Page 13 of Highlander’s Sloth

7

Not His for the Asking

Kirsty hunted for Callum all over the lodge for the rest of the afternoon. She had no clear idea of what she would say when she found him but could not fight the curiosity she felt whenever she thought of seeing her husband again. She had never paid the slightest attention to what lay underneath a man’s plaid and coat, but now that she knew what lay underneath Callum’s, Kirsty had to admit to herself she was in some haste to lay her eyes on it again.

Her search proved fruitless, and as the summer afternoon’s heat built, she found a quiet fountain in the formal garden and sat down next to it. As she thought back to what had happened the previous night, she dipped her hand into the water collecting in the fountain basin and let it drip through her fingers.

“Good morrow, mistress,” a cheerful voice said.

When Kirsty looked up, she saw one of the gentlemen who had attended the wedding feast last night.

“I beg pardon, sir,” she said, “but there was so much noise and confusion after the wedding, I disremember yer name.”

The man stepped forward to bow, saying, “Dunn MacAndrew at yer service.”

Kirsty was glad to have company and was even more satisfied when she realized there were a few people at the lodge who did not immediately sink into a deep sleep in the afternoon.

She patted the stone parapet which surrounded the fountain, inviting him to sit down next to her, which her new acquaintance seemed happy to do.

“D’ye ken where Cal is?” she asked her new friend.

He shifted slightly sideways so he could look at her when replying, “Cal’s no’ like his parents, thank goodness. He prefers to keep himself occupied during the day.”

“Does he oversee the whisky?” Kirsty had to admit she would be interested to see where the addictive brew was made.

Dunn shook his head. “Nay. Laird Macanroy keeps the receipt separate and secret, and who can blame him? There’s many a man who’d sell his soul to know how it’s made.”

When Kirsty heard her husband was nowhere to be found, her heart sank to her boots, and she could not stop sulking.

“That’s great. The first day of married life, and me spouse is nowhere to be seen. What a swindle!” Kirsty pouted.

Dunn grinned. “Ye might be the first bride in an arranged marriage to say that, Mistress Macanroy! Be assured Cal will make his way to yer bedchamber soon enough.”

And then he proceeded to show her around the lodge. Kirsty enjoyed herself by shouting at any dozing servant they happened to come across, telling them to wake up and bustle about, watching as they startled up still heavy with sleep, unused to such a command. But no matter how entertaining this activity was, she missed her husband when he did not come home that night and even failed to join her in the bedchamber for supper.

The next day found Kirsty restless and agitated. She had a knot of suppressed impatience inside her, and she prowled around the lodge looking for Callum. She would have even been happy to find Dunn so that she could interrogate him as to her husband’s whereabouts.

The afternoon found her seated beside the fountain again, but this time she had no patience to play with the water. On the other side of the formal garden hedge, two serving maids were taking their leisure. Kirsty could hear what they were saying quite clearly through the privets.

“The master’s son is a fine figure of a man,” the one maid simpered. “Every time he walks past me, I must fan me blushes away. He must have put the years he spent in Paris to good account.”

Her companion grunted in agreement and then added, “Aye, ‘tis enough to make a maiden want to hang on his coattails when he rides off to town, if only for a chance to see him in action.”

The two maids tittered. “Where is he getting his appetites satisfied, d’ye ken?” asked one. “He looked as tired as a well-ridden stallion when he came back from town this morning. Whatever he’d been doing, it fair did take the kick out of his instep!”

“From whom, ye mean!” And both girls laughed behind their hands but could not hide the hurtful words from Kirsty, who was listening as quietly as a mouse, unseen behind the hedge.

When the maids left, Kirsty allowed herself full range of her emotions.

The dastard! He has spent but one night with me, and he’s off to sample the cheap haystack wares on offer at the brothel in town! How dare he! Well, if that’s how he plans on spending his married life, he can do it on his own. When next he sticks his nose into me bedchamber, I’ll cut it off!

And so, Kirsty went to bed that night in a combative mood.

Callum foolishly tried to join her there much later on. Now that the beddan was over, their chambers had been moved to the east wing of the lodge; husband and wife’s chambers within walking distance from one to the other, only separated by a shared dressing room. Kirsty had bolted the door leading into the passage but had failed to secure the dressing room’s connecting door.

A little worse for a few glasses of whisky, Callum fumbled his way to the dais on which Kirsty’s bed was perched; he placed the candlestick on the floor next to one side of the bed, unwilling to make love to his beautiful wife in the dark. He would snuff the candle out when they had finished. He looked forward to watching her writhe underneath him, gold curls spread out on the pillow, grey-blue eyes closed tight with suppressed excitement.

“Ow!” Callum’s hand had been nipped as he had slid it under the bolster. He leaned over and grabbed the candlestick, hoping his bride was not a woman to bring her lapdogs to bed with her. The candlelight showed him an irate Kirsty.