The Magnificent Rogue (28 page)

She chuckled as she accepted the book. “Thank you. I will certainly do that.” She lovingly cradled the book as they walked on. “Everyone looks so busy and prosperous.”

“Aye, there’s no hunger on Craighdhu. Robert wouldn’t permit it. He takes care of his own.”

“You said Craighdhu was too land poor to support its people. How does the clan make its living?”

“We trade with the Irish.”

“I know, but is that all?”

“It’s more than enough. All the world wants fine woolen goods. We buy from the Irish and sell to the English and half the countries in Europe. Since Robert’s great-grandfather’s time it’s given us a very generous living.”

She stopped by a shop window where the MacDarren plaid was displayed. “That’s fine cloth. I’ve never seen such fine weaving or truer colors.”

“Irish. All the cloth you’ll see in the shops on Craighdhu will be Irish.”

That answer seemed odd to her. “No cloth is made here?”

“Sometimes the women do a little weaving for their families’ use, but there’s really no need for it. Robert makes sure there’s plenty of cloth available for their needs at cheap prices, and they can’t produce anything like this. The Irish weavers are magnificent, and the quality of the work is superb.”

“I see that,” she said, remembering the beauty of
the quilt Deirdre had tucked around her that first day. “And the wool is from Irish sheep, no doubt.”

“Aye, Craighdhu is too rocky to provide much pastureland for sheep.”

“So we reap the benefit of both fertile Irish land and skillful labor.”

Gavin nodded. “All the world wants fine wool, and we provide it.”

“It’s the Irish who seem to provide. We merely buy and sell.”

Gavin raised his brows. “That seems to upset you.”

“I don’t know why it should.” She made a face. “I suppose I want Craighdhu to be all things.”

“That’s not practical. You must realize—” He broke off as he caught sight of a man coming up the street toward them. “There’s Ian Mactavish. Come, I’ll introduce you.” He led her toward a young man coming down the street. “He’s Jock’s lieutenant, and if you need anything, he’s the one to ask.”

“Deirdre would give you argument there,” she said dryly. “She seems to think she’s the only one with answers.” The dark-haired man approaching appeared only a little older than Gavin, but his air was far from youthful. He moved with a heavy, purposeful stride, and his earnest expression was just as weighty. She had a vague memory of seeing Ian Mactavish among the men who had met them at the dock. “I thought you’d be in charge when Robert wasn’t on the island.”

He shook his head. “I’ve no talent for giving orders. I have a tendency to wander off when I should be applying myself to serious things.”

“And Ian Mactavish does not?”

“Never, he’s a very serious lad. Of course, trailing in Jock’s shadow would tend to make a man sober.” He halted before Mactavish. “Ian, I have the honor to present you to the countess.”

Ian Mactavish bowed. “My lady, an honor indeed. Naturally, I was going to pay a visit to the castle to express
my willingness to serve. If there’s aught I can do for you, you’ve only to send for me.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “You’re very kind, but I’m sure I won’t need your help. Craighdhu seems a very safe and pleasant place.”

“It’s when all seems safe that the danger is greatest.” He bowed gravely again and started up the hill.

“Good heavens, you’re right,” Kate whispered. “I can see why Jock Candaron chose him. He’s terribly sober.”

“And depressing. That’s what comes of being weighed down by responsibility.” Gavin grinned. “While I’m light as a feather.” He half skipped as he pulled her toward a stall a few yards away. “Taffy. Kenneth Cameron makes the best candy in all of Scotland. Come, I’ll get you a piece.”

By the time they returned to the castle, it was almost dark, and Kate was so weary, she could hardly walk. Perhaps it wasn’t weariness but happiness, she thought. She was giddy, drunk with sights and scents and sounds. She felt as if she had met every woman, man, and child in the village and strolled down every twisting street.

“Careful, you’ll fall into the moat,” Gavin said as he watched her weave across the drawbridge. “And you don’t have the excuse I did. You’ve had no heather ale.”

“I feel as if I had. Or, perhaps not—I’ve never had too much liquor before. I’ve never had too much of anything.” She whirled in a circle. “Does it feel as if your head is filled with air and the colors are brighter and—”

“Yes, all of that.” He grabbed her as she wandered too close to the side of the bridge and pulled her back. “And it makes you venture a little too close to danger. Which is why I got thrown into the moat.”

