To Marry A Scottish Laird (14 page)

Joan nodded solemnly. It wasn’t as if she had much choice. She was married now. Her only option besides trying to run was to try to make it work. She would do that first. She could always run later if she had to.

“Good.” Annabel smiled at her widely. “Then why do you not take your food and drink upstairs. I shall go speak to the girls and send them to start your lessons while I speak to Lady Sinclair about a lady’s maid for you.”

Nodding, Joan gathered the tankard and food the maid had brought to her, then turned and hurried upstairs with them. Once she reached the door to Cam’s room, though, she paused, frowning at the items in her hands.

“Let me help.”

Joan glanced around quickly, eyes widening as a petite redhead rushed toward her from the stairwell. It was one of the women Lady Sinclair had brought here for Cam to consider.

The young woman smiled at her as she reached her side. “Yer hands are a bit full.”

“Aye, I slept late and . . .” Joan shrugged helplessly, terribly self-conscious now about her clothing and hair. She bit her lip briefly, and then blurted, “I should have fixed my hair and gown ere I went below, but I—”

“But ye lost everything in the attack by the bandits I imagine,” she guessed with a little frown, but then patted her arm and added brightly, “But ’twill be all right. I’m sure Lady Sinclair will arrange a maid fer ye, and perhaps I and the other girls could help sew ye new gowns,” she offered. “If all of us work on it, we should be able to get at least a couple done ere we leave Sinclair.”

Joan’s eyes widened with surprise at the kind suggestion. “Thank you—”

“Garia,” the girl said when she paused uncertainly. “Me name is Garia MacCormick.”

“Well, I thank you, Garia,” she said quietly. “I appreciate your kindness.”

Garia shrugged. “You have been through much losing your soldiers and servants and all your clothes to the bandits. If I can make things a little easier fer ye, I’m happy to.” Turning then, she opened the door for her and pushed it wide. “Now, why do you not go and break yer fast. I’ll go talk to the girls about sewing some gowns.”

“Thank you,” Joan murmured again as she slipped past her into the room. “I really do appreciate it, especially since you came here in the hopes of marrying Cam and I rather ruined that for everyone.”

“ ’Tis me pleasure.” Garia assured her and then grinned. “I never expected to win Cam anyway with all these lovely ladies to compete with. At least this way, I will have made a friend, and friends are oftentimes more valuable than gold, do ye no’ think?”

“Aye, I do,” Joan said solemnly.

Garia nodded. “I’ll come back later and let ye ken what the other girls said,” she promised, then pulled the door closed, leaving Joan alone.

C
AM
GLANCED AROUND THE G
REAT HALL AS HE
hurried inside, but other than servants going about their business, the room was empty. He’d expected as much, however, and continued to the stairs and up to the solar, expecting Joan to be there with the other ladies.

Women’s voices raised in argument made him slow as he approached, though, and he paused in the hall just out of view to listen when he heard his name and Joan’s mentioned.

“Why the devil would we help sew gowns for the little peasant Campbell has brought home? ’Twill no’ benefit us.”

Cam didn’t need to see who was speaking to know it was Finola MacFarland. The widow had expected to inherit her very old husband’s wealth and castle on his death, but he’d willed it all to his brother’s son instead. Just to add insult to injury, the MacFarland had requested his will be read before all on his death and in it had listed her many infidelities during their marriage as the reason why his nephew gained all and she received nothing. She’d been a selfish, careless wench before that, but had become a bitter, coldhearted bitch since. Her attitude now surprised him not at all.

“The poor girl lost everything on the journey north thanks to those bandits,” someone argued earnestly, and Cam shifted closer to peer around the door and into the room to see that only the prospective brides were present and the speaker was a petite redhead he didn’t know. “Besides, ’tis no’ as if we have anything better to do. ’Twould help pass the time until our families send traveling parties for us and ’twould help her at the same time. She seems nice and really needs our help.”

“Do no’ be a fool, Garia,” Finola snapped with disgust. “O’ course she’s nice. She’s a peasant being allowed to sit at the nobles’ table. She’s so grateful she’d probably lick yer boots. But mark me words, she’ll no’ last long. She does no’ e’en ken enough not to sit at the low table. Campbell’ll tire o’ her quickly and toss her aside.”

“They are married, Finola,” Garia said quietly. “He can no’ set her aside.”

“Aye, he can,” Finola said sounding triumphant. “Her father was a common stable master, her mother a murderer and thief. All he has to do is claim he kenned none of that and the wedding can be set aside.”

