Chapter Nine
THE NEXT MORNING PASSED quickly in Wilkie’s absence, as I was enthusiastically ensconced in the lively attentions of Effie, Ailie and Christie, who were no longer content with the minimal information they had so far been given about me.
It was now quite clear that Wilkie was up and about, restored to almost full health, no longer delusional or delirious.
And I was still residing in his chambers.
And not just his antechamber, but his bed—after several dramatic displays in which he would not take nay for an answer.
That we had shared several private moments—at Wilkie’s insistence—was known and seemingly accepted by his family.
There was no comment about our sleeping arrangements, or any of the delicate questions that might surround that particular topic, which made me profoundly grateful.
They appeared to have accepted me as a fixture in Wilkie’s rooms, for now.
Effie, Ailie and Christie were highly amused that they had been given strict orders by Wilkie to attend to me.
I was to be offered clothing, my wound was to be checked to ensure it was healing properly, and I was to be fed in a particular room as chosen by Wilkie, where he and Kade would meet us for the noontime meal.
All activities, to be sure, that were pleasing enough. I could not help considering, however, my tattoo and my eternal quest to keep it from being discovered. I would need to be careful.
I was content to listen to Effie’s free-flowing commentary on life in general within the Mackenzie keep and to answer her questions, and those of Wilkie’s sisters.
By now I found the three women’s presence entirely comforting, and even enjoyed the spark of their chiding interest in Wilkie’s unusual—and sudden—attachment to me.
I put on my new shift and selected a light blue short-sleeved dress, for the specific reason that its neckline at the back was high enough to keep my secret hidden.
I slipped the dress over my head and emerged from the small secluded area cordoned off by the privacy screen.
I was summoned to a chair, where I was attended to by all three of them.
“If you don’t mind me saying, lassie,” Effie mused, “the man’s taken total leave of his senses.
You know, he stormed into the healer’s quarters this morning, demanding that I immediately attend to you personally.
I told him I had several patients to check on—and luckily, none of them have particularly dire afflictions and can easily be looked after by Fiona and Thora.
And it’s a good thing, too, because I don’t think he would’ve taken nay for an answer.
’Tis most unusual—wouldn’t you say, Ailie? ”
“Aye,” Ailie agreed. She was brushing out my hair as Effie spread a final treatment of healing salve on my wound, declaring it as well as healed. “I’ve never seen Wilkie take an interest in anything beyond fighting, eating, swimming and hunting.”
And if Effie was a wealth of information about the wider workings of the clan, it was Christie who I found to provide the most personal—and informative—details on Wilkie and his family.
She seemed incapable of filtering her thoughts, as though she’d never had need to do so; her youthful na?veté was endearing, and I felt a strange sense of protectiveness toward her.
I wasn’t sure why that was and wondered at it.
She was likely my age, or not much younger.
And I felt close to her, after confessing to her the extent of my desire for Wilkie during our intense and connective private conversation in the antechamber.
“That’s not entirely true, you two, and you know it,” Christie said.
“Wilkie’s highly interested in women. He just chooses to visit their beds, rather than bringing them to his own. ”
That Christie didn’t feel the need to shield me from this information was a small relief to me.
I appreciated her honesty. My importance in Wilkie’s life was yet unknown, to them, and even to me, even after his brash declaration earlier that morning.
I had strong doubts that Laird Mackenzie would entertain Wilkie’s intentions for me, if they were sincere, and Christie was merely stating the truth of the matter.
The far-off vision of marriage to Wilkie seemed too otherworldly, too lofty, to even be seriously entertained.
And it didn’t hurt me, to hear of his other women.
I had no claims on him as such, and I could hardly blame other women for conquesting the likes of Wilkie Mackenzie.
But what I did feel at that moment was a thin, bright tightness in my chest. A low ache that, after some reflection, I could identify: I missed him.
I knew he was training with his brothers and the other warriors of their clan, preparing for battle, as they had need to do.
