Chapter Eighteen

“Would ye care to dance?”

The question that came from behind Maisie sent her swinging around toward Graeme. “Ye’re asking me to dance?”

His gaze flicked from her to Father Ollie and then the clanswoman and clansman Father Ollie had just introduced her to. They all looked as surprised as Maisie felt.

“Aye, lass. We handfasted, after all.”

She frowned at that statement. What was happening? She opened her mouth to question him, but a distinct pleading look came to his face, and she sucked in a breath. Had he changed his mind about them? But no, that was impossible. Yet, the smallest, most unexpected bubble of hope rose in her. Did she want him to change his mind?

Suddenly, her heart was beating with the pulse of the music. “All right,” she said, her voice coming out breathless to her own ears.

He took her hand, those long, strong fingers closing around her skin and making her heart jolt as it did every time he touched her. He moved ahead of her to lead her into the fray of dancers, and when they were in the thick of the couples, he turned to her and swung her into the fast steps of the dance. There was no time for talking, only keeping up with the movements. They were not difficult, simply quick. They trotted to the left, then trotted to the right, facing each other and holding hands. Then before she knew what was happening, he was picking her up by the waist and swinging her around, as the other men were doing with their partners.

She laughed as he swung her around, and for a moment, all the horrid business that had occurred since arriving, that she had not shared with anyone, stopped pressing down on her. When he set her on her feet once more, they came to face each other as the music ended. His breath caressed her cheek every time he exhaled, and his gaze bore steadily into her. His hand came to her cheek for one moment, and the touch felt almost unbearably tender and confused her more.

“What happened to keeping space?” she whispered.

“Eppie told me how the kitchen women treated ye, and she said I needed to make a gesture toward ye so the clan would treat ye with respect, and I agreed, so...” He shrugged.

Searing heat scalded her cheeks and swept down her neck and over her chest. She was a fool. Thank the gods she’d not said anything that might indicate the burgeoning hope inside of her. “Ah,” she managed, surprised she even got that sound out.

“Why were ye late to supper?” he asked as notes of music started once more. But now he took her by the elbow and moved her out of the crowd of dancers and to the side, near the wall that contained all the weapons and tapestries she’d admired earlier.

She thought of the slashed gowns she’d discovered a bit ago when she’d opened the trunk her brother had sent and of the water she’d requested to be brought to her bedchamber for washing that had never arrived, and she said, “I fell asleep.”

Devil take Eppie. She knew the kindhearted woman meant well, but Maisie had asked her not say anything, and this—Graeme asking her to dance—was exactly why she hadn’t wanted him to know. Maisie had suspected Graeme would try to help, and that most definitely would do the opposite. In fact, it already had because, for a moment, her foolish heart had felt hope when there was none, and her body... well, her body apparently was oblivious to reason when the Highlander was near.

“I see,” he said, scrutinizing her. “Did something happen to stop ye from changing and bathing?”

“Aye,” she snapped. She obviously needed the space between them more than he did. If she wasn’t carful, she was going to fall under the spell this man was casting without even trying, and that most definitely would not be good for her heart. Any possibility of a future was not real. She needed to rely on herself, not on him. “I told ye, I fell asleep.”

“If ye continue to have troubles—”

“I’ll nae,” she interrupted, determined to stop him from offering aid.

“Well, if ye do, tell Eppie, and she can relay it to me.”

Maisie felt her mouth slip open. He didn’t even want her to relay her troubles directly to him! She was extremely glad she’d withheld the truth. “If ye’ll excuse me,” she said, “I’m awfully tired, and I think I’ll retire to my bedchamber.”

“Ye just said ye’d taken a nap,” he replied, frowning.

“That does nae mean I kinnae still be tired,” she said.

“Nay, lass, it does nae. I’ll walk ye to yer—”

“That will nae be necessary.” The last thing she needed was to spend more time around the man and become even more drawn to him.

She didn’t wait for him to answer. She swiveled on her heel away from him and marched toward the great hall door, struggling to hold in her tears. As she stepped into the torch-lined corridor, the tears came. She swiped at them as she hurried toward the stairs, but all her loneliness, uncertainty, and the swinging emotions for Graeme could not be stopped. Tears tracked hot down her face, blurring her vision, so she squeezed her eyes shut as she climbed the stairs. When she opened them, Father Ollie was standing at the top of the stairs looking down at her.

“Whatever is the matter, lass?” he asked as she moved toward him.

