deep breath and winced at the headache making itself known as she awakened.
Faolan was gone.
Cora blinked.
Had he ever been there?
“Grrr….” Cora socked the pillow as she rolled over.
Her bare feet touched the floor, the chill of the night half numbing her soles. Her unbound hair swung out like a curtain, reminding her of the way Noreen had insisted on letting it down for Faolan’s enjoyment.
Well, he hadn’t enjoyed it or her.
Cora snorted as her emotions shifted.
She’d not think about him. If he didn’t want her, fine. She wouldn’t cry over the loss.
But she discovered herself looking at the bed. She’d pushed the covers back, and the sheet was as clean as it had been when she’d gone to bed. The lack of blood would taint her reputation.
Of course, more than one bride had dealt with such circumstances using her own devices.
Cora stood for a long moment. Even knowing she’d be branded as a slut wasn’t enough to make her go back and bloody the sheet. For it would be a lie. She might have been the source of gossip for a multitude of reasons but never once had she been guilty of lying.
Unbridled, aye.
Discontented with her place as a woman, some said so.
But she’d come to her wedding night pure. Within the hour, the matrons of Clan McKay would return for the sheet, and they’d call her a fallen woman. Yet it wouldn’t be true. And soiling the sheet would only brand Cora as a coward as well.
So, she turned around and went toward the wardrobe. Of the three dresses, she reached for the sturdiest. It was a wool dress. The cloth was dyed a light green color and had only a few bits of burgundy wool for trim. Yet, it was warm and fit her well enough. Most importantly, it didn’t need a set of stays. The bodice was quilted, and stiff reeds were set into the channels to support her breasts. A row of eyelets ran up either side of the front, allowing Cora to dress by herself.
She sat down at a small dressing table and began to brush out her hair. She’d just finished braiding it when she heard the women beginning their climb from the ground floor. There were a few poorly muffled giggles as they made their way up the three stories of steps. Cora stood and faced the door. There was a knock, but the women didn’t wait for permission to open it.
They pushed the door in and flooded forward.
“Oh, my.”
“Well then…”
“’Twas more than gossip…”
The looks came, harsh and critical. Cora stood still as the women aimed their judgment at her. Noreen clicked her tongue as the Head-of-House pulled the sheet off the bed. There were times when it seemed like the very minutes, which made up and hour, were, in fact, sharp daggers. Each one stabbed into Cora as the women leveled their disgust at her.
When they left, Cora was sure it should have been well into the afternoon because of how long it felt like they’d been glaring at her. Instead, she discovered it barely past daybreak. Someone had opened the window shutters in the chamber. It afforded her a view of the sun coming up on the horizon.
Well, it seemed the day was going to begin no matter what shame the McKay seemed to think was due her. Life went on. Cora drew in a deep breath. When she let it out, she felt the need to move. Now certainly wasn’t the time to start crying over something she could not change.
Besides, she’d learned long ago to maintain her confidence, for there were many who didn’t view her well.
She went back to the wardrobe and withdrew a sturdy length of wool to use as an airsaid. It was better than a cloak, for she might use it to shield herself from the rain as well as a good blanket. She shook it out with a snap and pleated it before slipping a belt beneath it and buckling it around her waist. The fabric fell down the back of her skirt like a kilt. One-third of it was above the belt, and she might raise it up later to shield her head.
Ready.
Cora drew in another breath and turned toward the chamber door.
Aye, she was ready. She’d go home and write Cormac Grant a letter herself. No more waiting on the man’s whim.
And she would forget Faolan McKay.
Something shifted inside her, but Cora shoved it aside. She refused to think of a man