Page 41 of Captured by a Laird
Flora came upstairs as quickly as her old legs could carry her. After they tucked in the girls, Alison returned to her freezing chamber. She changed quickly into her night shift and wrapped a blanket around herself.
She had been pacing the room to keep warm for some time before two maids finally sauntered in with a basket of peat.
“Restart the fire, please,” Alison said.
“Feels warm as a fresh dung heap to me,” one of them said. “Must be that weak Douglas blood.”
“Why isn’t that new husband of yours here keeping ye warm?” the other said. “Does he not like ye any better than our last laird?”
Though Alison should be immune to their insolence by now, she was tired and cold. And the remark stung. Why had Wedderburn left their wedding bed and stayed away two more nights? She wondered what price she would pay for offending him.
“Please just do as I ask,” she said, and was annoyed at the pleading tone in her voice.
“Certainly, m’lady,” the first one said, holding her skirts out in a mocking curtsy.
“Right away, m’lady,” the other said, and the two exchanged amused glances.
When Alison turned and saw Wedderburn looming in the doorway behind the two serving women, her heart went to her throat. His towering frame and dark expression reminded her that she had far more serious concerns than surly servants.
“You shall not disrespect my wife!”
Both serving women jumped a foot as David’s voice thundered through the room. Then they clutched each other as he came toward them.
“How dare ye accept the shelter of my roof, the protection of my men at arms, and the food I provide,” he said in a low, menacing voice, “and repay me with insolence.”
A warm glow of gratitude spread through Alison. No one had defended her in a long time.
“We meant nothing by it, laird,” one of the women said.
“We’d ne’er dream of doing anything against ye, laird,” the other added.
“When ye mock my lady, ye mock me,” he said, his eyes glimmering like an angry lion’s. “Ye shall not spend another night under my roof. Pack your things and go.”
Alison’s pleasure over his defense of her evaporated. This punishment was too harsh.
“M’lord husband”—Alison licked her dry lips and took a step closer to him—“they would surely die in this storm.”
“What do I care,” he said, turning his ferocious gaze on her, “if they wander the hills in the rain and sleet till death finds them?”
The women gasped.
Alison folded her hands to hide how they were shaking. “I beg ye to forgive them.”
“My forgiveness must beearned,” he said, then he turned back to the two women. “I’ll wait until the storm ends before I decide what to do with ye.”
“Bless ye, m’lord,” the two said, dipping their heads.
“Do not give me cause to regret showing ye mercy. I shall not give it again,” he said. “Now get out of my sight.”
After the women fled from the room, David went to the window and stared out at the black, howling storm.
“I am grateful ye wouldn’t permit them to speak to me that way,” Alison said to his back.
“Then why did ye interfere?”
She felt her courage slipping away as she was flooded with memories of Blackadder’s angry criticisms.Why did ye do that, ye empty-headed fool? Can ye do nothing right?
“I asked ye why ye did it,” David said, turning to face her.
