Chapter 15

Over a scrumptious dinner in which Ava managed not to disgrace herself by using the wrong fork or knife, she got to know a lot more about her future intended, and decided that while he would never be the love of her life, he was pleasant enough. He did not make her shiver and melt with desire the way Cameron did, but unless he was hiding some terrible secret, he would make an acceptable husband.

She discovered that James was an avid chess player.

"Do you play?" he asked, sipping more wine as he gazed at her hopefully.

"I know what the board looks like," Ava answered, "but I don't know how to play. She held up her hands and showed him the raw and calloused places on her palms which had been caused by years of hard work. "These hands have never done anythin' so delicate."

"Then I will teach you," he promised, smiling as he took one of her hands and kissed the palm. "Can you read?"

Ava shook her head sadly. "No, James. I never learned that is the kind o' thing they only teach boys how to do."

It was most unlike him, but suddenly he felt sorry for her. He did not laugh at her lack of literacy, but said, "I will arrange a tutor for your reading and I will instruct you in chess myself."

Ava was staggered. "Thank you! I have always wanted to learn to read." She looked around. It was dark already, and she was suddenly unsure where she was sleeping that night. "Where am I stayin'?"

"Here, if you wish," he replied. He smiled. "Did you like your bedroom?"

"Aye - very much." She hesitated for a moment, then the question she had been dying to ask came bursting out of her mouth. "James - will ye help my sisters? If I am no' workin' they will be poorer, an' -"

James held up a hand to stop her. "You sisters need never worry again. The Laird and I will give them all the help they need." He knew that this was a sure way of gaining Ava's support and cooperation. She would do anything for her sisters, and he looked forward to having them under his roof, especially the middle one. If he could not have Ava, he would have Janet. He liked a woman who fought with him. Both of them together? His shaft stiffened at the thought, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Thank you," Ava breathed, relieved beyond measure as a weight was lifted from her shoulders. Her eyes were shining with tears. She swallowed the rest of her wine and said, "I am very tired. May I go to bed now?"

"Of course," James answered, wishing he could go with her. "It has been a strange day for you, I expect, so you must rest now. The beds here are very comfortable, and Mary sleeps in a little adjoining room if you need anything."

Ava nodded, but she knew that she would not be disturbing Mary from her well-earned rest that night. She had too much respect for hard-working people like her to deprive them of their sleep. If she needed anything she could get it for herself.

When she went into her chamber she found that a few dozen candles were already lit, a fire was blazing in the grate, and a nightdress was laid out on her bed. She was amazed; Mary must have done all this. So this was what it felt like to be treated like a lady, she thought. How much she had missed out on!

She was just about to take off her dress when there was a soft knock at the door. Ava answered it, and found a tall dark woman of her own age standing smiling at her. She looked so much like James that Ava would have known her identity before she introduced herself.

"Good evening," she said with a nod. "I am Davina Henderson. Are you Ava Struthers?"

"I am," Ava replied warily.

"My father told me you are going to be married, and I came to offer my congratulations." She looked past Ava into the bedroom. "May I come and talk for a while? I would like to get to know you better, since you will be my stepmother.

Stepmother? Ava was stunned. It was one reality she had not thought of. "Of course." She stood aside to allow Davina to walk past her, and she swept past Ava, smelling of some exotic perfume that smelled familiar. It had notes of citrus and cinnamon, and resembled the one she had smelled in the carriage. She felt a little jealous, and was determined that when she was married she and her sisters would enjoy such small luxuries. They would not feel small to them, of course, since none of them had ever had a chance to wear perfume in her life.

Ava sat down and studied the other woman for a while as she took a glass of wine from the decanter on the little table beside Ava's bed. She offered a glass to Ava, but she declined with a tiny shake of her head.

Davina was taller than Ava and more generously built, with a large bust, small waist, and curving hips, handsome rather than pretty, with strong, well defined features.

When she sat down Davina stared at Ava unashamedly, taking in every detail of her from head to foot while Ava squirmed inwardly. She knew that she was blushing, but hoped the dimness of the candlelight hid it.

"Why are you marrying my father?" Davina asked bluntly.

Ava was a little startled. "Because he asked me," she replied, puzzled. "Did he no' tell ye?"

Davina's mouth tightened and she frowned at Ava's flippant answer. "Yes, he did," she replied, "but I wanted to know what made him attracted to a woman like you. I can see that you are very lovely, of course, but you are not really in the same class as many of the other women he comes into contact with."

Ava had felt a little fearful when the other woman began to speak to her, but her last statement changed her sadness into rage. "Have ye ever been hungry, Mistress Henderson?" she asked angrily, standing up and advancing angrily towards her.

Ava's eyes were blazing as she stood over Davina, looking down at her. "I mean so hungry that ye could eat grass? Have ye ever had tae wonder where your next meal was comin' from? I will wager ye have not."

"No, I have not," Davina replied, her gaze dropping away from Ava's. She looked ashamed.