Cam stiffened and scowled at the woman’s words, wondering how she’d learned about Joan’s mother and father. But then, the tale had been a subject of gossip at the time and told by the hearth for many years afterward. He had known about Annabel’s sister, after all, so why shouldn’t Finola? Actually, many knew the story and he had no doubt the gossipmongers would stir the story back to life now that Joan had made an appearance and married him. He would have to see to it that she did not hear and was not hurt by it though.

“I’m sure Cam would not set her aside,” Garia said earnestly. “They love each other. Ye can see it in the way they look at each other.”

Cam blinked at that. Was Garia seeing love between them? Was there love between them? He wasn’t sure about his own feelings. He knew he hadn’t wanted to lose her at the end of their journey, that he’d wanted what they had to continue. But Joan hadn’t, and yet Ross MacKay had said that his wife thought Joan loved him.

“Love!” Finola spat the word as if it tasted bitter in her mouth. “What could he possibly love about her? She’s a commoner. No education, no skills and with precious little to talk to him about, I’m sure.”

Actually, they’d talked often and long during their journey here, Cam thought. Joan might not have been educated in the way a noblewoman would have been, but she was intelligent just the same, and while he had thought her a boy when they’d first chatted by the fire at night, their talks had continued after he’d learned she was a woman. It was how they’d passed the time while traveling, and by the fire at night while recovering in each other’s arms, and as they’d broken their fast in the mornings. They’d talked quite a bit.

“Nay. What yer seeing in their eyes is lust, and that ne’er lasts long. He’ll tire o’ her quickly, and then he will set her aside,” Finola said with certainty. “All I have to do is bide me time and wait for that day.”

“Well, ye can bide yer time all ye want,” Garia said quietly. “Howbeit I am going to sew.”

“Aye, but then ye would, ye’re a fool,” Finola said dryly.

Cam turned on his heel and moved silently away, unwilling to listen to any more of the woman’s venom. Sadly, there was little he could do to keep her from espousing her nonsense. He could have made his presence known and silenced her for now, but the moment he’d left, she’d no doubt have started back in. The best thing to do was ignore it and hope her people arrived quickly to take her away. Although, frankly, it might be worth it to arrange for half a dozen Sinclair soldiers to escort her home now, he thought, and then glanced over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps pattering quickly up the hall behind him. Cam hesitated, but then paused when he recognized Garia.

“Oh, m’laird.” She smiled at him uncertainly, her footsteps slowing as she reached him. “If ye’re looking fer Lady Joan, she’s in yer room with her aunt and cousins. I was jest heading that way meself to tell her the good news.”

“Good news?” he queried.

“Aye, I talked to the other ladies, and all but one want to help and start on some gowns fer her while we’re here,” she said, beaming happily.

Cam didn’t have to ask who the one unwilling to help was. “Thank ye, Garia. Fer championing me wife and convincing the women to help like this. I do appreciate it.”

“Oh, ’tis nothing, m’laird. I’m happy to help Joan. She seems lovely, and I’m happy the two o’ ye found each other,” she assured him with a smile. “Now I should go tell her the good news and take her measurements so we can get started.”

“Oh, aye, o’ course,” Cam murmured, a small frown pulling at his lips.

“Is something amiss, m’laird?” Garia asked uncertainly.

“Nay, nay,” he muttered and then forced a smile. “I was just going to take Joan out and teach her to—” He paused abruptly. He’d planned to use the excuse of teaching her to ride to get Joan away from the keep and get her alone for some houghmagandie. But he didn’t want to mention teaching Joan to ride to Garia. She would wonder why a noblewoman had to be taught to ride. Shaking his head, he urged her to continue walking and said instead, “I was just going to suggest a ride to her. But it can wait. Measuring her for the gowns is more important.”

“Oh,” Garia said with a small frown as they continued down the hall. “Are ye certain? We could always wait to start and—”

“Nay,” Cam interrupted quickly. “She’s in desperate need o’ gowns. I can take her fer a ride anytime.”

“All right,” Garia murmured as they stopped at the door. “If ye’re sure?”

“Aye,” he said and raised a hand to knock at the door for her only to have it open before he could.

“Oh!” The maid who had opened the door smiled nervously from him to Garia. “I was jest tidying the room while ’tis empty.”

“Empty?” Cam asked, glancing past her to see that the room was indeed empty. “Where is me wife?”

“She went down to the bailey with her aunt and cousins. I believe they were going to practice their archery,” the maid said.

