The Highlander's Destiny (Highland Rogues #2) - Mary Wine Page 0,63
around Cora as she was taken downstairs, through the passageway, and up into the tower where her chamber was.
Was Faolan relieved to have her taken away?
Why do ye ask?
Honestly, she should have left well enough alone. She’d already decided that being wed to him would suit her decently. And he’d treated her kindly.
You mean ye enjoyed being bedded…
Her cheeks were back to flaming. The matrons who had walked with them chuckled at her expense.
“Enough now.”
As unlikely as it was, Orla was the one who put an end to the morning’s entertainment. The Head-of-House arrived and wielded her authority seamlessly by pointing even the matrons toward the door.
“Enough of that already,” Orla chastised them all. “She’s the mistress. Remember that.”
The chuckles stopped.
“Mistress,” one of the matrons said respectfully.
The others turned and lowered themselves before they left the chamber.
“With only a few mouthfuls of supper last evening, ye must be famished.” Orla made a motion with her hand, and a maid was moving forward to place a tray on the table in the receiving chamber. “There’s more than morning porridge there for ye.”
The tray was laden with small bites of cheese and fruit. A thick slice of bread with jam spread across it. And there was a lid over the porridge. Once the maid set the tray carefully on the table, she reached in and pulled the lid up, releasing a puff of steam that carried the scent of warm cereal and nuts.
A very fine meal indeed.
Worthy of the mistress of the house.
“Thank ye, Orla.”
The Head-of-House inclined her head. She took a long look toward the door before she reached into the pocket she’d made by tucking the end of her apron into her belt. This time she produced another pottery jug.
“A bit of something to ease the ache,” Orla said as she set it on the table.
The Head-of-House started to leave. Orla stopped and sent Brynna a stern look. “Serve the mistress well, for there are plenty who covet yer spot.”
“Brynna pleases me,” Cora said.
Orla nodded a single time before she made her way to the doorway. Several of the maids had stopped to linger on the landing. They were straining their necks to get a view of what was happening inside the chamber. There was a scamper on the steps as they realized the Head-of-House was coming toward them.
The door shut with a firm sound. It sent a wave of relief through Cora. Brynna picked up the pottery jug and plied the waxed rope stopper from its top. She sniffed at the contents.
“No’ too bad,” Brynna remarked before she poured a measure of the jug into a small earthenware mug sitting on the tray Cora’s meal rested on.
“Orla brought ye some of Noreen’s personal stores.” Brynna replaced the stopper. “I suppose they are yers now.”
“Ours,” Cora corrected her. “I have never fancied indulging while those around me simply watch.”
Cora lifted her mug in a toast. Brynna smiled and pulled the stopper out so she might raise the jug to her lips.
The brew was strong. Cora felt it burning the top of her tongue and the sides of her mouth. It suited the moment, for there were many things which were ashes now.
She smiled.
Aye, ye’re a woman now…
At least she had ended her years as a maiden. Did that make her an adult? Cora wasn’t precisely sure.
Will he want ye again?
She supposed it was a question every wife asked herself. A bride spent all of her time preoccupied with the thought of her coming wedding night. Cora had never really given much thought to what was on the other side of that, though.
Now? Well, it would seem the day was there, with endless possibilities of just what happened after her vows were consummated. She didn’t feel any more confident in her role as mistress than before she’d spent the night with Faolan.
He’d stayed the entire night.
Was it because he’d been expected to?
Would he ever do it again?
Stop! Ye’ll make yerself insane…
There was a horrible little feeling of comprehension for just why Noreen had flown across the chamber and raised a dagger up high when Malcolm had so brazenly informed Cora that he’d like to have her.
“Not that I plan to quibble with ye over that matter. I can see to filling her belly meself.”
The memory of the look in Malcolm’s eyes chilled Cora to her core. Faolan was demanding and highhanded to be sure, but he’d never looked at her like his brother had.