He woke up with a start,then realized it was nearly dawn. Outside, the view was obscured by a misty drizzle which matched the way he felt.If I could only make today go away, he thought. If only he did not have a duty, but was responsible only for himself. He sighed and sat down at his table to eat the breakfast Peter had brought in for him. A throbbing headache had begun behind his eyes and he was beginning to feel slightly sick. He forced down a mouthful of scrambled egg and a piece of kipper then pushed away his plate.
Alex thought about Robina for a while, wondering what she would be like. Nothing like her mother, he hoped. He was not expecting much, and he doubted whether she was either. All he wanted was a womb for his children, and all she likely wanted was a husband to take care of her. Nevertheless, he hoped she was pretty.
He performed his ablutions then it was time to get out and make himself presentable. Peter came in to shave him and help him dress. Afterwards, Alex took a deep breath and went downstairs.
Seeing his horse, Rusty, always cheered him up. He was a light gray in color, with a long white mane and tail, with the feathered feet and placid disposition of a great draught horse. Theirs was a mutual love relationship.
“Wish me well, Rusty,” he whispered, and kissed his velvet nose before he mounted up and rode towards his destiny.
This is not the right way to meet the man you will be marrying,Robina thought mutinously. She had just tripped on her way down the stairs and ripped the stitches of the hem of her dress, thus making its edges ragged and scruffy.
“Wear another one!” Bearnard had suggested, mystified. “You have plenty more dresses, Robina.”
Donna and Robina looked at him pityingly. The dark blue woolen dress complemented her coloring perfectly and had been steamed and pressed till it hung beautifully on Robina’s shapely figure. Now that repairs were necessary there would be a delay and Laird Lindsay would probably be furious. He did not strike either Bearnard or Donna as a patient man.
At last the job was finished, thanks to Rose, but by this time Robina was irritated and out of sorts. She heartily wished she did not have to embark on this mission, because she felt as though one wrong word from the mighty Laird Lindsay might send her into a rage.
Robina descended the stairs very carefully, with Donna behind her whispering instructions and words of advice. Robina wished she would shut up.
“Remember what I told you, Robina,” she instructed. “Listen carefully to everything he says and nod even if you do not understand. Always agree with him and do not contradict him. He must be made to feel like he is in charge at all costs.”
“Yes Mother.” Robina sighed. “In other words, I must cease to think. Anything else?”
“Do not be sarcastic!” Donna snapped. “And smile a lot.”
Which means act like an idiot,Robina thought.
Alex had been waiting for twenty minutes by the time Robina arrived. By this time he was frowning and standing in the entrance hall, having stoked up a fine fire of rage inside. If there was one thing he hated, it was lateness. He was a stickler for punctuality and always made sure he was on time or early, and he thought that any prospective bride should have made it her business to do the same.
Bearnard was making small talk with him, and they were discussing the price of wool when they heard the voices of the women and their footsteps clattering downstairs. He recognized Donna’s piercing voice, but he could not quite make out what she was saying. The answering voice was low and husky, and as they turned a bend in the stairs where he could see them fully, he realized that he was looking at one of the most beautiful young women he had ever seen.
Robina, gazing in awe at the magnificent man before her, had much the same thought. She glided towards him, smiling widely, and held out her hand as she curtsied. He took it and bowed, and she felt the slight brush of his lips against her knuckles.
He smiled. “Mistress, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, even if it is a little late.” He gave her a tight smile that did not reach his eyes.
“I apologize, M'laird,” she replied, frowning. “I had a problem with my dress.”
“Have you no others?” he asked, looking puzzled.
His tone incensed Robina. “This is my prettiest, and I wanted to look my best for you, M'laird,” she replied sourly.
Suddenly he felt ashamed; she was trying her hardest to meet him halfway and he was being deliberately awkward. “Forgive me,” he said, sighing. “I did not sleep well and I am not at my best.”
She gazed at his handsome, well-proportioned face with its high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, and an endearing cleft in his chin.
“Would you like some more wine?” she asked, to shift the conversation to something less dangerous.
He accepted, and they began to talk.
“What was your wife like?” Robina asked. “If you do not mind me asking.”
Immediately his face darkened, but when he answered, his tone was civil. “She was lovely,” he said, his eyes looking far away into the past, “but faithless.”
“Why do you want to get married again?” she asked curiously, handing him his wine.
He did not enjoy her questions very much. “Mistress, you are not a child. Two people in our position—we need heirs. We need dynasties. That is not to say that you would be used as merely a womb. I would treat you well, with consideration, and with every material possession you could wish for.”
She looked a bit disappointed and gave him an investigating look.
