Iain had forgotten how damned and bitterly cold the Highlands could be when winter moved in to stay. They’d reached the mill some miles from the keep to discover that an attack had left the miller and his son injured, sent his family into hiding and the mill itself damaged. Now, three days later, they were riding back to Dunnedin Keep after leaving guards in place and packing up the miller and his family to return with them. He let his thoughts drift to a warm place to sleep, a hot bath, and a cooked meal—simple things—things he’d missed these last days and nights.
More so, he’d missed Robena.
He told himself it was because he’d planned to spend these weeks with her. And that he knew she was waiting for him. None of those previous plans mattered now, for over the last few days he’d finally decided that he wanted her, and not as his whore. Not even as his leman.
As his . . . wife.
Oh, he was not ignoring the challenges to getting what—who—he wanted, for Iain did not delude himself into thinking this would be an easy matter to resolve.
Many people would have their say, whether invited to or not, and many of his kith and kin would object and place obstacles in his path. Hell, if he was thinking straight, he would ken better than to take another step into the quagmire this would undoubtedly become.
As they rode through the village, Iain kept watch for her along the paths. She could be in any number of places, not expecting his return this day. When they’d arrived at the mill and inspected the damage, Rob had, at his request and with a great amount of smirking, sent word to her that Iain had accompanied him with the message that called for Pol, the blacksmith. Their path did not take them near to her cottage, so Iain would have to wait.
The lady stood waiting at the top of the steps leading into the keep, and servants took their horses and offered them cups of mulled wine. Anice ran this household better than even the most experienced commander of warriors did his men. He knew that she would have already made arrangements for everything they needed on their return.
“Food waits in yer chambers, to hold ye until supper,” she announced to the group. “And a hot bath.” Rob leaned in when he reached her, and Iain could tell what he’d asked from the blush that rose in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold winds swirling around them.
“I have tasks to see to, Rob. Ye can wash yerself.” She pushed Rob away with a playful slap on his arm and nodded her greeting to Iain. When he reached her, she touched his arm.
“A bath awaits ye, Iain,” she said.
“My thanks, Anice. My old bones would like nothing more than a long soak in a steaming tub.” He knew the lie in his words and what he’d omitted, and her gaze narrowed as he met it. She knew as well.
“Iain, I sent word to Robena, but she has not come.”
Knowing when Rob had sent word ahead to his wife, Iain understood that there had been plenty of time for word to reach Robena as well. Not attending him in his chambers was not due to a lack of notice. Was it something else, then? Mayhap she tended to another birthing.
Or was needed in some other matter?
Disappointed, Iain drank his wine, soaked in his bath until the water grew cold, and was dressed in time for supper. When he entered the hall and went to the table, he found his place had been moved, from next to Rob over to Struan’s other side, next to a woman he did not recognize. With a slight bow to the laird, he sat.
“This is my late wife’s sister, Gunna,” Struan said as Iain settled there. “She is visiting with us, but I dinna think ye have met before?”
“Nay, Struan, I think we have,” Iain said, in what he hoped was a pleasant voice. “Lady.” He nodded at the woman, who looked to be close to his own age.
“I met ye when I met yer brother,” the woman said. “’Twas some years ago, and I was sorry to hear of his passing.”
He remembered little about this woman but did recollect that she was one of the four women under consideration to marry his brother a score and ten years ago. Though initially attracted to several of those brought for his inspection, Duncan had fallen in love with his Margaret at first glance and remained that way until his death.
“My thanks. He is missed even now,” Iain offered.
Duncan was missed by all of his kith and kin, and his widow had not yet recovered from her grief. Iain doubted Margaret would. When he looked at Struan, Iain saw grief in the laird’s eyes as well, for Struan and Duncan had been fostered together and had remained friends until Duncan’s passing. The laird had even sent his natural son to Duncan when he thought itnecessary. A glance over at Rob told him that Rob had heard the words. “So, what brings ye to Dunnedin, lady?” he asked politely as he tried to push their talk back to a less painful topic.
“Struan invited me to visit. ’Tis been a while since I was here.”
Anice’s choking cough drew attention. Rob patted his wife’s back and offered her the cup there to ease it. Turning back to Gunna and Struan, he nodded, all the while wondering over Anice’s reaction to the woman’s words. Iain had sat at the tables of nobles all over Scotland, and understood how to conduct a polite and meaningless conversation.
Rob spoke about the matter of the attack on the mill and miller, which seemed to be more about a rogue band of thieves than another clan’s incursion onto MacKendimen lands. As winter set in, these outlaws grew bold in seeking supplies to see them through the dark and cold months of December and January. Come spring, they would be back on the roads and in the forests, where Rob and his men could flush them out.
The meal, filling and hot, was served, and the time passed as he exchanged words with Struan’s kin. A few strange glances from Rob, after Anice’s coughing, made him uneasy, and he would have to find out what Rob meant. When Anice stood, Gunna did as well, and they left the table together. From the way that Anice walked off without her once they reached the bottom of the steps, Iain understood there were no warm feelings between the two. Which made Gunna’s acceptance of Struan’s invitation even more curious.
“She is a fine woman, would ye not say, Iain?” Struan asked. The laird held up his cup and Iain watched as it was filled by a waiting servant. He tried to put just the right reply together before speaking.
“She seems to be, Struan. I have not seen her since her family was negotiating for her to marry Duncan all those years ago.”
“Gunna was widowed years ago and is open to remarrying.” Well, the man could be direct when he wanted to be. Now it was Rob’s turn to choke. Struan glared at his son and turned back to Iain. “I am sure yer family is urging ye to remarry. The commander of the MacKillop’s warriors is in fine mettle to marry and have children.”
“As I have told my nephew, if I choose to marry again, I will be certain to let everyone ken of my decision to do so.” He tried to speak the words in an even tone, but his anger at Struan’s presumption grew.
