Page 45 of Scandalous Passions

Lady Janet raised an eyebrow. “Courtly of you.”

“Impressed?”

“Not overly. Leap a moat or ride up a staircase on that mighty steed of yours, all blindfolded, however…”

“I shall k-keep that in mind. Marjorie, how might…I impress you?”

His wife tapped her chin. “Fetch me a handful of stars and a unicorn to ride.”

Lachlan smiled as he settled onto Storm’s saddle. The three of them did indeed have much to speak on, but already the air seemed lighter, and his spirits rose. He loved Lady Janet, and his affection for Marjorie grew stronger every day. The two ladies cared a great deal for each other also. Surely nothing could truly come between them.

The guards knew of their planned jaunt to town and respectfully waved them through the main gate. Unlike last time, when he and Marjorie had ridden like the wind to St. Andrews, today’s journey was a comfortable trot. While the breeze was crisp and made him glad of his fur-lined mantle, the sun was trying to peek through clouds and warm them.

“Is it a very large market here?” asked Marjorie.

“Haven’t been for years,” he admitted. “But they are held w-weekly. On Market Street. Most people attend. You might see…some Blackfriars. And Grayfriars.”

“Blackfriars are Dominican order, Grayfriars are Franciscan,” explained Lady Janet.

“Oh!” said Marjorie. “I see. At the convent, merchants and tradesmen had wagons of goods or stalls they used to set up just outside the walls. Do they do the same here?”

Lachlan nodded. “If they have coin. Others lay wares on c-cloaks or blankets.”

His wife wriggled on her saddle, her excitement clear. “I cannot wait to admire everything. Well, admire all that is fresh and well made, of course. Anything else shall feel the full weight of my scorn and wrath.”

Lady Janet laughed. “And that is what I cannot wait to admire.”

The manor was only a few miles from the town proper, and in little time a sprinkling of crofter cottages—with their small plots of land boasting rows of vegetables, pig pens, and hen houses—came into view. Approaching from the south as they were, soon they would be able to see the upper reaches of St. Andrews castle to the left and the cathedral to the right, two ancient and imposing stone guardians that had stood between the town and sea for hundreds of years.

Yet Lachlan shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. It might be because the town was one of the holiest places in Scotland and because of his own uneasy relationship with God, but he felt on edge that no word had arrived from Stirling about Marjorie’s proposed marriage or details on travel arrangements. It made him suspicious. His late mother had taught him as a young lad to never ignore his instincts, and that advice had served him well, even saved his life on a few occasions.

Glancing left and right, he watched townspeople go about their day. They seemed innocent enough, but as he well knew, people were not always as they seemed.

In this market town full of strangers, he would need to keep his wits about him.

…

Last time she had set foot in St. Andrews, she had been too anxious, too overwhelmed, too rushed in her haste to be wed to really notice anything about the town.

This time, she could admire everything.

Marjorie gripped her reins, lest she slide from her saddle as her head jerked up and down and left and right, trying to see all that was around her as they reached the bottom of Market Street. Tradesmen and merchants had set up stalls the entire length of it, and even from here she could see trays of vegetables; pens containing chickens, pigs, and cows; tinkers selling pots, pans, and knives; a stall entirely of leather goods; many selling various fabrics; even a smithy working metal and a carpenter sanding a small table while onlookers watched. There were several fishmongers bellowing about fresh catch, and her nose wrinkled at the briny scent combined with tilled soil, meat roasting on spits, and small piles of manure.

“Fragrant, isn’t it?”

She turned to Janet, who regarded her with glinting eyes. To have her mistress look at her with fondness again rather than distant politeness relieved her no end. The last few days in the manor had stretched her nerves to breaking point, but as Janet refused to discuss how her barrenness hurt her, or the matter of a child, how to proceed had been unclear.

Saints willing, today could change everything.

“So fragrant,” Marjorie agreed. “I just hope when I dismount, I land in cool dirt rather than something fresh and warm.”

“Indeed. We should probably tie up the horses at this end of the street rather than further down. The closer we get to the cathedral, the busier it will be. So many pilgrims travel here, wanting to look at the relics.”

“Relics,” Lachlan grunted, sliding from his mount before handing the reins and a coin to one of the young lads offering to feed, water, and walk horses in a roped-off square. “So they say.”

After he helped them both from their horses, Marjorie tentatively approached her guardian. To her delight, Janet linked arms with her, and they began to walk.

“I must beg forgiveness,” she blurted. “I did not know about your, ah…”