Chapter 9
Merraid’s face flamed. She gulped guiltily.
Not so much because of the upturned buckets and ash everywhere. But because she’d had her hands and lips all over the lady’s cousin.
Thinking the most inappropriate thoughts.
Feeling the most inappropriate feelings.
“This is my fault,” Gellir volunteered at once. Of course he did. He was the most gallant gentleman she knew.
“Nay, ’twas my doin’, m’lady,” she argued.
There was no reason for him to take the blame. He was right. She had swatted him first. And there was no doubt in her mind that the kiss was her idea.
He continued. “Merraid was trying to show me how to sweep ashes from the hearth, and I knocked o’er the bucket.”
Feiyan smirked. “Is that how you got an ash handprint on your backside?” she asked him.
Merraid froze in horror.
Then Feiyan turned to her. “And fingerprints on your face?”
Merraid lifted a hand to her cheek. She glanced at Gellir. He winced.
Before they could explain, Lady Feiyan raised her hands to stop them. “I don’t want to know.” She faced Gellir. “Look, cousin, you can have all the mistresses you like after you’re wed. But right now we need to get you wed.”
Enraged, Gellir rose to her defense. “How dare you suggest—”
“Which is why I came,” she said, waving away his comment. “The Graham sisters are arriving within the hour.” She wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. “See if you can make yourself presentable.”
He glared at Feiyan. Then he gave a bow of his head to Merraid. “My humblest apologies. I should ne’er have—”
“’Twasn’t your fault. ’Twas I who—”
“Nay, ’twas me who should have—”
“Ye’re not to blame for—”
“Go!” Feiyan said, pointing to the door.
Gellir glowered again at his cousin. Then he nodded at Merraid and left.
“And you,” Feiyan continued. “To be honest, I’m disappointed, Merraid. You’re better than this. You’re too wise, too gifted to settle for being a nobleman’s plaything. It pains me to see you squander your affections on a man you cannot have.”
The truth felt like a punch in the gut. Merraid did know better. And hearing her transgression spoken aloud mortified her.
“Aye, m’lady.”
Feiyan sighed. “I know my cousin is handsome and charming. He’s the definition of chivalry.
Brave. Courteous. Honorable. Women are drawn to him like flies to honey.
Indeed, ’tis that way with all the Rivenloch men.
” She put a hand on Merraid’s shoulder. “But you have to resist his charms. I like you, Merraid. And I don’t want to see you get hurt. ”
Touched and ashamed, Merraid lowered her gaze and give the lady a quick nod.
“Which is why I’ve invited a guest for you tonight.”
“What?”
Feiyan beamed at her. “Remember the guardsman you spoke to last night? Henry? The dark-haired fellow with the bright green eyes? He’s agreed to return this eve, to court you properly.”
Dread settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. “Oh.”
“So after you tidy up this mess,” she said, “you should probably change into something less…ashy.”
Merraid couldn’t move for several moments after Feiyan left. She’d do the lady’s bidding, of course. It would be rude to turn down her invitation.
But what she really wanted to do was disappear. Crawl under her bedsheets. Hide in the garderobe. Or maybe submerge herself in the firth.
The day had been delightful up to now. She’d enjoyed sharing her world with Gellir. She’d expected him to look down on her work. To treat it as something beneath him.
But he hadn’t. After a bit of typical male stubbornness, he’d accepted her instruction. Heeded her advice. He’d never acted ashamed of his labors. And he’d treated the other servants with respect.
They’d been friends again, like that time long ago. Companions. Cohorts. Allies working together toward the same goal.
That, however, was the problem.
He’d made her forget he was a nobleman.
He’d made her forget she was a servant.
He’d made her feel like she was an equal.
But she wasn’t.
She’d overstepped her bounds. Violated her position in the household. Worse, she’d been caught at it.
As she snatched up her besom and set her bucket to rights, she made a solemn vow.
Never again would she look at Gellir with longing.
To her, he would henceforth be Sir Gellir Cameliard. Cousin of Lady Feiyan. Esteemed warrior of Rivenloch.
She’d distance herself from him, as painful as it would be.
She’d respect the boundaries between noble knight and humble servant.
She’d grow up and face reality.
A tear slipped from her eye. She wiped it away with the heel of her hand. It was just the sting of ashes. Nothing more.
She washed the smudges from her face. Stripped out of her ashy clothing. Changed into the worn surcoat of dull green wool Feiyan had given her.
She felt like herself again. Merraid the maidservant.
A lass who could easily avoid Sir Gellir Cameliard in the great hall.
