Chapter 2
Chapter Two
S o, it was done.
Margaret was married to Aiden Randall. All of her worldly possessions had been carefully packed into chests and satchels and attached to pack horses. But, for the life of her, she didn’t know who had seen to that task. Most likely, ’twas her former enemy, Onnleigh.
Somehow, in the past day, their previous contentious relationship had suddenly transformed. Onnleigh had forgiven her all her sins. How that remarkable change came about, she couldn’t rightly say. Mayhap it had something to do with the fact that Margaret had defied her insane mother and refused to kill Onnleigh’s wee bairn. In fact, she had risked her own life in order to save the infant’s. She simply could not abandon the babe in the fairy tree, as her spiteful mother had ordered her to do. No babe deserved to be killed, no matter any alleged transgressions of their parents.
The only one to bid her any semblance of a fond farewell was Onnleigh. She even hugged her in front of God and everyone.
After everything that Margaret had done to her—spreading vicious rumors, hiding her clothes, and being downright despicable towards her—the young woman had forgiven her. ’Twas an act of kindness that Margaret simply couldn’t understand.
“Ye saved my babe, Margaret, and my life as well. For that, I will owe ye a lifetime of gratitude.”
A lifetime of gratitude.
Nay, Margaret simply couldn’t comprehend it. To her core, she didn’t believe she deserved any kind of forgiveness, let alone gratitude.
After the short goodbye, where Onnleigh spoke and Margaret simply listened, she was taken to the courtyard to the awaiting Aiden Randall and his men. A dozen warriors, each one seemed more intimidating than the next. Dressed from head to toe in thick furs from varying animals and armed to the teeth. Had she not just been married into their clan, she might have been terrified of them. Mayhap she should have been, but she was far too exhausted to give any further thought to their forbidding appearance.
Soon, one of Aiden’s men was at her side and speaking to her. “My lady,” he whispered softly. She wondered how such an imposing man could speak so softly. Without uttering another word, he lifted her by her waist. She sucked in a deep breath, stifling a gasp, and the warrior gently placed her on the mount, directly behind Aiden.
“Hang on, lass,” Aiden said, speaking over his shoulder.
Holding on to him was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, she squeezed her legs against the side of the horse and sat ramrod straight. Aiden let out a frustrated sigh but otherwise ignored her act of defiance.
Not another word was said betwixt the newly married couple. Aiden tapped the flanks of his horse. and they were soon heading out of the gates of the only home she had ever known.
’Twas a cold, damp, breezy day, and the breeze grew as the morning went on. By noonin’ time, ’twas a full wind that sent snow swirling all around them. Even with the hood of her fur-lined cloak draped over her head, the air and snow still managed to find their way in. Before long, her face felt numb and frozen, much like her heart and soul.
Refusing to get too close to Aiden, she sat as straight as a rail, doing her best to keep her body from touching his. Although she was exhausted after having not slept for more than a few minutes in the past days, she couldn’t bring herself to cling to him for warmth or for safety. Instead, she pressed her thighs against the gray speckled horse and held on for dear life.
Later, she would barely remember riding past the ancient wishing well or through the snowy glen just beyond it. She was far too busy trying to find a way out of her current predicament. What if she told Aiden she had some terrible contagious disease that would cause him to lose all his hair or limbs? Or she could lie and say she had taken a vow of celibacy in order to become a nun. Nay, neither of those lies would be convincing. And it was certainly too much to ask God to throw her from the horse. With her luck, she’d not die but simply be paralyzed for the rest of her life.
Mayhap if she simply explained to the man her reasons, he might just agree to have the marriage annulled forthwith.
After some time, her thighs began to ache relentlessly. She simply could not touch him.
Aiden Randall.
How had it come to this?
There was a large part of her that was mightily grateful that she hadn’t been married off to Connor, as her mother had wished and plotted for. Aye, Connor was a good man, easy to look upon, and had a strong sense of duty and honor. But he was her brother-by-law. Even though her sister Mairi had passed away years ago, Margaret couldn’t look at him in any other way than as a brother.
It had been her mother’s plan, since the day her sister died, that Margaret would take her place. Margaret wanted no part of it.
But to argue with her mum, especially when the cold-hearted woman had her mind made up, was nigh on impossible. To argue meant a beating and threats of letting the clan know her secret.
’Twas how her mother lived her life: pretending to be a friend to someone only long enough to learn whatever secrets that person might have. And if they by chance had no secrets, Helen would simply make them up. Anything that could be used to get a person to do whatever she wished, she would use.
