d worn on the night of the ball had obscured the top half of her face, her hair had been unbound, and she’d been wearing a stunning gown, yet it was her.

Even in that drab, work-worn kirtle and apron, her hair pulled back from her face, he was looking upon the same woman.

In fact, observing the chambermaid, Iver couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized her during the ball.

It was obvious now that she was the shy lass he’d spotted twice in the days leading up to the event.

Their gazes hadn’t met on those occasions though, and apart from her gasped thanks, they hadn’t spoken.

Her audacity stunned him.

For a chambermaid—the lowest of the servants within a castle—to steal a mask and gown—and pretend to be one of the guests, was bold indeed.

It was also insanely reckless.

Did she really think she could get away with it?

Gaze downcast, hands clasped together, the lass didn’t meet the seneschal’s eye as he positioned himself in front of her.

Her lovely face was drawn and pale, and she swallowed convulsively.

Earlier, in the kitchens, she’d been unable to tear her gaze away from Iver.

But now, she didn’t look in his direction.

“Bonnie,” Duncan Stewart sighed her name.

“What possessed ye, lass?”

Bonnie.

The name suited her.

It was earthy yet feminine, just like she was.

Iver caught himself then, his jaw tightening.

Don’t fool yerself, Mackay .

She pretended to be someone else.

Ye don’t know her at all .

He’d been born cursed when it came to women, it seemed—he always fell for the wrong ones.

“I’m not sure,” she whispered.

“A madness of sorts.” Her chin rose then, and she met the seneschal’s gaze.

Her blue-green eyes glistened.

“I am grateful for the life I have … but sometimes, I wish for more.”

The seneschal’s brows crashed together.

“Such wishes ruin people,” he muttered.

A shadow rippled across his face then.

“As it did yer mother.”

“Did she disgrace herself that badly?” Bonnie asked huskily.

Stewart’s expression saddened at her question.

“Greer was lovely. Full of joy and life, and a rare beauty … with golden hair and eyes the color of the sea in summer. Most of the lads in this keep were half in love with her.” His mouth curved then.

“Me included.”

Bonnie's gaze widened, yet the seneschal’s smile turned rueful. “I was young once too, ye know.” He huffed another, weary, sigh. “But Greer wasn’t interested in any of us. Instead, she flew too close to the sun and burned like Icarus.”

Iver frowned at these puzzling words—as did Bonnie.

“So, ye know who my father is?”

The seneschal’s expression shuttered before he shook his head. “I thought yer mother’s tragedy was behind us … but now I worry ye shall travel a similar road.” He paused then. “This cannot go unpunished.”

“I know,” Bonnie whispered, her shoulders slumping.

A brittle silence rushed in, and suddenly, Iver could hear the steady ‘thump’ of his own pulse. He cleared his throat then. The pair seemed to have forgotten he was also present. “What kind of punishment are we talking about?”

Stewart glanced his way. His face was still carefully blank. Nonetheless, the concern in his eyes gave him away. He cared for the lass and didn’t want to punish her. “A public flogging,” he replied roughly. “Afterward, she shall be put in the stocks for three days.”

Bonnie’s face had gone ghostly now, and she trembled. But she didn’t utter a word.

Even so, Iver’s gut twisted. She’d made a fool of him, had stolen items that didn’t belong to her, impersonated a member of the ruling class, and attended a ball she’d never been invited to.

Aye, she’d done wrong, and he was angry with her. All the same, the thought of her being whipped, of scarlet blood blooming upon her soft skin, of her humiliation and fear, made queasiness roll over him.

He didn’t want this.

Iver met the seneschal’s eye then. “Duncan,” he murmured. “Could ye give Bonnie and me a few moments alone?”

Bonnie made a soft, choked sound at this request, her hands twisting tighter. Meanwhile, Stewart stiffened.

“Ye can leave the door open, if ye wish,” Iver continued, his gaze never wavering. “Fear not, I mean the lass no harm.”

Heartbeats slid by, and then the seneschal reluctantly nodded. He cast Bonnie a probing look. “I shall be waiting down the hallway,” he told her. “Call if ye need me.” Stewart strode from the chamber then, leaving the door ajar behind him.

They were alone—for the first time since they’d stood together on the castle walls.

Iver’s pulse quickened. How different this meeting was.

Bonnie dragged her gaze to him then. She wrapped her arms around her torso to quell her trembling. But ever since Stewart’s departure, her shaking was even more evident.

“God’s blood, lass, don’t look at me like that,” Iver muttered. “I’m not going to rage at ye.”

She swallowed yet didn’t reply.

