exactly. “My lord, my lady, may I present Lady MacDougall of Loch Ard Forest. Lady MacDougall, this is my liege, Duncan MacDougall, and his honorable wife, Lady Beth.” Birdi, to his amazement, executed a graceful curtsey. Had he been asked to execute the same maneuver, he’d have fallen flat on his face, such was his current agitation. Lady Beth came forward and took Birdi’s hand from his arm. “I’m so very pleased to make yer acquaintance. Come, we need leave these two alone so they can chat. I’ll show ye to yer room.” As Lady Beth started to lead her away, Birdi sent a silent plea to him over her shoulder. “All is well, Birdi, fear naught. I’ll be there in just a moment.” Duncan snorted. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Motioning for Angus to take Lady Beth’s chair, he said, “Sit and tell me about this Birdi. Ye have exquisite taste, by the way.” Angus groaned. “First I need whiskey.” Lots of it. Duncan caught the eye of a passing clanswoman. “Mistress, whiskey for our friend and one for yer liege. Tall ones.” Grinning, the woman dipped a curtsey, “As ye wish, sire.” To Angus she said, “‘Tis good to have ye home, Angus.” “Thank ye, Kari.” Whiskey half drunk, Angus said, “All isna as I wished, Duncan. I bragged I could bring home a lady of high birth, and I’ve failed.” He took another swing of the water of life and heaved a sigh. “It all began on the morn I was deep in Macarthur territory and awoke to the sound of splashing in the nearby pool and then this woman, naked as the day she was born, rose… Too soon for Birdi’s comfort she found herself in the room Lady Beth had assigned to her and Angus. “Tis lovely, my lady.” And it was, from what little she could see of it standing by the door. “Please call me Beth. Duncan and Angus are such good friends it would be silly for ye to call me ‘my lady’ while they called each other by first names. May I call you Birdi?” Birdi wrung her fingers, wishing with all her might that she’d already found the perfect name. “I’ll not be Birdi much longer.” “Oh?” “Aye, Angus says I may choose any name I wish, but I’ve not found the right one as yet, but ye may call me Birdi until such time as I do find one.” “Well, I think that’s a grand plan.” Birdi heaved a relieved sigh and wandered about the room in careful fashion so as not to trip. What she could see and feel of it so far, she found most pleasing. The high poster bed was much like the one at the duke’s home, but broader. Chests sat at the foot of the bed and one sat beneath an open window with a deep sill and thick wooden shutters mounted on either side. A fire burned to her left as she faced the door. She sniffed but couldn’t catch the scent of Angus. “Is this Angus’s room?” Beth moved to sit on the end of the bed. “Nay, ‘tis a special room reserved for special guests. The garderobe is just to the left.” A garden robe? She’d have to ask Angus when she was supposed to wear such. She didn’t want to appear the fool before his friends. Inching closer to Lady Beth so she might better study her, Birdi ran a hand across the honey-colored fabric on the bed. Ah, rich and deep, like the bolt of cloth Angus had left behind at the waterfall. Which was such a waste. “Tis lovely velvet.” “Thank you. Here.” Lady Beth thumped the mattress. “Come sit beside me.” Birdi sat, finding it very soft, more so than even the duke’s bed. Taking one of Birdi’s hands, Lady Beth smiled. “Do tell. How did ye meet our handsome Angus?” Oh, nay. Nay, nay, she wouldn’t be relating that tale. “He is handsome.” “Aye, he is.” Birdi racked her brain for something to say other than he almost killed my wolf and I bled all over him. When her stomach growled, she murmured, “I like havers—oats. And Angus cooks fish verra well.” She looked about helplessly. “I would like to learn how to make Lady Frasier’s fish pies. They’re verra good.” Beth grinned. “Ah, you’re hungry. I do apologize. I’ll see to it immediately while you freshen up.” She was hungry. “Thank ye. Angus has told me ye’re a fine cook.” “That’s nice to hear, but I just prepare meals that make men happy.” “Ye do?” If she could cook the foods that made Angus happy, mayhap he’d grow fond of her and forget his hale Mary and her bee-hive breasts. “Might ye teach me?” “I’d love to.” Lady Beth stood and checked the water in the pitcher. “Oh, it’s already cold. I’ll have the lass fetch some warm water for you.” “Nay, ‘tis fine.” Curious as to why this woman didn’t speak as the others, Birdi garnered her courage and asked, “Are ye from another place as well?” “I am.” She patted her belly, a good seven