Helen MacCallen had no boundaries. There wasn’t a line she would not cross in order to get what she wanted.
And Margaret hated her for it.
Lost in her own misery, Margaret paid no attention to her surroundings.
Mayhap I should simply fall from this horse and pray that God will see to it that I break my neck.
Nay, she wasn’t so lucky as to have that happen. God was seeing to it that she was punished for every wrong deed she ever committed.
And she deserved nothing less.
“Lass, ye need to hang on,” Aiden told her, breaking through her quiet reverie.
His deep, warm voice startled her to the point that she nearly jumped from her own skin, causing a cramp in her thigh that made her cry out. A moment later, she found herself falling from the horse and into a mound of wet snow.
“Bloody hell!”
Aiden and his men had pulled to a complete stop. He was off his horse and kneeling beside Margaret inside a few rapid heartbeats.
“Lass! Are ye all right?” he exclaimed as he began to check her head for injuries.
Margaret was in agony, the cramp unbearably painful. The wind had been knocked from her lungs, leaving her unable to speak. Tears fell from her eyes as she made grand attempts to reach out for her thigh to rub the pain away. She couldn’t.
Men whose names she didn’t know were soon kneeling beside her. They were all speaking at once, adding to her discomfort.
“She’s had the wind knocked out of her,” one man said.
“Is her neck broke?” asked another.
“She is cryin’,” one of them noted. “She broke her back, for certain.”
On and on they rambled, each making assumptions that were nowhere near the truth.
Finally, she was able to take in a ragged breath. She held on to it, wishing for all the world that these men would simply leave her here to die.
“Lads!” Aiden bit out angrily. “Ye are nae helping.”
The men immediately stopped and apologized.
With great care, Aiden lifted her head ever so slightly. “Let the air out, lass. And try to breathe normally.”
She didn’t want to let it out. She didn’t want his help or his concern. But nature took hold, and the air escaped her lungs with a loud whoosh .
“Breathe, lass,” he said with warmth and kindness—two things she certainly wasn’t used to nor, did she want.
After a few steady breaths, she tried once again to reach for her thigh. The muscles continued to knot, the pain intensifying to near unbearable measures.
Aiden must have understood what was happening. In an instant, he was lifting her to her feet. “Peter! Gregor!” he called out to the closest men. “Hold her up.”
Each man took an arm and held her upright. As soon as they had a good hold on her, Aiden bent down and asked, “Which leg?”
Wincing, she said, “The left.”
He immediately went about massaging and kneading the knot from her thigh.
Margaret could feel heat rising from her throat, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She’d never kissed a man, let alone had one touching her. On her bare skin!
“Put yer weight on it, lass,” he said as he dug his fingers into her flesh.
Long moments passed before the pain begin to ease. Much relieved, she was soon able to put all of her weight onto both legs. Shrugging away from the two men, Peter and Gregor, she began to walk around, albeit quite slowly and with a barely noticeable limp.
Although the cramp was now gone, the tender flesh of her thigh remained sore, undoubtedly bruised by Aiden’s fingers.
“Are ye well now?” Aiden asked.
Margaret nodded, not wishing to actually speak to him, or anyone else for that matter. ‘Twasn’t until that very moment that she noticed just how handsome he truly was. Dark, curly locks and dark-brown eyes that were currently filled with a level of concern she wasn’t accustomed to seeing from anyone, especially when it came to her. A square jaw stubbled with dark whiskers. But 'twas his lips that drew her attention the most, especially when they turned from a hard line into a smile.
A smile filled with so much warmth that her heart skipped a beat or two. Her heart’s reaction shook her to her marrow. And she didn’t like it one bit.
“Laird, I dinnae think she is used to ridin’,” one of the warriors said. 'Twas impossible to turn her attention away from Aiden, so she didn't see who had said it.
’Twas nothing short of the truth, but it angered her that he would point out the obvious. The last thing she wanted was to appear weak. Not to Aiden or his men or anyone else.
She could hear her mother’s voice as clearly as if she were standing right next to her. If they think ye are weak, they will never respect ye. Pulling her shoulders back, she lifted her chin to signify she was fine.
Aiden glanced at the young man who had just commented about her riding abilities. ’Twas a look that warned him to keep his thoughts to himself.
As soon as he turned his attention back to Margaret, that warm smile returned. “Lass, we must be on our way.”
She swallowed hard, lifted her chin and stood taller. Nay, I will not allow any of them to think me weak.
