Chapter 15 An Unfair World
THE COOPER SWAGGERED into the hall. The man, no older than five-and-twenty, carried an air of belligerence. He bristled, as if being summoned by his laird vexed him.
Ailean tracked his path across the floor. The man had arrived late. The others were already here.
The others in question were the fur trapper and his comely young wife.
Seated upon the raised dais at the far end of the hall, next to his father, Ailean shifted uncomfortably in the carved chair.
He didn’t enjoy these audiences, although he knew they were a part of a laird’s responsibilities.
Craeg had told him a few tales of the disputes he’d had to settle.
And there were other problems too—tenants who avoided paying their rents or thievery.
Craeg had seen it all, and no doubt Rae Maclean had too, for he wore a weary expression this morning, as if he knew what was coming and wasn’t looking forward to it either.
“Keith,” he greeted the newcomer. “I’m glad to see ye decided to join us this morning. I didn’t wish to send Captain Jack out to fetch ye.”
The cooper smirked, and irritation quickened within Ailean. That wasn’t the best way to approach his father. However, to his credit, the chieftain remained unmoved. If the man’s lack of respect vexed him, he kept it hidden.
His attention flicked to the man and woman already waiting.
The trapper was of the same age as the cooper—a whip-thin man with receding blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
His wife, although bonnie, looked visibly upset.
Her heart-shaped face was blotchy, as if she’d been weeping, and her full lower lip trembled.
She cast nervous looks between the two men.
“Right then, Lennon,” Rae addressed the trapper. “State this man’s crimes.”
Keith snorted, muttering something under his breath, but Rae held up a hand. “Ye’ll get yer chance. Let yer friend speak.”
“He’s no friend of mine,” Lennon ground the words out. “Not anymore. Not since I discovered he’s been humping my wife.”
Silence fell in the hall.
A small group of men and women gathered at the rear of the space—servants, witnesses, and others who’d come to bend the chieftain’s ear—looked on, watching with breathless anticipation, their gazes gleaming with interest.
Ailean didn’t share their fascination. This was the last place he wanted to be right now.
And despite the tension in the hall, he found his mind wandering to the day before in Fiona’s sun-drenched workroom.
He shouldn’t have touched her so foolhardily, even if she’d been the one to instigate things this time.
The tower house had been largely empty, but it had been a risk all the same.
It could so easily have turned against them.
Even so, till his dying day, he’d never forget the encounter.
Nor the easy familiarity that had settled between them beforehand.
He’d felt at peace sitting there, drinking ale and chatting to her as she worked at her loom.
It was as if they’d been doing so for years.
As if all was right in the world and always would be.
That was why he’d suggested helping her, although it had been another excuse to get close. He felt as if, whenever their paths crossed, he barely scratched the surface of this fascinating woman—and he was hungry to learn more.
“Just two days ago, I came back early to find this” —Lennon’s voice tore him from his reverie— “this bastard swiving Innes on our kitchen table. Both naked. Shameless … and she squealing like a stuck pig.”
The woman’s face flushed crimson at this, and Rae cleared his throat. “Let’s keep things civil, Lennon. I’ll not suffer ye insulting yer wife like that.”
Lennon’s lean face twisted. “She deserves it. The whore.”
Meanwhile, the cooper appeared amused by the unfolding scene.
And despite that, initially, Ailean couldn’t have cared less if the three of them had gone and thrown themselves in the sea, he felt anger stir. The man had wreaked mayhem, and he seemed to be taking pleasure in it.
Guilt pricked at him then. He wasn’t tumbling another man’s wife, but he was breaking the rules with Fiona, and if their secret trysts were discovered, the consequences would be far direr for her than for him.
Aye, it was an unfair world—something that the trapper’s wife, who was now weeping, had just discovered. Her husband had turned on her, and her lover was amused by the whole thing.
“So, is this true, Keith?” Rae turned his attention to the accused. “Ye’ve been swiving Lennon’s wife while he’s been out setting and clearing traps?”
A pregnant silence followed, and it was clear from the look on Keith’s face that he was debating whether to deny the whole thing or admit his guilt.
Eventually, he shrugged, deciding on the latter.
“Aye, we had some sport, Innes and me,” he replied lazily.
“The lass was lonely, ye see. Her man leaves her alone too long. And she had an itch she needed scratched.” He flashed the trapper a leer.
“And by all accounts, ye have a limp slug in yer braies.”
A roar of rage splintered the air as Lennon flew at him.
He was lean and fast, and his fist met the cooper’s nose with a sickening crunch. The bigger man reeled back, blood gushing from his nostrils. “Ye’ll pay for that, ye shite-eater!”
Lennon rushed at him again, but this time, Keith was ready for him. Fists swung once more—the slap and crunch of knuckles hitting flesh—
“Enough!” Rae shouted.
He gestured to the guards flanking the hall, and the men moved forward, yanking the two former friends apart.
“I’ve heard enough,” the laird said, the disgust clear in his voice.
