Chapter 7

7

E dina woke up the next morning with a strange feeling of well-being inside her, and for a few moments she wondered why, then she remembered the kiss. It had been heavenly, even more so because of its unexpectedness. She touched her lips, trying to recall the feeling of Lewis's mouth caressing hers. Even the thought of it shot a jolt of desire straight down to her core, and she lay for a few more moments, thinking about Lewis and the feel of him pressed against her. It was the first time she had ever felt a man's hard erection against her body, and she could not stop thinking about it.

Presently she rose from bed, and thanked heaven that she had the children of the village to distract her, since thoughts of Lewis rendered her incapable of thinking about anything else. Even though the morning was wet and miserable, she knew that their shining faces would make her happy—and today she had a surprise for them. She had selected those with the most threadbare clothes and had the seamstresses she had employed make warm, loose-fitting clothes for them. These would keep them well covered while allowing them to grow.

She would cater for the others later, of course, but she could not bear to see the poorest little ones dressed in rags while she was able to do something about it. When she began to hand them out, those who received nothing were very disappointed, and Edina hated to see their little downcast faces.

"You will get your turn in a few days," she told them, smiling. "Nobody will be left out, I promise."

The day wore on, and at last it was time for Edina to go home. She felt apprehensive, half-hoping she would see Lewis and half-hoping she would not. She had no idea what she would say to him, and was afraid that she might blurt out something completely stupid. Yet because of that kiss, which was one of the most intimate connections two people could share, she felt that she was getting through to him, little by little.

Presently, she walked out of the hall to collect her horse and make her way home. Her two guards were waiting at the entrance to the tavern where there was a roofed area under which some people stood when the weather was bad, as it was now.

Edina ran across to them, trying to avoid the worst of the rain, but despite the fact that she had only gone a few yards, she was soaked. She accepted a cup of weak ale from one of her guards, then noticed that two men, who were standing by the door of the door of the tavern, were staring at her openly.

They were middle-aged, well-dressed and looked prosperous, not the kind of fellows who usually frequented taverns like the Fatted Calf.

"Can I help you?" she demanded, glaring at them.

One of them, a tall dark man who looked slightly foreign, bowed and said, "Forgive us for staring, Mistress, but we were not expecting to see a lady like yourself in the village." He smiled. "We are merchants who are staying in Dundee, but we wished to trade some of our goods with other merchants around here so that we can do business with one another. Unfortunately, the weather has not been kind to us."

"I see." Edina was thoughtful. "What is the name of your ship?"

The two men looked at each other, puzzled, then the man who had not spoken said: "The White Maiden," he replied. "Why?"

"Do you know of a ship called the Fair Queen?" Edina asked.

"We have seen her," the first man answered. "She is likely in the fleet of ships that is coming from the Netherlands next week. That is where we have just come from."

"Do you know any of the sailors?" she asked.

The men laughed. "Only the captains, Mistress," the first one replied regretfully. "There are hundreds of others."

Edina passed a few more polite words with the men before deciding to take her courage in both hands and ride home, cursing herself for not bringing the carriage. She had never wanted to use it because she felt that it was showing off, but the weather was becoming colder and wetter as autumn slid down into winter.

She was just about to put on her cloak when an old lady, whom she knew as Agnes Thomson, came up to her and caught her elbow.

"Mistress, ye cannae go out in this," she warned. "The road will be dangerous."

Her wrinkled old face became even more creased with concern as she looked at Edina.

Edina sighed. "I know, Agnes, but if I wait any longer, I will be going home in the dark." Then she thought of something. "You used to work for the Laird, did you not?"

The old woman nodded and smiled. "Aye, I did," she said warmly. "Such a kind man he is. I worked for his family for forty years, an' when he saw I was gettin' old, he gave me a wee bit of coin tae live on every week an' a cottage tae share wi' some other old ones like masel'. Now I can see my family whenever I like, an' rest my old bones when I need tae. An' I wasnae the only one. Many o' the old staff were let go, but none o' us need tae worry about a roof over our heads or havin' enough tae eat for the rest o' our lives."