Iver moved over to the hearth and turned to face her, warming his back against the flames. Cold still suffused his gut, yet he was doing his best to ignore it.

Their gazes met once more. “Well, Bonnie Fraser,” he said softly, testing out her name on his lips. “This is a fine mess we’re in.”

“I’m sorry, Mackay,” she whispered. “My behavior was foolish and selfish.”

“Call me ‘Iver’,” he replied. “I think we’re past formalities now, don’t ye?”

She nodded, although her features tightened. She watched him like an injured sparrow might watch the castle’s mouser—waiting for him to pounce.

Moments passed before Iver heaved a deep sigh. “Was any of it real?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“We spent hours together, Bonnie. We danced, talked … shared secrets. Was everything ye told me a lie?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not everything.”

His mouth twisted. “Adair Farquharson with a pushy father who sent her to Stirling to find herself a husband?”

Spots of color bloomed upon her pale cheeks. “Aye, I made that part up … but some of the things I shared with ye were real. The younger ‘sisters’ I referred to are my cousins. I was brought up by my aunt.” She broke off there, her breasts rising and falling sharply. “I don’t expect ye to understand.” Bonnie gasped out the words. “Ye grew up in a different world to me … and ye are a man. Yer horizons are vast, yet mine are narrow indeed. I knew that ball was forbidden to me, yet for one night, I dared to dream.” Her gaze speared his then, her chin lifting as the flush on her cheeks deepened. “Our paths had already crossed before we met at the ball, yet ye didn’t recognize me. Like most of the high-born, ye are oblivious to those who serve ye. We are invisible.”

Heat ignited in Iver’s gut, dousing the chill. “Ye presume much about me,” he ground out. He took a step toward her then. “I do remember ye, Bonnie … the shy chambermaid who wouldn’t look me in the eye.”

A muscle flexed in her jaw. “Aye, ye have made the connection now , yet ye didn’t at the ball. Ye saw what ye wished to.” There was an edge to her voice—one that made Iver’s quickening anger subside a little. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she had a point.

Iver was a chieftain. From the day he’d come squalling out into the world, he’d been treated as someone to be valued. Aye, he’d suffered disappointments and loss—even the high-born didn’t escape such things—but he had no idea what it was like to have no prospects.

He had no doubt Bonnie’s life was one of drudgery—and listening to the words she’d exchanged with the seneschal upon entering this chamber, she’d been born under a shadow of scandal. It sounded as if her mother had disgraced herself, and Stewart worried Bonnie would go the same way.

Silence fell between them, stretching out while the hearth crackled and the wind made the windowpane creak. And as the moments slipped by, Iver’s temper cooled. Eventually, he raked a hand through his hair, murmuring an oath under his breath. “Things got … out of hand … on the walls that night,” he admitted haltingly. “All the same, I wondered why ye fled … although I now understand.” He moved closer to her then so that they stood no more than a couple of feet apart.

Bonnie continued to hold his eye.

The directness of her gaze made his breathing quicken. It was still there—the pull between them. He’d have thought the shock of discovering her deception might have severed it, yet he was keenly aware of the woman standing close to him.

“I was careless the other night,” he said, his voice roughening. “Ye could be with bairn.”

She swallowed once more. “I worried about that too,” she admitted, her own voice husky. “But ye need not worry … my courses arrived the morning after.”

A little of the tension that had knotted under Iver’s ribs eased at this news. Surely, that was an added complication neither of them needed. Nonetheless, Bonnie was still in serious trouble. “I don’t want to see ye flogged or put in the stocks,” he admitted roughly.

“Why not?” she whispered. “I deceived ye.”

“Ye did … but I cannot let ye be punished because of it.” His hand itched to reach up and stroke her cheek. Standing this close to her was affecting him. His heart was now pounding.

“Unfortunately, ye have no say in the matter, Mackay.”

Iver’s gaze cut left to see Duncan Stewart standing in the doorway. The seneschal had obviously decided they’d had enough privacy. His brow was furrowed as he viewed them.

“I disagree,” Iver replied, his tone cooling. “This situation involves me, does it not?”

“Don’t interfere.” Stewart folded his burly arms across his chest. “Bonnie Fraser is under my guardianship, not yers.”

Heat flared in Iver’s belly once more, his pulse spiking. He knew he shouldn’t get involved in this, yet he couldn’t help it. The blood roared in his ears, instinct overriding good sense, as he replied, “Well, that can be remedied.” He shifted his attention away from the seneschal. His gaze fused with Bonnie’s. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted. “If the lass will agree to be my wife.”