lord, this decision is ill-advised,” Colin More-Leslie murmured to his master. “Surely there is another way. Would yer father, may God assoil his good soul, approve? And what of yer princess mother?”
“I need a wife,” the duke said implacably, “and I want Brae. It seems the perfect solution to me, Colly.”
“Go down to the village and fetch the minister from the kirk,” Lachlann Brodie commanded his eldest son.
“Ye want me to wed her here and now?” Patrick Leslie was very much taken aback, but then it didn’t really matter, did it?
“Ye’ll wed her, and ye’ll bed her, my lord, so my sons and I may be certain ye canna repudiate her on the basis of nonconsummation, while keeping Brae for yerself. I dinna trust nae man.”
“He’s a canny old devil,” Colin More-Leslie said softly.
“As ye will, Lachlann Brodie,” the duke said. “Send Aulay for the minister. ’Tis as good a time as any for a wedding.”
“And ye’ll remain the night,” came the veiled order.
“Aye, and breach the lass so all may see her innocence on the sheets come the morrow before I take her back to Glenkirk. The deeds to Brae safely in my possession then, eh?”
Lachlann Brodie nodded. “Agreed,” he said, spitting in his palm and holding it out to the duke.
Patrick Leslie spit in his own palm, and then the two men shook hands. “Agreed,” he responded.
“Nay,” Flanna Brodie said softly, but no one was listening to her. She might as well have protested to the wind.
“Five hundred gold crowns lost, and ye’re to be a duchess,” her sister-in-law Ailis murmured enviously. “What luck!”
“Luck?” Flanna said bitterly. “I see nae luck. At least ye love my brother Simon, and he cares for ye. All this Leslie of Glenkirk wants of me is Brae. Whether he buys it, or weds it, it makes nae difference to him at all. What the hell do I know about being a duchess? I’ll shame myself and my husband wi’ my ignorance. There is nae luck here.”
“Ye can surely learn how to be a duchess,” Ailis said. “Besides, I doubt ye’ll ever go to court. The English, I am told, hae already killed one royal Stuart. Ye know how to manage a household, for we’ve all struggled to teach ye the rudiments of housekeeping. Despite yer stubbornness ye’re quite clever. Whatever else there is, ye’ll learn.”
“Take my daughter to her chamber and see that she’s properly prepared for her wedding,” Lachlann Brodie ordered the women.
Immediately her brothers’ wives and their daughters gathered around Flanna and led her off. Her maidservant, Aggie, pressed near Flanna.
“Ye’ll take me wi’ ye, mistress, won’t ye?” she said nervously.
“Aye, ye and Angus will come to Glenkirk wi’ me,” Flanna replied. She turned suddenly, speaking directly to the duke. “I may have Aggie and Angus, may I nae? I’ll nae go wi’out them.”
“Of course yer servants may come wi’ ye,” he assured her. She had given him a very determined look when she importuned him, although the truth was she had no authority in the matter. Still, it was little enough, and all the brides who came to Glenkirk had come with their own personal servants.
Flanna felt numb. She stood, unprotesting, as her sisters-in-law pulled her clothing off her and hustled her into a hot tub. “We’d best start wi’ my hair,” she said low to Aggie, who nodded in agreement.
“We’ll pack yer things for ye,” Una said, “though I doubt much of it will be good enough for Glenkirk Castle. Still, ye know how to sew. Ye and Aggie can make some pretty new gowns, I’m sure. The duke will nae be tight wi’ a bride. Ask right away before he grows bored wi’ ye, Flanna. I’m certain he’ll gie ye the key to the storerooms where ye’re certain to find silks and other fine stuffs.”
“I want nothing from him,” Flanna said coldly. “He will hae the only thing I ever truly wanted, and that is Brae.”
“Dinna be a fool,” Una said sharply.
“The old man should hae taken the five hundred crowns,” Ailis said. “Imagine Flaming Flanna a duchess,” she tittered.
“Shut yer mouth, ye mean shrew,” Una snapped. “If old Lachlann had taken the gold, do ye think ye or any of us would hae seen any of it, Ailis? I’ll remind ye that my Aulay is the old man’s heir. Yer Simon is but the next to youngest son. The land belonged to Flanna, through her mam. The luck is hers, nae ours, although I’m as surprised as any of ye that Lachlann Brodie passed up five hundred pieces of gold. Still, he loved Meg Gordon dearly, and she loved him despite the disparity in their ages.”
The chamber grew quiet then. Una was the matriarch of the family. Though a hard woman with little patience for fools and a quick temper, she had a good heart. There was none, even her own father-in-law, who could say she was needlessly cruel, but she ruled the women of Lachlann Brodie’s house with an iron hand, demanding instant obedience and chaste behavior. She swiftly punished any who flaunted her authority, even Flanna, for whom she had a small soft spot.
Una Brodie had lost her only daughter in the same winter epidemic that had killed Flanna’s mother. While she had four sons, her daughter had been the child of her heart. She had been ill herself, and it was Meg Gordon who had nursed both her and her child, thereby contracting the contagion that killed her. Flanna, though nothing like Una’s Mary, was a daughter without a mother; and Una, a mother without a daughter. Though nothing was ever said, she took the child over, raising her as best she could, for Flanna had never been easy, even from her birth, and Meg had spoiled her.
Properly scrubbed, Flanna stepped naked from the oaken tub to be dried. Her thick hair was toweled and then brushed by the fire until it was soft and shining. A snow-white linen shift was brought, and the bride dressed in it. A small wreath of heather and Michael-mas daisies was fashioned by her nieces for her head. It was all she would wear to her wedding, and she would be barefooted, her hair loose to signify her virgin state.
“Ye may be tall like yer da and yer brothers, and ye may hae their red hair,” Una observed, “but ye hae yer mother’s face, lassie. Meg was a beautiful woman, she was. Ye hae clear skin, fine eyes, and a mouth fashioned for kissing. The duke will nae be unhappy wi’ ye.
“Now, listen to me, Flanna. When the time comes for yer husband to bed ye, lie quietly and let him do all the work. It will hurt ye a bit when he goes into ye the first time, but ’tis a momentary discomfort. Afterward, if he’s good at what he does, ye may even gain some pleasure from it, but even if ye dinna, tell him ye did. All men like to believe they are peerless lovers, lassie. There’s nae harm in letting them think they are.”
“Are my brothers good lovers?” Flanna boldly asked her six sisters-in-law. Her gaze swept them. Then she laughed wickedly at their discomfort. Una looked very displeased with her. Flanna knew she was itching to smack her, but would not allow the others to believe she was annoyed. Ailis, Peggie, Eileen, Mona, and Sorcha were all red-faced.
“Behave yerself, ye little bitch,” Una snapped. “Because ye’re to be a duchess doesna mean ye can be rude to us. Aulay hae never disappointed me in our bedsport, and I’m certain his brothers hae done well by their wives,” she defended the others. “Now, lassie,
