Page 68 of Bride of the Wicked Laird
What she felt was hope.
“Goodnight, Mistress Davina. I look forward tae seeing ye again on the morrow.” He took her hand and layered it with tiny kisses before turning on his heel. She watched as he walked briskly along the path until he merged with the moonlight and was gone. Her heart with him.
She rubbed her hands to warm them and stamped her feet on the cold stone floor, hurriedly changing from her kirtle into her night shift. After removing her earbobs, she placed them in the soft purse on the table. They were the most precious items she had ever owned. Treasured all the more as her mind flew back to the archery contest where she’d won the purse that enabled her to make the purchase.
Smiling, she pulled back the coverlets on her soft bed and wriggled in without disturbing Feather.
She made a note to herself that as soon as she found Aileen on her own, she would question her about what took place between a lass and a lad when they were making love. All she hadgleaned, was what she’d heard from the giggling lasses in the convent. It seemed it was possible to do this thing with someone who was entirely unsuitable. One of the lasses had been caught with a gardener at her family castle. “I couldnae help meself,” was all she’d said.
Davina was beginning to understand what it might be like to surrender altogether to the wild passion she felt when she was in Everard’s arms. A tingling, prickling feeling rushed through her at the prospect of making love with him.
Whatever that involved.
She was in the infirmary with Broderick, not long after they had broken their fast, and the first rays of sunshine were blessing the courtyard with warmth when Mildred popped her head around the door.
“Broderick can ye release Davina? Mistress Aileen is asking tae see her in the solar and wishes tae spend the day wi’ her.”
The healer’s mouth turned down as he glanced at Davina who was grinding seeds with the mortar and pestle. “When she’s finished making the salve, I’d be happy tae release her.”
Mildred nodded and hurried off.
“Ye’re spending a great deal of time with Laird Everard and the family, Mistress Davina?”
Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him looking at her intently.
“Aye, the Lady Aileen is very kind. As is Laird Everard.” Her cheeks were burning under his scrutiny but she refused to say more, Mildred’s words always there, behind her thoughts. She feared if her feelings for the laird were known, she’d be in danger of making a complete fool of herself.
She turned to Broderick. “D’ye nae approve of me keeping company wi’ them?”
Shaking his head, he looked at her kindly. “Of course, I approve. ‘Tis a fine thing tae be favored by the laird and his family. But…” He shook his head, as if to deny the words he’d just uttered. “Take good care of yer heart, lass. Dinnae lose it tae one so far above ye.”
He was echoing Mildred’s warning.
“Me heart will dae what it wills, Master Broderick.” She turned back to her task, grinding the seeds with more firmness of purpose than she’d had before, while her wayward heart was already beating faster at the prospect of seeing Everard again.
Once Broderick had seen fit to release her from her tasks, she returned to her cottage with Feather and changed from her old,worn kirtle into a new linen kirtle Jonnet had finished sewing only yesterday. It was undyed, the color of natural flax, but, when she glanced in the looking glass it seemed to her that set against the plainness, her hair seemed brighter and her cheeks rosier. She slid on her ivory earbobs, flung on her cloak, and with Feather’s basket, head across the courtyard.
The usually quiet place was bustling, several grey-hairs were striding along the path ahead of her, all of them clad in their great kilts and woolen jackets, accompanied by their ladies and squires, no doubt heading for the feasting hall, where the meeting was to be held. The kitchen had been busy that morning when they’d broken their fast, with Ailis, red-faced, swatting them to “be gone” the instant they’d taken their final mouthful of porridge.
She turned off the pathway and headed toward the solar, a room that stood apart from the main building. Aileen put down her embroidery hoop and greeted her as she walked in.
“I thank ye fer leaving yer tasks today, Davina. I am selfish, needing ye sweet company while Maxwell and Everard are busy with the Council meeting. We will join them and the others once the meeting is over.”
She gestured to the far corner of the room. “Everard has a surprise fer ye.”
Davina gasped. There stood the most beautifulclàrsach, gleaming, polished willow, its soundbox carved with long-stemmed roses. Her heart leaped. The harp had been the onepleasure allowed throughout all her years in the Priory, and then only in service of the nuns’ contemplation, never for her own enjoyment.
As she gazed at it, another memory slipped gently into her mind. She recalled her mother had playing such an instrument, and she, herself had learned to play from one of the other harpers in the castle.
She darted across to take up the instrument, her fingers drifting over the wires, her ears thrilling to the sound.
“Oh, Aileen, it’s lovely.”
Aileen walked over, smiling. “Och. ‘Tis a beautiful thing. Fit tae make the soul sing. I never learned tae play but I love tae listen. This belonged tae Everard’s and Maxwell’s maither and has ne’er been played since her passing. He had it taken tae Edinburgh tae be re-wired with copper and brass and was only returned last night. He kent ye played and wishes it tae be yers.”
Tears flowed down Davina’s cheeks. She could scarcely believe that such a lovely instrument could be hers. Surely a gift of such a treasure as this must have meant Everard cared for her. More than a little.
“Me fingers are thrumming tae pluck the wires. Would ye mind if I played some music fer ye, while ye stitched yer embroidery?”