I wished I could see him. I wanted his warmth and his insistence to wrap itself around me, as I’d become used to. I wondered when he would return to me.
“Well, he’s certainly got every woman in the Highlands swooning after him, isn’t that the truth,” Effie continued.
“He’s caused many a lass to tantrum over his lack of engagement.
He seems to tire of them quickly. And shows no interest in their ongoing maintenance.
And then you come along, Roses,” she said, studying me subtly, as though attempting to find the answer written in my hair or on my skin.
“And he’ll not let you out of his bed nor willingly out of his sight. ”
“You only have to look at her, Effie,” said Christie. “I daresay Wilkie has never seen anything quite like her. Have you ever seen hair this color?” She smoothed her hand along the locks of my hair, running her fingers through it as though mesmerized.
“Let me braid it, Christie,” Ailie scolded her. “Wilkie said he’ll be back at noontime, to make sure she’s being well entertained.”
Christie laughed at this. “We best do it properly, then.”
I heard it in Christie’s laugh as I felt it in my own mind: this frivolous attention to my well-being was overblown, wholly out of the ordinary and not far from ridiculous.
“I’m sorry you have to be bothered with this,” I said, feeling self-conscious.
“I’m fine to finish dressing myself, and if you give me some tasks to help with, I’d be grateful. At least I could make myself useful.”
Effie found this even more amusing. “Good gracious, nay, lass. Wilkie would be outraged. We’ve been given strict instructions, see, and we’d not hear the end of it if we were remiss in our duties.”
Once the dress was fitted and my hair had been braided, I was told I’d be given a limited tour of the Mackenzie manor.
“Wilkie’s worried that you’ll be seen,” explained Ailie. “Messengers come and go regularly.”
“And, apparently, Ogilvie has heard that you’ve been spotted in these parts. He’s near-crazed with bloodlust,” Christie informed me.
While I already knew that Ogilvie was after me, I was deeply disturbed that he had narrowed his search to Kinloch. Would he attack? I knew Ogilvie’s warriors were well-trained, or at least they seemed as such from my inexpert viewpoint; I’d watched them often.
Christie was less concerned, seemingly highly entertained by the unending scandal surrounding me. “I overheard Knox saying that Ogilvie’s messengers have called on him several times since you’ve arrived. Laird Ogilvie is most insistent that you are returned to him.”
“He knows I’m here?” I whispered, standing, feeling more and more desperate to see Wilkie.
Several pairs of hands gently returned me to my seat, then continued to groom me.
“Knox has told them you are not with us. But Ogilvie is unconvinced. One of his messengers thought he recognized you, upon his first visit.”
“Whatever did you do, Roses?” asked Ailie quietly. “And why did you flee?”
I had no doubt that the sisters were privy to at least some of the information I’d shared with Laird Mackenzie and Kade about my background and my reasons for being here, and the details of Wilkie’s injury and my own.
That they hadn’t asked these questions immediately seemed to confirm that I had been discussed by all of Wilkie’s siblings at some point while he and I had shared our fevered slumber.
And everything I knew about this family so far—their closeness, their concern for Wilkie, and their curiosity in regards to our connection—made it reasonable to assume that the sisters were informed.
But they wanted to hear it from me, it seemed.
Seeing no point in hiding anything from these women, who had shown me only kindness, I told them how I had defended myself, and why.
I told them of my journey, my thievery, my encounter with Wilkie.
I told them of our small but vicious battle.
I told them everything. Actually, not everything.
And they were curious about the details I left out, I could read this on their faces.
But even Christie refrained from asking those particular questions.
“Oh, Roses,” said Ailie, aghast. “How did you dare to run like that? Alone and defenseless? You must have been terrified.”
“Aye. I was. I had read the laird’s intentions, though, so I think I knew I would act when the time came. I was relieved to be free of him. I was most frightened when Wilkie ran after me, after he saw me. I think I would rather he killed me than return me to Ogilvie.”
Effie made a small sound, as though she was either impressed by my bravery or amused by my foolishness, I couldn’t quite tell.