When they were level, she faced the priest, who had been at her home for as long as she could remember, and with a trembling lip, she blurted, “I find myself drawn to Graeme, despite kenning it could nae ever work and despite the fact that he has made it perfectly clear he has no wish to stay handfasted to me. I dunnae ken what’s wrong with me, Father!” she wailed. “That man wants to destroy my brother, and yet... and yet...” She shook her head as she rubbed at her eyes.

“And yet, ye can see beyond the revenge that burns at the surface to ken that underneath lies an honorable man.”

She sucked in a breath and hiccupped. “Aye.”

“Come. Let me walk ye to yer bedchamber,” he said, proffering his arm. She twined her arm with his as they walked. “Yearning for another does nae recognize boundaries of loyalty, lass.”

“Aye, that has become verra clear.”

“I think ye must figure out if Graeme is worth getting to know, and then, if ye are willing to sacrifice what ye must to be with him.”

“Ye speak as if I am the only one that needs to make discoveries and decisions! I told ye, he had made it clear he wishes revenge over any sort of chance with me.”

“Aye, I heard ye, because ye bellow,” the priest added with a chuckle. “But I have been a priest long enough to ken the truth that a man’s heart can be changed by the right woman.”

“And ye think I can soften his heart?”

The priest stopped in front of her door and, squeezing her hand, said, “I think if ye decide ye want to, there’s a verra good chance ye’d accomplish it. But then ye’ll need to make choices. Ye kinnae be loyal to yer brother and to Graeme at the same time.”

“That’s the problem!” she said, frustrated. “That’s why we must keep our distance. The situation is impossible!”

“Things are impossible until ye make them possible,” he said, winking. “Good night, lass.”

She sighed. “Good night, Father Ollie.”

She entered her bedchamber and shut the door. The priest’s words ran through her head as she stared at the gowns someone had slashed with a dagger, and she glanced at her empty wash basin. These people hated her. Graeme wanted to keep his distance, and she should let him. Father Ollie was wrong. Graeme Stewart’s heart could not be softened, even by her.

With the travel and emotional turmoil, she was exhausted. She went to the bed, pulled back the covers, and let out yelp. A dozen croaking toads filled her bed. The yearning to be home was so great that she slid to the floor and wept until her head throbbed and her nose was stuffed. When the tears finally ceased, she lay on the cold, hard ground, the toads still croaking above her, and she vowed that she would not let them break her, no matter what they did. She would not show them weakness or let them know they had gotten to her. For everything these people hated about her father, she would give them the opposite—grace, honor, and friendship.

The next morning, Maisie made her way to the great hall, only to find it empty except for Eppie and a beautiful woman with long red hair. Maisie approached slowly, unsure if she’d be welcome or not, but when Eppie saw her, she waved to Maisie to come over.

As she approached, Eppie said, “Maisie, this is Lady Stewart—”

“Grace,” the woman corrected, with a kind smile that reached her eyes. “Ye must call me Grace. I’m sorry I was nae here to greet ye yesterday. I was at a neighboring clan, and I’m afraid I have to return today for the week.”

“’Tis kind of ye to give me a thought.”

“Eppie tells me ye have encountered some trouble with the women of the castle.”

“Aye,” Maisie replied, shooting Eppie a look. “It seems Eppie is telling everyone of my troubles.”

“Ack,” Eppie said. “I had to tell Graeme.”

“I was nae overly welcomed here when I first came, either,” Grace said, “but in time, if ye are persistent and show them ye deserve their respect, they will eventually relent. Do ye ken who my father was?”

“Aye,” Maisie nodded. When Laird Stewart had wed the daughter of the ousted Lord of the Isles, Brody had told her of it. “My brother made mention,” she said simply.

“The clan was nae easy on me, either, but they will come around in time. If I were ye, mayhap start with the kitchen lasses. The lot in there are the tightest, and if ye can convince them to respect ye, and judge ye on yer own merit, then they will convince their husbands, and then it will likely trickle through the clan.”

Maisie nodded. That seemed a good plan. “Eppie, are ye working in the kitchens today?”

“Nay, lass. I have to travel with Grace. Do ye want me to accompany ye to the kitchens first?”

Maisie shook her head. “Nay. If I hide behind yer skirts, they’ll nae ever respect me. Ye will be back at the end of the week?”

“Aye,” Eppie confirmed, “but if ye need aid, tell Graeme.”