Who could serve and clear supper without giving him a second glance.
Who could regard the pair of sweet-faced twin sisters who arrived to vie for his hand without the slightest twinge of jealousy.
Servants topped the trestle tables with linens. A musical consort practiced in the corner. A kitchen lad lit the candles around the hall. Merraid was sweeping rushes away to make a space for dancing when a familiar voice caught her ear.
“So what’s the wagerin’ on tonight?” he murmured. “Who’ll take the first spill on the floor?”
She turned to see Henry. His eyes shone with glee. His stray curl dangled jauntily over his brow. She couldn’t help but return his smile.
He truly was an amiable fellow.
And though she didn’t think it possible, he made the evening bearable. Between his clever quips and warmhearted teasing, Henry somehow distracted her from pining for the one she couldn’t have.
As the guests arrived, he made up stories about each one.
He danced and laughed with her. Together they drank and sang.
They even wagered a kiss on who would be the first dancer to slip and fall.
Both lost when a wee tot of a lad wandered into the midst of the dancers and was knocked down by a flinging skirt.
Later, in the moonlit courtyard, as he prepared to return to his keep, Henry turned to her with a soft smile. He fingered the braid draped over her shoulder.
“Ye know, neither of us winnin’ that wager is the same as neither of us losin’.”
She smiled back. “Is that so?”
“Och aye,” he said with mock seriousness. “I think ’tis likely we owe each other a kiss.”
She forced her expression to studious contemplation. “I see. Do ye think ’twould be best to pay the debt now or—”
Before she could finish, he stopped her mouth with his, pressing smiling lips to hers in a short, soft, sweet kiss. The touch was brief, but pleasant. Friendly. Respectful. Non-threatening.
“Shall I return to court ye, m’lady?” he murmured.
“Aye,” she decided. “I’d like that.”
He gave her a brief bow and disappeared into the night.
Later, when Merraid fell asleep, she dreamt of her own handfasting.
The day was bright. The air was full of laughter.
She was dressed in a lovely indigo gown borrowed from Lady Feiyan, who smiled on in approval.
Laird Dougal himself wrapped the ribbons around the bride and groom’s joined hands, speaking the declaration of marriage.
But when Merraid lifted her eyes to gaze upon the bridegroom to whom she’d tied her fate, it wasn’t Henry’s dancing green eyes that gazed back at her.
Her dream husband’s eyes were forged of steel and silver.
Gellir and his brothers had grown up with the cautionary tenet—never court sisters. Apparently, his conniving cousin wasn’t familiar with that rule. But if courting sisters was a mistake, courting twin sisters was a debacle of the worst sort.
All night, they vied for Gellir’s attention with fluttered lashes and conspiratorial giggles. They sparred with each other, using sly snipes and cutting glares.
To make matters worse, they were dressed in matching crimson gowns. As they spun and wove their way through the dancing, Gellir lost track of which one was which. An unforgivable blunder in the realm of twins.
By the end of the evening, even Feiyan had to agree her strategy had been disastrous. The twins were fuming. Gellir was miserable. And after their taut farewell, he felt too agitated to retire.
Guilt had definitely settled on his shoulders today. Beginning with Merraid in the solar. He still felt on edge, to blame for what had happened.
Why had he trifled with the maidservant?
Why had he allowed temptation to get the better of him?
What the devil was wrong with him?
He sighed. He should be sleeping. But he was restless.
He donned his cloak and trudged up the steps, emerging on the wall walk surrounding the courtyard. Overhead, the moon seemed like a beacon shining down on him. Illuminating his flaws. Exposing his failures. Judging him.
Why was finding a wife so difficult for him?
After all, she had to fulfill just three simple requirements.
She must be Scottish.
She must give him bairns.
And she must be of noble bloodlines.
Was that so hard?
His heart had nothing to do with the decision. It didn’t matter if she was ugly or fair. Short or tall. Brilliant or silly. Kindhearted or mean-spirited. Not really. He’d always followed the path that led him to success. Not the one that led to his heart.
Why suddenly did it matter so much to him what kind of woman he wed?
Unbidden, the image of Merraid appeared in his mind’s eye. Merraid with her teasing smile. Her merry blue eyes. Her blushing face, streaked with ash from his careless fingers.
His clamped mouth softened.
She was the woman who touched his heart.
It didn’t matter that she was a maidservant.
It didn’t matter that they had no future.
She was the one he adored.
And he was certain she felt the same way.
Why else would she follow him about, watching over him like a sentinel?
Why else would she care so much about finding him a worthy bride?
God’s eyes! She was a worthy bride.