The Laird Takes a Bride(40)
Grumbling, Duff sat up. “Light a candle for me. Why are we going to Crieff?”
“Cattle meet.”
“So?”
“So I want to go look at some cattle.”
“Three days after you’re married?”
“Aye. You’re putting your shirt on backward.”
“Ach, so I am.” Duff laughed. “And you’re running away.”
Alasdair frowned. “Nonsense.”
“I’m not judging you, lad. A man must do what a man must do. Besides, we’ve had some good times in Crieff before, haven’t we?”
“Aye. Hurry up.”
“Not just running away, but sneaking away, eh?”
“Shut up. Here are your boots.”
Ten minutes later, they came down the last steps of the staircase into the still-dim Great Hall, heading for the side hallway which would take them outdoors and to the stables. Alasdair turned sharply left around the carved newel post, just as someone was quietly coming around it, and they collided.
“Sorry—” they both began, stepping back, and then stared at each other.
“Oh!” exclaimed Fiona, just as Alasdair said, as pain from his arm winged through him, “What the hell—” He gathered himself. There was absolutely no reason for him to feel guilty. He went on, “What are you doing, madam?”
She glared up at him. “I might ask the same of you.”
“I,” he said loftily, “live here.”
“As do I, thanks to you.”
“And isn’t it splendid. Were you following me?”
“Of course not! I was hungry, so I went down to the kitchen for something to eat. Where are you going?”
Duff chuckled. “So much for sneaking away.”
“Sneaking away?” she echoed. She crossed her arms over her chest. Over her non-prodigious breasts. And added, in a rather snappish way, “Had enough of me already, laird?”
“Not that it’s any of your business,” he answered, “but my uncle and I are going to Crieff.”
“Why? Are there going to be some Roman-style bacchanals?”
“Let’s hope,” said Duff, and Alasdair overrode him.
“There’s a cattle meet, if you must know.”
“I see. And were you planning to inform me of your departure, or was I just going to find out on my own?”
“You’re not my keeper, madam.” No, there was no reason in the world for him to feel guilty. None at all. None, none, none. “I was going to have one of the grooms tell Lister, and Lister would, of course, tell you.”
“Thereby, of course, keeping my dignity intact. How thoughtful of you, laird.”
“Oh, by the body of Christ, madam, go back to bed,” he said, also in a rather snappish way.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Fine! Do whatever you like. I couldn’t care less.”
“Thank you for that! Go have fun in Crieff. Since fun is what you’re all about, isn’t it?”
“I’m going to look at cattle, damn it!” he shouted.
“And now you’re shouting at me. Excellent. I think I’ve had just about enough. Go, then! Stay as long as you want. The longer the better, as far as I’m concerned.” And Fiona stalked past him and then Duff, and went rapidly up the stairs, at a pace clearly intended to convey a strong desire to absent herself from him as soon as possible.
When she was gone from sight, Duff chuckled again. “Well,” he said, “that went well.”
“Shut up, Uncle,” growled Alasdair, and continued on his way to the stables.
Fiona did, after all, go back to bed where, to her surprise, she managed to doze off for an hour or so. When she woke, it took her a few moments to realize where she was. And who she was; her right hand as if of its own accord went to her left hand, to feel the solidity of the gold ring upon it.
Fiona looked over at the empty space next to her.
It just so happened that she enjoyed going to cattle meets.
But did anyone ask her if she wanted to go, too?
No, nobody had.
Not that she’d want to spend more time with him. And his awful uncle. Off, the two of them, to roister about Crieff.
She’d do just fine without him. She’d do better without him.
And what, exactly, would she be doing?
Fiona remembered Duff’s remark about the laird’s late mother, that evening in the Great Drawing-room:
She did so much here in the castle, during her day, there’ll be little for the laird’s new wife to do, beyond producing offspring, of course.
Of course, there wasn’t much she could do about offspring. And wouldn’t it be delightful to lie around all day, eating chocolates and reading novels? Or buying new dishes, when there were already several very attractive sets lying around, not even used?