As she had at the inn, Corinne woke in the steely warmth of Reid’s arms. And as before, he was playing with a lock of her hair, coiling it around his finger like a ribbon.

“Morning,” he said, the word rumbling through his chest where her head lay nestled.

“Morning,” she mumbled, too shy all of a sudden to raise her head and meet his eyes.

Heaven above, what they’d shared last night…her face grew hot with the memories.

His big, callused hands skimming her skin. His firm lips and velvety tongue on her breasts. And the hard length of him—so big she’d feared they could never join—buried deep inside her, filling her until pain and pleasure had blended into one, and she’d shattered into a thousand pieces of light beneath him.

“Are ye well?”

He’d asked her the same last night. Then, she’d been in a daze, still drifting down from the euphoric heights he’d taken her to.

Now, in the gray light of day that slipped in around the coverings over the arrow slits, she found the question harder to answer.

“I am well,” she replied, hesitating. “Last night was…not what I thought it would be.”

Reid abruptly sat up, dislodging her from his chest. He loomed over her, his dark brows drawn together. But instead of offense or anger, she found concern clouding his flinty eyes.

“Are ye hurt?”

“Nay,” she said quickly. Well, that wasn’t quite true. She was sore between her legs, but the ache was only to be expected.

“What, then?” he prodded. “Did ye…did ye no’ find it…enjoyable?”

Now she was sure her face had caught fire. “Very enjoyable,” she squeaked. She cleared her throat, trying again. “I only meant…I didn’t know it could be like that. So…intimate.”

Reid’s features eased and he lowered himself to one elbow. If she wasn’t mistaken, mirth tugged at his lips. “Aye, these things do tend to be intimate.”

Corinne buried her face in the bed linens. She knew she sounded like an utter fool, but she couldn’t seem to find the right words.

Before last night, she’d been resigned to her fate, yet she’d never imagined there could be such pleasure in their joining—or from what it represented. She’d thought she could keep herself separate from Reid somehow, that she could do her duty to him as his wife, yet hold some part of herself away.

The truth was, she’d been struggling to restrain her feelings for some time now. At first it had been easy. He was wickedly handsome, aye, and a man dedicated honor and responsibility. Yet she’d wanted naught to do with him, for he stood in the way of her freedom, her dreams.

As she’d come to terms with the inevitability of their marriage, she’d grudgingly accepted that he was better than Halbert de Perroy, but hadn’t allowed herself to consider her fascination with him.

But now, after entwining themselves body and soul in marriage, there was no hiding from it—she was coming to care for him. How could she not? He was loyal and protective of his people, sure and steady, dedicated and determined in all that he did. She could only hope to be a recipient of such devotion.

And it was all so real now. She was married to the rugged warrior-Laird lying next to her, and she the lady of a powerful Highland clan. To her surprise, a seed of pride and happiness budded in her chest at the thought.

She lifted her head, meeting his inquisitive gaze. “I…I liked it,” she said bashfully.

A slow, roguishly proud grin broke over his face. “I liked it, too.”

But then his smile faded, and he pinned her with a serious look. “There is one last thing I must do to put an end to these marriage rituals.”

She stilled, uncertain. “Oh?”

“Aye. Ye may no’ like it, but it isnae negotiable.”

“What is it?” she asked, trepidation coiling in her stomach.

“I must fly our bedsheet.”

She felt her eyes go round, but before she could speak, he continued.

“I thought to save ye the embarrassment of a bedding ceremony last eve, but the clan must ken—ye were innocent when ye entered this chamber, and now ye are my wife in every sense.”

Corinne scooted back, lifting the covers to peer at the sheet beneath them. Sure enough, a spot of blood marked the white linens. A hot blush rose to her face at the evidence of her lost innocence. Aye, she was well and truly wed now.

“It is crude, I ken,” Reid said gently. “But I willnae permit any doubt in this area. And I believe it will help the clan accept ye as their lady.”

