Chapter 16
Eliza woke to the weight of Duncan’s arm resting on her waist, and the warmth of his body surrounding her.
She looked up into his amber eyes and saw him smiling at her.
The light glinted on his new growth of red-gold bristles, and she raised her hand to rub her fingers against his face, loving the raspy, ticklish feel of it.
“What does it feel like to have a beard?” she asked.
Duncan laughed. “It keeps your face warm in winter,” he replied, rubbing his hand over his bristly cheek.
“Should I grow one?” Eliza asked, her eyes twinkling.
He laughed again, then kissed her, and for a long moment the air in the room was still, silent, and full of an almost palpable sense of love and peace.
Presently, Duncan sat up, then reached over to his bedside table and picked up a polished wooden box, which he gave to Eliza, watching her face carefully as she inspected it.
It was a thing of beauty, with engravings of flowers on its smooth surface, and a brass handle and lock with a small key in it.
“What is it?” Eliza asked curiously.
It was heavy, and when she shook it, it rattled.
“Open it and see,” Duncan suggested, looking at her keenly.
Eliza unlocked the box and lifted the lid, then gasped in delight. “Oh! Duncan! Thank you!” she cried.
The box was full of spools of thread in every colour of the rainbow and more, needles of every size, pins, scissors, an embroidery hoop and pincushion, as well as many other instruments that only a seamstress would have use for.
Eliza took the threads out one by one, tested the scissors by snapping them open and closed a few times, then looked up at him with a face that was suffused with joy.
“Oh, Duncan, how did you know?” Eliza asked.
“I eavesdropped on your conversation with Maisie at the market,” he replied, smiling. “You said that sewing makes you feel close to your mother. Was she a good seamstress?”
“She was the best,” Eliza said sadly. “She sewed most of our clothes when we were young, made us rag dolls and mended all of our dresses when we tore them, which was often. She knew that was a maid’s job, but she did it anyway, simply because she loved doing it for us.
She did wonderful needlepoint and embroidery too.
And she knitted all our sweaters, and the rest of our warm clothes for winter.
I was never cold, and whenever I’m warm and comfortable I think of my woollen gloves and scarves.
I still miss her very much, but we all have to die sometime, do we not? ”
Eliza’s tone was light, and she tried to look nonchalant, but Duncan was not fooled. He could see the pain in her eyes.
“Don’t try to hide your sorrow from me, Eliza,” he murmured. “I understand what it is to lose a mother.”
They were both silent for a while, thinking of the women who had made them and shaped them.
“You never really get over it, do you?” Eliza asked, sighing.
“No, but the memories last forever,” he assured her. “We have become who we are because of them, and we owe them everything.” He kissed her forehead, then he dispelled the mood. He pulled her closer, then whispered, “Will you obey me this morning as well?”
Eliza giggled. “Well, your wish is my command, and I am happy to do your will.”
They kissed, and for a long time, there was nothing to be heard but the sound of orders being obeyed.
“You know,” Duncan whispered, “when I first saw you at your father’s house, you looked so tough, so full of wildness and spirit. I knew you’d challenge me. That is why I chose you, Eliza. I knew that you would relish a battle of wits.”
Eliza laughed softly. “You are a very good judge of character, My Laird.”
“I hope so,” he replied, “but I was wrong in one respect, Eliza. I never knew about your tenderness because you keep that side of you hidden under a mask of propriety. Thank you for showing me what lies underneath that mask, you wonderful woman.”
Eliza’s eyes were glittering with tears. “It is I who should be thanking you, Duncan,” she said, her voice husky with emotion. “You taught me what it feels like to truly give myself to you, and how beautiful it can be. I never dreamed anything could feel like that.”
Duncan cupped Eliza’s face in his big hands and kissed her again. “Let me show you again,” he said tenderly.
Eliza had not bothered to try to hide her presence from the household staff in Duncan’s bedroom that morning, but neither of them cared who knew about it any more.
“I am the Laird, and what I say is law,” Duncan said, when Eliza mentioned it to him.
She often remembered him saying those words when she was alone because she longed for him every moment when he was away from her.
The sewing kit was the most wonderful present Eliza had ever received, and she began to work on the dress she had promised Maisie straight away, much to the young woman’s delight.
Accordingly, Eliza took Maisie’s measurements and began to cut out the fabric, while she looked on in amazement.
Eliza talked her through the process and showed her how to do each kind of stitch, unhurriedly and precisely. She was a hard taskmaster and Maisie had to sew every stitch perfectly before she could proceed with the next one, sometimes having to unpick them several times.
When Eliza saw frustration and anger on Maisie’s face, she smiled.
“I’m doing this for your own good, Maisie,” she told her.
“I know what you are going through because I went through exactly the same thing when my mother taught me. It’s tiring and frustrating, I know, but you are improving with every stitch, and you will be glad you did it in the end, I promise. ”
Maisie sighed, but smiled. “I know ye are right, Milady, but I have never had tae learn anythin’ like this before. It is hard, but I know ye’re right.”
Eliza smiled at her, then Maisie stopped sewing and went to fetch them some tea and cake.
Cake was a rare treat for a servant, but Eliza valued Maisie’s service and loyalty and was happy to indulge her, after all they were not that different.
She had been bought like cattle to play a part, she was not a real Lady.
She also felt a great deal of pity for the girl, since her life had been so hard, and she wanted to improve it.
Eliza knew she could not help everyone, but when she saw the circumstances that many ordinary people found themselves in, she was determined to do whatever she could for them.
