Chapter 9
They rode back to the castle in comfortable silence, and Eliza took comfort and strength from the delicious feel of Duncan’s hard body behind her, his arm around her waist keeping her steady.
However, she dared not enjoy the feeling too much, she reminded herself; sooner or later, it was going to end, since she and Duncan would never share a life together.
It was a sad and sobering thought, but Eliza knew that she had to keep it at the front of her mind. Nothing lasted forever.
They crept inside very quietly, helped by Duncan’s muffling of the horse’s hooves. After he had removed the saddle and bridle, he helped Eliza dismount then led her back to her chamber and unlocked the door, but when she tried to enter he stopped her with a raised hand.
“Stay there,” he whispered, before stepping inside.
Duncan lit a candle, then took a few moments to look around the room, even opening the doors of the cupboards and checking under the bed to make sure that no one was hiding there.
When he had finished, he opened the door and beckoned Eliza inside, then looked down at her, his gaze roaming all over her face before he spoke again.
“Eliza, even if our arrangement is a temporary thing, and will come to an end soon, for all intents and purposes we are a couple now. You are my betrothed, and I am yours, so you must not just act like the mistress of the castle. Believe it. Be it. Can you do that?”
“Of course I can,” she replied. “Rely on me, Duncan. I will not let you down.”
“That was the answer I expected.” He smiled, then his expression became serious again as he whispered, “Meet me in the armoury beside the stables tomorrow at midnight, and make sure nobody sees you.”
Eliza nodded. “I will,” she promised. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
He smiled, then hesitated, his amber gaze drifting to her lips, and there was a heartbeat’s pause when neither of them seemed to know what to do next.
Is he going to kiss me? Eliza wondered, but a moment later, Duncan slipped past her and left the room. Eliza stared at the door for a while, wondering what would have happened if Duncan had stayed just a few moments longer.
She went to bed a few moments later and slept deeply and dreamlessly, utterly exhausted.
Duncan, on the other hand, dreamed about the vibrant English girl he had bought from the moment he closed his eyes until the moment he woke up.
When he had bathed and dressed the next morning, he left his chamber and saw her striding down the corridor with Maisie at her side. She looked authoritative, as if she was on some sort of mission, and he wished he could follow her so that he could be there when she carried it out.
Eliza had grown tired of the disrespectful attitude of the castle staff, who either ignored her or obeyed her orders with great sullenness.
She frequently intercepted ugly glances and came upon conspiratorial huddles who were obviously gossiping about her.
The atmosphere of hostility surrounding her was toxic, and after another few days, Eliza could stand it no longer.
The final straw was when she returned to her chamber after going to the kitchen to plan the day’s meals.
Two chambermaids were there, but they were not working—quite the opposite.
One was going through her wardrobe, taking out dresses and holding them against herself, while the other made derisory comments.
“Look at that red neckline!” the woman said, laughing. “When she wears that, she is goin’ tae look like that cockerel that wakes everybody up in the mornin’!”
It was obvious that neither of them had noticed Eliza standing just inside the door, since they both fell about laughing for a few moments before she spoke up.
“I would rather look like a cockerel than resemble either of you,” she said, her voice low, but throbbing with rage. “And I would rather sound like one, too. I have heard crows with sweeter voices.”
The two women whipped around to face her, and there was a frozen silence which lasted for almost a full minute while Eliza glared at them, and they looked down at the floor.
“Put the dress back where you found it,” she said at last.
The maid hastened to obey her orders.
“Look at me,” Eliza ordered.
The women dragged their gazes back to her, and she looked each of them up and down contemptuously. “You will each work for one week without pay, and you will consider this your first and last warning. One more transgression like this, and you will be dismissed without a reference. Now go.”
The women hastened out of the room, and left Eliza seething with rage, but filled with a new and fierce determination; she had decided to take some overdue action.
She gathered the entire household staff in the courtyard and even ordered a dozen guards to stand around them so that they would have no thoughts of slipping away.
Eliza stood in front of the assembly, then drew herself up to her full height, thrust her chest forwards and her shoulders back.
Then she tilted her chin up and stared down her nose at everyone who stood before her, meeting each one squarely in the eye.
She was not tall, not powerfully built, but she had an air of command that was palpable to every person there.
“Good morning,” she began, then waited. Silence. “Is it not the custom here to return a greeting?” she asked, her gaze passing over them, outwardly calm, but inwardly seething with rage.
“Good morning.” The response was a ragged mumble, but it gave Eliza a thrill of triumph that she had forced it out of them.
“That’s better,” Eliza said in a tone of satisfaction.
“Now, let me say this once and once only.
I am English, as you know. You may call me a Sassenach or whatever else you like behind my back—I cannot stop you.
However, since I am going to be mistress of this castle, I would like to be treated with some respect and courtesy, and I will give you the same treatment.
I may be English, but I have the same respect for Scots as I have for my own people, so I would ask you all to come to me if you have any problems, but let me be clear.
You will receive one warning for deliberate misbehaviour and one only, and after that, it is dismissal without a reference, and be assured that I am a woman of my word.
However, I would like you all to know that I have your welfare at heart and I want us all to be friends, so if you are good to me, I will be good to you. Now, are there any questions?”
There were none, but this time the silence was not hostile, and there were even a few smiles.
