O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,293

said briskly, walking into the large, stone room. The kitchen was always warm, a blessing at this time of year. Cook stood at the table which dominated the center of the room, rolling pin in hand. “Well, my faither always held that God was everywhere, and the kirk wasn’t the be all and end all.”

“But it’s where you’ll find him all the time.”

Mr. Ruthven turned to face her. A slender man, with a sharp-featured face only made more severe by the unrelieved black he wore, he moved around this house as if he owned it. Rhona would wager he had not rung the bell and waited for the footman to admit him. “Ah, good day, Mistress MacKay! Well met!”

“I’ll take you up to his lordship directly,” she said, and turned to address Cook. “He wants tea served upstairs. Since the maids are busy opening the rooms, I’ll take it up to him.”

“Aye.” Cook could say more with that one word than anyone else Rhona had ever met. Her disapproval of Mr. Ruthven came through clearly.

Cook had a tray with tea, dishes, and a plate of delicate morsels ready in no time. Then she added a plate of oatcakes. “He always liked them.” The plain, flat biscuits looked odd on a delicate porcelain plate. “He can keep them,” Rhona said. She had no love for them. The poor ate them when they couldn’t afford anything else, used them to bulk out their food when they couldn’t get flour to make bread. Why Frederick enjoyed them beat her understanding, but he did.

Mr. Ruthven accompanied her upstairs. He offered to carry the tray, but she turned him down. She couldn’t stop Frederick rushing to take the tray from her when Mr. Ruthven opened the door.

Frederick invited her to join them, but she smilingly refused and left them to it.

Mr. Ruthven only stayed for the regulation half-hour. When he came back down to the kitchen, his face was grave. “A word, if you please,” he said to Rhona.

She had no choice but to show him into her parlor, but at least she didn’t have to go through the ritual of offering tea. He’d already had some. He sat in the chair by the fire when she motioned to it, and took the one opposite, her comfortable wooden chair that she had softened with a plethora of cushions. But she did not feel comfortable now.

“Mistress MacKay—Rhona.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together. “You know how his lordship feels towards you?”

Ah. She nodded, caution filling her mind. How much had Frederick told the minister? And what part of it? “He has never made a secret of it.”

Mr. Ruthven’s thin mouth went even thinner. “He sees you as a person, not a servant. That, my dear, is dangerous. I cannot help but feel responsible for you.” He paused. “And you know that I, too, have feelings for you.” He went on in a rush, as if not wanting to hear her reply until he was done. “I was planning to wait until Advent was over, but I must speak now.” He got to his feet and paced to the door, then back. Four strides in all. Not particularly helpful for a man with long legs. He stood before her chair, then went down in a swoop of black wings, on one knee before her. “Rhona, you are the most sensible, intelligent woman I have ever met. Together, we could go forward, and with you by my side, I feel sure I can reach the rank of bishop. I could offer you a useful, interesting life. But not if you are—forgive me—soiled goods.”

Well, that was an interesting way of putting it. “In what way, soiled?”

He frowned. “To be frank, known as a mistress to another man.”

“Is that what he said?”

He shook his head, got to his feet again. “No, not precisely. But I inferred that his interest in you is more carnal than I would like. And if it became known that you had succumbed, you would, I’m afraid, be a fallen woman. My flock would not appreciate that.” His English was as precise as Frederick’s. The result of his time at Oxford, probably. “You know the Scots. They are quick to condemn. The point is, the man cannot hide his desire for you. If you remain here, in this place, rumors will circulate.” He turned to face her. “In fact, they already are. As soon as the villagers knew