Practice archery? Cam suspected Joan had never even seen a bow before, but merely nodded. “Thank ye.”

When the maid nodded and slid past them to head downstairs, he turned to Garia and smiled. “Why do ye no’ go on back to the solar? I shall find Joan and send her in to you ladies.”

Nodding, Garia turned and hurried away. Cam watched until she slipped back into the solar, and then headed downstairs, wondering where the ladies might have gone for this practice. He doubted it would be in the practice area with the men. In fact, he suspected it would be somewhere no one was likely to see them and realize Joan didn’t know an arrowhead from the fletching.

Chapter 12

“
N
O
W, AIM FER THE TARGE
T, BREATHE OUT
and release,” Lady Annabel instructed.

Nodding, Joan squinted at the target, took in a deep breath, released it and let loose the arrow. She then sagged with disappointment as it sputtered and fell to the ground just feet in front of her.

“ ’Tis all right,” her aunt said and patted her shoulder. “You just need to pull further back on the bow. Come try again.”

Sighing, Joan notched another arrow, took a deep breath, pulled the arrow back and let it loose even as she released her breath. This time she did much better. The arrow flew high and far. It didn’t hit the target, however, instead landing in the dirt ten feet to the right of the target and just inches from her approaching husband’s feet.

“Oh dear,” she and Annabel breathed together as he stopped short and stared down at the arrow.

Joan lowered the bow and bit her lip as she watched Cam pick up the arrow and continue toward them. “I’m sorry, husband. I—”

“ ’Tis me own fault,” he interrupted. “I ken better than to approach a target from behind. I just did no’ ken ye’d set up a target here in the back courtyard to practice with,” he said wryly. “I should ha’e. The maid said ye’d gone out to practice archery after all, but that was over an hour ago—”

“Ye’ve been looking for us for an hour?” Kenna asked with wide eyes.

“Aye. This was the very last place I thought to look,” he admitted. “And when I did no’ find ye in the practice field I thought perhaps ye’d changed yer mind about the archery, but I should ha’e approached more carefully anyway.”

“We thought it better to teach her away from the others,” Lady Annabel said quietly. “And no one comes back here but for the servants.”

“Ye’re right, o’ course,” he murmured.”

“Not that it matters,” Joan said with a sigh. “We have been out here for over an hour and I’ve yet to hit the target even once.”

“But you are getting better with each shot,” her aunt said encouragingly. “With enough practice you will do well.”

“I’m afraid practice’ll have to wait fer now,” Cam said with a faint smile. “Garia has talked the ladies into helping to sew ye new gowns and they need ye in the solar to take yer measure.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Annella cried, jumping up from where she and Kenna had been sitting, sewing as their mother tried to teach Joan to shoot straight. “We can get gowns done much more quickly with their aid.”

“It is wonderful news,” Lady Annabel agreed, smiling faintly. “And we have practiced enough at archery today. Let’s go in and let the ladies have your measure, then we will switch to music or dance I think.”

Joan managed not to grimace at the suggestion. While she liked Garia, she wasn’t eager to meet the other women, especially Finola. She also wasn’t eager to move on to training in music or dance. Joan had never had much time for such pursuits while growing up. She’d always been trailing her mother around, learning her skills, so knew darned right well she would be as bad at those pastimes as she was with the bow and arrow. In truth, all today’s lessons had taught her so far was that she was indeed a peasant, a peasant playing at being a lady.

“
A
RE YE DONE?”

Joan glanced to Cam with surprise and then back to her empty trencher. She’d been considering having a bit more pheasant, but supposed she could do without it. She didn’t need to gain weight and not fit in the gowns the ladies were planning for her. The thought made her smile faintly. Garia, as it turned out, was not the only one of the ladies who were nice. Several of them were. Of course, a couple weren’t too. Finola wasn’t the only one with a less than pleasant personality, but Joan had mostly enjoyed her time with the women that afternoon before her aunt pulled her away to start dancing lessons.

That thought made Joan’s smile die as quickly as it had grown. She was no better at dancing than archery. Truly, she had stomped on her cousin’s toes so many times she would not be surprised did they not refuse to help with those lessons in future. Joan didn’t mind if they did. She had not enjoyed the lessons. She’d felt awkward and clumsy and the whole ordeal had left her hot and sweaty and miserable.

“Joan?” Cam prodded with a small frown.

Forcing a smile, she nodded and opened her mouth to say aye, she was done, but snapped it closed and glanced around as Lady Sinclair called her name.

“If ye’re done eating, dear, I would ha’e a word with ye.”

