Page 30 of Heather and the Highlander
Heather took a sip, and found the drink to be both sweet and a little spicy. “What is this? A kind of wine?”
“Mead, made on MacNair lands. Our hills produce some of the finest honey in the Highlands,” she added proudly.
Heather took another sip. She wasn’t sure if she liked it or not, but it was interesting.
“Mead is an acquired taste,” Maeve said, smiling. “But the only way to acquire the taste is to drink.”
“Is it strong?” Heather couldn’t tell due to the unfamiliar flavors.
“Oh, no, it’s like wine,” Maeve assured her. “There will be more at the supper table, of course. The evening meal is served at seven.”
“I’ll be ready,” Heather said, drinking again.
Maeve regarded her for a moment, then said, “I have some matters to attend to, but perhaps we can chat after the meal. I imagine you have so many questions about Carregness before you take over as chatelaine.”
Heather nearly choked on her drink. “Chatelaine?”
“Well, of course. I have been serving in that role for years, but Niall is the heir, so you’ll naturally take on the responsibility. After all, you’ll be a countess.”
Oh, no she wouldn’t! Heather would never attain that title, because she’d be long gone. But she could hardly say that to Maeve. She had to think of a plausible excuse. “I’m afraid I don’t know enough to accept the keys anytime soon. Perhaps a month or so?”
“A month.” Maeve repeated that word in a soft voice. Her expression was suddenly suspicious.
To cover, Heather took another sip, and said hurriedly, “Anyway, I’d love to talk with you later. There is so much I want to know.”
“Likewise,” Maeve agreed.
Then Susan returned, bearing a heavy blanket to add to Heather’s bed. Maeve left, reminding Heather that supper would be served in less than an hour.
The maid braided her thick blonde hair, trying a green ribbon at the end, which fell to the center of her back. Heather draped the tartan around her shoulders like a shawl, liking the way the pattern complemented the green of her dress.
“Is it all right to wear it this way?” she asked Susan.
“Yes, milady. You’ve got the touch,” she added, sounding surprised.
Thus garbed and feeling the warmth in her belly from the drink, Heather walked downstairs and into the great, drafty dining hall.
“Good evening,” she said to everyone.
The men all stood, as was proper, but this time they remained standing, staring at her.
“My soul, but she looks like a proper highland lass now!” Ian declared in wonderment.
“This is the new MacNair lady?” another man asked. He was obviously the youngest brother, Robert. While Niall and Ian practically looked like twins, Robert was a little shorter and slighter, with a shock of dark brown hair instead of the ginger of his brothers. “Niall, you’ve done better than I ever expected.”
Brenna also looked surprised at Heather’s appearance but gave her a little begrudging nod.
Niall was smiling broadly. “The MacNair colors suit you, wife.”
Heather smiled back, feeling a little thrill when he called her wife.Don’t get used to it, she warned herself. The marriage was just a temporary solution.
The evening meal looked to be an enjoyable one, until the patriarch stomped in and took his place at the head of the table. Everyone went quiet. MacNair glared around the table, and narrowed his rheumy eyes at Heather.
“Who gave you our colors to wear?” he growled, taking in the shawl.
“Your family,” she replied, taken aback. “But judging by your tone, I think it’s best not to tell you the specific person.”
“I wouldn’t want to know,” he snarled. “Just have to disown them, and I’ve got enough to worry about.”
