Grissa’s dubious expression showed she did not agree that her chieftain would have come up with the additional comforts on his own. “Whatever ye say, mistress. But I have thought quite a lot about the problem of the ill wishes. I know how ye could end Lizzie’s foolishness.”
Mila straightened and gave the maid her full attention. “How?”
“Ye could speak with the Lady MacDonald.” The girl took on a self-righteous air. “She would put an end to the foolishness.”
Mila busied herself by snipping more herbs. Grissa had unknowingly hit upon what bothered her most about her relationship with Teague. Not once had he ever mentioned introducing her to his grandmother. She tried telling herself it was because the woman was in poor health, but it still hurt that he never asked her to join him on his daily visits to see Lady MacDonald. “I canna visit the lady without Teague’s approval. In fact, it would be rude of me to go to her without his introduction.”
“Has he said ye canna see her?” Grissa’s incredulous tone made Mila even more uncomfortable.
“No.”
“Then why would ye think he’d be angry? Ye are his lady.”
“I am his mistress. Not his wife.”
“Nay, mistress—”
Mila lifted a hand. “It is what it is. I’ll not listen to arguments meant to paint it into something it’s not.” Another sensitive topic.
She turned away and headed toward the lavender. Now would be a good time to gather that calming herb. Not that she wanted to marry. At least, not just yet. But she wasn’t sure how much longer the contraceptive odds of tansy oil or vinegar-soaked wool would be in her favor, no matter what Vivyanne and her girls said. After all, all three of Vivyanne’s harlots had at least one child apiece. Her highest earner, Scarlett, had four.
Mila knew pregnancy and all the dangers that came with it in this century were a real possibility. And if she remained unmarried, became pregnant, then Teague died because she couldn’t change history…
She uprooted a handful of lavender and threw it in the basket. “Bugger it all straight to hell and back!”
“Mistress!” Grissa sidled in front of her with a worried frown. “I didna mean to upset ye. Beg pardon. Please.”
“The facts are not yer fault.” Mila squeezed the kind girl’s arm, grateful to have her as a friend she could trust. “I will figure things out like always.”
“Talk to himself. Have ye asked him why he doesna wish ye to meet his grandmother?”
“No.”
“Well, if ye dinna mind my asking, why have ye not spoken to him?” Grissa reminded Mila of a puppy waiting for its master to throw the ball. She would not let up. “Everyone knows he is purely taken with ye. I canna imagine he would deny ye anything. He so much as said so at the feast when he announced the two of ye were one.”
Mila wished she could be as positive as Grissa. The dear girl romanticized everything. “Maybe I dinna wish to know the real reason why he doesna want me to meet her.”
Her relationship with Teague still both thrilled and frightened her. Even though they had only been together three months, it felt like a lifetime. In a good way. Any kind of relationship before had always been a struggle, and bonds of friendship were rare. She had never experienced what she had with Teague and didn’t want to risk losing it.
“I wish I had some of my self-help books here.”
“Pardon, mistress?” Grissa paused in weeding the garden and looked up at her.
“Never mind,” Mila said. “Not important.”
“There be my precious dove.” Teague swung open the waist-high gate to the garden. He came straight to her, took her in his arms, and set her aflame with a passionate kiss. “To keep ye wanting me,” he whispered while nuzzling her ear.
“As if I could ever stop.” And she meant that. Every word. She eased out of his arms and recovered her basket and knife. “Such a greeting. Ye’re not off to somewhere, are ye?” That was her greatest fear: that history would find a way to get him even though he had promised to steer clear of Stirling.
“Nay, m’love. Calder and I just returned from inspecting the cattle. I am headed for a visit with Grandmother. She enjoys hearing about the prosperity of the clan.” He swept a proud gaze across the grounds. “I believe this is the best garden we have ever had. Ye are a boon to us, my lady love.”
“I can finish gathering the herbs if ye wish to take Lady Mila with ye,” Grissa said with a knowing smile. “I am sure Lady MacDonald would be more than pleased to meet her.”
“Grissa!” Mila scowled at the maid, willing her to shut her mouth.
Teague nodded as though the idea had never occurred to him. “A fine suggestion, indeed. Grandmother could do with someone new to spark her energy.” A somberness came over him. Something akin to dread. “Perhaps she will choose to tarry with us a bit longer then.”
“I dinna wish to tire her.” Mila brushed at her skirts, which were dusty and stained from her working in the garden. “And I canna see her looking like this. It would be disrespectful.”
