MacNabh eyed her with a conspicuous lack of welcome, Roisin with open hatred. The old woman—well, she quite frankly appeared mad.
A servant came and began passing the platters.
“How are ye finding your stay?” MacNabh asked.
Darlei stared. She said nothing.
“How d’ye find your room now ye’ve had time to settle?”
“Small. We find it small.”And cold. And barren.
“’Tis no’ a grand house,” the old woman whined. “No’ big at all. My own husband raised it, ye ken.”
“You may send your woman to the servants’ hall, if ye will,” MacNabh suggested.
“Nay, I want her with me,” Darlei replied.
“There is no larger chamber. Save mine.” His pale-blue eyes met Darlei’s for an instant. Her stomach turned over.
“Nay. We are well enough.”
“I will no’ have it,” Roisin wailed. “I will no’ ha’thatin your chamber. She should be housed out in the stables.” She bared her teeth at Darlei. “Animal.”
“Are you afraid of me? Like a wild beast?” Darlei fixed the woman with an unwavering stare.
“Afraid? Nay, bitch, why should I be?”
“Enough o’ this. I hadhoped”—MacNabh accompanied the words with a stare of disapproval—“we could get along. Ye be my wife and canna be shut awa’ forever.”
“Should the king come,” the old woman said, wagging her finger at Darlei, “he will need to see ye.”
“Isthe king coming?” Darlei asked, startled.
“He may be, he may be. ’Tis rumored he will do a tour this autumn wi’ his new wife. He will want to see ye.” MacNabh fixed her with a stare. “He will want to see ye with child.”
“Oh.” So that was it. No kindness, this, no concern. Only the fear of accountability to a higher power.
“I ha’ sent word to him by messenger,” MacNabh said dutifully, “that his decree has been carried out, and we are wed. Should he decide to come and see…”
MacNabh did not finish the thought. He did not need to. Should the king include this place in his tour, all must appear well. And he would want to assure his liege that she carried his child.
She pushed her platter away. “If the king comes, I shall tell him how you have mistreated me.”
“Wha’?” MacNabh roared, and his old mother squealed.
“I will tell him I am naught more than a prisoner here. That you shut me away from the daylight and half starve me.”
“Wicked wench!” Roisin breathed. “Dunstoch, ye should do awa’ wi’ her.”
MacNabh swiveled to look at his mistress. “Do awa’ wi’ her? With the king on his way?”
Roisin’s eyes gleamed with malice. “Ye can say she suffered some mishap. Fell down the well, mayhap, and that ye be a widower—again. Ye will ha’ obeyed him all the same, aye?”
Darlei pushed to her feet. The same end for her that Caragh had suggested. The very same. “You will keep away from us, from my servant and me. Else I will tell the king how you mistreat a Caledonian princess. How you forced me and starve me.”
MacNabh rose to his feet also, though he made no move to come around the table. “Ye mad bitch.”
“Aye, she is mad!” Roisin agreed. “Ye do no’ want a child out o’ that.”
