A Winter Wedding: Strangers at the Altar / The Warrior's Winter Bride

Innes laughed. ‘Absolutely not. I am more than happy to discuss these intimate problems that Madame Hera has to answer. In fact, if you ever run short of problems then I’m sure I will be able to think up a few for us to discuss.’

‘No!’ Ainsley exclaimed. ‘That’s what Felicity said you would say. Now I owe her five pounds.’

Innes laughed. ‘I am looking forward to meeting Felicity.’

Ainsley yawned, frowning at the clock. ‘It’s past dinner time. I shall go and find Mhairi.’

She got to her feet, swaying, and Innes caught her. ‘I think maybe you’d be better in your bed.’

Ainsley yawned again. ‘I think maybe you’re right.’

‘Thank you for telling me what you did. I’m honoured,’ Innes said. ‘I mean it.’

‘I didn’t want you to think I was a cock tease.’ Ainsley grinned. ‘Proof that I am not always so mealy-mouthed.’

Innes kissed her cheek. ‘What you are is...’

‘A porcupine.’

‘A wee darling.’

She smiled. ‘I like that,’ she murmured. Then she closed her eyes, sank gracefully back onto the chair and passed out.

* * *

‘The laird said that you’d be hungry, seeing as you missed dinner, so I made you some eggs, and I’ve cut you a slice of ham.’ Mhairi laid the plateful down in front of Ainsley.

‘Thank you. It smells delicious,’ Ainsley said, repressing a shudder.

‘Himself had to go out, but he said to tell you he’d be back by mid-morn at the latest. Here, I’ll do that.’ Mhairi took the coffee pot from Ainsley’s shaking hand and poured her a cup. ‘Do you want me to put a hair of the dog in it?’

‘Is it so obvious?’ Lifting the cup in both hands, Ainsley took a grateful sip, shaking her head, flushing. ‘I don’t normally— I hope you don’t think I usually overindulge.’

‘Oh, I’m not one to judge,’ Mhairi said with a toss of her head. ‘Unlike the rest of them.’

Sensing that the housekeeper was offering her an opening, and feeling that she had nothing much to lose, as she sat nursing her hangover, Ainsley smiled at her. ‘Why don’t you join me? It’s about time we got to know each other a bit better. Please,’ she added when the other woman demurred.

Mhairi studied her with pursed lips for a few seconds, then took a seat and poured herself a coffee, adding two lumps of sugar, though no cream. ‘You’re not at all what we expected when we heard Himself had wedded an Edinburgh widow woman,’ she said.

‘What were you expecting?’

‘Someone fancier. You know, more up on her high horse, with more frills to her.’

‘You mean not so plain?’

Mhairi shook her head. ‘I mean not so nice,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘And you’re not plain. Leastwise, you’re not when you’ve some life in that face of yours. If you don’t mind my saying.’

‘I don’t mind at all,’ Ainsley said, buttering an oatcake, and deciding to brave a forkful of eggs. ‘Am I a disappointment, then?’

‘No one knows enough about you to judge.’

‘Yet you said that people do judge—or that is what you implied just a minute ago.’

Across from her, the housekeeper folded her arms. Ainsley ate another forkful of eggs and cut into the ham. Mhairi McIntosh was younger than she had thought at first, not much over forty, with a curvaceous figure hidden under her apron and heavy tweed skirt. Though she had a forbidding expression, her features were attractive, with high cheekbones and a mouth that curved sensually when it was not pulled into a grim line. Her eyes were grey and deep-set, and she had the kind of sallow skin that made the hollows beneath them look darkly shadowed. But she was what would be called a handsome woman, nevertheless. She wore no ring.

‘No, I was never married,’ Mhairi said, noticing the direction of Ainsley’s gaze. ‘I’ve worked here at the castle since I was ten years old, starting in the kitchens—the big kitchens—back in Mrs Drummond’s day.’

‘So you’ve known Innes since he was a boy?’

Mhairi nodded.

‘And his brother?’

‘Him, too.’

‘Is it because of him that people judge Innes so harshly? Do they resent the fact that he is here and not Malcolm?’

Mhairi shook her head sadly. ‘Himself should not have stayed away so long.’

‘But surely people understand he had his own life to lead. And it’s not as if— I mean, the state of the lands, the way things have been allowed to deteriorate... That was his father’s fault, it was nothing to do with Innes.’

‘He should not have stayed away,’ Mhairi said implacably.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! It’s not his fault.’ Realising that recriminations were getting her nowhere, Ainsley reined in her temper. ‘He’s here now, and so am I, and what matters is the future of Strone Bridge.’

‘It seems to many of us that Strone Bridge hasn’t much of a future,’ Mhairi said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Himself has obviously decided that this place is not worth wasting his time on.’

‘He hasn’t decided anything. He’s not even been here a month.’

‘And not a single sign has there been that he’s going to be remaining here another. He forbade the formal welcoming at the pier, and there’s been no word of the Rescinding. Not that the castle is in any fit state to be used. And that’s another thing. He’s the laird, and he’s living here at the Home Farm. It’s obvious he has no plans to stay here. He’ll be off as soon as he can decently go, back to building his bridges.’

There was no doubting the belligerence in the woman’s voice now. ‘Innes hasn’t made any decisions about the castle. He’s been spending his time looking at the land, because—’

‘Because he plans to do what all the landlords are doing, break up the crofts and put sheep on them. Does he think we’re daft? Sheep. That’s what he’ll do, that’s what they all do. Get rid of the tenants. Bring in a bailiff. Out with the old, and in with the new. That’s what Himself is doing, and then it will be back to Edinburgh or London or wherever he’s been hiding these last fourteen years, and you with him, and he’ll go back to pretending Strone Bridge doesn’t exist because it’s too hard for him to—’ Mhairi broke off suddenly. ‘Never mind.’

Ainsley stared at her in shock. ‘He has made no mention of sheep, and he has no intentions of going anywhere for at least—for some time,’ she amended, for she did not imagine that Innes would like the terms of his father’s will made public.

A shrug greeted this remark. Ainsley risked pouring the pair of them another cup of coffee. ‘What is this thing you mentioned? A restitution?’

‘Rescinding.’ Mhairi took a sip of her coffee. ‘A forgiving and forgetting. After the burial of the old laird, a feast is held for all to welcome in the new laird. It is a wiping clean of the slate, of debts and grudges and disputes, a sign that they have been buried with the old. But since Himself was not here for the burial...’

‘Can it not be held on another day?’ Ainsley asked.

‘To my knowledge it never has been.’