Free Blue Bonnets by Marie Laval Page B

onto that bed over there.’
    â€˜I don’t understand,’ Rose said. ‘Why are you saying that he’s marrying some lady from London…’ Panic made her heart drum in her chest, fast, too fast. ‘You must be mistaken. He can’t marry anybody. He just can’t.’
    The two McKenzie women stared at her in astonishment. The children glanced up from their jam and biscuits.
    â€˜But he is, the banns were read in church, I told you. You need to get out of that wet dress, lassie.’ The old woman’s tone brooked no contradiction. ‘Have you any spare clothing?’
    Rose shook her head. ‘Only a nightdress and …’ She was about to mention her pantaloons, shirt and bolero when the woman interrupted her.
    â€˜Then you shall wear your nightdress and wrap that nice thick plaid around you.’ She pointed to Lord Hunter’s blanket which he had left in a heap on the bed.
    â€˜No, I don’t think…’
    â€˜You’d be wasting your breath arguing, Miss Rose,’ Alana interrupted. ‘My mother-in-law always gets her way. Besides, you will only catch a cold if you stay in your wet dress. Look, you’re shaking already.’
    Rose was too shocked to explain that it wasn’t her wet dress that was making her shake, but what the elder McKenzie woman had just said.
    Alana bent down to pick up Rose’s bag. ‘Come on, let’s get you undressed. We’ll talk later.’
    Garbhan and Angus McKenzie chose one of the larger cottages for their family, and Bruce helped them unload supplies and blankets from their cart. Together they gathered wood, made a fire and tidied the place up. Like the other abandoned houses, it contained a few pieces of furniture, crockery and cooking pots, even bedding. It was as if its former occupants had left to run an errand and would return at any moment.
    Bruce brought in a last pile of wood and stacked it near the fireplace to dry.
    â€˜I hope you don’t mind me asking but I’m rather curious about your young lady.’ Garbhan tipped the straw mattress off the bed to shake off the dust. ‘She’s a pretty lass but she doesn’t sound like she’s from round here.’
    â€˜No indeed,’ Bruce replied. ‘Rose is from Algeria, in North Africa.’
    Garbhan let out a low whistle. ‘Algeria? Now that’s a coincidence. Lord McRae brought back some fancy women dancers and musicians from that very same country two weeks ago.’
    He put the mattress back and stroked his chin, thoughtful. ‘What’s your young lady doing here?’
    â€˜Her ship was caught in a storm and had to stop in the Kyle of Wrath for repairs.’ The MacKenzies didn’t need to know any more.
    Garbhan’s father carried on pulling blankets from a one of the bags he’d unloaded and piling them up on the bed.
    â€˜I heard there were some funny goings-on in the hunting lodge with those dancers,’ he said after a moment. ‘Mind you, it’s the same every time McRae is up at Westmore. The man is a rotten apple. He’s nothing like his father. Now, he was a decent sort, Niall McRae…’
    â€˜No McRae is ever decent,’ Bruce said between clenched teeth. As far as he was concerned, McRaes were, and had always been, devious, lying cheats and murderers.
    â€˜No, he was a good man, really,’ the old man insisted. ‘He would never have gone along with the clearances. He wanted to improve the land and life of his cottars and crofters. I remember he even wanted to put an end to the feud with your family. He visited your grandfather often. There were even rumours of…’
    He stopped mid-sentence, looked away and coughed to clear his throat.
    â€˜Rumours of what?’ Bruce asked, frowning.
    The old man turned away, but not before Bruce saw his face colour.
    â€˜Never mind. It was a shame he got himself killed at Waterloo. Life at Westmore