“But ye usually kill them wi’ yer cock,” said Ian.
“Aye, but this time ’twas different,” Ranald answered.
“How?”
“There’s nae doubt that I’ve the biggest cock in Christendom, but, Alanna”—he smiled broadly at Ian—“well, it seems that she has the biggest cunt in Christendom! We’re a perfect match, Mouse! Now sit down, man, and hae something to eat. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”
Bemused at this unexpected turn of events, Ian sat down. Alanna slammed a bowl of oat porridge in front of him. “I sent the message to Velvet first thing this morning,” he said. “I’ve the other message ready to send toDun Broconce we hae her in our custody.”
Ranald Torc grunted approval.
“What are ye going to do wi’ Sibby?” Ian asked Alanna. “Ye canna take her wi’ us, can ye?”
“I’ll ask Mistress Lawrie to take care of her,” Alanna replied. “The brat spends most of her time with that woman anyhow, and the bitch seems to have a weakness for her despite all her own children. When they see I’m gone, you can be certain Jean Lawrie will take Sibby in. If she doesn’t want another mouth to feed, she can give her to her father when he returns. It makes me laugh to think of her high-and-mighty ladyship returning home when this is over to find she has to raisemychild. She’ll do it, too, for she’s softhearted. I’ve seen her with the children here in the village.”
“Ye’d leave yer child to another?” Ranald Torc asked.
“Would you take me with you if I insisted upon bringing her along?” Alanna countered.
“Nay, ’tis no life for a child,” he answered.
“Do you want to leave me, Ranald Torc, until this is all over?” she demanded. “I thought you liked fucking me.”
“I’ll nae leave ye ever again, Alanna,” he replied. “That itch of yers needs my scratching, but be warned: If ye so much as look at another man, I’ll beat ye senseless. Leave the brat. Ye’re my woman now, and I’ll gie ye more bairns to raise.”
“Not unless ye marry me, ye won’t!” she snapped.
“In Edinburgh, I will,” he promised her, “and those who know me know my word is good.”
Ian Grant was completely amazed by the conversation that was taking place as if he weren’t even there. He was somewhat aggrieved that Alanna, having been his mistress for so many months, was so easily and effortlessly discarding him. He had forgotten for the moment that he had intended to leave her, that he had without a thought turned her over to his cousin whose mighty attentions could have either seriously injured or killed her. Ian fancied himself quite the lover, but Alanna Wythe seemed not to care. She was, he decided, an English bitch without the good taste to comprehend what she was throwing away in order to marry that monster of a cousin of his. Well, good luck to them both. They were going to need it if BrocCairn came after them. He, on the other hand, would be safe in France living as he was always meant to live.
Before the sun had sent its slender, golden rays into the glen, both Ian Grant and Ranald Torc were gone from Alanna Wythe’s cottage. Not even little Sybilla knew that they had been there. The breakfast dishes were washed and returned to their cupboard before Alanna roused her child from her slumber. She bathed her and fed her lukewarm porridge with a scone that had a dab of honey on it. Dressing the child in clean clothes, she braided her reddish brown hair, then led her from the cottage and walked the few steps to Jean Lawrie’s cottage.
Alanna entered the house without knocking, and Angus Lawrie, seated at his table, looked up, not quite able to hide the admiration in his eyes. “Good morning, Angus,” she said sweetly, “I’ve come to see Jean.”
“If ye could take yer eyes off my man long enough,” snapped Jean Lawrie, “ye’d see me right here by the fireplace. What do ye want, Mistress Wythe?” Jean Lawrie was nursing her young son who was almost a year old now.
“I want to go into the forest today to look for roots,” Alanna said. “I don’t like bringing Sibby with me because she won’t obey me and stay still. I’m always afraid she’ll be hurt. Will you watch her until I get back? I’ll make you a good medicine for coughs that you can use this winter if you do.”
“I’d watch the lass in any case,” Jean Lawrie said softening. “Go on. She’s safe wi’ me.”
Alanna knelt down and looked into her daughter’s face. “Be a good girl, Sibby, and obey Mistress Lawrie,” she said, and then, standing up, she was gone.
At the very moment Alanna was leaving her daughter with Jean Lawrie, Velvet received an early-morning message from her sister-in-law. Annabella wanted her to come and visit today. Ian was going hunting, and as Alex was away atHuntleyperhaps she would be free. She had to come. Annabella was so totally bored. This was Annabella in a far lighter mood than Velvet had seen her recently, and Velvet very much wanted to be friends with her husband’s sister. Other than Bella, there were no females but the servants within visiting distance. Velvet was lonely for another woman’s company. After her close relationship with Jodh Bai and Rugaiya Begum, and especially now that she was expecting a child, she needed female companionship. Pansy, bless her, was so involved in her own new life that Velvet didn’t feel comfortable imposing on her.
“Pansy!” she called now from bed, and her tiring woman hurried into the bedchamber. “Good morning, m’lady!”
“We’re going toGrantholmtoday, Pansy. Can you still ride, or shall I have one of the maids go with me?”
Pansy, in the fifth month of her second pregnancy, patted her rounding belly, saying, “I’m good for a little while longer, m’lady. I’ll go with you. With or without child, I still ride better than any of those flighty lasses.”
Velvet hid her grin. Pansy was fiercely protective of her place in Velvet’s life. She had no intention of allowing one of the local Scots girls the opportunity to steal it from her. Pansy was the Countess of BrocCairn’s tiring woman, and she would let none forget it.
“Will you wear a gown or your usual riding garb, m’lady?”
“Not a gown, Pansy. The road is dusty. Bella will just have to take me in trunk hose.”
Pansy agreed with her mistress and quickly assembled Velvet’s hose, shirt, belt, jerkin, and boots. Then she arranged for her lady’s bath, adding gillyflower bath oil to the steaming tub. When Velvet had bathed, Pansy helped her to dress. While her mistress ate her breakfast of eggs poached in cream and sherry, thin slices of newly caught and broiled salmon, freshly baked scones with honey and butter, and watered wine, Pansy hurried to exchange her own garb for one a little less conventional so that she might ride, too.