Though the thought of her virgin’s blood on display made her want to shrink into the floorboards, she forced herself to speak. “I understand,” she managed.

And to her surprise, she did. It was her clan now, too. Just as they needed to accept her as their Laird’s wife, so too did she need to accept their concerns for the future of the Lairdship. If proving the legitimacy of any heir that might come of Reid and her union did that, then she could relinquish her pride for the greater benefit.

Reid’s slate eyes simmered with pride as he gazed at her. “Ye are a strong one, arenae ye, wife?”

“Aye,” she replied, her chest swelling.

Reid drew her to him for a slow, smoldering kiss. When at last he released her, Corinne’s breath came short and her blood hammered hotly in her veins.

“I have been away from the clan for more than a month,” he said, his gaze lingering on her as he reluctantly rose from the bed. “There is much I must see to. Will ye be all right on yer own?”

Corinne clutched the covers to her chest as she watched him dress, mesmerized by every hard line and chiseled, muscular angle of him. It wasn’t until he’d pulled on a shirt and pleated his plaid around his waist that she could think straight.

“I have much to do as well,” she replied at last. To gain the trust and respect of the clan, she would need to be the true mistress of this large keep. The thought was daunting, yet she had to start somewhere.

And no time was better than today.

 

*   *   *   *

 

Corinne slipped out of the chamber a short time after Reid and scurried up the stairs to her old room. She dressed quickly, making a mental note to ask Gellis to move her few belongings into Reid’s chamber. Then she headed for the great hall.

She found a few servants wiping down the long trestle tables that had been used for the feast, though the hall was nearly empty now. It seemed that people in the keep had risen before the autumn sun to break their fast.

Lifting her skirts, she hurried to the kitchens. Inside, several women bustled about, apparently cleaning up from the morning meal.

Corinne cleared her throat discreetly, and all eyes shifted to her. The scullery maids stilled in their pot-scrubbing, the servants turning to her as they wiped their hands on their aprons.

“Good morn,” Corinne began. “Thank you for the wedding feast last night. I appreciate your hard work.”

A few of the servants dipped into curtsies, but the lot remained silent.

“I thought to acquaint myself with the running of the kitchens,” she tried again. “In case there is an area where I might help, or…”

A rotund, short woman stepped forward from the others, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m Bitty, milady, the cook. Thank ye for visiting, but I dinnae think ye’ll find much to help with here. I’m sure ye’ll be busy seeing to other matters.”

Corinne blinked. She’d been taught that it was the lady of the keep’s responsibility to plan meals with the cook, monitor supplies, and ensure that the kitchens ran smoothly. Truth be told, Corinne wasn’t sure how to do any of that, for she’d shirked her lessons many a time in favor of practicing her quillwork. Still, oughtn’t she try to be a proper mistress of Eilean Donan?

Yet it seemed as though Bitty was dismissing her before the others. Slinking away now would seal in the servants’ minds that Corinne was weak and incompetent.

“Pleased to meet you, Bitty,” she said, straightening her spine. “Thank you for thinking of my other responsibilities, but naught could be more important than keeping the castle well fed.”

Bitty eyed her. “That is indeed what we’ve been doing all the years before ye arrived, milady.”

Corinne faltered. “Everything is running…smoothly then?”

“Aye, milady,” Bitty replied. “The winter stocks are strong, the meals planned, and we dinnae hear complaints from anyone. I keep a tight, clean space here, as ye can see.”

Corinne glanced around. The double hearths roared cheerily, the working surfaces were clean and orderly, and the servants had seemed well-occupied—that was, until Corinne had interrupted them.

“Do ye have experience running a kitchen, milady?” Bitty asked. “Or a special request? Or mayhap some expertise that could be applied here?”

The only experience or expertise Corinne had was in transcriptions. And she had never paid much heed to food before. Her palate was neither sophisticated nor picky; she merely ate what she was served and tended to enjoy it.

