Kathleen E. Woodiwiss(214)

“Ye’ve been with him again!” the servant charged. “And in broad light o‘ day! ’Tis shameful ye are, awhoring with Mister Ruark beneath yer pa’s nose.”

Shanna flinched, and her cheeks grew hot with color. “Don’t call it that.”

“Aye, ye do na want to be reminded o‘ what ye do.” The woman’s voice began to burr heavily with a Scottish accent as it always did when her ire was roused. “A foin lady ye were—’till he come along. Now ye canna hold yerself from him. And him! Like an animal he be, sniffing ye out, waiting ‘til yer pa’s back is turned then tumblin’ ye. Aaüee! I can only see yerself plump-bellied wit‘ babe an’ him smirkin‘ cause he done it to ye. He must be proud o’ what he’s got in his breeches to use it so often on ye!”

“Hergus! That’s enough!”

“Aye, I guess it be,” the maid sighed heavily. “ ‘Ere’s no talkin’ to ye.” But Hergus tried one last appeal. “Lass, ye know I care for ye. But I canna stand this thing ye do to yerself. I’ve been with ye since ye were a wee babe and I, not much more than a budding woman. Eight-and-ten I were.” She drew herself up and gave a sniff. “I see ye now, givin‘ yerself in a backdoor affair to a common bondsman. Me Jamie and me,”—her eyes grew distant for a moment—“we came from a poor highland clan, and we had na long on each other’s arms. But ye!” Her attention returned to Shanna, and she said with a vengeance, “Shanna, lass, ye do na care what ye’re doin’. Do ye na feel some shame?”

Shanna lifted her chin a notch. Strangely she felt no sense of wrongdoing and wondered why not even the slightest twinge pricked her conscience. What was there when she lay in the comfort of Ruark’s arms that made it all seem right? Love? Aye, he loved her. He had avowed as much. But what of herself? Did she love him? How did one recognize love when it came to them? What made her surrender all to Ruark, if not for love? Passion? Aye, there was that, but there was more, and standing as she was, before Hergus’s questioning regard, she could find no answers.

“Nay.” She whispered so low the maidservant had to strain to catch the word. Shanna turned her back to the other and began to loosen the bodice of her habit. “I feel no shame. He loves me and I—”

Shanna frowned and shook her head. What crazy thing had she glimpsed in a moment of dawning then seen flit away? She sighed at its loss.

“There is much about Mister Ruark and I that you do not understand, Hergus. But I fear ‘twill all be out if Milly has her way.”

“What does Milly know?”

“Much, I’m afraid,” Shanna replied ruefully.

It was one thing for Hergus to criticize her mistress’s actions, but an entirely different thing for another to raise voice in anything but praise of her charge. Her loyalty lay firm on that account.

“Then the twit better hold ‘er tongue.”

Shanna glanced around in wonder, and Hergus shrugged.

“Yer pa is in the parlor with Mister Ralston, Mister Pitney, and that Sir Billingsham. I canna rightly see even Milly pokin‘ in on the squire an’ his guests. And ye’d best hurry yerself along. He come ‘round some time ago and was asking for ye. I’ll tell him ye’re back, but I wouldna dally were I the one.”

Hergus lightly dusted an immaculate curio shelf and flicked her fingers free of imaginary dirt as she tamed her gaze to Shanna again.

“I overheard Sir Billingsham asking where ye were off to. He found yer horse in the stable, but ye were gone without tellin‘ him where. I guess he figures yer pa should be keepin’ close watch o’er ye.” The woman pondered on. “Maybe yer pa’s beginning to wonder about ye up here with Mister Ruark only a few steps away. But then”—Hergus sniffed loudly—“I suppose he feels he can trust ye. Such a pity ye betray him.”

Shrugging off the maid’s barbs, Shanna began to disrobe. But with her body still flushed and rosy with passion, she could not bring herself to part with her shift. The servant took the hint and left with a last comment flung over her shoulder.

“I’ll be back to do yer hair.”

Securing the heavy tresses on top of her head, Shanna sank deep into the scented water and began to wash, idly dabbing the soapy sponge along her arm and shoulders. It was a leisurely bath, and her mind was occupied with dreamy thoughts. Leaning back in the ornate tub, she closed her eyes as the heat relaxed her. She was close to drowsing when she heard a gay whistling in the hall outside her sitting room. She smiled softly, knowing it could only be Ruark, and grew giddy with the memory of their afternoon together. The canopy high above his dark face had glowed with an aura of light that pervaded the cottage. With the curtains drawn about the bed, their naked bodies had been suffused with the radiance of daylight shining through the white drapings. His amber eyes had moved over her with a thoroughness that had left her breathless and trembling. Then his hands, with their slow, intoxicating gentleness, had followed, bringing soft sobs of pleasure from her. His kisses had fallen where they would, branding her with their fire. With a low laugh he had caught her to his hardened frame and rolled upon the bed until she lay full length upon him, their limbs entwined, their mouths eagerly blending. His lean fingers had threaded through the shimmering gold of her hair, catching it at the soft nape, and his lips had traced a molten path down her throat.