“You enjoy the Morrisons’ company?” I asked her.
Christie, as usual, was to provide possibly more information than she should have. “The Morrisons will not be the only guests. The Munros will also be in attendance. Ailie is particularly partial to the company of one Magnus Munro, the laird’s eldest son. Isn’t that so, Ailie?”
Ailie wasn’t one to give quite so much away. “No more than any of the other Munros, my dear sister,” she said. But her eyes sparked with a quiet animation that all but confirmed Christie’s comment.
I was introduced to Beatrice, the head of the kitchen crew, simply by my first name. Several others came to me, too, curious and eager to learn more of my mysterious arrival. That I was a Macduff apprentice healer was a story that was quietly distributed; it was all too likely that someone might disprove it if it was advertised too strenuously. From the looks I was getting and the hushed whispers, it was clear that rumors were already flitting around the manor like glittering moths. “This is Roses,” repeated Christie. And I was glad for the simplicity of it.Roses, the wanderer,Kade had called me. And it was an accurate description. I was as rootless, as adrift, as a cloud in the sky. Nay, I reminded myself. No longer. In my heart, I was bound to Wilkie inexorably.
I distracted myself by following the lead of Ailie and Christie, helping arrange and set the tables. Ailie,in particular, directed the kitchen staff, ordered the fires to be lit, led the inspection of cleaning tasks, and managed the many other jobs that needed to be done before the guests’ arrival in the late afternoon. She carried out her leadership duties with quiet confidence, as though well accustomed to her role. She was the eldest woman of the laird’s immediately family, therefore giving her the highest status of any woman of the clan. I knew she wouldn’t hold the title of Lady Mackenzie; that was reserved for the laird’s wife, and I wondered at Laird Mackenzie and his obvious lack of one. I remembered a vague recollection of Wilkie commenting on it once, when I’d still been hazed by fever.Two years have passed, Knox,Wilkie had said.’Tis time for you to remarry.So he had been married once. I wondered at his story and his loss.
I felt unusually subdued and acknowledged my growing unease at the arrival of the Morrison women. Again, I recalled the murky memory of the brothers’ conversation on the subject. Wilkie had spoken of “the Morrison buffet,” and it was Kade who had mentioned a sister called Maisie, in particular.
This detail disturbed me greatly, that Wilkie had spent time with at least one of the Morrison sisters. Had he pleasured her as he’d pleasured me? Or even more? Had he given her all of himself, as he refused me? I wondered at the truth of his insistence that he had no interest in Maisie or Stella, the reputed beauty of the group. I felt almost ill at the thought and wished for a moment I could retreat to Wilkie’s chambers and be alone. I knew Wilkie had had his share of women; I could expect no less of a man possessing both outstanding beauty and such an enviable status. What worriedme was that one of them, or more, would be here in this room and in his company, in a matter of hours.
“What has you upset, Roses?” asked Ailie quietly.
But of course she already knew. I’m sure it was obvious to all who suspected it: my absolute love for Wilkie would not necessarily be allowed beyond even the next few days, or even hours. Here in the cold light of reality, my hopes over the past evenings, when I’d been held in Wilkie’s arms under the light of a harvest moon and patiently read to, seemed bleak and unlikely. And I could see, written in the sympathy of Ailie’s expression, that the likelihood of Wilkie’s promises to me were most likely empty ones. He’d been inspired by lust in the warm fire-lit enclosure of his chambers. He was passionate and overcome. But it was entirely likely that his words would stay contained in our private embraces, to go no further.
Here, in the busy activity of his clan’s people, as they readied themselves for their noble visitors, the reality of my situation settled in.
Wilkie would marry one of his own kind. If I was to remain in his life, it would likely be as a lowly mistress, to be called upon when his wife was tired or ill or bearing his legitimate heirs. Could I share him in this way and take the occasional offerings left to me after he attended to his family?
Nay. I knew it in my heart: if I couldn’t have him, and all of him, I would leave the idyllic haven of the Mackenzie clan.
I reached for Ailie’s hand. “I’m fine, Ailie. Tell me what else I can do to help.”
“’Tis nearly done, I think,” she said. “We’ll take arest in my chambers, Roses, and decide what to wear for the evening festivities.”
“I’m not certain if I’ll attend the gathering. I’ll be content to wait for Wilkie.”
Ailie gave me a stern look. “I’ve been given strict instructions, Roses. Wilkie wants you there. He asked me to help you prepare, then to meet him in the hall when they return for the meal.”
I had attended Ogilvie clan parties many years ago as a child and under the wing of my parents. Since then, the only gatherings I’d attended were those that I had served. I felt nervous that I wouldn’t know how to act, that it would be obvious to all that I was different and unsophisticated and out of place. But then, if accompanying Ailie to the great hall was the quickest way to see Wilkie again, I would do it. I felt starved for his nearness.
After a time, and once the final preparations had been attended to, I went with Ailie and Christie to Ailie’s private chambers, escorted silently by Fergus, who took guard outside the door. Ailie’s chambers were equally lavish to Wilkie’s but much cozier. Where Wilkie’s chambers contained his large bed, a small table, a few chairs and a scattering of his weapons, Ailie’s was cluttered with an array of her neatly hung clothing, a large table on which she kept sewing instruments and fabrics and several pleasantly laid out sitting areas. Two cushioned chairs sat welcoming by the lit fire, and a pretty table had been laid by the window seat. I realized then, from the look of the fabrics and the dresses themselves that it was Ailie who had made them.
“You make these beautiful dresses,” I said, in awe.
“Aye,” said Christie. “Ailie designs them, too, andmany of her ideas come from the fashion books from Edinburgh, London and even from Paris. She’s wonderfully talented, don’t you think so, Roses?”
“Oh, aye.” I fingered the soft fabric of a dress that lay on her work table, of a pale pink velvet material. I’d never seen such a beautiful garment.
“Roses should wear that one tonight, don’t you think so, Christie? I like you in the pastel colors, Roses. They set off your eyes, and your hair.”
Christie nodded her agreement. “Put it on, Roses.”
“I can take it in a little, if need be,” Ailie commented, already lifting the dress to hold it against me.
Aghast from the very thought of wearing such finery, I murmured, “I could never wear this. ’Tis yours. ’Tis too fine.”
Ailie dismissed this instantly. “Nonsense, Roses. I have many.”
“As you should for the amount of time you spend sewing them,” Christie said to her sister. To me, she said, “And Ailie’s dresses are sought out by other clans, too. No doubt the Morrisons will want to see some of these creations.”
“’Tis doubtful they would fit any of the Morrisons,” Ailie said, and I detected a note of disdain in her tone.
“Don’t be too disparaging of one of your prospective sisters-in-law, Ailie.” Christie laughed. But she immediately caught herself when she looked at me, and her laugh was cut short. “Maybe Kade will be the one to get lucky,” she said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“It wouldn’t surprise me, in fact. He’s mentioned one of the Morrison sisters several times in passing—have you noticed? Now I can’t recall which one it was.”