moons swollen with child. “I’ve been here three years.” “Are ye happy here?” “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” She stepped closer and stroked Birdi’s cheek. “You’ll be as well. Angus is a good man.” She walked to the door. “By the way, you have lovely eyes.” Birdi tried to draw breath but nothing happened. As the room spun, she wondered what ailed the people of this clan that they didn’t ken a spae when they saw them. “Birdi? Sweetie, can you hear me? Shit!” Something cold and wet pressed Birdi’s forehead and she opened her eyes. Lady Beth hovered over her, concern clearly etched on her odd but pretty visage. Wondering why she should garner such sympathy, Birdi looked down and saw she sat on the floor, propped against Lady Beth. Embarrassed to her toes, she struggled to stand. Lady Beth pressed her shoulder, thankfully, her uninjured one. “Sit for just another moment.” She wiped Birdi’s face and hands before looking deep into her eyes. “Are you feeling better?” Birdi nodded, still amazed the woman wasn’t screeching. “Let’s forget about your ablutions and get something in your belly, shall we?” “Aye, that might be best.” “Good.” She helped Birdi to her feet. Hand at her elbow, Lady Beth guided her back to the great hall. The moment they entered the warm hall, the men came to their feet. Lady Beth handed her off to Angus and reached for a bell. A heartbeat later Birdi sat at Angus’s right on a raised platform at the opposite end of the room, her back to a warm fire and a mountain of food before her, most of which she didn’t recognize. When she hesitated, Angus pointed right and murmured, “‘Tis roast pork and applesauce, ye’ll love it. That,” he pointed to a pile of greens, some of which she did recognize, “is salad. Verra good as well.” “And this?” She pointed to a brown mound to her left. “‘Tis roasted pheasant with rosemary. Yum.” He deposited what appeared to be choice pieces on her trencher, reached for a small metal pitcher and poured brown liquid over the meat. “Bon appetit.” “What?” “Eat.” With that, he dug into his trencher with both hands. Birdi, hungrier than she’d been in a long while and still shaky, sampled her first mouthful. Finding it salty, crispy, she murmured, “Oh my word.” She had definitely died and gone to Angus’s heaven. She couldn’t get the meat into her mouth fast enough. Wishing for four hands, she found Angus grinning at her. She smiled back but didn’t stop eating fearing Lady Beth might ring her bell and then the delicious food would be taken away. When she scraped the last of her bread through the last of her brown juice, she leaned back, folded her hands over her well-stuffed middle, belched then sighed. To no one in particular, she said, “That was verra good.” The laird of Castle Blackstone laughed, startling her. “Ye’ve met yer match, my friend, at least at the table.” When Angus chuckled, Birdi relaxed, deciding she might like it here, after all. Angus stood, pulled her chair back, and whispered, “Tis Lady Beth’s custom that we now retire to the other end of the room while the table is cleared.” She took his outstretched hand. “As ye wish.” Being a lady definitely had its benefits: good food, bonnie gowns, a comfy bed above stairs, and someone else to clear the table. She could live like this. She was halfway across the long room, her hand resting on Angus’s strong arm, when a door to the right squeaked and a dark shape move toward her. “Good day, MacDougall, Lady MacDougall,” the dark shape said. “And who is this?” As the man moved closer, Angus’s liege said, “Father John may I present our newest Lady MacDougall. Lady MacDougall, this is…” Birdi’s heart stopped. Cold sweat erupted beneath her arms and across her brow. She saw only a black hood, black gown, and a large wooden cross. Beware of the priests in black gowns who burn the likes of us on pyres. “Aaaaahhhh!” Arms out, elbows locked, she rammed the hooded specter of her nightmares in the chest knocking him backward, and bolted toward the door. Tripping and stumbling down the circular stairs, she keened, “Oh, Goddess, please, please help me!” They’d fattened her up to eat! And she’d never forgive Angus. Such deceit was beyond…beyond… At the bottom of the stairwell, Birdi slammed against a clansman coming in. She slapped him out of the way with frantic hands and raced straight ahead. Fifty steps, just fifty steps to get out of this dreadful place. Run straight and ye’ll find the arch. Heart slamming against her ribs, hands before her, she ran, mouth open, sucking in as much life-giving air as Goddess would