“Then I am drunk. Drunk on Craighdhu.” She ran forward across the courtyard, almost colliding with a stable boy who was exercising a gray mare. What was
his name? Colin. “Good evening, Colin. Isn’t it a splendid night?”

“Aye.” He grinned indulgently as he saw her glowing face. “But you’d best get inside now, my lady. Deirdre has been out here twice looking for you.”

A little of her exhilaration faded as she thought of the housekeeper. She had successfully dismissed Deirdre from her thoughts all day, and she wouldn’t let her destroy her mood now. “Presently. How are Caird and Rachel?”

“In fine fettle,” Colin said. “I’ll exercise them tomorrow, but I thought they could use a bit of rest. The piebald looked a wee bit tired.”

“More than a bit,” Gavin said as he joined them. “He could use a month’s rest, perhaps a year.”

“You can be sure I’ll take good care of him.” Colin nodded politely and turned away. The horse’s hooves echoed on the flagstones as he led the gray across the courtyard toward the stable.

Kate watched him. “Perhaps I should go see Caird.”

Gavin smiled knowingly. “You can’t avoid facing Deirdre much longer unless you’d care to sleep in the stable.”

“It would do no good. She’d come and get me, brush me off and scour me like she does everything in the castle.” She turned and started toward the steps leading to the front door. “I’ll guess it’s time I went in to face her.”

“And it’s time I bid you good evening,” Gavin said.

“Coward.”

He looked hurt. “I merely remembered having pressing business with Ian.”

“And you’re also a liar.” She opened the door. “I expect you here tomorrow morning to rescue me.”

“Two mornings in a row?” he asked dubiously. “She won’t be pleased.”

“And I won’t be pleased if you desert me. I haven’t
visited the docks yet.” She gave him a stern glance. “Be here.”

She didn’t wait for an answer but swung the heavy door shut.

“Oh, you’ve come back.” Deirdre came brusquely forward. “You’re a bit tousled. Run up to your chamber and put yourself in order while I tell them you’re ready to be served supper.”

Kate’s hand instinctively went to tidy her hair.

“No, that won’t do. Go up to your chamber. I’ll send a maid to help you.” She started to turn away.

“No,” Kate said suddenly.

Deirdre turned back to look at her. “My lady?”

Kate had not known the rejection was coming until she had spoken. Yet now she knew she could not retreat from the confrontation. “I said no. I don’t wish to go tidy myself. I’m going to bathe and go to bed. You may send up a tub and water.”

“After your supper.”

“I don’t wish to have any supper. I’m not hungry.” She started up the stairs. “I ate while I was in the village.”

“Sausage, fruit tarts, and candy, I’d wager,” Deirdre said with a frown. “You’ll probably be ill. You’d have done better to have waited to eat properly.”

Kate realized she was already feeling a bit queasy. Merciful heavens, why must the woman always be right? She continued up the stairs. “I enjoyed it. I intend to have exactly the same food tomorrow when I go back.”

“Not tomorrow. Tomorrow is our day for making candles. You must be there to learn how to supervise the—”

Kate stopped and turned around. “No.”

“The candles are needed. We use a good many here,” Deirdre persisted. “It’s necessary we—”

“I don’t care.” She drew a deep breath and said with clear precision, “I’m going back to the village tomorrow
with Gavin. You will not tell me what I will or will not do. I will make the decisions. Do you understand?”

Deirdre gazed at her impassively. “I’m not stupid. Of course I understand.” She turned and walked away.

Kate stared after her in a muddle of frustration, exasperation, and guilt. She wished the woman had stayed, so she could have argued, vindicated herself. It was maddening to fight against a woman who was doing only what was best for her and Craighdhu.

She turned and ran up the steps. She had been right. She had done the only thing possible to establish her independence and position in the castle. If she had not acted to prevent it, she might be as much a prisoner here as she had been with Sebastian.

Yet, if that was true, why did she keep remembering that moment of softness on Deirdre’s face that first day as she had tucked the coverlet around her? It must be that Deirdre was not an enemy as Sebastian had been, and Kate was not accustomed to challenging opponents who were not enemies.

No, that was not true. Robert was not an enemy, and there had been conflict between them from their first meeting.

