11
One hour in the company of the ladies proved many things to Erica. The first was just how much she was considered an interloper. All the ladies were polite enough, but they made a point to exclude her from the conversation to where she might as well have been invisible. She suspected that while many of the ladies present were married, they might have had sisters or cousins whom they would have been much happier seeing wed to the laird’s heir.
The second thing she discovered was just how much the ladies seemed to enjoy gossip. Especially about the strange visitor who wore the ebony plaid.
Finn.
The commentary over their sewing seemed to include much speculation, which Erica blushed to hear. Still a maiden, she likely had no place hearing such vulgar discourse. At the same time, it was quite likely they were deliberately goading her, hoping to either embarrass her or get her to reveal some impropriety that might end this ridiculous betrothal and send her in shame back to her own clan.
“I daresay,” exclaimed one young wife amid the laughter, “’tis less a matter of what be on the kilt as what lies underneath. Our good Erica might have something to say in that regard.”
This sent the pack of them screaming in laughter. Even the older ladies tittered into their tatting while Erica flushed quite red in suppressed fury, which could only be seen as guilt given the satisfied gasps which erupted at her response.
Erica stood abruptly, sending the mending she’d been given to work on tumbling to the floor. Her hands shook as she bent to retrieve it, placing the piecework carefully in the basket beside her chair before speaking.
“I am ashamed to think what the priest would say should he hear the things ye’re saying, ladies,” she said, knowing full well such a statement would go poorly for her. “Married ladies, yet, speculating upon such things.” She shook her head. “I must take my leave to prepare for dinner. I hope the next time we meet, it might be under more…agreeable…circumstance.”
With that, she curtsied prettily as she’d been taught. Then, head still held high, she left. However, it was still a long while until the evening meal, and she had no escort to take with her back to her room. Nor did she have any clear idea what she would do when she got there.
As she departed, she heard someone mutter, “Lady Erica,” sending up a round of snickering which at least proved she had done one thing right. Better to be thought to be overly pious than to cast aspersion upon her morality. Especially given they had been right. Shedidhave an unnatural interest in her escort. Even if she had not gone so far as to speculate what was underneath the kilt, she’d certainly been drawn to the warmth of the man and the way he made the blood race within her veins.
“But I am not marrying him, am I?” she muttered as she paused within the hall near the alcove where she had sat with Finn but an hour before. She simply must wipe thoughts of the man from her mind. Especially those which had been so unwisely planted by her new companions.
What was underneath the kilt indeed…it was an age-old jest amongst every female in the Highlands and one that was meant to stay secret until the beddan after the wedding feast. But it never stopped the more hotheaded women from sighing over the most handsome men and speaking their dreams about his manly parts out loud to any friend willing to listen. Erica had heard gossiping speculation about how a man might use his prowess inside the bedchamber, but as a maiden, she did not have a very good grasp about what might be in it for the woman herself. Her mother had always focused on the joy that comes from the bairns a man implants inside a woman. She skipped over any details about if there was joy to be had from the act itself.
Erica decided that what she needed was to spend more time with her future husband to keep such interests at bay. Not in the way he’d so crudely suggested but perhaps in some more companionable way. A walk perhaps, though the last such exercise had ended so awkwardly it was hard to work up any sort of enthusiasm for the thing.
We are to wed. I must become more accustomed to Jamie,she reminded herself fiercely. So it was, when she entered the great hall, she asked the first person she saw if she knew where she might perhaps find the laird’s young proxy.
The youth barely paused in his duty, shifting the bag of flour he was bringing in enough to keep it from falling as he answered. “The library,” he said with a nod to a hall leading off from the opposite side of the great hall from where they were standing.
“I thank ye,” she murmured, leaving him to his task and walking briskly in the direction indicated.
Well, this could perhaps be more interesting than a walk. Perhaps she might read to him, having been taught by the priest as part of her preparation to be a lady someday. Some poetry, perhaps.
Interestingly enough, she passed Finn as she crossed the hall. He was seated near the fire, head bent over a letter he seemed to be reading. She barely spared him a glance, afraid he would feel it his duty to escort her again, seeing as how she was roaming about the castle by herself. Sure enough, he pocketed the missive, and with a languorous stretch, he rose and somehow managed to catch up with her as she reached the hall.
“Lady Erica. Wandering about the castle unescorted again?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
She was starting to think he’d been waiting for her. “Only as far as the library.” She gave her sweetest smile. “I am quite well on my own,” she added with a rather pointed look back toward the hall.
“Truly, ’tis nae a bother,” he said, sketching a quick bow.
“’Tis nonsense, for we seem to be here,” she said, pausing outside the only door at the end of the hall.
“As ye say, I will stay until ye are sure ye have what ye be looking for.”
She gave him a look and reached for the door.
Jamie was definitely within the library. More accurately, he stood between the legs of a young lady who lay upon the desk within the library. The girl’s bare legs wrapped about the waist of her lover, her voice rising in a scream of pure pleasure even as Jamie’s head turned to see who his visitors were.
The blood drained from Erica’s face.
She was supposed to marry this man in a matter of days! This man, who so brazenly…
“I daresay ye have found a wee bit more than ye were expecting. Nay, let me rephrase that, Lady Erica… What ye found is quite wee, even when ye see it this close,” Finn commented.
She knew he was making a joke to lighten the horrid situation in which she found herself, but she felt his arm stiffen as his hands bunched into fists. Erica finally knew what men hid under their plaids, and it was not the elegant equipment she had been expecting.
