is anything else you'll need.'
The clansman nodded, and, having finished his meal, took his leave of the women, saying, 'I'll leave the collie wi ye. Bar the doors both front and back, m'lady. I'll be sleeping in the stable loft. There's a wee room there.'
'Will you be warm enough?' India fretted.
'Aye, the room is tight, and I hae the dog for warmth,' he told her with a small smile. Then he was gone out the door, which Meggie shut, and firmly barred.
The three young women slept in the upstairs bedchamber, India and Fortune sharing the big bed, Meggie on the trundle pulled from beneath the bed. The collie lay down at the head of the stairs, as if guarding them until sleep finally claimed her, too.
The following day dawned clear. After a meal of oat cakes and ale, Diarmid More-Leslie went down the ben to Glenkirk to fetch the required items. Meggie began to put her kitchen in order while India and Fortune explored the nooks and crannies of the lodge, discovering an old oak tub in a kitchen recess, and some woman's clothing in a small trunk in the upstairs hall.
'Do you think they were Mama's?' India wondered aloud.
'Nay,' Fortune said, admiring the doeskin jerkin with the silver-and-horn buttons she had just pulled out. 'Mama wasn't as long-waisted, and the style is old-fashioned. Besides, Mama never wore such a garment in her entire life. She is far more elegant.' Fortune tried on the jerkin. 'I think it may have belonged to Papa's mother. They say she hid herself up here to avoid marrying her first husband. I think I'll keep it. I like hunting clothes.'
'It suits you,' India said, smiling at her younger sister. Then she caught her breath suddenly.
'What is it?' Fortune said, seeing a strange look come over her sister's beautiful face.
'You have hardly spoken of him since you came home,' Fortune said, sitting down next to her older sister and putting an arm about her. 'Did you love him very much, India? What was he like? Was he handsome?'
India sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. 'Aye, he was handsome. He was tall, and had hair like a raven's wing, and the bluest eyes you have ever seen. His nose was straight, and his jaw firm, and his mouth…' She paused a moment, then continued. 'His mouth was the most deliciously kissable mouth in all the world.'
'What's it like being kissed?' Fortune asked.
'Wonderful,' India replied. 'I cannot explain it. Someday you will kiss the man you love, and you will understand, Fortune.'
'I suppose so,' Fortune replied matter-of-factly.
Their days took on a comfortable cadence. By virtue of their social status, India and Fortune had never really done a great deal for themselves. Now, however, they arose each morning, and, after dressing, Fortune went down to the barn to gather eggs from their hens and drive the cows into the small pasture on sunny days. Until it snowed, the cows could forage, but once the winter set in, they would be confined to the barn. It became India's task to set the table for meals and gather up the clothing that would need laundering, but neither of the other two girls wanted India overtaxed for the sake of her child.
Some days Fortune rode off into the forest with Diarmid to hunt for small game. India and Meggie walked in the forest and high meadows most early afternoons. And Meggie cooked and cleaned and did the laundry. The sisters, however, kept the bedchamber neat and dusted. Each morning they shook out their featherbed as Meggie taught them, and then drew the bed clothes back over it smoothly and neatly. Neither had ever done such simple tasks, but it helped to fill the lonely hours. Fortune had requested her lute be sent up from Glenkirk, and on many evenings she played for them, and they sang the old songs of unrequited love, great battles, heroes, and kings. Diarmid had his pipes, and was easily encouraged to play.
Like his brother, Red Hugh, he was a big man of few words, but practical and kindly. His hair was a nut brown, and his eyes an amber hue. He wore a short beard with his hair drawn back, secured by a leather thong. He was popular with the ladies, the sisters knew, but he had never married. The winter would be lonelier for him than for his three female charges, who at least had each other. While deferential to the duke's two daughters, Diarmid had struck up a budding friendship with Meggie. Up before the first light each dawn, he had the fireplaces blazing and water brought into the kitchen even before Meggie came down to put the bread dough that had been rising all night in the oven to bake. While he spoke little to India and Fortune, Meggie could get him talking, and even bring a rosy flush to the big man's cheeks.
'You've made a conquest,' India teased her maid servant.
'Hummph,' Meggie replied, but she smiled.
Just before Christmas it snowed. They awoke to find the white flakes swirling about the lodge. Diarmid found a Yule log for them in the nearby forest, and dragged it into the little house on Christmas Eve, setting it in the fireplace where it burned merrily for almost two days. They took turns telling the Christmas story, and sang Yule songs. They lit a fire outside on the cliff top on Twelfth Night, and watched as the other fires sprang up for as far as the eye could see, vying to identify the Glenkirk fire first.
Now the winter set in hard. India insisted that Diarmid sleep before the common room fire at night rather than in his stabletop loft. It was just too cold. Even the cows, horses, and poultry were brought into a small shed attached to the lodge on the kitchen side. It was warmer for them there than the stables. The lodge took on an earthy smell, but it did not bother either India or Fortune. Survival was more important.
By February, the days were beginning to grow longer again, but the weather remained cold and snowy. By March, the snow came less frequently, more often than not mixing with the rain. India's belly was now enormous, and she waddled when she walked, but she never complained. Instead, she would lie upon her bed, her hand protectively cradling her stomach, a dreamy expression upon her face as she wondered what her child would look like. It would be a boy, of course. Her instinct told her that. What would she call him? She knew that Caynan Reis had been a European by birth, but that was all she knew. His origins, and his name remained a mystery to her. If she had known his name, she would have named her child after his father, but she hadn't a clue.
Finally, she decided. 'I shall call him Rowan after our own father,' India told her younger sister one rainy March afternoon.
'Rowan
'He'll have to have my name, as I don't know his father's,' India replied just as frankly. 'Rowan Lindley. I like it!'
'And what will you do after Rowan Lindley is born? You don't still mean to go off by yourself with your child, India, do you?' Fortune was beginning to worry about her sister.
'It is what I want to do,' India replied calmly. 'I will not bring shame upon you, and ruin your chances of marriage because of my adventures.'
'God's blood!' Fortune swore. 'Do you think I care what people may say? I am Lady Fortune Lindley, daughter of the late marquis of Westleigh, an heiress in my own right, and anyone who does not love my family-