“Mount up,” he ordered his men without taking his gaze from Margaret. Slowly, he leaned closer so that only she could hear him. “Lass, I ken ye were nae prepared to be wed this day. I ken ye dinnae know me from Adam. But I ask that ye trust me, aye? I will nae hurt ye.”
Oh, she wanted to believe him. Truly, she did. Deep down, perhaps she did. However, she wanted to tell him never to trust her.
“Do ye remember how rough the terrain is?” he asked thoughtfully.
Aye, she did, as ’twas only last night that she had reached the Randall keep in search of Connor. So much had happened since then. Onnleigh had come within an inch of being murdered, Margaret had saved Nola from the fairy tree, and now…
She nodded her reply, which made him smile all the more. “Good,” he said with a nod. “Then ye ken that ye will have to hold on to me. The terrain is far too dangerous for ye not to.” He looked deep into her eyes as if he were searching for understanding. “And I dinnae have a horse for ye to ride on yer own.”
It would nae matter if ye did. I dinnae ken how to ride.
“So will ye please hang on to me?” he asked with a most hopeful expression.
What could she say or do? Beg him to take her back? Beg him to allow her to walk the rest of the way? Beg him to leave her here to die alone? Nay. None of those were viable options. Once again, she remained mute and nodded her agreement.
Aiden seemed pleased as he took her by her elbow and led her to his horse. With great care, he lifted her by her waist and sat her on the saddle. Instinctively, she started to scoot backwards. Aiden apparently had other ideas. He put his foot in the stirrup and hefted himself up, making certain Margaret was in front of him.
“Ye made me promise to hang on,” she pointed out with much irritation.
“Aye, I did,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her to take the reins.
“Then why am I nae riding behind ye?” She could feel her anger beginning to rise. He was too close for her liking or comfort.
“’Tis for yer safety, lass.”
As if that explains anythin ’ .
She was sitting as straight as an arrow, leaning forward to try to keep from touching him. Once again, she had her thighs pressed firmly into the sides of the saddle.
“If ye keep that up, ye will get another cramp.”
She didn’t budge. Not so much as a hair’s breadth.
Aiden had the audacity to chuckle. “Ye are a stubborn woman, aye?”
The amusement in his voice made her all the more angry. So angry that she couldn’t find her voice. With her eyes focused on the horizon, she swallowed hard, growing more angry with each rapid step the horse took.
It became readily apparent that Aiden wasn’t about to allow her to sit ramrod straight. With his arms, he pulled her towards his chest with a tight hold.
Stunned, she gasped and held her breath, stiffening her entire body.
’Twas obvious that he didn’t care about her distress, for he began to chuckle again.
“Lass, I have already given ye my word that I will nae hurt ye,” he said as he pulled slightly on the reins to make their way down a rather steep incline.
There was no way she could remain stiff, especially when she was so afraid. The hill was rocky, covered with bramble bushes and shrubbery. At the bottom, she could see the frozen, snow-covered river.
Oh, she was terrified of any kind of river, stream, or creek. And for good reason. When she was a very little girl, she had defied her father’s oft-repeated warnings to never play near the loch. But she had been upset with her older sister Mairi, who had gone off to play with her friends.
Margaret hadn’t been walking along the smooth rocks long when she slipped on the wet, moss-covered stones and slid, feet first, into the water. The shock of plunging into the dark, icy water had been the most terrifying moment of her short life. It seemed an eternity passed by before her feet touched the bottom of the loch. Thrusting against the mud, she pushed herself up and finally broke the surface.
Water sluiced off her skin and clothes as she sucked in a deep breath of air. With her dress sodden with water, she fought against the weight of the wool fabric to try to walk to the shore. But her efforts got her nowhere. Moments later, she was falling back into the water and going under once again.
To this very day, she could remember how terrified she had been and how the cold water felt like a thousand needles stabbing at her skin.
Had her father not been nearby and heard her cries for help, she would have died that day, drowned in the freezing water.
Once again, she was holding her breath as she sent silent prayers heavenward to see them safely across the creek. Aye, she might have been praying for death in order to get out of this marriage, but drowning in nearly frozen water was not how she wished to depart this earthly plane. Her heart was beating most furiously, her mouth growing quite dry as well.
She didn’t breathe again until they reached the banks of the river and Aiden turned his horse east. Her relief was undeniable.
“Did ye think we were goin’ to cross that creek?” Aiden asked. There was no amusement in his voice; only genuine concern.
