Clyde squeezed her hand. “They say that time heals,” he sighed. “And to a certain extent, that is true. It takes away the rawness of the pain, but it never goes away. I still miss her.”
“What was your mother’s name?” Cora asked.
Clyde turned to her and smiled. “May,” he replied fondly. “She was born on the first of that month, on May Day. I swore that if I ever had a daughter, I would name her after her. My father loved her to distraction, but he too was killed by the English...six years ago now.”
“Perhaps we should stop talking about our parents,” Cora suggested. “It makes us both sad, and I have more pressing matters to think about than the past—like recapturing my home.”
Clyde picked her hand up and kissed it. “You are a remarkable woman, Cora. You have such strength.”
She sighed. “Thank you, but I fear it will never be enough.”
Just then, one of Clyde’s rowdiest friends—a tall, skinny, blond-haired man called Callum Reid—came outside singing the bawdiest song Cora had ever heard as he waved a tankard of ale around, spilling it everywhere.
“Clyde!” he cried, pulling him into a clumsy embrace while drenching him with ale. “Come hither tae yer mither!”
Clyde stood up and took Callum by the shoulders. “Will you please refrain from singing that song in front of Cora?” he demanded. “She is a gently born lady who thankfully does not know what it means!”
Cora was not quite as sheltered as Clyde thought, however, having heard the guards singing the same song many times, but she stifled her giggles and managed to keep her face straight while Clyde excused himself and escorted his friend inside. When they had gone, Cora burst out laughing, and she was still laughing when the shadow of Loraine McKenzie fell on her.
9
“Milady Henderson,” Loraine said with a tight smile as she sat down beside Cora on the bench. “How wonderful that you and Clyde have found each other. I am happy for you.”
“Thank you, milady,” Cora said politely. “May I wish you every happiness for the future too?”
“Thank you.” Loraine’s tone was frosty and her eyes hard as she glared at Cora. “This dress you are wearing...it is a hand-me-down, is it not? One of my mother’s friends said that she remembered the late Lady Munro wearing it. I suspect you had no time to have a new one made before you had to flee.”
Cora smiled at her, a wide, genuine-looking smile, even though she was seething inside. “Indeed, it is his mother’s dress,” she agreed. “Very beautiful, is it not?”
“It does not suit me at all!” Loraine said spitefully.
Cora smiled mildly. “He gave it to me as a gift. It is one of his most treasured possessions, and I am honored to wear it, since he treasures the memory of his mother so dearly.”
“I do not wear other women’s cast-offs!” Loraine spat. “You are obviously not very choosy when it comes to clothing. Or are you perhaps too poor to buy new ones?”
She raised her eyebrows inquiringly, but to her amazement, Cora laughed. “And you are not very choosy in your choice of husbands,” she answered, before she dropped her veneer of politeness. “Now listen to me, milady. I know that Clyde used to be betrothed to you, but he is mine now, and no amount of jealousy on your part will bring him back.”
“What makes you think I want him back?” Loraine asked loftily. “It was I who broke off the betrothal.”
When she answered, Cora’s voice was low and menacing. “You may have fooled everyone else, milady, but I can read you like a book. You want Clyde back because he is tall, handsome, considerate, and kind. Perhaps your current betrothed is not. As well as that, I believe he is very good at giving a woman pleasure in the bedroom?” She left the question hanging in the air, and Loraine almost exploded with rage.
“I would not know,milady,” she growled. “I have never spent a night in his bed.”
Cora threw her head back and laughed heartily. “Please do not insult my intelligence, you silly bitch.” She had the satisfaction of seeing Loraine flinch. “You know as well as I do that servants gossip. Letting them hear or see something is the most efficient way of spreading news. But I do not care what you did with Clyde. He is mine now, and what is past is past.”
“Are you perhaps jealous because he has not found you desirable enough to lie with?” Loraine’s voice was sly as she looked at Cora with narrowed eyes.
Cora smiled slowly as she leaned forward, bringing herself so close to Loraine that the other woman was forced to bend backward. “No, milady,” she said silkily. “I do not have to be jealous. Our love is secure. Can you say the same about yours?”
Loraine could find no answer to that, and Cora sat upright again, her gaze still locked with her enemy’s.
Eventually, Cora flapped her hand at Loraine. “Pfft!” she said scornfully. “Go back to your baron. You deserve each other.”
They stood up and faced each other for a moment, the hostility between them as palpable as a living thing. Then, Loraine swept inside again.
Cora sat outside for a long while, thinking. How could Clyde possibly love a woman who was so unpleasant, and uncaring about the welfare and happiness of anyone except herself? She had met such people before, who were willing to sacrifice the happiness of others for their own gain. Again, she wondered about Clyde’s lack of good judgment; he could have had any woman he wanted. They were almost queueing up at his door, for heaven’s sake. Yet, he had chosen Loraine, and love had obviously blinded him to her faults. Or had it? Perhaps it was simple lust; young men, after all, were driven by it. It could not be greed, for Clyde had no need of any woman’s dowry, so that would never be his motive for marriage. He would not wed a woman out of avarice.
Cora sighed. She had to stop thinking of him as a perfect specimen of manhood; he had just as many faults as everyone else, and his biggest one was Loraine.
