Page 18 of Highlander’s Sloth

Callum had never ridden so hard and fast in his life, and it was a good thing he did. By the time he reached the lodge gates, the activity had leached out the last drops of whisky in his blood, so he was sober enough to notice there was a new gatekeeper on duty. Besides checking if the man was handsome enough to tempt his wife, he paid no attention to this new addition to the household and made all haste to Kirsty’s bedchamber.

Of course, she was not there, and nor was she sitting with his father or mother as they snoozed peacefully in their beds. After searching futilely through the formal garden—unaccountably well-watered and bedight with late summer blooms—he found Kirsty watching three maids clean the dairy stalls. As he stood leaning against the wall, waiting to catch his breath, he heard his wife say, “And if I ever catch so much as one fly sitting on the milk pails again, ye’ll be dismissed without a character.”

“Kirsty!” Callum was still gasping slightly from his wild search. “I’ve been lookin’ all over for ye. Would ye care to take a stroll with me to see the whisky casks again?”

He gave her one of his most charmingly devilish grins. He knew she would not easily forget what had happened between them last time they had visited the whisky barrel storeroom together.

The three milkmaids bobbed curtsies and simpered when they saw their young master standing in the dairy. He was so tall and handsome, it was plain to see why the French ladies had been driven to distraction by his attentions.

This may have been the case for the ladies in Paris, but as for Kirsty, she did not care. Her red-hot rage upon discovering her husband’s predilection for gaming houses had long since burnt itself out. All that was left were the ashes of disappointment and disdain.

She considered ignoring him but did not want to set the servants gossiping.

“I’m busy here, can ye no’ see?” she replied in a steady voice, and went back to running one finger along the window ledge to see if it was dirty.

Callum wished he could be more shocked by his wife’s aloof behavior, but he had always been a forthright and honest man, no matter what his other foibles might be, and he recognized the signs of a woman who was in no way ready to be mollified.

He tried again. “I-I see ye’ve hired some new servants, milady. Would ye be so kind as to introduce me to them?”

She shot a poisonous look at Callum, well aware she could not tell him to go away when the milkmaids were there staring interestedly at their exchange. All Kirsty could do was walk to the door, giving him a cursory glance over her shoulder to see if he were following.

Callum had to break into a stride to keep up with Kirsty, who seemed to want to put as much space between them as possible.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting ye of late, lass,” Callum said in his most coaxing tone, “but I’ve had important business over at Pitlochry.”

Kirsty did not even bother replying to this. She kept her eyes down, making sure she did not trip over the cracked, raised flagstones in the courtyard. Callum realized he would have to declare his intentions to his wife before they reached the servants’ parlor.

“The thing is, lass, the business is so important, and with me faither sick an’ all, it falls on me to do it. But whenever ye feel like...repeating that pleasurable experience we shared in the aging room, I mean...all ye have to do is come into me bed. A man always has time for that, even if ye have to wake me up to do it.”

At these words, Kirsty reached her tipping point. She halted and spun around to face him. They were in the fountain circle surrounded by the privet hedge, but what the invective Kirsty said to her husband was worthy of an audience.

“Important business, ye say? Important lolling around a gaming table and squandering yer inheritance, ye mean!” When she saw his look of shock but with no shame to accompany it, Kirsty continued. “I have never ever met a bigger bunch of indolent idiots than those who live here at the lodge! And the last thing I would ever desire is to creep into the bed of some drunken layabout whose dreams seem to consist of cards, betting, and gaming in a dark, dingy tavern.”

“How d’ye come by this information?” Callum demanded, half torn between relief his wife had no lover and anger at whoever had told her about his doings.

“I saw ye meself, so don’ bother trying to lie about it being important clan business, ye...ye sluggard!”

No one had ever raised their voice or called Callum names before in his life. He resorted to anger.

“Ye have no right to spy on me or tell me what to do. Ye’re me wife. Need I remind ye? Ye have to do as I say.”

Kirsty looked magnificently contemptuous after his words and drew herself up to her full height before unloosing a tirade of scorn at him. “I have to do as ye say, do I? All right, tell me what to do.”

This reply caught Callum off guard. He stood there next to the fountain, perplexed for a moment, and then attempted to reply, “Er, ye’re to never spy on me again...? And...and...I don’ want ye to hire handsome footmen.”

Kirsty curled her lip and sneered, “Ye don’t even ken what work ye need to set me to do because ye’ve never worked a day in yer life.”

And on those words, she turned on her heel and ran back to the dairy.