Corinne silently cursed herself. Why had she thought she could simple swoop in and smoothly take over the running of such a large and well-established kitchen? She’d only managed to make a fool of herself before the cook and the other servants.

She began to back her way toward the door leading to the great hall. “It seems that all is in order here,” she said in a lame attempt to save face. “My compliments to you Bitty, and the rest of you.”

Just as she reached the door, her elbow hit a large pot of porridge perched on one of the counters. The pot wobbled, then crashed to the floor, splattering porridge everywhere.

“I’m so sorry!” Corinne fell to her knees and righted the pot, but the damage had already been done to Bitty’s clean floors.

“It’s all right, milady,” Bitty grumbled, motioning two scullery maids forward. “Leave it for the lasses.”

Reluctantly, Corinne stood and watched as the girls began mopping up porridge with rags.

“I’m sure ye have elsewhere to be, milady,” Bitty said pointedly after a moment.

Cheeks burning, Corinne nodded and hurried from the kitchens.

She nearly ran into a tall, slimly built man with gray at his temples who was walking past the kitchen door.

“Forgive me,” she sputtered.

“Beg pardon, milady,” the man replied, giving her a stiff bow. He must have noticed her red face, for he pursed his lips. “Is all well?”

Corinne sank her teeth into her lower lip. “Mmhm,” she mumbled, trying to shove aside the flustered tears that pricked in the back of her eyes.

“The Laird sent me to find ye,” the man continued, gazing placidly down his nose at her. “I am Wallace, the castle seneschal—or steward, as ye English would call it.”

He bowed again, somehow making the gesture even more rigid than the first time.

“Ah,” Corinne said, grasping for her confidence once more. “I had hoped to meet you today.”

Wallace tilted his head stoically. “The Laird asked that I show ye the castle grounds. I take it ye’ve already familiarized yerself with the keep?”

Though she wouldn’t call herself familiar with the massive tower, she nodded, eager to learn more.

Wallace motioned her toward the doors that led from the great hall to the yard. When she stepped outside, she was surprised to find a faint dusting of snow covering the ground and clinging to the castle stones. Though she wished she’d brought a cloak, she didn’t want to delay Wallace, who seemed a man of an exacting nature.

Wallace led her on a brisk walk around the perimeter of the wall. They passed the southernmost and eastern guard towers before the yard widened on the northern end of the island. An orchard of nearly leafless trees lined the back of the open space, skirting what appeared to be a training area for warriors. Though the grounds were mostly empty now, there were several archery targets, a rack of wooden practice weapons, and a wide expanse of hard-packed dirt, lightly covered in snow, where Corinne imagined the men sparred.

Several buildings sat against the stone curtain wall, though Wallace said she needn’t bother seeing them, for they were mostly for storage. Instead, he guided her to the largest tower besides the keep, then motioned her in.

“The castle has its own smithy,” he commented as they stepped inside. The blast of heat from the smithy’s forge was welcome after touring the castle out of doors. The blacksmith paused his hammering of a horseshoe and gave Corinne a nodding bow.

“This way,” Wallace instructed, pointing her toward the flight of stairs in the corner.

As she wound her way up, she passed several more chambers, some of which contained weapons, others appearing to be sleeping quarters for the guards. At the top, she stepped through the door leading to the battlements along the wall.

From this height—four storeys up—Corinne could see the entire village spread along the shoreline nearest the island castle. Beyond it, thick green forests touched with white snow stretched to the base of the jagged, imposing mountains she’d seen on their way here. She could also see the mouth of the sea-lake in which the castle sat, its blue-gray waters blending with the clouds overhead in the distance.

“It is an impressive stronghold,” she said as Wallace came to her side.

“Indeed, milady.”

“Is there…aught I can do to help? Areas where we should discuss improvements, mayhap?”

