Before he might reply, however, Mab appeared in the hall carrying bowls, spoons, and two silver cups that had been newly polished. She set the high board, saying, “The meal is coming behind me, my lord, my lady. Please be seated. With your permission I have assigned two young men from the village, Tam and Artair, to serve at table. If they do not suit I will find two others.”
Tam and Artair now came into the hall carrying a bowl and two platters. Behind them Gabhan carried a board with fresh bread, a crock of sweet butter, and a small wedge of cheese. He sneaked a long look at Cicely, deciding whether she was a whore, as Bethia said she was. But if, as his old auntie related, she was to be the laird’s wife thenIan Douglas was a fortunate man, for the lady was certainly the prettiest lass he had ever seen.
The hot food was set upon the table. One platter held slices of ham, the other eggs poached in cream sauce with dill. The bowl was filled with steaming porridge.
“My lady?” The lad called Tam offered to spoon some porridge into Cicely’s bowl. When she nodded he spooned in a small but adequate amount and then looked to her. “ ’Tis enough, my lady?” he inquired politely.
“Aye, ’tis perfect. Thank you,” Cicely responded.
“Cream?” Tam asked, holding a small pitcher, and when she nodded he poured some, again seeking her approval, and smiling when she nodded once more.
Tam then filled the laird’s bowl almost full with the hot cereal and heavy cream. Then he stepped back to await further instructions.
They ate in silence, and when the bowls were emptied Tam removed them swiftly, and his companion, Artair, offered the eggs and the meat while Tam sliced bread.
“I’m astounded by this meal,” the laird finally said to Cicely.
“Why?” she responded. “Mab is a wonderful cook, but she was being bullied by Bethia, who I will wager was stealing from your larder, so that you ended up being poorly fed while she profited by selling in the village what she stole,” Cicely reasoned, and, seeing the quick look pass between the two young servants, she knew she was right.
“You know I love you, for I have said it,” Ian murmured to her. “Now do you see how much I need you to care for me, ladyfaire?”
Cicely was forced to laugh at his declaration. “While I am reluctant to admit it, you have charm, my lord,” she said. “But Glengorm is not at all the home I envisioned for my married life.”
“Then make of it what you want,” he said to her. “Have you been to Fairlea’s home? Is it any better?”
“I have not been to Andrew Gordon’s house,” Cicely admitted, “but I am certain it is clean, and his servants well trained. A manwho keeps himself neat will surely have a well-ordered domicile, my lord.”
“Would you marry into such a house knowing that though you are mistress, its lord would always have the last word?” he inquired of her. “In my house you would have full autonomy over the servants, for as a man I am but interested in a hot meal and a warm bed. Fairlea, I will wager, is concerned with every small detail ofhislife andhispossessions, ladyfaire.”
Cicely was silent. The truth was, he did make a strong point about the laird of Fairlea, and how could he have come to know the man that well in such a short time at court? That was a question she asked Ian Douglas.
“I know men, ladyfaire,” he said quietly. “Life here in the borders is not easy, and you need to be able to read other men quickly to know if you deal with friend or foe. The laird of Fairlea is a proud man. Proud of his name and of himself. It is obvious by the way he dresses, by the way he speaks with others that he holds himself in high regard. And he judges others by his own standards. He considers your beauty and wealth worthy of him, but he is not quite as sure of himself as he would have all believe. That is why he kept other suitors from your side, ladyfaire. And that is why it was necessary for me to resort to such reckless measures.”
“Andrew is a proud man, but the Gordons are one of the finest families in Scotland,” Cicely defended her other suitor. But Ian Douglas was right about his rival. Still, did not a man have a right to be proud of himself and his possessions?
“Fairlea is a fool,” Ian Douglas said frankly. “If he were not he would have swept you off to the priest long since, ladyfaire.”
“Priest? Who speaks of a priest in such bold tones?”
A tall man in a long black robe tied with a white rope belt strode into the hall. “God’s balls! Is that decent food on your table, Ian? I had heard you finally sent Bethia back to her husband, poor fellow. Ahh, and this will be the bride.” The tall man grinned and gave hera scant bow. “Father Ambrose, at your service, my lady.” He settled himself at the table next to Ian, shoveling the remaining eggs onto the platter that still contained two slices of ham, and then he began to eat.
“I did tell you that we had a priest,” Ian Douglas said.
“Bless me,” the priest said, “old Mab hasn’t lost her touch in the kitchens.” He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sauce on the eggs.
“He looks like you,” Cicely finally said.
“I should, my lady,” Father Ambrose, said with another grin, “for I am this rascal’s uncle. The last of the wenching Douglas’s bastards. It was only natural I go into the Church to make up for my old father’s sins.” He chuckled. “Welcome to Glengorm! I will wager no one has said that to you yet.”
“Nay, they haven’t, thank you,” Cicely replied, warming immediately to the priest. “Now I should be most appreciative if you would tell your nephew to return me to Perth. He probably won’t even have to go the entire way, for the king will have sent after me by now, you may be certain.”
“Regretfully, my child, Ian does not take direction well, I fear.” Then he turned to the laird. “Why in the name of all that is holy have you stolen a bride that King James will want to retrieve, nephew?”
“I love her,” Ian Douglas answered his uncle. “It is said our king fell in love with his queen at first sight, and so it is with me. I saw my ladyfaire on the road to Perth the day I pledged my fealty to King James. And in that moment, Uncle, I knew no other woman would do for me. I went to court to woo her, but some damned Gordon had already marked her for himself. No other man could get near her. I had no choice but to abduct her and bring her to Glengorm.”
“Are you betrothed, my child?” Father Ambrose asked Cicely.
“Nay, Father, I am not. I made no promise to Andrew Gordon, though he did beseech me to pledge myself to him,” Cicely replied honestly.
