“And scowling at everyone when you’re supposed to be having a good time,” Sadie finished. She dropped her hands on her hips. “Really, Mairi, I would have gone to the countess before talking to you about this.”
That stung. She would have helped them. She would have done whatever she could to put that blighter in his place. “You can always come to me,” she said softly.
Both girls sighed as they each took one of her hands. “We know you’re worried. We know you don’t have a real dowry and that the countess has dropped all the work on you.”
That wasn’t true. Well, the dowry part was, but both girls were doing their fair share. “We have all been sharing the work—”
“But you fix it when we get it wrong. Which means you do your work plus ours.” Iseabail squeezed her hand. “We’re not angry with you. We’re worried about you.” She grinned. “At least I was until that dance yesterday. And the, um,other thingsyou did last night.”
“You really need to stop saying that.”
“Not until you tell us about it.”
Never. Not in a million years. Except, perhaps, to say, “It was…um…”
“Heavenly?”
With angels and harps? No.
“Romantic?”
Not really. It was emotional and difficult and wonderful all at once.
“It was good,” she finally said. “Verra, verra good.”
Both girls threw up their hands at that. “That tells us nothing!” Sadie accused.
“We want details,” Iseabail pressed.
“You won’t get them.” Mairi withdrew her hands from theirs. “And let that be your punishment for doing something so reckless last night. What are we going to do if—”
“If what?” Sadie said in exasperation. “It was just a wee tap on the noggin,” she said with a grin.
“And what if Connall’s right and that’s not the end of it? What then—”
“Connall’s a worrier,” Sadie snorted. “None of it ever comes to pass.”
That wasn’t true. Connall was the opposite of a worrier. “He takes the wildest risks and doesn’t concern himself about the consequences.”
“With himself,” Sadie said as she dropped back down in the chair. “But he worries constantly about the clan.”
“He sees every Aberbeag and worries about each one,” Iseabail added. “Even I can see that. And that’s a wonderful thing in a future laird.”
Sadie nodded. “You didn’t think it was his father handling the disputes, did you? Or negotiating with the other clans. It’s been Connall for many years. His father gave him the running of things years ago.”
“Gave him?” Mairi asked. “Or did Connall just take it?”
“Does it make a difference?” Iseabail asked at the same moment Sadie answered, “A little of both.”
No, it didn’t make a difference. But Mairi had to admit that she knew Connall mostly as the golden beauty who strode about on festival days. He was well-loved by everyone and reveled in the adoration. But Sadie had spent her whole life in his clan and knew the day-to-day Connall better than she did. “He’s had the running of the clan?” she pressed. “For years?”
“Aye. And a good thing too because his father had a cruel streak. He could be petty and mean. But Connall stopped that and now the laird mostly sits around and talks with his pals.”
Old men drinking and jabbering. Mairi knew about that. Then before she could say anything, Iseabail pressed her with an uncomfortable question.
“Are you afraid of the laird? That he’s cruel?”
“What?” Sadie exclaimed before Mairi could answer. “The laird doesn’t do anything now. He’s too old and a bit daft. And Connall’s as fair as they come.”