Wallace cleared his throat, his lips pursing once more as he remained silent for a moment. “The Laird has brought honor to the clan in his service to the King,” he began.

“Aye,” Corinne said, feeling her brows draw together.

“He has been called away quite a bit in the last several years. As such, the running of the keep has fallen to me—and Bitty, and Seanad.”

“Who is Seanad?”

“The head of servants, milady.” Wallace coughed lightly again. “We have been charged with the smooth operation of this castle, both when the Laird is here and when he is away. So ye see, there isnae much that requires yer oversight.”

Or her meddling, he seemed to be silently saying.

Corinne swallowed against the lump rising in her throat. “And where is the Laird just now?”

“He is in the village, and will likely remain there until nightfall.”

“I see,” she murmured. “And Seanad?”

Wallace waved his hand toward the main tower. “Seeing to something or other in the keep, I’m sure.”

Calling forth the last of her pride, Corinne nodded. “I’ll see myself down and not take up any more of your time, Wallace. Thank you for showing me the castle.”

He tilted his head in acknowledgement even as she began hurrying down the stairs. Feeling the eyes of the guards on the battlements and in the watchtowers, Corinne crossed the yard and stepped into the great hall. She rubbed her hands against her arms, but the chill seeping into her bones wasn’t entirely from the frosty air outside.

It was so much worse than she’d thought it would be. She was neither needed nor wanted here. Even if she gained the respect of the clan, they had no room for her in the daily work of maintaining the keep. She’d given up her hopes of becoming a scribe, only to find that her role of mistress at Eilean Donan had already been filled. She was useless.

Ducking her head against the curious stares of the servants lingering in the great hall, she crossed to the spiral stairs and began ascending, unsure of where she was headed.

As she reached the first landing, a woman was just stepping into Reid’s chamber, her arms full of folded bed linens.

“Och! Excuse me, milady!” the woman said when she turned and nearly ran into Corinne.

“It’s all right,” Corinne murmured. “I was just…” She let the words die, for the only thing she’d been about to do was find a quiet chamber somewhere and give in to the tears clogging her throat.

“I am Seanad,” the woman said, peering over the stack of cloth in her arms.

Despite her despondency, Corinne felt a stirring of surprise. The woman was only a handful of years older than she was, her dark blonde hair pulled back into an efficient bun and her blue eyes earnest. She must be very accomplished to have earned the role of head of servants so young.

“Pleased to meet you,” Corinne replied. “I was hoping to speak with you.”

“Oh?” Seanad shifted the load of bed linens slightly. “What about, milady?”

A few hours earlier, Corinne would have happily offered to assist Seanad, to help her manage the servants or devise a schedule of tasks. But she faltered, not eager to be brushed aside yet again.

“I…I simply wanted to meet you,” she said, twining her hands in the folds of her skirt. “I have met Bitty and Wallace this morn, and have come to discover that you are the third leg holding the castle up so well.”

“Thank ye for the kind words, milady,” Seanad said, but then she glanced up and down the stairs. “Were ye going into the Laird’s chamber—or rather, yer chamber?” Seanad tilted her head encouragingly toward the door.

“I…yes,” Corinne said, puzzled.

Seanad nudged the door open with her hip, then stepped inside. Corinne followed, shifting to the side so that Seanad could close the door behind them.

Once they were alone, Seanad set the stack of linens on the dressing table and swiped a lock of hair out of her face. “I hope ye dinnae think me loose-tongued, milady,” she said, facing Corinne, “for I dinnae permit gossip amongst the servants, but I must just say—ye are a brave one for facing those two.”

Surprise hit Corinne so hard that she stepped back and sank into the wooden door. Unbidden, a wild laugh rose in her throat. “Not brave enough, I’m afraid.”

“Dinnae tell me—Wallace looked down that long nose of his at ye, and Bitty practically whacked ye with a wooden spoon to shoo ye out of her kitchens.”