Margaret swallowed the lump in her throat as she nodded her head rapidly but refused to admit to anything aloud.
“We will follow this creek for a few miles, lass,” he explained. “We will cross farther up, where ’tis naught verra wide or deep.”
Creek? Why does he insist on calling it a creek! Any fool could see ’ twas a river.
“Margaret?” he whispered her name so softly that she had barely heard it. What with the blood rushing in her ears and her pounding heart and all.
“Margaret?” he repeated, just as softly as before. “I made ye a promise, this morn, in front of the priest, Connor, and Onnleigh.”
As if I was payin ’ any attention.
“I will make that promise and vow again. I will protect ye with my own life, lass. I will never hurt ye or allow any harm to come to ye.”
There was an indisputable tenderness and sincerity in his voice.
An overwhelming sense of dread and unease enveloped her. He means what he says.
Oh, if her life had been different, if she hadn’t been taught to not trust anyone, let alone a man, she might actually want to hear such tender words.
“Never fall prey to a man’s pretty words, Margaret.” How many times had her mother told her that? “They will use those words to trap ye. Ye will nae be able to think for yerself, and before ye ken it, ye are naught but his prisoner. He will abuse ye as he wishes, and there is naught ye can do about it.”
She shuddered at the memories of those words her mother had repeated over the years. She hadn’t believed them when she was younger, but when a person hears a thing over and over again, doubt begins to form in the mind. So much so that, after time, a woman doesn’t know what to believe.
He must have believed she was cold when she shuddered, for he soon held her more closely to his chest. “I ken it is cold, lass. We will be at my keep in a few hours.”
That thought didn’t make her feel any better. Instead, her unease increased a hundred fold.
What will he expect of me when we arrive? Will he expect me to be a dutiful wife and give my body over to him? She would throw herself from the tallest parapet before she did that.
Bone tired, cold, and despondent, she did her best to keep her mind from pondering those questions.
Quietly, she returned to her previous prayers for a quick, sudden death.
Death, she was convinced, was the only way out of this mess.
Margaret’s prayers for death went unanswered.
As Aiden had promised, they had arrived at his keep hours later, long after the sun had gone down.
As had happened the night before, she could not see what the keep looked like against the inky-black, moonless night. She only knew the keep was ahead because Aiden had told her. In no time at all, she could make out the flickering light of torches ensconced on the upper wall.
A few of Aiden’s men had ridden ahead to announce their arrival. The sound of the gate opening sent shivers up and down her spine. The creaking and groaning and the rattling of the chains echoed ominously through the still night.
What lies within these walls? she wondered fearfully. Aye, she had been there the night before, but she had not stayed long. The only thing she could remember now was the sense of relief at having reached the outer walls. Everything after that was a blur.
Through the gates they rode, from sheer darkness to a bit more light. Torches that lined the walls of the keep danced in the night air. Men scurried over the stone-covered courtyard, the sound of their boots scraping against the stones echoing off the walls. They carried more lit torches, their voices soft and low.
Aiden pulled his horse to a stop and handed the reins off to someone whose face Margaret couldn’t quite make out.
“Och! We were beginnin’ to worry about ye, Aiden,” the young man said as he held the horse still.
Aiden laughed as he dismounted. “I am glad ye dinnae send out a search party, Wills.”
Another man, one with a deep voice, stepped closer. “Och! I kent ye would be all right, Aiden. I told Wills as much.”
Aiden was silent as he reached up for Margaret. His large, gloved hands wrapped around her waist. She was far too exhausted to physically react to his touch this time. Instead, she rather welcomed his help. Exhausted beyond measure, she was simply too tired to pretend otherwise.
Gently, he sat her on her feet but didn’t let go until he was certain she could stand on her own. His voice felt as warm as freshly baked bread. “Are ye well, lass?”
Slowly, she took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Aye.”
He took a soft hold of her arm and led her up the stairs and into the keep. A large wooden door opened just as they reached the top of the steps. Mayhap, if she didn’t have her eyes all but glued to her feet, she might have seen it.
Once inside, they took several steps up, across a small landing, and then down a few more steps and through another heavy wooden door.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. Light spilled down from two iron chandeliers that hung from the beamed ceiling. A large hearth sat in the center of the wall straight ahead, flanked by two doors. One was shut, and the other stood open.
Lit torches and candles were scattered about the space. A small table sat near the hearth, surrounded by heavy benches and two unremarkable chairs. In the center of the table were two pitchers, mugs, a platter of meats and cheeses, and loaves of bread.