Joan’s eyes widened and she glanced to Cam uncertainly.

“Go ahead,” he said with a sigh. “I can wait.”

Nodding, Joan stood and walked along the table to her mother-in-law as the woman got to her feet.

“Lady Annabel and I had a chat this afternoon,” Lady Sinclair said, slipping her arm around Joan to usher her to the stairs. “And she reminded me that ye’re in need o’ a lady’s maid. So I asked one o’ the maids to wait fer us in Cam’s room so ye can see if ye think she’ll do.”

“Oh,” Joan murmured blankly.

“The girl has ne’er held a position as lady’s maid as her main position, but she has acted as one in the past when we’ve had guests without their own in accompaniment. They ha’e said she was surprisingly good. And o’ course, me maid, Edith, and Lady Annabel’s maid too, shall help train her if ye think she’ll do after ye’ve spoken to her.”

“Thank you,” Joan murmured. “ ’Tis very kind.”

“Not at all, dear,” Lady Sinclair said. “I am just sorry I do no’ ha’e a fully trained lady’s maid to offer ye.”

“ ’Tis fine,” Joan said quietly, and it truly was as far as she was concerned. What was more fitting than for her to have a maid in training? After all, she was a lady in training.

Joan was still smiling over that thought when they reached the bedchamber she was presently sharing with her aunt and cousins. As Lady Sinclair had promised, a maid waited there for them, and Joan’s eyes widened as she recognized her. It was the young pale woman named Jinny that the cook had ordered to bring her food to break her fast with that morning.

“I shall just wander down to the solar to wait while ye confer with her,” Lady Sinclair announced. “Ye can find me there when ye’re done and let me know if she’ll do or no’.”

“Thank you,” Joan murmured as her mother-in-law pulled the door closed. Turning back to the maid then, Joan managed a smile, hesitated and then gestured to the chairs by the fire. “Let’s sit, shall we?”

The maid nodded, but waited for her to lead the way. Once seated, they peered at each other silently, the maid waiting expectantly, and Joan wondering what the devil she was supposed to do now. Finally, she cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like to work for me?”

“Oh, aye, m’lady,” Jinny answered eagerly.

“You would?” Joan asked, vaguely surprised at her enthusiasm. “Why?”

“Why?” Jinny seemed equally surprised at the question. “Every maid in the castle would love to be yer lady’s maid, m’lady. ’Tis a prime position. I’d answer only to ye. I’d ne’er ha’e to work in those hot kitchens again, and cook wouldn’t dare pinch me bottom were I yer lady’s maid and not just one o’ the kitchen girls.”

“The cook pinches your bottom?” Joan asked, frowning.

“Aye. And worse. He’s a nasty, randy old—” She stopped abruptly and covered her mouth, eyes wide with alarm. After a moment she lowered her hand and whispered, “Oh, pray ferget I said that, m’lady. Cook is fine. I just would prefer working fer ye to working in the hot kitchens is all. Truly.”

Joan eyed her solemnly, and then heaved a sigh. She had no idea what else she should ask her. The girl wanted to work for her, so her taking her on as lady’s maid wouldn’t be taking her from a job she preferred. That was really the only thing that mattered to her. Or it had been. Now that she knew she’d be helping the girl escape the Sinclair cook’s lascivious attentions . . . well, that was good too. She never could stand bullies and people who abused the power they had.

“Very well,” Joan said, getting to her feet. “You’re my new lady’s maid.”

Jinny blinked and stood up. “I am?”

“Aye.”

“Oh.” Rather than look pleased, Jinny looked troubled at this news.

“Is there something wrong?” Joan asked with a frown.

“Nay, nay, I just . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “I expected more questions I guess.”

“What kind of questions?” Joan asked curiously, wondering herself what she should have asked.

“I do no’ ken,” the girl admitted wryly. “Just more.”

Joan nodded. “Well, if I think of any more questions, I’ll ask them as we go along. All right?”

Jinny nodded quickly. “Aye, m’lady.”

“Good.” Joan headed for the door.

“Excuse me, m’lady.”

Pausing, she turned back in question.

“Do I return to the kitchens to help with cleanup, or . . .” She glanced around uncertainly, obviously not sure what she would do here.

Joan frowned at the question and then asked, “Where is Lady Annabel’s maid?”

“She was here when I arrived, but when I explained Lady Sinclair sent me, she said she would go take some air and give us the room to ourselves.”

That didn’t surprise her. Annabel’s maid was very good at judging when she was needed and at making herself scarce when she wasn’t.