His gaze fastened upon Keith, who struggled between two burly guards, blood still trickling from his nose, his dark gaze murderous.
“A man who’d cuckold a friend and then sneer about it has no place at Dounarwyse.
Return to yer bothy. Pack what ye can. I want ye gone by dusk. ”
The cooper’s face went slack. He gaped at the chieftain as if he couldn’t understand him.
“I’ll not repeat myself,” Rae said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
They started to tow Keith toward the doors. He struggled, cursed, then pleaded—but Rae wasn’t listening. And not for the first time, Ailean was in awe of his father. He had ruled Dounarwyse justly for decades. He was loved by his people—but he was not a man to cross.
When the heavy oaken door shut behind Keith, Rae turned his focus to the trapper.
Lennon’s left eye was starting to swell. Keith had landed a good punch there. Nonetheless, the man held himself straight and proud, vindicated.
Next to him, his wife still wept, one hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. The anguish in her eyes cut Ailean deeply. He didn’t like to see lasses cry—never had.
“Lennon,” Rae said heavily, “I’m tempted to send ye away too … after that scene … but to do so would leave Innes without a roof over her head.”
The trapper’s jaw flexed.
“The matter is dealt with,” he went on. “Keith won’t be causing trouble any longer. But ye are not to take yer anger out on yer wife. If I hear ye’ve beaten her or treated her cruelly, I’ll haul ye in here and deal with ye myself.”
A little of the victory drained from Lennon’s face. “But she—”
“It’s up to ye whether ye forgive Innes,” Rae said. “Whether ye even wish to remain wed to her. But ye will not lift a hand to her. Is that clear?” Steel rang in his voice.
Lennon nodded, his shoulders sagging. “Aye, Maclean.”
Conversation rose and fell in the kitchen, the rumble of voices punctuated with laughter. Supper had arrived, and Dounarwyse’s servants sat at the long table, crowded shoulder to shoulder.
Heat from the hearth pressed against Fiona’s back, and she inhaled the aroma of broth, bread, and singed onions. The warmth was a little stifling, yet she barely noticed. Instead, she felt light—almost buoyant.
Every time she shifted on the bench, memories heated her skin: Ailean’s voice low in her ear the day before, his fingers inside her, and the dangerous sweetness of it. Excitement flickered low in her belly at the memory. She hid a smile in her cup.
Tay, the rat-catcher, sat at her side, elbows planted wide, already halfway through a second helping of onion broth. Beneath the table, Midge sat glued to Fiona’s skirts, the terrier’s bright eyes fixed on her hand. Fiona tore off a crumb of bread and let it fall. The dog snapped it up.
“Ye spoil her,” Tay muttered, though his grin gave him away.
“She’s skin and bone,” Fiona whispered back.
He snorted a laugh. “Thanks to ye … she’ll soon be as round as a barrel.”
“There’ll be wrestling tomorrow.” Across the table, wee Stu nearly vibrated with excitement. “And footraces. Jory says men are coming from three villages away!” It was the third time he’d brought the games up since supper began.
“Aye, but mind ye don’t get underfoot,” one of Essie’s assistants teased. “Or ye’ll find yerself trampled.”
Laughter rolled through the space. Fiona joined in, surprised by how natural it felt. Voices overlapped, bowls were passed into her hands without asking, and someone nudged her shoulder to share a story. The kitchen no longer felt full of strangers.
She belonged here. Even blade-tongued Essie had warmed to her. Indeed, the cook almost wore a smile this evening. Everyone was looking forward to the games.
Almost everyone.
Fiona’s gaze drifted to the far end of the table.
Carrie sat stiff and silent, barely touching her broth. No one spoke to her. Or perhaps they had tried and given up. When the maid glanced up and caught Fiona looking, her expression pinched. Guilt twisted in Fiona’s chest. She should cross the table. Say something. Fix this.
Instead, Tay launched into a retelling of the morning’s audience, drawing her attention. “I thought the trapper would kill Keith,” he said with relish. “Never seen a nose burst like that … blood everywhere.”
Stu’s mouth fell open. “Did the laird roar?”
“Aye, he did, lad,” Tay assured him. “Felt it in me bones.”
“The cooper’s lucky he’s only banished,” someone added. “Another laird might’ve flogged him first.”
“Aye,” Tay said, sobering. “But Maclean saves such punishment for more serious crimes.”
A murmur of agreement followed.
“Innes was beside herself afterward,” one of the maids added then, her brow furrowed. “Weeping so hard, she nearly walked into the door on the way out.”
“Aye, well … she knew what she was doing when she let Keith swive her,” Essie sniffed. “She cuckolded her husband. The woman got off lightly, if ye ask me.”
Fiona pictured the humiliated trapper’s wife, and a chill threaded through her warmth. How quickly a woman’s life could tilt. How thin the line between safety and ruin.
Her secret pulsed quietly inside her.
Midge nudged her ankle again, and Fiona slipped the terrier another scrap. Tay caught the motion this time and rolled his eyes. “Ye’ve done it now,” he said. “She’ll follow ye everywhere.”