Eliza breathed a sigh of relief as she dismissed the meeting and sat down on a chair by the wall.
She found that she was trembling, and her heart was beating nineteen to the dozen, but she had accomplished what she had set out to do and was overcome with relief.
At that moment, Maisie came up to her, smiling, and handed her a cup of the castle’s home-brewed ale. “I thought ye might need a wee somethin’ tae help ye calm down, Milady,” she said.
“Thank you, Maisie,” Eliza said gratefully as she raised the glass to her lips.
Then suddenly she remembered what had happened the previous evening with Duncan’s broth, and although she was fairly sure that Maisie would not harm her, she was taking no chances.
She spilled some ale on the floor and sent Maisie away to fetch a cleaning cloth from the kitchen, then discreetly disposed of the ale in a plant pot while she was away.
Fortunately, the plant suffered no ill effects, and Eliza mourned the waste of a perfectly good glass of ale.
She wondered how much food and drink would have to be disposed of in the future in this manner. It was a worrying thought.
Eliza spent the rest of the day with Maisie, being introduced to the gardeners, kitchen staff, stable hands and some of the guards who were on shift.
Eliza ordered fresh rushes to be laid down in many of the rooms in the working areas of the castle, since many chambers were strewn with sparse and sometimes rotten ones.
Having seen scarcity of meat in the stew that was the servants’ evening meal, she instructed more of it to be included, something which delighted them immensely.
She found herself in the unusual position of giving orders, and was surprised to find that the ability to do so came to her quite naturally, and that the servants were suddenly much more respectful to her.
It occurred to her that she had tried to be too friendly to them, and they expected her to be stricter.
Eliza realised that she had learned some important lessons that day; perhaps she could be mistress of a castle, but could she ever be Duncan Sinclair’s wife?
At midnight, she crept towards the armoury, but just as she reached it, a hand landed on her shoulder. She whipped around, startled, opened her mouth to scream, then saw Duncan standing behind her. She let out a long sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry to have startled you,” Duncan whispered, then he took Eliza’s hand. He opened a heavy door that was so well-fitted into the wall that it was almost invisible.
They descended a steep flight of stairs then emerged into a small room lit by a bright lantern, and Eliza inhaled the earthy and floral aroma of dozens of different herbs. She saw bunches of them hanging from the ceiling by hooks.
“What is this place?” she asked curiously.
“My mother’s workroom,” Duncan replied, before going to a drawer in a cupboard by the wall and taking out a long thin knife that looked like a sword, but was much smaller.
“This is a dirk. It can be used for throwing, or as a normal sword. I want you to learn to use it in order to defend yourself, Eliza, because although I will always want to protect you, I cannot be by your side every moment.”
He passed it to her carefully, handle first.
“Thank you.”
She was touched by his concern for her welfare, but the weapon was lethal, and even looking at it made her afraid.
“Now,” Duncan moved behind her and pointed to a small red circle on the wall.
“There is your target. I know this is quite new to you, so don’t be disappointed if you miss the first dozen times, or even more.
The more often you practise, the better you will become, and I am a testament to that, since I had to learn when I was a boy. ”
He lifted Eliza’s arm, then held her hand in the throwing position and helped her aim.
Her first shot went three feet wide of the target, but her subsequent attempts grew closer and closer until she was within inches of hitting it.
However, after a while, Eliza’s arm began to ache with the unaccustomed exercise.
Duncan, seeing her discomfort, took the weapon from her hand, smiling. “A good first attempt,” he said warmly. “Now, I need you to learn something else. As you know, poison can be a deadly weapon, so you will need to learn to identify them.”
He unlocked a stout wooden chest, and when he opened the lid, Eliza saw rows of glass vials, gleaming like jewels in the lantern light. They were all lightly corked, and some were painted with red crosses.
“Those are poisonous,” Duncan told her. “The others are the antidotes. Many of the poisons smell sweet and flowery, but not all, so you must never take that for granted. Some are sour, so take no chances. If it smells or tastes strange, spit it out, even if you are sitting with guests. It’s better to be safe than sorry. ”
Eliza nodded, trying to appear outwardly calm even though she was terrified inside. What kind of hell had she stepped into?
Duncan read the fear in Eliza’s face that she was desperately trying to hide, however. He pressed a small flask into her palm.
“Here is an antidote for most of the common poisons,” he told her. “It’s crucial that you keep this secret, Eliza. Tell no one you have this, and be very careful to take a tiny bite or sip of any food or drink you are given before you have the rest.”
“Why do you not keep this for yourself?” Eliza asked, frowning. “You are the head of the clan, after all.”
Duncan shook his head. “I promised to protect you, and I will,” he said softly. “You are my fake bride, after all,” he said with a cheeky smirk.
He looked down at her for a moment longer, and she saw his eyes darken before he lowered his mouth to hers. It was the sweetest, tenderest moment Eliza had ever experienced as Duncan’s lips caressed hers, then he parted her lips gently with his tongue to stroke hers.
Eliza gave herself up to the feel of Duncan’s hard body pressed against hers, sending strange, delightful sensations to her breasts and her core. She wanted more from him, although she was not quite sure what it was she desired.
At last, they drew apart, and he gazed down at her for a few seconds before looking away.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That should not have happened.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Eliza whispered, “I am not sorry in the least.”