"I am happy for ye, then." Ava's voice was almost a growl. "Because I have. An' let me tell ye, it is no' a feelin' I would wish on my worst enemy. I will not lie to ye. I am no' marryin' your father out o' love, but I am sure you know that. I am marryin' him because I never want to be hungry again, an' I don't want my sisters to be either. I think he will be a generous husband an' I fully intend to be a good wife to him. He will never have any cause to complain about me. Does that answer your question?"

"Thank you," Davina nodded, after a slight pause. "So you admit you are using him?"

Ava was not offended by the question, because she knew it was true. "I am, but if you were in my position you would do the same." She stared at Davina so hard that the other woman squirmed in her seat and looked away.

"I see," Davina frowned and sipped her wine. "So you have no affection for him then?"

"No, ye don't see," Ava shook her head. "Let me put ye in a cell for two or three days wi' nothin' but bread an' milk once a day then ye might see. Sometimes that was a' we had, so do not judge me, Mistress Henderson! An' I do not know your father yet, so I can hardly have affection for him, can I? This is a marriage of convenience an' nothin' else." Her voice was a growl. "Now, I am goin' to ask you a question. Why are ye marryin' my sweetheart?"

For a moment, Davina looked nonplussed, then she began to twist her hands together in her lap, agitated. It was obviously not a question she was comfortable with at all. At last she said, "because the Laird wishes it so. He wants to put his son in the line of succession even though he is a bastard, and my father wants to be in the Lewis family, however distantly. He thinks it will give him more power." She shrugged. "Between them, I am helpless."

Ava suddenly felt a strange kinship with the other woman. They were in the same situation - both pawns in the games of powerful men. "I think we are in the same boat," she said, sighing as she sat down. Women like them were helpless to get out of their situation. Men held all the power, and probably always would.

Davina sat with Ava for a while longer in silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but it was not an awkward silence, since they had established the fact that they had common ground, and were not enemies. They were not friends either, but there was a kind of wary kinship between them that had not been there before.

"Goodnight and sleep well, Ava," Davina said, resting a hand on Ava's shoulder for a moment.

"Goodnight to you too, Davina." When she closed the door, Ava walked over to the fire and held her hands out to it. She felt warmer, both inside and out, and although she was still very troubled, she slept deeply and dreamlessly till morning.

Davina felt scared as she went to her father's study. He had always treated her strictly, punishing her for every perceived infraction, and had often struck her, mostly with his hand, but occasionally with a leather tawse. She had always been afraid of him, and he had scarcely shown her any affection except when other people were nearby. When she left to go to see Ava, he had instructed her to treat her with as little emotion as possible.

"Just ask her what I told you to ask her," he had said. "There will be no need to sit there all night."

Now, as she opened the door and saw him sitting, reading by the fire, she swallowed nervously, hoping she had performed her role to his satisfaction. He was wearing a thick leather belt, and that had sometimes become a weapon against her.

"Davina." He smiled at her coolly and invited her to sit in the chair beside him. "You have taken rather a long time. Was she troublesome? Tell me what happened."

Davina sat on the edge of the chair, and took a deep breath. "She made no bones about the fact that she is marrying you for security, Father, but she says she will be the best wife she can to you." Davina looked up at James Henderson. "I think she is a decent person, Father. I think I will like her, and I think you will too."

She was not shocked when she saw a dark smile spread across James's face. She had seen the same expression many times before. "I don't care if you like her or not. You see, the Laird is dead. He died six hours ago in his sleep, and no-one knows yet but you and I."

"Oh!" Davina's heart skipped a beat. She had never liked the Laird, but he had always made her feel secure. Now that he was gone, and she was going to marry a virtual stranger, her world had tilted a little on its axis, and she felt extremely vulnerable.

"I am sorry to hear that. He was a good man," she remarked, because it was the conventional thing to say, but to her surprise James Henderson violently disagreed.

"No, he was not!" he growled. "He was a vicious old tyrant. He thought of no one but himself, but we are going to defeat him. I have seen to it that he has written his will as I wanted him to, so if you do your part, we can make everything work out as I planned. When you marry Cameron, we will bide our time for a few weeks then kill him and make it look like an accident."

Davina felt as though she had just been punched in the stomach. He could not be serious! But as she looked into her father's eyes the glare which met hers told her that he was. She was utterly shocked; she had thought she had seen the worst of him, but clearly the evil in him went much deeper than she realized.

She nodded slowly, deciding that the best idea was to go along with his plan for the moment, even though she thought it was not only mad, but dangerous, and she was too terrified to disobey him. "I will do as you ask, Father," she said numbly, "but you must tell me how, since I have never done such a thing before."

Davina could hear her voice trembling, but she tried to look nonchalant as she poured herself another glass of wine, the third in half an hour. She was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, but she could not afford to relax.

Her father had asked her to do something horrendous, something she could never do in a thousand years, but she was too afraid to gainsay him. She had always known he was a bad man, but now there was a madness in his eyes that she had never seen before. She decided that the best thing she could do for the moment was to acquiesce, but on no account must he suspect that she had no intention of carrying out his wishes, for then, he might turn on her.