"Aye, and she—"
"Then you'll know fine how to run a castle, won't ye?" he said, leaving her dumbfounded. He gave a pleased nod and, still holding her fist in one large hand, he urged his horse down the slope toward the castle.
Jeannie swallowed. She wanted to hit him again for being so unreasonably blithe about the problems she faced, but somehow his confidence seeped slowly into her. She did know a little about running a grand house. From the wrong end of things, but still . . .
Besides, she had no choice. She was wedded.
She could do this, she could. As long as nobody found out he'd fished his bride from a bog, she just might be able to pull it off.
Her confidence seeped away as the castle loomed closer. And larger. They trotted over a bridge and through an archway and came to a halt in a courtyard.
Grooms ran out to take the reins of the horses. Cameron Fraser—she had to stop thinking of him by his full name; he was her husband now, not a stranger—Cameron dismounted and lifted Jeannie down. She stretched her cramped limbs in relief, shook her crumpled skirts out and tidied her hair as best she could.
"Ready?" Cameron asked her.
She wasn't, she wanted to run in the opposite direction, but she nodded, and without warning he swept her into his arms and carried her up the steps to the great iron-studded oak door.
"What—?"
"Stop struggling. It's tradition. Carry the bride over the threshold," he said. His cousins ran ahead and banged loudly on the door, shouting that the laird had brought home a bride. As they reached it the door swung open. Cameron strode through it.
Jeannie clung to his neck, gazing around her, trying to look graceful and composed. Her stomach was a battlefield of demented butterflies.
People came from everywhere, popping out of doorways and flowing down stairs, staring at her, crowding in after Cameron, flocking to see the laird's bride, laughing and clapping and buzzing with surprised speculation.
"He married the first woman he found," Jimmy shouted exuberantly to the crowd. "Fished her out of a muddy bog and married her!"
Jeannie's fingers curled into fists. "I'm going to kill your cousin," she muttered into Cameron's neck.
He laughed. "Best it's out from the beginning. You're my wife, nothing can change that."
"I'm still going to kill him."
Cameron carried her into a room he said was called the Great Hall. It was a big, barren-looking room, all gray stone and dark wooden beams and paneling, with an ancient fireplace as big as a horse stall.
Cameron set her carefully on her feet, took her hand and raised it. "Meet your new mistress, formerly Jeannie McLeay of the Isle of Lewis, now Jeannie McLeay Fraser, the Lady of Roskirk."
Jeannie blinked. The Lady of Roskirk?
Cameron continued, "And I am now officially laird of this estate."
There was a roar of approval and clapping. Jeannie was under no illusion that the approval was for her. It was Cameron they were cheering, and that he was, at last, their laird.
They came forward to be introduced, one by one, first relatives, of whom there were a surprising number, then members of the household. Jeannie tried to remember the names but they soon became a blur.
Of her husband's newly deposed trustee uncle, there was no sign.
"And this is the housekeeper, Mrs. Findlay," Cameron said.
Mrs. Findlay was a tall, dour-looking, middle-aged woman. Dressed entirely in pristine grey, with her steel-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, she looked crisp, efficient and unfriendly.
Facing her, Jeannie felt tired and crumpled and inadequate, but everyone was watching and she would not be intimidated. She inclined her head pleasantly. "Mrs. Findlay."
The housekeeper curtseyed and handed her a large bunch of keys on a round metal circlet, saying stiffly, "The keys to the household, my lady. As the Lady of Roskirk, they are yours by right."
The ring of keys weighed heavily in Jeannie's hand. Her mother had carried just such a collection on her belt. She took a deep breath, praying it was the right thing to do, and handed them back to the housekeeper, saying in a clear voice, "Thank you Mrs. Findlay, but I'm sure you know what to do with these, much better than I do at the moment. I learned something of the running of a great house from my mother, of course, but I'm a new bride and still have much to learn." She smiled and added, "I can see for myself the castle is well run. I hope we'll work well together."
There was an almost audible sigh in the room as the housekeeper took the keys back, saying, "I'm sure we will, my lady. If it's convenient, I could show you the house and its workings tomorrow."
