Page 11 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
“What if she disrupts the running of the castle, or worse, what if she learns the goings on an’ says something innocently at the next ball she attends?” he grumbled. “She seems like the type of woman that would attend every ball an’ talk more than what is good for her.” He recalled the way she had spoken back to him every chance that she got.
“An’ how would ye ken what kind of lass she is?” Martha placed her hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “How long have I been tellin’ ye to at least consider talkin’ to a lass. Ye would nae ken what a good lass was if one ran up an’ bit ye on the…”
“That’s enough, maither…” Jasper shook his head in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “I said the lass can stay in the guest chambers until her friends come for her. I daenae want to hear anything more on the matter.”
“Suit yerself,” Martha said with a sigh as she added the rest of the ingredients to a pot and stirred. “I’d prefer it if ye apologized to her, but I’ll settle for ye nae placing splinters of wood under her nails.” She muttered something under her breath about men and the way they handled things.
Jasper rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh as he turned to leave the kitchen.
“Oh, an’ Jasper,” his mother’s voice made him pause in the doorway. “I’m nae saying that ye should marry the bonnie English lass, but ye should really consider talkin’ to a woman once in a while. Ye are nae gettin’ any younger, and someone has to carry on yer line.”
Taking a deep breath, Jasper left the room without another word. The argument of his succession and love had long been a topic of tension between him and his mother, yet he wasn’t about to compromise the safety of his clan and family, no matter how bonnie any lass may be. He knew from his past that trusting anyone fully was a huge mistake.
7
Joan removed her sodden clothes as she kicked them to the side and slipped one of the clean night dresses over her head. She didn’t care how she looked as long as she could feel something dry against her chilly skin.
“Just a moment,” she called and hurriedly reached for a dressing gown when a knock sounded at the door. The first person who came to mind was the laird, and he definitely couldn’t see her in an ill-fitting night dress.
Hurrying over to the dresser, she quickly checked to see if her braid was still intact. “Come in,” she called again when a second more impatient knock came.
She turned to see Martha accompanied by a maid carrying a tray of food. “Oh,” she said before she could stop herself when she realized that it hadn’t been the laird.
Why was I expecting it to be him?
“Ye seem disappointed,” Martha smiled with a cheeky grin.
“I…I thought it might be my friend, Avery,” Joan quickly lied to cover her tracks.
“Oh, no dear,” Marth said kindly as she came into the room with the maid. “I did mention earlier that any letter we write may take a week or more to reach yer friends,” she stopped and frowned. “Have ye written a letter already then?”
“Uhm, no.” She felt sheepish as she sought for an adequate excuse that would explain her behavior. “I think I’m just exhausted from the whole day.” She placed the back of her hand against her forehead.
“Of course, dear,” Martha said kindlier as she gestured for the maid to leave. “I brought ye some soup an’ bread with ale; that will fill ye up nicely before yer bath. The maids are just heatin’ up the water.”
“That would be wonderful.” Joan breathed a sigh of relief as she made her way over to the writing desk where the maid had set the tray. She chalked her own enthusiasm to see the laird up to the fact that she hadn’t slept in a while. There couldn’t possibly be any other reason she had taken a sudden interest in the Beastly Laird.
“I just wanted to see that ye had everything ye need,” Martha broke into her thoughts. “I’m afraid that night dresses may not fit ye that well.” She glanced down at Joan’s ankles that were sticking out beneath the fabric of the gown and dress. “But I’m sure we can find ye some dresses that will fit ye just fine. Ye may be here for a day or two, an’ we want ye to be comfortable.”
Joan stopped reaching for a piece of bread and looked at the woman as she spoke. It seemed highly unlikely to her that the laird wanted her to be comfortable in his castle.
“Never mind what anyone else says,” Martha shook her head. “I want ye to be comfortable an’ that’s what matters. Nobody will bother ye as long as I am around.” She smiled encouragingly as she nodded toward the tray.
Swallowing hard, Joan wondered what would happen if Martha had not been there to save the day. She was all but certain that she would still be in the dungeons with no food. She desperately wanted to ask the woman about her son but knew that she needed to gain her trust a little more before she probed any further.
“Now,” Martha said as she pulled out the chair from the dresser and turned to Joan, “why is it that a lovely young lady such as yerself was all alone in the highlands? Ye dinnae have to tell me if ye are nae comfortable,” she added quickly when she saw the way that Joan was hesitating.
“I was just wondering why ye said yer friends would be surprised to see ye, that’s all.” Martha smiled kindly as the corners of her eyes and mouth wrinkled. “Call it an old woman’s curiosity.”
Licking a drop of soup from her lower lip, Joan thought of her predicament back home and how easy it would be for anyone to track her down if they caught even a hint of where she was. “I came to surprise them,” she decided to bend the truth a little. “I haven’t been able to see Avery or her sister Melissa since they got married.”
“I see,” Martha nodded, “an’ yer maither dinnae mind that ye traveled alone?”
Joan began to panic when it seemed as if the woman was growing more suspicious of her story. Clearing her throat, she quickly thought of a way out of the corner she had backed herself into. “The coachman was a trusted servant of our family.” She felt a wave of relief at having thought of an adequate excuse. “He was often entrusted with accompanying me on my journeys.”
“The coachman that ran away when ye were taken captive?” Martha seemed as if she were trying her best not to laugh.
“I… I can only think that he probably went for help. I think I would have done the same thing if I were in his shoes and saw that I was outnumbered by guards in kilts,” she took her best shot.