Her faded blue eyes were shining, and Edina could not help but feel proud of the man who was her uncle in all but name.

"He is a wonderful man," she agreed. "Do you happen to know his sons too?"

The old woman looked troubled. "Aye, they were both good boys, but I think that the younger one had some problems wi' the drink, Mistress." She shook her head. "The guards had tae drag him hame absolutely steamin' sometimes."

"I believe he became friends with a few criminals who led him astray." Edina said. "As the Laird's son, he would have been an easy mark for unscrupulous people."

"I dinnae know, Mistress." The old woman sounded sad. "But some people can take or leave the drink, an' some just cannae dae withoot it. He was one o' them, unlike his brother, Master Lewis, who recovered from it, thankfully. Poor sowel, Master Aidan."

Agnes looked as though she were about to cry, and Edina put her arm around her old shoulders.

"Thank you for telling me this," she said warmly.

She had gleaned no more new information about Aidan, but it was clear that the servants were not well informed. If there was any deeper truth to be found, it was not going to be from them.

Aidan was coming home! Now Edina could start to plan her feast. She knew she was going to arrive home soaking wet, but she felt warm inside. She had some good news, and soon she could tell everyone about it. Only one thing troubled her—Lewis.

And as luck would have it, he was the first person she bumped into as she crossed the courtyard.

"Lewis! I must speak to you!" she called happily.

For once, Lewis had a genuine reason not to talk to her.

"It will have to wait till later," he told her. "I have business with my father. Excuse me."

Then he marched away.

Lewis was obsessing about Edina. Their kiss the previous evening had affected him just as much as it had her. He knew, though, he could not afford to indulge in thoughts of her full red lips and fascinating violet eyes while he was attending a council meeting with his father's friends and business associates were there.

He was not as yet privy to his father's plans for any future marriage for him, but he had always been a dutiful son and obeyed his father before. However, that was before a very luscious temptation had arrived in the shape of Edina McCarthy.

Lewis was consumed by her. She occupied his thoughts constantly, and he knew that their kiss the previous evening had made matters infinitely worse. He sighed as he sat down at the table between two of his father's friends—two big, beefy men with the florid faces of habitual drinkers.

When one of them offered him a glass of wine, Lewis politely declined, and the man, a wool merchant called Colin Galbraith, laughed.

"I have never seen a Laird's son refusing a glass of the hard stuff before!" he cried in disbelief.

Lewis kept a straight face, even though he felt like punching the man very hard in his big, blue-veined nose.

"Well, now you have," he replied grimly. "I drink wine at dinner, but for important meetings like this I prefer to keep a clear head."

Across the table, the Laird caught his eye and gave him a warning glare. He needed all his business associates to focus on the matters at hand, but Lewis and Colin Galbraith were breaking their concentration.

Colin shook his head, still laughing, while pouring a glass full to the brim with red wine. He tossed it back and filled another one, while Lewis turned away, disgusted.

Usually, he found the meetings interesting, and came away with new knowledge that he had not had before, but even though he tried with all his might to follow the proceedings, thoughts of Edina kept intruding. Should he speak to her about what was worrying him, or should he keep quiet? He was completely confused and could not keep his attention on the business at hand.

However, his ears pricked up when he heard himself being discussed.

"Is it not about time you got yourself married, young man?" asked one of his father's closest friends and allies, Laird Blair Anderson. "You are not getting any younger!"

He laughed at his own joke, since he was by far the youngest man there, and many of the men in the room were old enough to be his grandfather.

Lewis knew why he was asking. His daughter Fenella was of marriageable age, and their union would bind the clans together even more tightly.

There was a moment of tension, then a ripple of laughter around the table before his father said sternly: "Gentlemen, I will take care of that matter, as fathers usually do. However, that is not what we are here to discuss now, so can we get back to business please?"

Lewis was infinitely glad when the meeting ended. However, if he thought he was going to get away easily, he was disabused of that notion by the feel of his father's heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to see that the Laird's eyes were blazing with anger.