When Maisie brought the tea tray Eliza picked up her cup and sipped it without a second thought. She never tried it before she drank it any more, because she had learned to trust Maisie, and was sure that her maid would never do her any harm.
When they had finished a couple of seams on the skirt, Eliza inspected Maisie’s work and said warmly, “Well done, Maisie. This is excellent work.”
Maisie blushed. “Thank ye, Milady. I am so happy that ye think so.”
Maisie had to return to her work, though, and Eliza sat alone for a while, feeling warm and happy inside. She was helping her maid to acquire a skill that would stand her in good stead for the rest of her life, and she knew that Maisie would use it well.
Then came the unwelcome thought that she would not be around to see the results—which made her wonder what Duncan would do with her in the future after they had uncovered the traitor in their midst. If he did not marry her, would he set her free?
Or would she have to suffer the sight of him marrying and perhaps loving a woman like Iona while she stayed in the castle as a servant or his mistress?
Eliza sighed and walked over to the window, trying to banish the unwelcome thoughts from her mind. Now was not the time to be dwelling on such things; whatever happened in the future, she was determined to enjoy her time with Duncan while she could.
Thoughts of their lovemaking came back to her; his big hands on her breasts, the feeling of fullness when he entered her, the blinding ecstasy of her climax, and the look in his eyes when he held her afterwards.
She would never feel like this again—she was sure of it, and the memories that she was storing up now were all the more precious because she knew they would have to last forever.
Eliza shook her head to clear it of her unhappy thoughts, then picked up her embroidery hoop and a piece of fabric. She had a project in mind, and she was ready to begin, so that even if she was forced to leave Lennoxburn Castle, she would have something else to remember it by.
She remembered sitting by her mother’s side one morning when she was around ten years old, watching as she embroidered a picture of a rose which was so detailed it almost looked real, on a piece of pale blue silk. It was a work of art, and Eliza had been extremely jealous of her mother’s skill.
“Do you think I will ever be as good as you, Mama?” she asked.
Maria Tewsbury put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and kissed her forehead. “You will be. Do you know why?”
Eliza shook her head. “Tell me,” she said.
“Because you love what you do,” she replied, her dark eyes smiling into her daughter’s. “So you will do it as well as you can.”
Her words had been prophetic because Eliza had indeed become an artist with her needle, and she had her mother to thank for it. Yet, the memory was bittersweet, after so many years without her.
She decided to wander around the Keep to occupy herself.
As she was passing one of the main reception rooms, she saw that the door was slightly ajar, and she caught the sound of voices.
They were not the voices of servants, for they were speaking English, not Scots or Gaelic, and her ears pricked up when she heard her name mentioned.
“Eliza, what a stupid English name!” one of the councillors said angrily. “And as if we didn’t have enough problems without yet another English bride! What’s to be done about it?”
Suddenly, the door opened and the man who had been speaking stepped out, but froze when he saw her. Eliza’s heart skipped a beat, but she pasted on a smile and gave him a brief curtsy.
“Good day,” Eliza said politely.
She slipped past the elder and went into the room where a dozen men were seated drinking tea and ale, obviously talking about her. A hostile silence fell immediately, and Eliza looked around, pretending to be surprised.
“Oh, what a nice meeting, but I thought the Laird would be here,” she said, sounding surprised. “Was he not invited?”
The tallest of the elders stood up and walked over to her, then stood a yard away from her so that Eliza had to tilt her head back to look at him.
He was as tall as Duncan, but thinner, older and much, much less handsome.
He was obviously hoping that his stature would intimidate her, but Eliza was made of sterner stuff.
Her heart was beating furiously, but she stood her ground, and met his dark eyes squarely with her own.
“My Lady,” he said, his voice grim and threatening, “you are a stranger here, and you have no idea how things work, so perhaps you should go back to doing whatever English ladies do all day.”
“Yes,” another man spoke up and came forward to stand beside his colleague. He was fat and had a long red beard, and Eliza found him absolutely repulsive. “You are not the mistress of the castle yet, My Lady. You really should not be interfering in matters about which you know nothing.”
Their condescending manner was infuriating, but Eliza would not back down. She had been smiling for so long, her face was beginning to hurt.
“I may not be mistress of the castle yet, but I soon will be.”
At that statement, the atmosphere in the room became even more palpably hostile, but Eliza did not react; these horrible men were not going to get the better of her.
She sighed, and her face took on a pained expression. “I heard about the tragedy of the Laird’s cousin being killed,” she said sadly. “Was it because someone thought he had tainted blood because he was half-English?”
For a moment, there was a shocked silence, then one of the elders, a slightly younger man, said grimly, “It was a tragedy indeed and one that should never have happened, but there is obviously a traitor in our midst, and we do not, and never will suffer traitors to live amongst us. Whoever it is will be found out and justice will come down hard on them.”
“I see,” Eliza nodded in agreement. “And I agree with you that all traitors are evil and should be rooted out and dealt with. You have my full support, gentlemen. Now, I will leave you to resume your meeting.”
Eliza turned and made a dignified exit, even though her hands were shaking, and her heartbeat sounded so loud in her ears that she thought the men in the council chamber might be able to hear it.
She walked sedately along the passage until she was out of sight of the chamber, then she broke into a run, heading as fast as her skirts would allow her towards Duncan’s study.
The councilmen were planning something—she was sure of it, and she also knew that it would not spell good news for Duncan. She had to tell him, and quickly because she could not bear the thought of any harm coming to him.