“Well, Mother, so what? Besides, if he’s been doing this sort of thing for years, it’s hardly news,” said Fiona, guiding her overexcited parent down the uneven stone steps and at the same time keeping a sharp eye out for Logan Munro.
“No, no, you mistake me! According to Bethia, Alasdair Penhallow, on a dare, recently rode his horse all throughout his castle, and without a stitch of clothes on!”
“Did the horse have a saddle?” inquired Fiona, now a little interested.
“Bethia didn’t say. I’ll have to ask her. But isn’t it an atrocious tale?” Mother made a tsk-tsk sound, but whether it was because of the enormous pile of dog manure blocking her path or her feelings about the shocking Alasdair Penhallow, Fiona didn’t bother to ask. Her flicker of interest had already waned. And she had more important things to think about.
Nairna—is she expecting too??
Make plan: must get rid of Niall, Walraig & Ross
STOP THINKING ABOUT LOGAN MUNRO
Throughout the feast, Fiona was irritated to find that her three would-be suitors had decided to all sit next to her, two on one side and one on the other, altogether giving her a disagreeable sense of claustrophobia. It quite took away one’s own appetite, which made her even more resentful.
Nonetheless, as the evening wore on, seemingly interminably, she not only managed to avoid the dancing, she also went here and there and got a great deal accomplished.
She found Aunt Bethia’s spectacles, which were, in fact, in the stillroom, although they had inexplicably been placed in the bowl of a large wooden mortar otherwise used for crushing herbs.
She dashed up to Rossalyn’s room, spoke with her maid, approved the packing of the trunks.
She neatly avoided speaking with Cousin Isobel, against whom she still bore a grudge after nine long years, for her role in the Logan Munro disaster—
But no. She wasn’t thinking about him.
She went on.
She learned that her sister Dallis, three years married and with a little one at home just taking his first wobbly steps, was looking forward to the birth of her second child in six months or so.
She enjoyed a fascinating and productive discussion with old Clyde Keddy about rupturing blisters and the various possibilities for treatment, although he confessed he was stumped about the bloody scours.
She drew Nairna aside, into a private alcove, and clasped her hands in her own. She looked down into her sister’s lovely heart-shaped face; it was thinner and paler than she remembered, although Nairna looked decidedly plumper in her midsection. “Are you quite well, my dearie?”
Nairna smiled radiantly. “I’ve never been happier! Oh, Fiona, it’s happened at last!”
“You’re increasing?”
“Yes! Finally!”
“I’m so glad for you!” said Fiona, meaning it, and warmly hugged Nairna, already thinking, in the back of her mind, about sewing some adorable little garments for the baby in addition to the ones she’d already planned for Dallis’s.
“Logan’s been so patient all these years,” Nairna said, blushing. “It’s not been for lack of trying. But three months ago, my courses ceased, and I’m already showing! And it’s all thanks to Tavia Craig!”
“Who is that, my dearie?”
“She’s a wisewoman, and so awfully kind! She cured Logan’s mother of the warts on her hands—they’ve been plaguing her for months — and knew exactly what to do to make his sister’s cough go away!”
“Yes, but—” Fiona hesitated. Wasn’t there a vast difference between warts and coughs, and difficulty in conceiving a baby? “What does Mother say?”
“Mother said she wished she’d consulted a wisewoman, for very likely she would have had boys instead of girls.”
Fiona refrained from commenting that Mother’s regret implied a desire to negate her daughters’ very existence, then immediately was ashamed of this sour thought, for she knew that Mother loved them all. “Well, it’s wonderful news to be sure, my dearie!” she said instead.
“Yes, and Tavia is certain it’s a boy! Logan is so excited!”
“So excited about what?” came a familiar voice, and at the sound of it Fiona felt as if her stomach dropped like a boulder to her toes. She took a breath, and tilted her head toward Logan Munro. She was considered very tall for a woman, but Logan was even taller. Once upon a time, she had loved that about him, loved gazing up into his deep, dark eyes.
“Excited about the baby, Logan!” said Nairna breathlessly, her pretty face lighting up as it always did when she saw him. “I’ve just been telling Fiona all about it—about him!”