Maisie didn’t miss the small grin Eppie was trying to hide. She was certain the woman was purposely leaving so Graeme could not rely on her as an intermediary between him and Maisie. “I’ll nae need to tell Graeme anything,” Maisie replied.

Both Grace and Eppie burst out laughing, and Grace said, “Eppie, ye are right. She’s a fiery lass and a good match, if I do say so. Come on. We can walk ye almost to the kitchens.”

Maisie fell into step with the women as they walked through the castle and into the courtyard. “Is the morning meal always cleared away so early?” Maisie asked, her stomach grumbling.

“Aye,” Eppie replied. “Ye can ask for some food in the kitchen.”

Maisie wasn’t about to ask the women of the kitchen to do anything special for her, despite the fact that she was starving. As they walked along, she thought of Father Ollie’s advice from the night before. “Where is Graeme?”

“I imagine he’s training by the loch. As soon as his brother sends word that he has a lead on Bernard or the monks, Graeme will join him. And if I ken Graeme—and I do—he’ll want to be as prepared as he can be with a sword.”

Maisie pressed her lips together. How could she even be considering convincing him to let them come to know each other when he was preparing to try to take his revenge against her brother?

“We turn off here for the stables,” Eppie said.

“Safe travels,” Maisie said as the women walked on.

With a growling stomach, she made her way the rest of the way to the kitchens, opened the door, and stepped into a cacophony of noise, which all seemed to stop as the door slammed behind her and all eyes turned to her.

Lavina and Sasha were both there. They stood side by side, stirring sauces. Around them, the women glanced to the pair, as if to follow their lead on how to react to Maisie. Sasha and Lavina exchanged a conspiratorial look, and then Lavina said, “We told ye we dunnae want ye in here.”

Maisie squared her shoulders and tilted her chin up. “I ken what ye said, but I dunnae care to sit around day after day with nae anything to do. I’ll do anything to help.”

“Anything, eh?” Sasha said with a smirk.

Maisie didn’t want to take back what she’d said, but she sorely wished she’d chosen her words with more care. “Aye, ’tis what I said,” she replied with more bravado than she really felt.

“Fine, then. We will see just how long it takes for ye to quit and show what a spineless lass ye are.”

Sasha marched to the counter, grabbed a large wooden pail, and brought it to Maisie. “It will be yer job to dig up our vegetables and herbs.”

That didn’t seem so bad. “What do I dig them up with?”

“Yer hands,” Sasha said, laughing. “Ye can take the trail to the left of the kitchens to the garden. Bring us a full pail of beets.”

She started to leave but paused by a trencher of bread. As if sensing her hunger from behind her, Sasha said, “That’s for lunch. If ye finish yer work afore then, then ye can partake. If nae, ye have to wait until dinner—same as the rest of us.”

With a longing look and a sigh, Maisie nodded, took the pail, and headed outside into the drizzling rain. She followed the path to the garden as instructed and made her way to the rows and rows of beets. Kneeling, she placed the pail beside her and began to dig. The dirt was harder than she’d imagined, and the roots went deep, making it difficult to loosen the beets from the ground, but she was determined not to quit.

Dirt caked under her nails and her fingers began to ache, and when she finally got toward the bottom of the root, she gripped the beet and yanked so hard that she went flying backward. She landed with enough force that pain shot through her back, and the air was ripped from her lungs. She lay there for a moment, considering abandoning the job, but after a bit, when she could breathe properly again, she rolled to her side, got back to her knees, tossed the beet in the pail, and moved onto the next one.

She worked hunched over all day until her nails were chipped, her fingers were raw, and her back ached nearly too bad to straighten. When the supper horn rang, she blinked in surprise, struggled to sit up, and looked up at the sky where the sun was nearly gone. She gained her feet, picked up the pail, and hobbled back to the kitchens to find it empty, save Sasha and the older woman.

“Well, well,” Sasha said as Maisie came through the door. “Mama, look who finally finished her job.”

Lavina turned from the fire she’d been tending and gave Maisie a derisive look. “Took ye long enough. I’d dunnae suppose I’m surprised, though. Ye are a Campbell.”

Every part of Maisie ached. She was hot, sweaty, and her hands were raw, and she was starving, but she certainly could not go to supper looking as she did. She swallowed, but it was difficult, given she hadn’t had anything to drink all day.

“I am nae my da,” she said, the words scratchy.

Lavina stepped to Maisie and raised her hand as if to slap her. Maisie stood her ground and forced herself not to react.

“Mama!” Sasha said.

