Page 25 of To Winter at Wildsyde

What will ye do to me, eh? What are yer plans? Do ye reckon to teach me which fork to use and how to act among yer friends so I dinnae shame ye, for I winnae do it.

It occurred to her then how defensive the words were, every one of them assuming that she would be ashamed of him. Ruth frowned.

I’m nae such a fool that I’ll let ye rule me.

Ruth stared into her tea, turning the words over. He seemed to think she wanted to have him on his knees, to bend him to her will. That she could do such a thing was so ridiculous she snorted. Perhaps he enjoyed bedding her, perhaps he enjoyed it more than he wanted to, but the idea that she could ever touch his heart, that she could ever hope he would want her to stay, was ridiculous. Yet he seemed to fear it, to fear her power over him.

“Foolish man,” she muttered, shaking her head and then stopped, considering.

He wouldn’t be afraid if there was no chance of it happening. If he had no interest in her, if he didn’t care and was in no danger of caring for her, why should he be so desperate to send her away?

Her mind took hold of the idea and clung to it. Why, though? Why should he be so terrified? If only she knew him better. She sighed, frustrated. There was little chance of that when the man wouldn’t give her even the smallest part of himself. She supposed there was every possibility he’d vanish again now, though if he wanted rid of her as quickly as he seemed to desire, he’d have to perform his husbandly duties with some regularity.

Dejected by the idea that it was only a duty to him, Ruth decided she needed to get some air. A brisk walk in the cold before it grew dark might well restore her spirits somewhat. She hurried to bundle herself up in warm clothes and headed outside.

The air was biting, any feeble heat the sun might have given long gone. The afternoon was drawing on and the light already fading, the sun sinking slowly on its journey back down to the horizon.

Ruth had almost walked the perimeter of the castle when a voice called her and she stopped, turning to see Mr Clugston hurrying towards her.

“Mrs Anderson,” he said, hailing her as she waited for him to catch up. “I’ve been looking for you. I thought I’d let you know the rest of the glass arrived today. The work will be finished on the north wing in ten days, I reckon, if the weather holds fine. It wisnae half so bad as we feared, once we had all the tiles off. Mostly scraping off moss and putting the loose tiles back in place. We’ll set to on the west next as you suggested, but I wanted to talk to ye about the old cellars.”

He halted, arrested by the tight smile Ruth gave him.

“I’m glad to hear the work was not so serious as you supposed, Mr Clugston, but you had best pose any remaining questions to my husband. He returned a few hours ago. It appears I won’t be staying long, so… so any long-term plans….”

To Ruth’s mortification, her voice quavered, and she turned away from him before she embarrassed them both. She took a deep breath and willed the tears burning her eyes not to fall.

“Yer leaving us already?” There was a slightly accusatory tone to his voice that put a stop to her tears as the sting of it made her temper leap.

“Not by choice, I assure you, but what woman has any choice where her husband is concerned? If he says I must go, do you think I can do otherwise?” Her anger and bitterness were clear enough and Mr Clugston was silent for a moment, no doubt wishing her to perdition, and then he cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, and Ruth felt the tears prick again at what sounded alarmingly like sincerity.

She snorted. “If you truly are, you are a voice in the wilderness, I assure you.”

“I widnae be so certain.”

There was something in his voice that made her turn and look at him, despite the jeopardy to her emotions.

“Oh?” she said, blinking hard.

He smiled at her, a surprisingly warm smile, too. “I’ll admit, when ye arrived with all yer fancy clothes and trunks and being so….” He waved a hand up and down to encompass her entirety. “English,” he added, with a faintly pitying tone. “Well, I assumed ye would be some silly, spoilt creature who would want parties and society and… God alone knew what else.”

Ruth glared at him in outrage and he rubbed his bald head, looking sheepish.

“Well, we all did. ’Twas not just me. Yer not what we expected of an English heiress.”

“Mr Clugston,” Ruth said with dignity and no little reproach, “I detest parties and, with the exception of my friends, society can go hang for all I care.”

“Aye,” Clugston said with a chuckle. He gave her an apologetic smile. “Well, it didnae take me long to realise my mistake, to be fair, but I reckon it’s only in the past few days that some of the others have begun to see it too. Ye have worked yerself hard alongside the staff and shown a deal of good sense in the short time ye have been here. Taking the time and trouble to see the servants’ quarters repaired first before the rest of the castle was the most prudent thing ye could have done. They’ve come to appreciate ye being here, I’ll tell ye that. They’d be daft not to.”

Ruth shrugged. “The north side was in the worst repair, and I cannot believe staff work well when they are subjected to sleeping in such dreadful conditions. It was little wonder they were so bad-tempered.”

Clugston snorted. “I think it’ll take more than a roof that disnae leak to put a smile on Mrs MacLeod’s face, if I’m honest, but we live in hope, aye?”

Despite her dejection, Ruth smiled. “Indeed, Mr Clugston.”

They walked together in silence for a while, the only sound the brittle crunch of the frozen grass under their feet.