The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,57
While the styling she’d chosen was more elegant than braids, it wasn’t too ornate.
“Ye’ve judged me well, Brynna. I believe we shall get on quite well. Even if I do nae stay here, I have no personal companion on Mackenzie land.”
Brynna inclined her head. “Now, to find a dress which suits ye.”
The dresses Noreen had selected for her were still in the wardrobe. Brynna contemplated them before choosing the least fancy. While it was made of wool, the fabric was dyed a vibrant green, which was very expensive. As Brynna carried it closer, the scent of rosemary wafted out of the dress, for it had been stored with sachets of dried herbs.
“Noreen had quite the taste for gowns,” Brynna remarked as she began to help Cora dress. “All of her clothing came from Edinburgh. For she was forever reminding everyone of her royal blood.”
“Half the lairds in the highlands are descendants of princesses,” Cora remarked as she pulled a stocking up her leg and secured it with a garter.
“Ye wouldn’t know it to hear the way Noreen boasted of her lineage.” Brynna brought a pair of shoes over for Cora.
“I prefer me boots.”
Brynna placed the shoes down by Cora’s feet.
“But these will allow a peek at yer ankles as ye walk.” Brynna lifted her face so she might aim a frank look at her.
Cora felt that thing stretching inside her belly once more. This time she knew it would grow into a raging need if she allowed it.
A need Faolan didn’t want to help her satisfy.
Well, perhaps he needs a peek at yer ankles….
Cora suddenly smiled and lifted her foot so Brynna might fit the shoe onto her foot.
“I will have the cobbler come up from the village to trace yer feet,” Brynna said as she finished buckling the shoes into place.
There was an unmistakable air of mischief in the chamber as Cora dressed. The stays were laced into position to support her breasts once more. Brynna sent her little side-eye glances as she fit the hip roll around Cora and then lowered the skirt into place. The top of the dress was a doublet that the season called for, but the front of it was lined in silk, which allowed the top few buttons to be left open and curled back if Cora desired to show a bit of cleavage. Cora took note of her reflection.
Let Faolan see what he is missing.
Are ye chasing him then?
She didn’t know. But what did it matter? Since the man wasn’t of the mind to keep her as his wife, she might do as she pleased.
And that was something she was well versed in doing.
*
Orla blinked a few times when Cora entered the kitchens.
The Head-of-House was silent for a long moment, something her staff didn’t miss. There was a slowing of activity at the worktables as everyone waited to see what would happen.
“Good morrow,” Cora greeted Orla.
The Head-of-House tilted her head slightly. “Back in me kitchens are ye?”
Cora walked further into Orla’s domain, stopping only a few feet from the Head-of-House. “Is there a reason I can nae venture here?”
Orla lifted one eyebrow. “The sheet is still clean. And I hear ye broke a bowl when ye threw the laird out of yer chamber.”
Cora felt her temper rising. But a memory stirred of her brother’s new wife when she’d arrived on Mackenzie land as a hated captive. The Head-of-House of the Mackenzie had taken a rod to Rhedyn. But Fenella had exceeded the ten blows allowed, and it fell to Cora to restore order by taking the rod to the Head-of-House.
It had been one of the few times Cora had acted as mistress. It had been her first experience with shouldering adult responsibility.
But the hardest part of the lesson had been discovering how important it had been for her and Fenella to work together after the event. For their battle would affect everyone in the Mackenzie stronghold.
A lesson which was very pertinent as she faced Orla. If Cora stayed on McKay land, she and the Head-of-House would have to learn to put aside their differences if there was to be harmony in the stronghold.
If not, well, the winter might be very long indeed.
Dismissing the Head-of-House was in the mistress’s power, but it was a foolish bride who forgot she was a stranger in her new home. Retribution could take many forms, some merely a discomfort, others might be deadly.
“Isn’t the first duty of a wife to ensure the house is smoothly run?”