The woman blinked, lowered her hand, and pointed a bony finger that looked crooked from years of overuse at Maisie. “Yer da and his men killed my husband and my eldest boy. I watched yer da give the orders direct from his mouth to nae spare the lives of any of the Stewart warriors! Yer da led the charge into the courtyard, and yer da made the call for killing without mercy. Nae anyone else. Ye may nae be yer da, but ye come from his seed. Sasha there is nae me, but she was raised by me, and she gets her honor from me, as well as everything else.”

Maisie’s gaze flicked to Sasha. The woman frowned at her mother, but Maisie had no idea if it was because she actually disagreed with what the woman had said. “I am sorry for what my da did, but I am nae him. I’ll prove it to ye.”

Maisie had no more than stepped out the door before she was grabbed by the arm from behind. She looked over her shoulder at Sasha.

“If ye go running to Graeme, it will only get worse for ye.”

Maisie jerked her arm out of the woman’s hold. “I’m nae going to go running to Graeme, but it’s nae because I fear ye. I will show ye I am worthy of yer respect.”

With that, she swung away, but five steps up the path to the castle, Sasha said, “Dunnae count on that.”

By the time she got to her bedchamber, she was so exhausted and aching that she lay down upon the bed and fell asleep. She awoke the next morning, hobbled to the great hall just in time to grab a hunk of bread and cheese, and then went straight to the kitchens with renewed determination to win the women over.

By the kitchen door sat the empty vegetable pail, and on top of the pail was a shining pick with a pointed tip she could use to aid in digging up the beets. She smiled to herself. She didn’t know who had put it there, but she suspected it was sitting out here because they’d not wanted anyone else to see their gesture toward Maisie. It was a small step forward, but what counted was that it was a step, so she collected the pail and set off to work.

She worked through the day again, still not fast enough to get back to the kitchens for lunch, but when she arrived at the end of the day, there was tray of food in the empty kitchen, and Sasha was in the room as well. Maisie set the full pail down, wincing as she did so. She brought her hands to her mouth and blew cool air on her cracked and burning fingers.

Sasha turned to her and cocked an eyebrow. “I did nae see ye at supper last night.”

“I fell asleep.”

Sasha nodded. “I figured. The tray is for ye, but if ye tell anyone I made it, I’ll deny it.”

“Did ye leave me the pick?”

The woman pursed her lips. “Aye.” She pressed her lips together, but she looked as if she wanted to say more.

“Do ye have something ye wish to say to me?”

“My da was the late Laird Stewart’s younger brother.”

“I see,” Maisie said, thinking of Sasha’s mother’s impassioned words to Maisie yesterday. “My younger brother, Finlay, was considered a traitor because yer da said it to be so. He was imprisoned for years at the king’s castle. And we are but one story of how what yer da did rippled through people’s lives. Ye are fighting a pointless battle.”

“Ye all accepted Grace, and her da attacked yer home with my da.”

“Aye, in time, we accepted her, but Grace was chosen by our laird and our laird made it clear she had already proven herself to him. Graeme did nae choose to be handfasted to ye, and he dunnae seem to want to remain that way, and he’s said naught about ye having proven trustworthy to him.”

“Well, ye are talking to me now, so that’s something.”

“Dunnae mistake that I’m yer friend,” Sasha said. “However, when my mama said yesterday that I was just like her as ye were like yer da, it struck me that we weren’t the same simply because she’s my mama. So, I will nae be cruel to ye for who yer da was and brother is, but that dunnae mean I’ll like ye, either.”

That was still a small step, so Maisie nodded.

“The rest of the lasses will be much harder to persuade nae to be cruel,” Sasha added. “I’m warning ye.”

“I hear ye,” Maisie said.

“Go on with ye, then. I imagine ye’ll fall asleep yet again tonight.”

Maisie made her way to her bedchamber, which was frigid since the wood Graeme had carried for her was all used up. She ate quickly, then climbed into bed and fell fast asleep. She awoke the next morning, and her day repeated nearly same as before, except this time, when she got to the kitchens, the pail was there, the pick, and a wine skin. Maisie was sure it was Sasha. She still did not return in time for lunch, but at the end of the day, when she came back with the full pail, a tray of food was waiting for her again, and Sasha was there.

“Ye’re earlier than yesterday.”

Maisie nodded.

“Mayhap ye’ll make lunch tomorrow. The lasses have wagered upon it. If ye do, ye may just earn some of their respect.”