She must not think of Robert. She had done very well. She had been aware of thinking of him only a few times today, and tomorrow would be better.

She was lying to herself. She had not been aware of thinking about him because he had been there before her all day. Everything she had seen had been Robert’s world, and every step, every word, every person she had met, had led her deeper into the intimate byways of his life. He had been as much a living presence as if he had led her through those streets instead of Gavin.

Fierce rejection surged through her. She didn’t want to remember that this was Robert’s Craighdhu. For this short time she wanted it to be hers alone. She wanted to
make
it hers.

She frowned at the sheer selfishness of the thought. Was it this meanness of spirit that had driven her to be so resentful and impatient with Deirdre? It was possible, and she did not like the petty vision of herself it reflected.

She knocked firmly on the door of Deirdre’s chamber.

No answer.

Surely she must be in her chamber at this hour. Everyone in the castle had retired for the night, and even Deirdre did not work this late. Kate didn’t think she could have the wrong room. The housekeeper’s room had been omitted from the inspection of the servants’ quarters, but Deirdre had carelessly indicated it in passing.

She knocked again. “Deirdre, may I come in? I need to speak to you.”

“Come.”

Kate opened the door and was immediately struck by a brilliant blast of light. Besides the fire burning in the stone fireplace across the chamber, dozens of candles in tall candlesticks gave the room an almost daylight brightness.

“Is something wrong?”

Kate’s gaze shifted to the opposite side of the room. Deirdre sat at a bench before the largest loom Kate had ever seen, enclosed in the structure of beams and thread like a spider caught in a web. The massive structure made her appear smaller, more vulnerable, in comparison. Her dark hair hung loose on her shoulders, and she was clothed in a white linen nightshift and dark blue wool robe, the informal attire lending her a less formidable air.

“No, nothing is wrong,” Kate said as she came into the room. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“I didn’t hear you. This pattern is difficult, and I have to give it my full attention.” Deirdre gave her a quick glance over her shoulder, her appraisal taking in
Kate’s nightgown and robe. “Have you changed your mind about supper? Are you hungry?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep. I wish to speak to you.”

“Shut the door. I’ll be with you in a moment.” Her gaze flew back to the shuttle of the loom. “You might as well sit down.”

Kate moved to the stool beside the fire, sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees, all the time watching the quick, facile movements of Deirdre’s skilled fingers. She had never seen anyone so adept at the art of weaving. The cloth on the loom was large and white and must be a blanket. The design was a beautiful barbed purple flower of some kind, and it was growing, coming alive beneath Kate’s gaze.

She looked curiously around the chamber. The furniture was sparse, without embellishment, but there were touches of beauty in the purple coverlet lying on the bed, the sparkling white linen curtains at the window.

“What do you wish of me?”

Kate’s glance moved back to Deirdre. The housekeeper’s fingers were still moving on the loom as she stared levelly at Kate.

“I felt we should talk.”

Deirdre smiled grimly. “You felt guilty for speaking sharply to me. The soft ones always do.”

“I didn’t feel … Well, perhaps I did, but I shouldn’t have.”

“But the soft ones always do. They bite and then try to lick it better.”

Kate suddenly chuckled. “That sounds disgusting.”

“I believe in truth, not sweetness.” She looked down at the pattern. “You didn’t have to come here. I’m used to being snapped at.”

“Perhaps it wouldn’t happen if you wouldn’t provoke it. People don’t like to be constantly told what to do.”

“It’s my nature,” Deirdre said. “I’ve always done
things better than others, and I cannot bear to see them struggle when they’d improve so much if they’d only do as I tell them.”

“It could be they want to do it their own way even though it’s not as good.”

“Do you think that thought has not occurred to me? But it makes no sense, so I ignore it.” She looked back at the work on the loom and asked in a low voice, “Do you wish me to leave Craighdhu?”

Kate was silent a moment, hesitating. Her life might be easier if Deirdre weren’t here, but she was not sure she wanted life easier if it meant robbing this woman of her place at Craighdhu. “Why should I send you away? It’s unreasonable to dismiss someone because they’re too clever and work too hard.”

“Are you having trouble finding excuses? I’m annoying. Everyone knows that to be true.” The shuttle flew faster. “And I’m very disrespectful.”