allow. Halfway across the bailey she realized she’d stopped counting. Just go, an inner voice bellowed, and you’ll find the sea. Just go! Aye, better to drown than be burned alive. Nay, she wouldn’t drown. She swam like a fish and would make good her escape. Running through the arch, ignoring the shouts and pounding feet behind her, she sent a final sacred prayer to Goddess, asking for the sea to welcome her. Without hesitation she ran straight into the heaving white foam roaring at the end of the stone quay. As the bone-breaking cold engulfed her, knocked the breath from her chest, she felt the sea grab hold and pull her to its bosom. She kicked with all her might and rose, but the sea clutched her gown, kept trying to pull her back down. Her arms clawed at the water, her left arm strong, and her right made nearly useless by her struggle. Why had she not stripped before plunging? Oh, Goddess. Help! She kicked furiously, until her legs screamed for reprieve. Finally she felt the top of her head break through a wave and into the sun, but then—before she could grab a breath of air—she was pulled down again. She stopped fighting then. She was simply too small to break free. As the sea spun her in its liquid embrace, she confided to Goddess, Ah. I ken now. I lived as a stranger in yer land and shall now die a stranger in yer sea. So sad, but somehow so fitting. Перевод Поскольку послание было написано по-французски, а его дорогая жена никак не могла взять в толк этот язык, Дункан прочёл вслух: — Мой глубокоуважаемый кузен, пишу тебе от имени одной преудивительнейшей женщины по имени Бёрди, которая полагает, что сие послание адресовано человеку из её знакомых по имени Тинкер. Если ты читаешь это, мне остаётся предположить, что твой капитан войска Ангус Макдугалл так и не прозрел и ведёт себя как глупец. Бет рассмеялась. Сам едва сдерживая смех, Дункан продолжил: — Он, очевидно, любит Бёрди, а она, уверяю тебя, без памяти влюблена в него. Однако обстоятельства их крайне различны и трудны. Бёрди, одним словом, необыкновенна — и лицом, и сердцем, но она не из наших, не из благородного сословия. Умоляю тебя отнестись к ней благосклонно, если она явится на твой порог. Она оказала мне великую услугу, которую я не смогу отплатить до конца своих дней. Она воистину чистая доброта и более чем достойная пара твоему Ангусу. С неизменным почтением, твой покорный слуга Келси Линдси Фрейзер. Бет свернулась калачиком в кресле напротив него. — Ну надо же, надо же — похоже, твоя затея сработала. Наш Ангус наконец-то нашёл себе женщину. — Ага, только, судя по всему, всё идёт не гладко, иначе мы бы этого не получили. — Может, потому что ты поручил ему… Дункан Томас Макдугалл! Перестань дёргать сестру за волосы, не то отправишься сидеть в углу. — Хм! — Почему бы ей просто не отвесить этому маленькому чудовищу оплеуху по башке, как делал он сам, и покончить с этим? Но нет. Его дражайшей супруге вздумалось мучить бедного сына целый час, заставляя мальчугана сидеть в углу, где тот вертелся и ворчал так, что всем было слышно. Проживи он хоть сто лет, ему всё равно не постичь этих странных манер его жены из двадцать первого века. Бет снова обратила внимание на мужа. — На чём я остановилась? Ах да… Ангус. Может, дело в том, что ты поручил ему найти образованную хозяйку замка, а он вместо этого оказался — по словам твоего кузена — не с одной из наших? — Возможно. Он ведь гордится тем, что держит слово. — Дункан вздохнул. — Когда я подстроил это пари, я всего лишь хотел, чтобы он нашёл достойную жену. Мне надоело видеть зависть в его глазах всякий раз, как он смотрел на Сильверштейнов или на нас с тобой. Он был одинок и слишком горд… — И упрям. — И слишком упрям, — согласился он, — чтобы это признать. И я настоял именно на хозяйке замка, потому что не доверял ему — боялся, что он схватит первую попавшуюся ничего не подозревающую девицу. В конце концов, он ведь вожделеет лэрдство со страстью, какой большинство мужчин не тратят даже на своих жён. Бет ухмыльнулась и похлопала себя по округлившемуся животу. — В отличие от одного красивого лэрда, которого я могла бы назвать. — Хм! — Не его вина, что Бет была лакомым кусочком в постели. Бет поднялась, положила руки на поясницу и потянулась. — Пожалуй, мне пора начать готовить комнату. Я уже не так проворна, как раньше. Дункан встал и обнял её. — Говорил ли я тебе когда-нибудь, как ты прекрасна? — Как она могла считать себя дурнушкой — уму непостижимо. Бет залилась румянцем, как всегда, стоило ему упомянуть её внешность. — Ну тебя. — Она поцеловала его и вперевалку пошла прочь, неся в чреслах его семя, его продолже