An eery silence filled this small room, reminiscent of the silence that befalls a place after someone dies. She shivered once again, both from the cold and from the way the room made her feel.
The silence, however, was short lived. An older woman with graying brown hair came rushing into the room, carrying a tray of food in her hands. As soon as she saw Aiden and Margaret, her eyes lit with admiration and delight, and she beamed a smile of relief and happiness. “Aiden!” she exclaimed as she sat the tray down and all but ran towards him.
Margaret stayed where she was, quietly taking in the room. ’Twas much smaller than the gathering room she was used to back home.
Home.
Just thinking the word left her feeling sad and lonely. Even though she had very few happy memories there, it had been the only home she had ever known.
The woman’s voice broke through her quiet reverie, bringing her back to the here and now. In silence, she watched Aiden and the woman closely.
“Tis so good to see ye home, Aiden! We have missed ye,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her tiny frame for a warm embrace.
Aiden threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Och, Flossie! I have nae been gone that long.”
She took a step back, her brow knitted into a hard line. “I can worry about ye all I want to, young man.”
Aiden pressed a kiss on her forehead. “As ye have been doin’ since the day I was born.”
Margaret watched the two of them closely for a long moment. Knowing that both his parents were dead, Margaret assumed this older woman was an aunt.
“And might I remind ye that I am a grown man?” The twinkle in his eye belied the sternness of his voice.
Flossie put her hands on her hips and glowered. “And might I remind ye that no matter how grown ye get, I will worry and fret nonetheless?”
“And why do ye worry?” he asked playfully.
“Och!” she replied, waving the question away with a dismissive hand.
Aiden leaned forward and said, “’Tis because ye love me. Dinnae try to deny it.”
She pooh-poohed him away with a shake of her head. “Ye are an arrogant lout at times.”
There was no heat to her words, nor his. Margaret wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation. Their words said one thing, but their smiles and countenance said another.
Flossie finally caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye. “Och! I am so sorry, lass,” she exclaimed apologetically as she stepped toward her. “Ye look awfully familiar.”
Aiden smiled as he stood beside Margaret. “She should, Flossie, She was here only last night.”
Recognition set in, and Flossie’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Och! Ye are the lass who saved that poor bairn’s life!”
Before Margaret could utter a sound, Flossie was wrapping her in a tight embrace. “’Twas a wonderful thing ye did, lass. Riskin’ yer own life to save that poor bairn’s!” Flossie gently pushed her away so that she could study her more closely. “Och, ye are a lovely young woman, inside and out.”
Margaret swallowed hard, uncertain what she should do or say. It had been years since anyone had complimented her, let alone held her in any high esteem. She could feel her face growing warm. Not from embarrassment, but from shame. I dinnae deserve any praise.
“What are ye doin’ back here, lass?” Flossie asked.
’Twas Aiden who answered that question. “Margaret and I were married this morn.”
It took a long moment for his words to sink in. When they did, Flossie put a hand over her heart as her eyes grew even wider with astonishment. “Ye were married?” There was no mistaking her surprise.
“Aye, we were,” Aiden said with a broad smile. “Flossie, this is my wife, Margaret MacCallen.”
“Well, ye could knock me over with a goose feather,” she said breathlessly. A moment later, she was pulling Margaret in for another embrace. “Welcome to our family, lass!”
Being hugged was something else Margaret was unaccustomed to. ’Twas impossible for her to return the hug. Nay, she had to remain strong and stalwart, lest anyone think she was anything but a hard, cold woman. Just as her mother had raised her to be.
Aiden said, “Flossie, let the lass breathe, aye?”
The older woman stepped away, a look of frustration, if not down right anger, etched on her face. “Why did ye nae send word, Aiden?”
She didn’t give him any time to answer. “And why on earth did ye marry so quickly? What about postin’ the bans? Preparing a fine weddin’ and feast?
Ignoring the question of why they married so quickly, Aiden said, “Flossie, we can have a fine meal on the morrow. And make a formal announcement as well.”
“Ye have a lot of explainin’ to do, young man!”
He stopped what was certain to be a tongue lashing by saying, “Flossie, ye can yell at me on the morrow. For now, we are exhausted and near frozen to our bones. We want naught more than to climb into a warm bed and sleep until long after the noonin’ hour.”
At the mention of a warm bed, in conjunction with the word we , Margaret pursed her lips together and stood a bit taller as she tried to brace herself for the inevitable.
