Page 44 of How to Be a Scottish Mistress

There was no time for Fiona to change, nor much choice of another gown to wear, so she spent the time cleaning the dirt from her body and having Alice braid her hair. Excitement starting to build, Fiona returned to the bailey, heading directly for the stables, where Gavin stood impatiently tapping his foot. His squire waited beside him, but as Fiona drew closer she realized . . .

“Spencer!”

The boy turned at the sound of her voice, a trace of a smile hovering on his lips. But it faded as she drew closer and he took a step back. Fiona surmised he was concerned she would bestow some unmanly affection upon him in front of the earl. At least that’s what she hoped was causing this reaction.

Fiona hardly cared. She had only caught an occasional glimpse of him these past few days, relying on Father Niall to give her the specific details of the boy’s activities. A few private moments with Spencer was a gift and she was not about to squander it.

“Tell the stable master to saddle my horse and two others, Spencer,” Gavin instructed.

“Two?”

“Aye. One fer Lady Fiona and one fer ye.”

“Me? Why do I have to go?”

The pinched disinterest in Spencer’s face struck at Fiona’s heart like a well-aimed sword thrust. Was it really such a torturous proposition spending the afternoon with her? Or perhaps it was the earl’s company the boy objected to so strongly?

Cringing inwardly, Fiona neither spoke nor looked at the earl while they waited, though she knew she had Gavin to thank for this opportunity to be with her son. They were a silent, rather solemn group as they mounted their horses and rode from the bailey. Once they passed through the open portcullis and cleared the castle gates, Gavin’s powerful stallion twisted his head in annoyance, eager to be let loose for a spirited gallop. But he held the horse in check, making him ride beside Fiona’s palfrey.

Spencer rode behind them.Most likely slumped in his saddle.But Fiona resisted the urge to turn around and check, worried if she saw his face filled with sullen misery she might just start crying.

With her mood so unsettled, she barely noted the direction they traveled, nor appreciated the beauty of the countryside. Since there were no retainers accompanying them, Fiona assumed they would not ride too far, and her assumption proved correct when Gavin reined in his horse after only thirty minutes of riding.

Gavin vaulted from the saddle. After helping her dismount, he returned to his horse, emerging with several long poles, one sporting a net hanging limply at the end of it.

“Are those fishing poles?” Fiona asked, displeased that in her distress over Spencer she hadn’t even noticed when the gear was strapped to Gavin’s horse.

“They are indeed.” With casual ease Gavin tossed the poles at Spencer, one at a time. Fiona felt a smug sense of pride when the boy caught them with ease.

“Follow me,” Gavin commanded. “I know where to catch the really big fish.”

“I’ve never been fishing,” Fiona admitted, her curiosity piqued at the notion. She turned to see Spencer’s reaction, regretting it almost immediately. The boy’s mood had not improved—if anything, he seemed even more annoyed.

Determined not to let Spencer spoil the outing, Fiona trained her eyes upon Gavin’s broad shoulders and followed him around the shore of the lake. He leapt onto a flat rock, then turned to assist her. Skirts flying, Fiona managed to scale the hard slope with only a small bit of her dignity still intact, then realized it didn’t matter. She was enjoying herself.

“Not much farther.” Gavin paused in front of a fallen tree trunk that stretched across the water from one group of rocks to another. He stepped carefully onto the natural bridge, testing its strength, then made his way across.

Not to be outdone, Fiona gathered her skirt in one hand and slowly picked her way over to the other side. A smiling Gavin was there to greet her. They turned together to wait for Spencer, but the boy stood frozen on the rock.

“Concentrate on keeping your footing and walk slowly,” Fiona advised.

“I—” Spencer hesitated, the doubt in his eyes growing.

“Can you help him?” Fiona whispered under her breath.

“Aye, I’ll help the lad. But not the way ye think.” Gavin made his way to the center of the log, then stretched out his arm. “Hand me the equipment.”

Spencer inched his way forward a few feet before passing over the rods and net. Once they were in his grasp, Gavin walked back to join Fiona. Spencer’s eyes darted nervously from the rocks to the log to the water, then back to the rocks. “If I lose my balance I’ll fall in the water.”

“Then ye’d best stay on yer feet.” Gavin cocked his head. “Can ye swim?”

Spencer swallowed hard. “No.”

“Well, that’s more of a reason not to fall in the loch. I’ve heard tell that the water’s so cold at times it will steal the breath from yer lungs the moment you sink beneath it.”

“Gavin,” Fiona hissed. “The boy is scared enough without you adding fuel to the fire.”

“Overcoming his fear will make the victory all the sweeter,” Gavin insisted. Turning back to Spencer, he said, “Yer legs might not always work the way ye want, but there’s ways to compensate fer it. Can ye think of any?”

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