“Just about. I made a terrible mess—literally—in the kitchens, and I seem to have offended Wallace somehow.”

“Nay, he is just like that,” Seanad replied matter-of-factly. “And Bitty will be fine. She merely likes to imagine herself the queen of her domain, ye ken.”

Hot tears—for the difficult day, and for Seanad’s unexpected kindness—suddenly pricked in Corinne’s eyes. She quickly blinked them away, not wishing to blubber on her first day as lady of the keep.

“Was it like this before…with Lady Euna?”

Seanad gave her a kind smile. “As a matter of fact, aye. Lady Euna mainly busied herself with needlework and weaving.”

Two more things Corinne had next to no skill at.

“I…” she began, having to swallow the tightness in her throat before going on. “I wish to help, but I seem only to be in the way.”

Seanad stilled, her eyes warm. “I saw ye yesterday, milady—at the wedding. I was in the back, but I could see yer fine gown and the green garland in yer hair. Ye were beautiful. But I also saw something else.”

“Oh?” Corinne murmured.

“I have a little habit at weddings. When all eyes are on the bride, I like to look at the groom, to see his face as he watches his lass approach.”

A flutter like butterfly wings took flight in Corinne’s stomach. “And what did you see?”

Seanad smiled. “He looked like a man dying of thirst laying eyes on a clear, sparkling loch. I’ve never seen the Laird look…well, no’ in control of himself.”

Heat rose from Corinne’s neck to her face. “Thank you.”

“I ken it must be hard, coming here an outsider and being thrust into a clan that is used to doing things on our own. But ye’ll find yer way, milady.”

Corinne gave a sad chuckle. “In truth, I should be grateful that you and the others have things so well managed, for I cannot boast many skills other than with a quill.”

Seanad crossed her arms, drumming her fingers against her elbows as she considered. “The Laird keeps the castle ledgers in his solar.”

She nodded toward a narrow door next to one of the tapestries. Corinne hadn’t noticed it before. It must connect Reid’s sleeping chamber to his solar so that he wouldn’t have to exit to the landing and enter through the solar’s main door.

“As the lady of the keep, ye are more that welcome to try yer hand at them,” Seanad said.

Relief and gratitude flooded Corrine. Keeping ledgers was something she was certain she could do, and it would mean getting to hold a quill once more.

“That is an excellent idea. Thank you.”

Seanad nodded, then patted the pile of linens next to her. “I’d best return to my duties, milady. The Laird asked that I change yer bed linens so that the matrimonial sheet could be flown.”

Feeling her face heat, Corinne’s gaze darted to the rumpled bed. The covers were thrown back, and even from across the room, she could see the small red stain in the middle of the linens.

“No need to be embarrassed, milady. The clan will appreciate the assurance, is all—as does the Laird.” Seanad lifted the fresh linens and turned to the bed. “Oh, and I’ve instructed Gellis to bring yer things down. Ye are in good hands with her. She keeps to herself a wee bit, being a MacDonnell, ye ken, but she’ll look after ye properly.”

“Thank you again,” Corinne breathed, once more feeling overwhelmed by Seanad’s kindness.

As Seanad set about her task, Corinne slipped through the narrow door leading to the solar.

On the other side, she found a quiet, dim room that she instantly knew she liked. Though the only source of light came from the narrow arrow slits that protected the castle, there were more than a dozen of them in this chamber, providing a soft gray glow.

A massive wooden desk dominated the space, its top mainly clear other than several writing supplies laid ready for use. More thick, colorful tapestries warmed the walls, interrupted by a few shelves with various bound ledgers stacked upon them. A fire was laid waiting to be lit in the hearth.

To her, it was perfect—quiet, simple, and meant for work. Work she knew how to do.

She made her way to the desk and lowered herself into the cushioned chair before it. Reverently, she lifted the quill, already trimmed and tipped, into her hand.

Aye, she could do this. For Reid. For the clan. For herself.