Chapter Ten

"Lady Alice says ye're to make certain to come to the supper table."

Dugan turned around and stared at the young woman who'd spoken.

"Are ye simple, Erin?" Brody demanded. "This is nae a place for females."

The large yard beyond the old tower was full of men and youths training. There was the harsh, dull sound of flesh hitting flesh and bodies falling on the snow-covered ground.

Erin fluttered her eyelashes. "Lady Alice instructed me to bring her message to you myself. She said it was very important. I cannot consider the duty done by passing it to another. I must assure her that the message reached you."

Erin fluttered her eyelashes a bit more, and even added a pretty smile.

"What is wrong with yer eyes lass?" Brody stepped up closer to her. "Does the sun hurt ye?"

She let out a little sigh, then shook her head and left.

"That Erin is a strange one," Brody remarked. "I've never seen a female do that…fluttering her eyes like that."

Brody looked at Dugan, then frowned. "What is that grin about?" Brody demanded. "Are ye pleased to have yer stepmother sending her maid after ye?"

Dugan felt his grin growing wider.

Brody's eyes widened. "I don't understand you. Lady Hay once again wants to have her way, and she is going to pester ye until ye bend to her whim. That's what this nonsense about coming to the supper table is all about."

"I know," Dugan replied.

Brody was still perplexed. "I do nae see anything to be so happy about."

"If the lady has gone to the effort of sending young Erin out here, the lass she keeps standing by her side the entire day long, I would guess that mistress Braylin will have also been told to appear."

For the first time in his life, Dugan was grateful to his stepmother.

It was an altogether new feeling for him.

Brody was frowning darkly. "Are ye still set on wedding that English girl?"

"I am," Dugan confirmed.

"She's tried to run off already," Brody added. "I've never been one for enchantments and spells, but something happened between ye two at that well, sure enough." Then, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, he went back to training the lads.

The Midnight Well…

Dugan would have liked to dismiss the idea of there being anything more to the well than fresh water, but considering the latest turn of events, he had to admit there might be something to the legend.

Enchantment or not, he fully intended to make Braylin his.

And tonight, they'd both be at the supper table, sure enough. Without a doubt, it would be a meal to remember.

*

Bathing in winter took fortitude.

Prudence shivered but the household maids weren't taking no for an answer. Dugan had told the women that they were getting married, so she'd been taken straight away to the bathhouse.

"Go on with ye." A matron named Ryesen gave her a little nudge. "Closer to the fire. Ye do nae want to catch cold from yer wet hair."

Braylin clutched the robe she was wearing tightly as she moved over to the hearth.

"Sit down," Ryesen insisted. "Ye cannot dress until that hair is dry."

It was sound advice. Prudence's belly growled loudly.

"Do nae worry," a younger maid assured her. "We'll not be late to the table."

The young woman started to comb out Prudence's hair. Ryesen watched with a critical eye for a moment before she nodded with approval.

Someone rapped on the door. When they opened it, an older maid came in, her arms full of folded garments.

"Lady Alice sent this dress for the young lass to wear," the woman announced, placing her burden on a stool.

"My dress is very serviceable," Prudence remarked.

"And drab," the woman declared with a shake of her head. "Brown wool—the same shade as dirt. It's better suited for a nun."

"Vanity is a sin," Prudence said, squirming.

The older woman smiled at her. "So is being ungrateful… I suggest ye do nae turn yer nose up at the gift the lady of this house has sent ye from her own wardrobe."

The woman sent a stern look toward Ryesen before she grabbed Braylin's dress off the back of a table and headed for the door.

"Do not take my dress," Prudence protested.

The door swung closed in her face.

"Best to not quibble over the matter," Ryesen said softly. "Lady Alice is not one to be giving gifts often. Best to enjoy them when they arrive."

"Lady Alice sent men to abduct me."

The words were across her tongue before Braylin thought about them. The girl behind her froze mid-stroke. Ryesen stiffened as well.

"Would your family have ye back?" she asked.

Prudence wanted to say yes. She longed to be able to assure Ryesen of that. She even opened her mouth to answer before losing confidence in the matter.

