Page 35

35: WELL MATCHED

“IF YE WANT my opinion … ye should choose the green,” Sheena Mackay sniffed.

Bonnie glanced up from where she was running her fingers over a bolt of cloth and met her mother-by-marriage’s eye.

“Really?”

Sheena gave a stiff nod.

“Aye.” The seamstress stepped close then and flashed Bonnie a wide smile.

“An excellent choice, lass … green is definitely yer color … it’s the hue of Kilbrannan Sound on a summer’s day. And it matches yer eyes.”

Bonnie’s cheeks warmed at the flattery.

However, she smiled back at Elsie MacDonell.

The seamstress—whose shop was tucked in behind the waterfront at Ceann Locha, the nearest town to Dun Ugadale—gazed back at her expectantly.

Ever since Bonnie had set foot in her shop, Elsie showered her with compliments.

Something that was no doubt irking Sheena.

Two days had passed since Bonnie’s arrival at Dun Ugadale, and her mother-by-marriage had accompanied her into Ceann Locha to organize the making of a selection of kirtles and surcotes.

Sheena had been reluctant to join her, but Bonnie had insisted.

In truth, despite that they’d made a truce of sorts, her mother-by-marriage’s attitude toward her hadn’t thawed.

Sheena sat in brooding silence at mealtimes, and all her interactions with Bonnie seemed to be done under sufferance.

It was going to take a while for relations between them to thaw, for a rapport to be established—but such things couldn’t be forced.

“Very well,” Bonnie replied, excitement fluttering up under her ribcage.

She couldn’t believe she would soon have a collection of lovely new dresses.

Sometimes, she felt like pinching herself.

“I shall have a kirtle made of this fabric … and one of the sky-blue material too.” She paused then.

“Can ye please make two more in the blue and dark-gold I picked out earlier.”

Elsie nodded, delight sparkling in her eyes.

Theirs was an isolated spot on the Kintyre peninsula—and the folk who could afford pretty gowns made of such fine cloth were few and far between.

“We shall be back on Friday next week to collect the dresses, Elsie,” Sheena said crisply while Bonnie dug into the purse that Iver had given her and extracted the silver pennies to pay for the clothing.

Lord, it felt odd to carry this much coin—indeed, to carry any at all.

Bonnie was still getting used to her new existence, and many aspects of it intimidated her.

She’d met all the servants within the broch—servants she now commanded—and Sheena had reluctantly started taking her through the various tasks she was now in charge of, as chatelaine.

Bonnie wasn’t used to issuing orders, although those servants she’d met—Cory, the cook, and the lads who helped him, and Maggie, the lass who kept the chambers—had welcomed her warmly.

“Aye, Lady Mackay,” Elsie replied, flashing Sheena a smile.

“With my sister and my two nimble-fingered daughters assisting me, I should have them all ready for ye then.”

Emerging from the seamstress’s shop, Bonnie and Sheena found Kerr and two of the Dun Ugadale Guard waiting for them.

“Ye were a while,” Kerr greeted them, pushing himself off the wall of the building opposite.

“I was beginning to wonder if ye were making the gowns yerselves.”

Sheena frowned.

“The choosing of fabrics can’t be rushed.”

“Thank ye for waiting, Kerr.” Bonnie flashed him an embarrassed smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, his mouth lifting at the corners.

“Come on, let’s get ye home.”

Together, the small party made their way up the alleyway, walking out onto Ceann Locha’s busy waterfront a short while later.

Breathing in the briny air, Bonnie glanced around at where fishermen were selling bass, flounder, and plaice off their boats to locals.

While the men were readying the horses, she wandered across to get a closer look—and a short while later, she returned with a basket full of fish.

Sheena wrinkled her nose at the sight.

“What the devil have ye bought?”

“Flounders for tomorrow’s noon meal,” Bonnie replied with a bright smile.

“Yesterday Cory lamented the lack of fresh fish of late.” She paused then, suddenly uncertain.

“I thought he’d be delighted with these … they were caught this morning.”

“Flounder is Iver’s favorite fish,” Kerr commented as he took the basket from Bonnie and tied it to the back of his saddle.

“This will please him too.”

There was little Sheena could say to this, although her mouth thinned.

A short while later, the small party rode out of Ceann Locha.

As Bonnie hadn’t yet learned how to ride, she perched behind Kerr.

They traveled alongside Sheena, while the two guards followed close behind.

It was a beautiful afternoon—and the sun that warmed their faces had some heat in it for the first time in months.

A brisk breeze whipped in from Kilbrannan Sound, and gulls circled, screeching overhead.

Bonnie, Kerr, and Sheena spoke little during the journey home.

Kerr wasn’t a man to indulge in idle chatter, it seemed, and Sheena didn’t engage in conversation unless Bonnie initiated it.

Nonetheless, Bonnie welcomed the silence.

Life had thrown a bit at her recently, and the ride gave her a little time to sort through her thoughts.

She still reeled at the discovery of the truth of her parentage.

And every time she dwelled on it, sadness tugged at her.

She sometimes wondered how her father had reacted to the news of her mother’s death.

Had he cared for her?

Had he grieved?

However, she would never know.

The tragedy of his death, and of her mother’s, lay far behind her now.

All she could do now was look forward.

Nonetheless, she would never forget.

It was late afternoon when the party of four horses clattered up the causeway and into the barmkin of Dun Ugadale.

The sound of hammering, which echoed out from Brodie’s forge, greeted them.

Kerr and his men took care of the horses, while Bonnie took the fish into the kitchen.

And as she’d anticipated, Cory’s rugged face lit up at the sight of the flounders.