She clucked her tongue and shook her head. “Of course ye do,” she said. Turning her attention back to Margaret. “I will show ye to yer room, lass.”
As she took Margaret by the arm, she shot an angry look at Aiden. “Ye and I will speak on the morrow.”
’Twas a warning of sorts. Even though he was laird and chief of their clan, Flossie wasn’t about to let his transgression go without consequences. Margaret took note of Aiden’s smile before turning towards the stairs.
Flossie didn’t let go of Margaret’s arm, even as they ascended the stairs. “That man,” she said with a shake of her head, “is going to be the death of me someday.”
Margaret was a bit confused as to just who this woman was. Aiden called her by her Christian name, Flossie. Certainly, she wasn’t his mother. Mayhap a step mother? Or his aunt?
“Ye have married yerself a stubborn man, lass,” Flossie said, just as they made it to the landing. “Now, I would rather die than admit it to him, but he is a good man.”
Margaret had no desire to learn for herself if Aiden was a good man or not. And if Flossie thought Aiden was stubborn, she would learn soon enough just how stubborn Margaret MacCallen was.
The hall was dimly lit, only a few low-burning torches on the stone walls. Flossie led the way down the short corridor and turned right. “I ken the hour is late,” she began, “but on the morrow, I want to hear all about how ye came to be married to our laird.”
Confused, Margaret frowned. Why would she refer to Aiden as her laird? Mayhap ’twas naught but a slip of the tongue.
“’Tis about time he married,” Flossie whispered as they passed by several closed doors. “I worry about him, ye ken. A laird should be married. He needs a good wife to stand beside him.”
Curiosity got the better of Margaret. “Why do ye call him yer laird? Are ye nae his aunt?”
Flossie giggled as she shook her head. They had reached the end of the corridor and stood in front of the last door on the right. “Och! I might as well be his mum, but alas, I am his cook and housekeeper, hough there be times when I feel like I am trying to herd badgers.” Her smile was bright and beaming with pride as she opened the door to the chamber.
Margaret was taken aback by the knowledge that this woman was only the cook. But she had called Aiden by his given name. Servants were to address their laird and lady by their titles, not their Christian names. As their new chatelaine, Margaret would insist on being referred to as ‘my lady’ by all the servants and clanspeople Anything less would be unacceptable.
“Now, this will be yer chamber, lass,” Flossie said as she stepped inside.
Lass. Not ‘my lady.’ Deciding she would address the matter later, after a good night's sleep, she turned her attention to the chamber.
’Twas a small room. Not at all what Margaret had imagined a chatelaine’s bedchamber should look like. To her left was a small bed, with a little table that held a pitcher and basin that sat between the bed and the hearth. Along the solid wall to her right were only four pegs on which to hang her clothing. One large chest was placed under those. One tiny, three-legged stool sat between the hearth and the door.
Nothing else.
No flowers, no dressing table or screen or tub. There were no tapestries on the wall, no writing table and chair or anything else. ’Twas a barren as barren could get.
“If we had known ye were comin’, lass, we could have been better prepared.”
That did make sense. Mayhap this little room was only for tonight. Certainly, on the morrow, they would see to getting her a chamber more suited to her new station in life.
“Ye look done in,” Flossie said as she stepped to the hearth to stoke the fire and add a small log. “The water in the pitcher should still be warm. There are washing and drying cloths on the shelf under it.”
Margaret was in the process of removing her cloak and gloves when she heard voices whispering in the hallway. A moment later, two men appeared at the door, with her trunks and satchels. With the room being so small, she had to step out into the hallway to allow them entry.
“Here ye be, lass,” one of the men said.
There was that word again. Did no one here stand on any formalities? She was simply too tired to address the matter.
Moments later, more men of varying ages arrived with the rest of her things.
Each man bowed at the waist and smiled before he quit the room.
Margaret said nothing as she stood as regally as she could manage, considering how tired and worn out she was.
Flossie had been standing quietly by the door. Margaret caught her staring at her more than once, as if she were some foreign creature she had never encountered before.
“That will be all,” Margaret said as she crossed the room and took the lever to the door in her hand. ’Twas a sign that she didn’t need the woman’s company nor assistance.
The woman tilted her head to one side, a look of confusion etched in her face. After a quiet moment, Flossie gave a slight nod and said, “Sleep well, lass,” as she stepped through the doorway.
Lass.
Margaret had reached the end of her patience. Flossie might be comfortable calling Aiden by his given name, but Margaret was going to expect a more formal relationship with the woman.
“I am Lady Margaret.”