Ryesen pointed at the girl combing Prudence's hair. The comb began sliding through the strands once more.

"We can only go forward," Ryesen declared. "Ye're clearly of the marriable age. Was there a match made for ye? One ye long to return to?"

Prudence shook her head.

"A match was recently been made for my older sister," Prudence answered truthfully. "We are less than a year apart, so naturally, I expected one to follow for myself."

"Lady Hay has seen to the matter now," Ryesen muttered firmly.

"Yet I am English." Prudence wasn't sure why she was arguing.

The maid pulled her hair with the comb, making Prudence wince. Ryesen winkled her nose.

"Dugan carried ye back inside himself. The matter is decided."

Something flickered to life deep down inside of her. The need to lift her chin and refuse to be cowed. "I do not believe it is decided."

Ryesen looked back at her, obviously noticing the glint in Prudence's eyes. The woman straightened and turned to face her. That flame was still burning in her belly and Prudence stared straight back at the woman, refusing to look away. Quite unexpectedly, Ryesen grinned.

"Ye have some spirit in there, after all. Well now, that is a relief."

It was by far the last thing she expected to hear…and it pleased her beyond measure.

*

Dugan hadn't thought he'd be nervous.

Yet he was.

It was not the first decision he'd ever made. Adult life was full of them. The challenging part was deciding what course of action to take, then being content with that choice. But when it came to wedding Braylin, he discovered it was not that simple.

If he were thinking with his head, he would have taken his father's offer of the Douglas girl for a wife. Such a bride would have raised Dugan's station.

But he wanted Braylin.

Wanted her more than he'd ever thought he might desire someone. Even knowing he'd owe his stepmother wasn't enough to worry him if it gained him Braylin.

"Stop grinning, if ye do nae fancy having yer cheek sliced," Brody snapped.

Dugan let his face relax as Brody scraped his face with a blade. His friend narrowed his eyes in concentration before he applied the sharpened edge to Dugan's skin and carefully drew it across the surface to remove any remaining stubble.

Dugan's heart was racing.

Yet it wasn't on account of the blade being used on his cheek.

"Well, ye do look good, I'll admit," Brody said as he stood back to admire his work. He reached up and stroked his own beard. "I hear the lasses like a clean-shaven man."

"Braylin is marrying me," Dugan said, pointing at his man. "So ye can just get that twinkle out of yer eye."

Brody paid him no heed but chuckled low and deeply. "She is a fine-looking female, but she did try to leave ye already once, lad. Have ye pondered that fact?"

Dugan felt his insides twist, but he shook off his doubt. "She snuck out of her father's house to meet me—twice—did she not?"

"No' precisely you," Brody argued.

But fate had decided it was him. Dugan recalled how hard it had been to leave her after the bonfire. The connection between them was too strong to ignore now that she was close again.

"I am going to wed her Brody," Dugan stated firmly. "I hope ye'll stand at me back."

Brody grew serious. He reached out and clasped Dugan on the top of his shoulder. "I will, man. It will be me honor to do it."

Someone began ringing the bells to summon the inhabitants of the stronghold to the hall for supper. Any man who didn't have duty on the walls would make a quick path toward the tables before the fare went cold.

Dugan was on his feet and out the door. It was time to meet his fate.

*

Prudence followed Ryesen toward the great hall.

The passageways filled up with people making their way from the storage rooms and workrooms where they had been about their duties.

"That's her…"

"I hear she's a Puritan…"

It wasn't a surprise to find herself the main topic of conversation. Now that winter was upon them, any news would be a long time coming and anything new was definitely fodder for the gossip mills.

Prudence really didn't care. That flare of heat in her belly was still there, keeping her chin level. Even if it was strange to discover disobedience to be a source of courage, she wasn't going to lament it. She needed the strength too much to quibble over the source. The scent of food was tantalizing, drawing her forward. Honestly, she'd have gone to the great hall even if she'd worn naught but her shift. Her belly was empty and she suddenly realized how much she wanted to live.

Are you going to wed him then?

Prudence wasn't sure of her answer, only that she knew she would be pressed for one soon.

Very soon.