Underneath The Mistletoe Collection. Marguerite KayeЧитать онлайн книгу.
mouth of any man in the world. But that had been under extreme circumstances, and he had returned the compliment when she had employed the same combination of mouth, feather and silken tie on him. She picked up her pen again.
Certain everyday items can, with a little imagination, be employed as secondary aids. Think of these articles as theatrical props. Provided that proper consideration is given as to texture and, it goes without saying, hygiene, and provided, naturally, that both adventurers are content with the selection, then I think you will find that your journey will be much enhanced.
I wish you bon voyage!
Ainsley signed Madame Hera’s name with a flourish just as Mhairi entered the room. ‘Excellent timing,’ she said to the housekeeper. ‘I’ve been wanting to have a word with you while Innes is out. He’s with Eoin, so he’s bound to be away most of the morning. Do you have a moment for a cup of tea?’
Mhairi smiled. ‘I was just about to ask you the same thing. I’ve the tray ready. It’s a lovely day, and we won’t get many of those come October, so I thought you might fancy taking it outside.’
‘Perfect.’ Ainsley tucked Madame Hera’s correspondence into the leather portfolio and followed Mhairi on to the terrace that looked out over the bay. The view was not nearly so spectacular as that from the castle terrace, but it was still lovely.
‘I could never tire of this,’ Ainsley said, taking a seat at the little wooden table.
‘It’s been a fair summer,’ Mhairi said, ‘better than the past few.’
‘I hope a good omen for Innes’s first summer as laird,’ Ainsley said, pouring the tea and helping herself to one of Mhairi’s scones, still hot from the griddle.
‘Better still if the weather holds for the tattie howking in a few weeks, and better yet if there’s more than tatties to bring in, for the land is not the only thing being ploughed, if you take my meaning.’ Mhairi smiled primly. ‘It would be nice if that husband of yours could see some fruits from all his labours.’
‘Oh.’ Flushing, Ainsley put down the scone, which suddenly tasted of sawdust. ‘I see.’ She tried for a smile, but her mouth merely wobbled.
Mhairi leaned across the table and patted her hand consolingly. ‘It’s early days, but it’s well-known that the Drummond men carry potent seed.’
Ainsley took a sip of her tea, pleased to see that her hand was perfectly steady, studying the housekeeper over the rim of the cup. Mhairi spoke so matter-of-factly, though her words were shockingly blunt. ‘But the old laird had only the two children,’ she said.
‘Two boys was considered more than enough. ’Tis easy enough to limit your litter if you don’t service the sow.’ Mhairi buttered herself a scone. ‘I’ve shocked you.’
Unable to think of a polite lie, Ainsley opted for the truth. ‘You have.’
‘You must not be thinking I hold a grudge against Marjorie Caldwell. Poor soul, she was affianced to the laird when she was in her cradle. She can’t have been more than seventeen when she married him and, knowing him as I did, I doubt he made any pretence of affection, not even in the early days. It was all about the getting of sons, that marriage, and once he’d got them—well, she’d served her purpose.’
‘Innes said as much,’ Ainsley said, frowning over the memory, ‘but I thought his views highly coloured.’
‘No, Himself has always seen the way things are here clearly enough. The laird thought the sun shone out of Malcolm’s behind, as they say. Innes was only ever the spare, just as I was. The difference between us being that I stuck to the role he gave me and your husband went his own road.’
Mhairi stared off into the distance, her scone untouched on her plate. The insistent pounding of mallets on wood told them that the tide was low. The skeleton of the pier emerging beside the old one made the bay look as if it was growing a mouth of new teeth.
Mhairi stirred another cube of sugar into her tea, seemingly forgetting that she’d already put two in, and took a long drink. ‘I loved that man, but that does not mean I was blind to his faults, and he had a good many. What my brother, Dodds, said at the Rescinding was true. I was fit to warm the laird’s bed, but that was all. He never pretended more, I’ll give him that. That annuity, the farm he made over to me, it was his way of making it right. Payment for services rendered,’ she concluded grimly.
‘But you loved him all the same.’
Mhairi nodded sadly. ‘I’d have done anything for him, and he knew it. Until the Rescinding, I thought myself at peace with the one sacrifice I made, but now the laird is dead and buried, and I am too old and it’s far too late, I resent it.’
Her fingers were clenched so tightly around the empty china cup that Ainsley feared it might break. Gently, she disentangled them and poured them both fresh tea. Though the late-September sun beat down, hot enough to have chased all the chickens into the cool of the henhouse, she shivered. ‘A child,’ she said gently, for it was the only explanation. ‘That was what you sacrificed.’
Mhairi nodded. ‘He would not have stood me bearing his bairn. Of course, the laird being the laird, it did not occur to him to have a care where he planted his seed. If it took root, that was my problem. He made that clear enough, so I made sure it never took root. I do not practise as my mother did, but I knew enough to do that.’
‘The fey wife?’ Ainsley’s head was reeling. ‘Do you mean your mother really could cast spells?’
Mhairi shrugged, but her face was anxious. ‘She was a natural healer. Her potions were mostly herbs, but she did have other powers. The curse that Dodds made— Mrs Drummond, I have to tell you it’s been on my mind.’
‘That the bloodline would fail,’ Ainsley said faintly.
‘I made sure to bear no child. The old laird’s only other child died fourteen years ago. There is only Innes, Mrs Drummond. You will think me daft to believe in such things, but I know how powerful my mother’s gift was. You must forgive me for talking about such personal matters, but I can’t tell you the good it does me, knowing that the pair of you are so—so enthusiastic about your vows, shall we say. And I was hoping—as I said, I know you’ll think it’s daft, worrying about a silly curse—but still, I was hoping you could maybe reassure me that we’ll be hearing some good news soon. About the harvest I was talking about?’
Ainsley slopped her tea, and felt her face burn dull red. Mhairi was looking at her with an odd mixture of anticipation and concern. She believed in that curse, and as things stood she would be right to. Making a fuss of wiping up her tea with a napkin, Ainsley tried to compose herself. ‘Silly me,’ she said. ‘I’m not usually so clumsy.’
‘I’ve upset you.’
‘No.’ She smiled brightly. ‘Not at all. Why would you— I was merely— Well, it is a rather embarrassing topic of conversation. Though I suppose it is perfectly natural that people are wondering...’ She placed the soiled napkin on top of her half-eaten scone. ‘Are people wondering? Is an heir really so important?’
Mhairi looked as if she had asked if the land needed rain. ‘The estate has been passed from father to son directly for as long as anyone can remember.’
Innes had told her so, back in Edinburgh when they first met. He hadn’t cared then, but he had not been to Strone Bridge then, and he had no notion of truly claiming his inheritance. It was different now. She thought back to the pain in his voice a few nights ago, when he had finally admitted how much it meant to him, and how desperately he wanted to make his mark on the place. It would not be long before he realised an heir was a vital element of his restitution.
Ainsley smiled brightly at Mhairi. ‘As you said, it is early days.’
Mhairi was not fooled. ‘Is there a problem?’ she asked sharply. ‘Because if there is a problem, I can help.’
Ainsley’s poor attempt