It was as if someone had thrust a knife into her vitals so sharp was the pain. Velvet turned her head away, and quick tears filled her eyes, but only Pansy saw them. The tiring woman glowered at Alanna Wythe, but the blond English girl merely tossed her head and smiled boldly.
“Is this your wife, then Alex?” she said.
Without answering her, the earl handed her back the baby, then turning to Velvet said, “We’re almost there now, sweetheart. Ye’re beginning to look tired.” Then they moved on and rode out of the village.
Jean Lawrie, the goodwife to whom Alex had spoken, looked archly at Alanna Wythe. “Ye’d best beware, ye bold baggage! I’ve known Alex Gordon my whole life, and I can tell ye that he’ll nae put up wi’ yer forwardness, nor will he allow ye to offend his bride.”
“You’ve two daughters, don’t you, Mistress Lawrie? If you want that fine son you’re carrying to be born safe, I’d not offend me.” Alanna’s eyes narrowed.
Jean Lawrie crossed herself. “Oh, ye’re a bad one, ye are! Ye’ll nae frighten me though. I dinna believe the tale that ye’re a witch. Perhaps ye can fool some of the younger girls in this village wi’ yer love charms and potions, but ye canna fool me. If ye’re so all-powerful, then why has yer witchcraft not kept the earl’s favor?”
“Alex loves me,” Alanna Wythe declared firmly.
“Humph,” snorted Jean Lawrie. “Ye’re a fool if ye believe that, lass. I saw the look he gave his beautiful wife. He’ll hae her belly filled in nae time at all, and when her son is born, he’ll nae gie ye another thought. He wouldn’t now except for wee Sibby.” Then she flounced off, satisfied at having bested the Englishwoman.
Angrily Alanna stared after her, but then she turned to look after Alex. She had given him a child, and what was her reward? A cottage in this backwater village and a pension that could barely keep them. She detested keeping house, and no woman in the village would work for her. Sybilla was forever hanging onto her skirts, whining for this or that. Alanna hated it here, but eventually she would be back atDun Brocwith a servant to care for her and another to look after her brat. She had already begun casting charms that would bring Alex back to her and away from the proud bitch who had not even bothered to look at her.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Alex apologized as they reached the narrow, walled road that led up toDun Broc.
Velvet took a deep breath. “ ’Twas not your fault, Alex, but now perhaps you’ll see why she must go. She’ll not give you up, and she uses the child to gain your attention.”
“If I send her away, God only knows what will happen to wee Sybilla, and she’s a bonny little bairn, Velvet. Surely ye saw that?”
“I did not notice, Alex, but you could give the child to some kindly village woman to raise. Surely she would be better off, and I suspect that Mistress Wythe will be happy to accept a bag of gold from you and her passage home to London.”
“God, Velvet! I dinna think a great deal of Alanna, but what kind of woman would leave her child? She’ll nae do it, I’m certain, but gie me a little time and I will try to have her gone before the winter sets in here. Be patient lass. Ye need nae see her again.”
He couldn’t know how his words wounded her, but she would not tell him of Yasaman. Instead she said, “I will see her each time I go down to the village, Alex, you may be certain of it.”
“She’d nae be so bold,” he said, and Velvet thought how little her husband knew women.
“You cannot be sure what she will do, Alex. Remember Mary de Boult,” she warned. Then she changed the subject entirely, asking, “Where is your sister’s house? Did you not say ’twas in this glen also?”
“ ’Tis on the other side of the village,” he answered. “We’ll go there in a few days, but I am certain that we’ll find both Annabella and Ian awaiting us atDun Broc.Dinna invite her to spend the night or we’ll nae get rid of her for a week.”
“Alex! She’s your sister, your only sister!”
“She’s a spoilt and willful minx,” he answered her. “When Mother and Nigel died, she moved herself and that weak-kneed husband of hers right intoDun Broc, and it wasn’t until Father passed away that I was able to rid myself of her. She was already telling her bairns that they would inheritDun Brocone day because I wasn’t married or likely to be so. She herself could have made a better match than the one she made, but for some reason she wed wi’ Ian Grant. I have never been able to understand it.”
They were close to the head of the road, and Velvet could see the lowered drawbridge and the portcullis raised to welcome the castle’s master. Suddenly upon the battlements appeared a lone piper whose bagpipe wailed a spirited tune that Alex told her was called “BrocCairn’s Triumph.” The sound of the pipe hovered in the air over the glen, the notes blending one into another until the last of the melody was played in a victorious burst. Velvet could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising in excitement.
“Tis how the chief is welcomed home,” Alex said, “and today is a most joyful homecoming for my people because ye’re with me, Velvet. They’ve long awaited their Countess of BrocCairn, lass. My mother’s been dead close to five years now.”
They passed over the drawbridge, the horses’ hooves drumming on the heavy wood, and beneath the portcullis arch into the castle courtyard. On the south wall was the stables, with its blacksmith shop and its armory. Directly before them across the courtyard was the castle itself with its walled garden. The double-arched main doors of the castle were open, and waiting on the stone steps leading to them were a man and a woman.
“ ’Tis Bella and her weakling,” muttered Alex.
Velvet giggled. “Alex!” she admonished.
“Nay,” he replied. “Look at her standing so proudly as if ’twas she who was the lady of the manor. The minx should be on the lowest step awaiting us, nae on the top!”
They rode up to the foot of the steps, and Velvet got her first good look at her sister-in-law. She was wearing a deep crimson silk dress, one of her best, Velvet suspected, which flattered her dark hair and gray-blue eyes. She had a pretty, fair-skinned face, but she did not look particularly like her brother, and Velvet suspected she favored their late mother.
Alex slid easily off his horse and, turning, lifted Velvet down from hers, kissing her on the nose as he did so. She laughed up at him, and he couldn’t resist a chuckle himself. She looked so damned adorable in that outrageous riding outfit. Then, slipping an arm about her, he walked up the steps to where his sister and her husband awaited.
“Welcome home, brother,” said Annabella Grant, but her very disapproving gaze was upon Velvet.
Alex kissed his sister in a perfunctory manner. “How nice of ye to be here awaiting us, Bella.” He loosed his grip on Velvet and drew her forward. “My wife, Velvet Gordon, the new Countess of BrocCairn.”