"You and I have to have a little talk," his father said grimly. "Come to my study."

He began to march away, and Lewis followed him reluctantly, dreading what was coming next. When the Laird became angry, he did a very good and thorough job of it. Lewis could see that he was in for a verbal hammering of note, but he was almost resigned to it. He had endured many such since his brother's departure from this life, almost as though his father blamed him. Why not? He thought. He blamed himself.

When they reached his study, the Laird sat down heavily in one of the chairs next to the desk and poured himself a stiff whisky, not bothering to offer one to Lewis because he knew it would not be accepted.

Lewis was astonished. His father never drank more than weak ale in the mornings, and even though he had provided wine at the meeting, he had abstained from drinking it himself. Strong spirits like whisky, brandy, and rum were only to be indulged in after dinner in the period of relaxation before bedtime. Even then, the Laird usually only drank one glass, and indulged in two on a Sunday or on special occasions. Lewis had never seen his father drink whisky in the morning or even the afternoon before.

As he looked up with a question in his eyes, the Laird glared at him fiercely, and Lewis wondered what he had done to make his father so angry. He sat silently while the Laird took his first sip of the strong liquor, then coughed slightly at the unaccustomed fiery burn. Laird Findlay sat back in his chair and folded his arms, and all the while his eyes did not leave his son's. Lewis stared back determinedly, refusing to back down.

"One of the guards told me he saw you and Edina on the battlements the other evening just as the sun was beginning to set," he told his son. "He said you were in a rather…vulnerable condition. I told him he was mistaken. Sons of mine are not weak, no matter what the circumstances. You are a man, and I expect you to behave like one."

Lewis felt utterly ashamed of himself. He had told himself at the time that he was behaving like a baby, but thought that no one but Edina had seen him. He would not be weeping again, he resolved, even if he had to bang his head against a brick wall out of frustration instead.

"And Edina?" This time, the Laird's voice was so high with indignation it was almost a squeak. "What were you doing in her company in such a place? Do you not know what people will think? You are a Laird's son, for god's sake! You are not to have a dalliance with the daughter of my advisor—someone who is far below your social status. You are destined for a far better match than the likes of her!"

Up to that moment, Lewis had kept his own counsel, but a hot wave of rage suddenly swept over him as he heard his father disparaging Edina.

"Do not speak of her like that!" he yelled. "She is a good woman, and I will not listen to you talk about her as if she is a kitchen maid. Just because we happened to meet each other by chance does not mean I wish to marry her—and she would turn me down even if I did. She is like a sister to me, and she is not after my title or money, be assured of that. I would know if she were. If you want to know why I broke down, it is because I find it hard to play heir and not disappoint you, Father. Especially when there is no one to support me after my brother's leave!"

He was stunned by his own outburst, as was the Laird. Lewis was lying about having no interest in Edina, and although his father had the uncanny knack of reading his son like a book sometimes, he was too taken aback by Lewis's anger now.

"I think we had better continue this conversation when you and I are a little calmer," he said, standing up. "You are doing a good job, son. Just remember who you are and what we all stand for."

He was weary utterly now. After the negotiations in the meeting, his unaccustomed glass of whisky, and his confrontation with his son, Laird Findlay did not have the emotional fortitude to carry on. All he wanted now was to rest in his wife's arms.

Lewis watched him as he left, then sighed and laid his head on the desk. When he stood up, he went straight to his chamber to obey his father's orders. Not only did he avoid seeing Edina that evening, he saw no one else either. He did not go to dinner or have it delivered to him. In fact, he ate nothing and saw no one, and even though he longed for Edina's soft arms wrapped around him, he refused to give in to his desires.

He could have run to her and told her all his problems, but he decided to keep them all to himself, as he had ever since his brother had left him. He was beginning to feel the strain now, however. Without the person whom he had always thought of as his other half, he felt incomplete and sometimes helpless.

His last thought before he went to sleep was the searing kiss he had enjoyed with Edina. How he wished she was sharing his bed at that moment.