“Well then, nay, you’re not to return to the kitchens. Just wait here for her to return and take your lead from her on what you’re supposed to do,” Joan suggested.

Jinny nodded, obviously relieved not to be sent back to the kitchens, but stopped her again as she turned back to the door. “M’lady?”

“Aye?” Joan asked, turning back once more.

The maid hesitated, wringing her hands as she did, then pleaded, “Pray, do no’ tell cook what I said. He has a bit o’ a temper and he’s really no’ so bad. ’Tis just his way, and at least he does no’ beat us.”

Joan swallowed the anger rising in her throat, and nodded solemnly. “I’ll not repeat what you said.”

“Oh, thank ye, m’lady.” Jinny beamed at her with relief.

Managing a smile, Joan slipped from the room and made her way down to the solar to talk to Lady Sinclair.

“There ye are,” Lady Sinclair said when Joan entered the room, setting aside the deep red material she’d been examining. “I was just looking to see how far the girls have got with your gowns. They’re moving along rather quickly. A good thing too. I expect three or four will be leaving us tomorrow, and another three the day after. A couple will be here longer, but most will be gone within the next three days and we’ll have to finish on our own.” She stood up and smiled expectantly. “Well? Will Jinny do?”

“Aye,” Joan said and smiled. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Not at all, dear.” Lady Sinclair moved forward and slid her arm around her waist to urge her toward the door. “Ye have to have a lady’s maid. ’Sides, I should be thankin’ you. I was beginning to fear I would never see grandbabies from me son. Now I ha’e that hope alive within me again.”

“Oh,” Joan breathed, guilt immediately rising up within her. She was still afraid of the birthing bed, and knew Cam had no desire to risk losing another wife there, so had continued to use the wild carrot despite the wedding. Which meant Lady Sinclair was going to be very disappointed when no children were produced by the union.

C
AM SLOWED AS HE
NEARED HIS ROOM,
eyes widening with dismay as he heard the caterwauling coming from inside. It was mid-morning, the nooning meal would not be for a couple of hours yet, and he’d hoped perhaps his wife could take some time from her lessons for a little break with him. The sounds coming from his room, however, suggested she was in dire need of those lessons.

“Nay, nay, stop dear,” Lady Annabel’s voice sounded, bringing an end to the off-tune shrieking taking place in the room. “Listen to Kenna again.”

Cam smiled faintly as Kenna began to sing. The girl had the voice of an angel, he thought, as she began to sing a slow sweet song about a maid’s love for a brave warrior. It was a well-known song, but Cam only recognized it now. Joan’s version had been decidedly unrecognizable.

“There,” Lady Annabel said with satisfaction when Kenna’s voice died away. “Now you try, dear. But try to sing from here, from your chest rather than through your nose.”

The caterwauling started up again, this time in a tone a little lower than the nasally sound that had come out before, but it was still an off-tune caterwauling that made Cam wince. Singing, it seemed, was not Joan’s forte, he thought, but then he didn’t mind. He wasn’t much of a singer himself, he thought, and raised his hand to knock—

“There ye are.”

Cam paused without knocking and glanced to the side at that comment to see Aiden moving toward him from the stairs. Turning away from the door, he walked forward to meet him. “What’s about?”

“Da wants to talk to ye,” Aiden announced.

“Oh.” Cam glanced back toward the door to his room, and then sighed. “Where is he?”

“Down at the stables having two horses saddled up fer the two o’ ye,” Aiden answered absently, his gaze shifting past him to the bedroom door as Joan’s attempted singing continued.

Nodding, Cam moved past him toward the stairs, but paused at the top step to glance back. Aiden was staring at the bedroom door with a sort of horror. “Are ye coming?”

“Oh, aye,” Aiden turned and moved toward him, but glanced back over his shoulder as he came and muttered, “What the devil are they doing in there? Skinning a cat?”

Cam just shook his head and started down the stairs. Joan wasn’t that bad. She was bad enough though, he acknowledged and decided it was good he didn’t care if she could sing or not.

“
N
AY, DEAR.
S
TOP,”
L
ADY
A
NNABEL SAID,
her smile a little forced now.

Joan stopped singing at once, and was relieved to do so. Sighing, she shook her head. “ ’Tis useless. I can’t sing.”

“That’s not true,” her aunt said at once. “You have a lovely voice, you just need to learn not to put so much energy into your singing,” she added almost apologetically. “You are bellowing rather than singing, dear, and it makes it difficult for you to carry the tune.”