Exhausted, yet hopeful, Maisie took the tray and turned to leave, but Sasha’s voice stopped her. “Graeme was here asking how ye were faring.”

Surprised that Graeme has taken time to check on her, Maisie faced Sasha once more. “What did ye tell him?”

“I told him ye were faring just fine.”

“To protect yer mother and the other lasses?”

“Aye, of course. Will ye tell him differently?” Sasha asked.

“Nay,” Maisie said, meaning it. It seemed to her that if she could gain these lasses’ respect, then maybe she should fight to get to know Graeme.

The fifth day in the kitchens, she was finally able to fill her pail by lunch. Two of the lasses in the kitchen congratulated her, and Sasha smiled at her. No one sat beside her as she ate lunch in the kitchen with them, but she was encouraged that they didn’t demand she leave. Sasha even gave her the task of getting the bread ready for supper.

When all the lasses were filing out to ready the great hall, Sasha paused at the door and said, “Ye should eat supper in the great hall tonight.”

Hope filled Maisie. She nodded, made her way quickly upstairs, and was surprised to see someone had finally filled the small pitcher on the wash table. She needed a proper bathing in the loch, which she planned to do tomorrow, but for now, she cleaned her face and hands and then hurried to the packed, noisy supper hall. When she entered, her gaze immediately went to the dais where Graeme sat in the center, and to her surprise, Eppie and Grace had returned early.

She stood, trying to decide if she should make her way to the dais to take the seat farthest from Graeme that was empty or if she should find a place among the kitchen lasses. She saw Graeme look toward her and then hurriedly look away, and that was what made up her mind. She suspected he’d been avoiding her all week, just as she had him until she could decide how to proceed.

She started toward the table where the kitchen lasses sat, but she was intercepted by Sasha, who was serving in the great hall tonight. Sasha actually smiled at her, which made the hope within Maisie grow stronger. “I told the lasses to save a space for ye.”

“Thank ye,” Maisie replied.

Sasha nodded. “Go on, then, and enjoy yer meal.”

Maisie went to the table and was greeted by one lass but ignored by the others. Still, she felt there was reason to hope, given a space that had actually been saved for her. Then she looked down at her trencher of food and gasped, which elicited a chorus of laughter down the table. Bugs crawled all over the food. She had been a fool. She shoved up to her feet and turned to find Sasha’s mother behind her.

“Ye will nae ever be one of us!”

Tears threatened behind her eyes and tightened her throat, so rather than give the woman the satisfaction of seeing it, Maisie pushed past her and ran out of the great hall and into the dark passage. She knew exactly where she wanted to go. She picked up the skirts of her tattered gown and ran down the shadowy passage toward the doors to the courtyard and the loch beyond. She wanted nothing more than to dive into the waters and drown out the world, however temporarily.

The courtyard was empty, the moon casting a faint glow on the winding path to the loch. A shiver ran down her spine as she stepped into the chilly night air, gooseflesh rising on her skin. She made her way through the darkness until she reached the edge of the still loch, its surface shimmering in the moonlight. Stripping off her outer layers, she was left standing in only her thin, nearly sheer undergarment. With a determined stride, she waded into the water, the chill enveloping her body and blocking out all other sounds and sensations.

She stayed submerged until her lungs screamed for air, then broke the surface with a gasp. As she cleaned herself in the cool depths, she gazed up at the full moon above, its light illuminating every inch of her. Floating on her back, she let the tranquility of the moment wash over her like a warm embrace, but when the wind blew, the moment ended and all that was left was the coldness of her reality.

She was alone and rejected everywhere she turned. She knew little of Graeme, and even if she learned more and loved what she learned, a future was clearly impossible. Her heart ached for her home, but she had to resign herself to waiting patiently for the handfasting to be over. She would not even consider that Graeme would gain proof of Brody’s guilt. It was simply unthinkable.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on her as she swam toward the shore, craving the comfort of sleep. But as she gained her footing in the mushy ground of the shallow end and looked toward the land, she was startled to find she wasn’t alone. Standing before her was the same man who had greeted her with crude remarks on her first day here, whom she now knew was Sasha’s brother Finlay.

Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her front to cover herself as best she could, then started wading through the water toward him. “What do ye want?” she asked.

“What do I want?” he replied, and something in his voice sent fear dancing down her spine. “Vengeance. Yer da ordered the deaths of my da and brother and convinced the king to put me in the dungeon for years, and ye came here pretty as ye please, trying to win us over. Well, now ye’ll learn the price yer family must pay.”