Free Fair Is the Rose by Liz Curtis Higgs Page B

hour. “Aye, that’s fair enough.” A light shone in his eyes like that of silver coins held up to the moon. “Suppose I pay you so many shillings for each ewe that survives the winter and so many shillings for each lamb that survives its birthing. What say you to that, lad?”
    Jamie could hardly agree to so vague an offer. “How many shillings?”
    “Come now.” Lachlan held up his hands in protest. “Without my ledgers tallied before me, I cannot give you an exact price, Jamie. We’ll work out a suitable arrangement before the first snow. For now, letus agree that you and your family will remain here through spring.” Lachlan did not offer his hand to seal the bargain but instead rose to his feet and turned toward the bed, signaling the end of their discussion.
    Jamie left the room without another word. If his uncle would not be bound to their agreement, then neither would he. He’d been caught in a vicious trap of words last Martinmas when he’d asked if he might have Rose’s hand in marriage and Lachlan had said, “You might.” The treachery of the man! He’d later shaken his finger and said, “There is no promise in the word might , now is there?” The memory of it still stuck in Jamie’s craw.
    “Then we might stay through spring,” he muttered under his breath, stamping up the stair without a care for the slumbering household, his mother’s letter clenched in his left hand. He flung open the bedroom door, nearly crashing it against the wall as he did, then shut it behind him with a satisfying bang.
    “Jamie?” Leana’s voice floated across the darkened room. “Did something go amiss?”
    “Aye.” He tossed the letter and then his waistcoat atop a leather trunk. Hugh would put his clothes aright in the morn’s morn . For now, Jamie wanted naught but the solace of his bed. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the light of a single candle, and took a deep breath of the clean, heather-scented air, a welcome change from the closeness of the spence. He shook out the tails of his shirt as he confessed to Leana, “ ’Twas worse than I expected. Your father thinks we should stay ’til spring.”
    She gasped. “ Spring? ”
    Her response so echoed his own, he almost smiled. “If ’twere your father’s opinion alone on the matter, I would brook his displeasure and leave before Yule.” He yanked off his boots and dropped them on the floor, then retrieved the letter and held it aloft. “Alas, my mother has made the same request.”
    Leana slipped to the edge of the box bed and drew the candle closer. “Come, read me her words.” Her bare feet shone pale against the wooden floor. The lace-edged hem of her nightgown was whiter still. ’Twould be good to have her sharing his bed again. Next to the hearthslept Ian in his cradle, mere steps from his mother. Odd to have their infant son so near. Might he wake them at all hours? Would they never have a moment to themselves again?
    When Jamie sat down beside her, the bed boards groaned. “You’ll be missing the Gordon’s fine mattress.”
    “Nae, I will not.” She slid her hand inside the crook of his elbow and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. Her hair fell round her face in waves of gold. “ ’Tis my husband I’ve been missing.”
    Husband . Jamie swallowed his shame. Before Ian’s birth, he’d been anything but an attentive husband. “Suppose we save the letter for the morn.” Dropping the papers on the bedside table, he slid his arms round Leana, pulling her closer until her head nestled below his chin. She released a small sigh as he kissed the crown of her hair, then tipped her head back so he might kiss her brow as well. When he did so, the forgotten sweetness of her skin overwhelmed him. Leana . Memories of their first week as husband and wife returned unbidden, awakening a desire long neglected.
    “Jamie.” She straightened, brushing the hair from her eyes, though she did not look up to meet his gaze. “You ken that I