“It shall be fried fish tomorrow at noon, Lady Bonnie,” he said, taking the basket.

Lady Bonnie . Warmth suffused her chest as she smiled back at Cory.

It would take her a while to get used to being called that.

To Bonnie’s surprise, Sheena had followed her into the kitchen, waiting in the doorway while the Lady of Dun Ugadale talked to the cook, and when Bonnie rejoined her, she asked, “Would ye like to take a cup of wine with me in the ladies solar?”

Surprised by the invitation, Bonnie nodded warily.

In truth, she wanted to go looking for her husband, who was overseeing repair work on the western walls this afternoon, but since Sheena was making an effort, she didn’t want to refuse her.

A short while later, the two women sat in the ladies' solar—a small, cozy chamber on the second floor of the broch—before the glowing hearth.

With few trees to use as fuel, the residents of Dun Ugadale burned bricks of peat. It threw out a lot of heat, although Bonnie was still getting used to the pungent smoke.

The gloaming was gathering outdoors, and so they’d lowered the sacking over the small window before settling into high-backed chairs with cups of apple wine.

However, even though she’d been the one to suggest taking some wine together, Sheena seemed to have little to say.

Silence stretched out between the two women before Bonnie eventually broke it. “Thank ye for accompanying me to Ceann Locha today,” she said awkwardly. “I appreciated yer advice on the fabrics.”

Sheena’s mouth pursed. “Aye, well, Elsie is a fine seamstress … yet she can be pushy. If I hadn’t come with ye, I fear ye might have ended up with ten surcotes of her most expensive cloth.”

Bonnie nodded. Aye, she’d noticed the seamstress’s keenness to show her the fine, and ludicrously expensive, damask she’d just had delivered from Edinburgh.

“I look forward to wearing the dresses,” Bonnie admitted, glancing down at the faded blue kirtle she wore. “And thank ye for altering one of yers in the meantime.” This was an old one of Sheena’s, one she’d worn years earlier, during her last pregnancy. It had been too long for Bonnie, and she’d taken it up, but the bodice was full enough to accommodate her bosom, which was a lot bigger than her mother-by-marriage’s.

“Aye, well … yer old one had to go,” Sheena replied. “I’ve seen scarecrow rags that were prettier.”

Bonnie grimaced and took a sip of wine. Sheena wasn’t wrong, although she didn’t have to be so acerbic.

Another silence fell between them, this one awkward, before Sheena sighed. “Apologies, lass. That was unnecessary.”

It had been, yet Bonnie managed a tight smile. “Aye, well … the kirtle was a bit ragged.”

Sheena made a dismissive gesture with her hand. She then settled back in her chair, her gaze roaming over Bonnie’s face. “I have never seen my son so taken with anyone,” she admitted then. Her voice was stilted, as if she was forcing the words out. “He’s had his disappointments and is more sensitive than folk realize.”

That was quite an admission, and Bonnie didn’t know how to respond.

But Sheena hadn’t finished. “Ever since he’s returned home, it’s as if a decade has lifted from his face.” She paused then, her grip tightening on her cup. “It gladdens me to see him so happy.”

Bonnie’s throat constricted. “He brings me joy too,” she whispered.

Their gazes met and held, and then Sheena favored her with an expression that looked halfway between a grimace and a smile. “I do believe ye are well matched.”

A knock sounded on the door then. An instant later, it opened, revealing the laird himself.

Bonnie’s belly flip-flopped at the sight of Iver standing there. He was dressed simply in braies and a dirt-stained léine, his blond hair pulled back from his face, yet to her, he’d never looked so handsome.

“Ah,” he greeted them. “There ye both are.” A groove appeared between his eyebrows then as his gaze flicked between his mother and his wife. “Was the trip to the seamstress successful?”

“Aye,” Sheena replied, her expression sobering. “Yer wife spent a small fortune.”

“Aye … my kirtles and surcotes will be ready to pick up next Friday,” Bonnie added. “We also picked up some flounder from Ceann Locha.”

His mouth curved. “I know … Cory just intercepted me on my way in.”

His blue eyes were warm as their gazes fused.

Sheena cleared her throat then, set aside her wine, and rose to her feet. “Maggie will have prepared me a bath,” she announced briskly, “and these old bones could do with a soak. I shall see ye both at supper.”

With a nod at them both, Sheena walked from the ladies' solar, shutting the door behind her.

When she had gone, Bonnie stood up and went to her husband.

He drew her into his arms, his mouth slanting over hers for a long, lingering kiss.

Bonnie sank into his embrace, her hands sliding over his chest. She felt the heat of his skin beneath the thin material of his léine and longed to slide her fingers under it.

Sensing her hunger, Iver’s kiss deepened, and when they finally broke apart, they were both breathless.

“So, it went well today?” he asked huskily, brushing a curl of hair off her cheek.

“My mother wasn’t too caustic?”

Bonnie’s mouth quirked.

“She gives out compliments grudgingly … yet, she’s warming toward me, I believe.”

He grinned down at her.

“Good.”

His hand slid down her cheek, to her jaw and neck, before moving to the neckline of her kirtle, where he brushed his fingertips over her cleavage.

Bonnie’s breathing grew shallow.

His touch never failed to set her alight.

“I know this is one of Ma’s cast-offs,” he murmured.

“But ye are radiant in it, all the same.”

“Ye like this kirtle then?” she asked, breathless now.

His lips curved into a wicked smile, and he slid the dress off her shoulders, pushing it down so that her breasts were exposed to him.

The air feathered against her naked skin, and her nipples hardened.

“Aye.” Iver’s gaze slid down to her breasts before he grazed his knuckles across their swollen tips.

“However, ye are even lovelier out of it.”