Page 52 of To Winter at Wildsyde

“He does nae treat ye right, Mrs Anderson. We can all see it plain enough. His only excuse is that he’s nae had the kind of father capable of explaining such things to him, so I figured it was about time someone set him straight.”

Ruth glared at him. “Mr Clugston, as kindly meant as your intentions clearly were, I would thank you not to interfere in my marriage.”

“Aye,” Gordy growled. “Or face the consequences.”

“And as for you!” Ruth swung around towards her husband, hands on hips and more furious than she’d ever been in her life. “How dare you start a fight, with swords, for the love of everything holy! If you must fight, could you not just hit each other? What would you have done if he’d been badly hurt, or killed even? Of all the imbecilic, bottle-brained ideas. Truly, I credited you with more sense, but it seems I have overestimated your intelligence.”

Gordy looked a little taken aback. “Now wait just a minute—”

“No,” Ruth snapped, having worked herself up to a pitch now. “You wait a minute. This is jealousy, pure and simple. You’ve some cockeyed notion that there’s something between me and Mr Clugston and you’ve convinced yourself of… of, I don’t know what, but it’s utterly ridiculous.” She threw her hands up in frustration before stalking to Gordy, grabbing hold of his head in both hands and kissing him soundly. “I love you, you thoughtless, selfish, pig-headed man!”

Stepping back, she experienced a flush of heat as she discovered the entire castle had emptied as everyone had come to enjoy the spectacle.

“What the devil are you all looking at?” she demanded and gave a curt wave of her hand. “Get to your work.”

Every single one of them jumped to obey and, a bare moment later, the courtyard was empty of all but her and the sword-wielding idiots. She swung back around.

“You will both apologise, and mean it, or I shall never speak to either of you again.”

She underscored her words with an arctic glare at each of them and then swept into the house with a furious swish of her skirts.

Once inside the doors the fight drained out of her and she took a shaky breath, uncertain of what to do next.

“There now, Mrs Anderson, come along.” She looked up, dazed, to discover Mrs MacLeod had a firm hold of one arm and Garrick the other. “Help me get her to the kitchens where we can keep an eye on her. Sheenagh, fetch missus a tot of whisky, the good stuff, mind. In fact, bring the bottle. Reckon she’ll need more than a nip.”

“Mrs Anderson,” Garrick said, his tone low and somewhat awed. “I never did, never in all my days….”

“Aye, reckon there’s a bit o’ Gallowglass in her blood.”

This cryptic comment from Mrs MacLeod won a murmur of approval from some of the other staff as they settled her in a chair by the fire in the kitchen. She was fussed over, cushions put at her back and a shawl about her shoulders, whilst Mrs MacLeod pressed a generous measure of whisky into her hand.

“Gallowglass?” she murmured faintly.

“Warriors, lass,” Mrs MacLeod said with a smile. “The fiercest of the lot. At the very least, I reckon you’ve some Scot’s blood in yer veins, for ye have the temper for it.”

“Did ye see the look in the laird’s eye when missus gave him what for?” Sheenagh, said, chortling with glee.

“Aye,” little Flora piped up, finding her voice for once. “He didnae know what hit him.”

Ruth took a sip of her whisky, feeling the burn as it slid down her throat. “That’s enough.”

Everyone stilled, looking at her.

“What is or is not between Mr Anderson and me is our own affair. I will not tolerate gossip nor the taking of sides. He has been good to all of you, and you owe him your loyalty. I will never put you in a position where you must choose between us, and neither will he.”

She hoped that was true but, in the circumstances, was not feeling the least bit certain. Mr Clugston’s loyalty to her had nearly ended in bloodshed.

“You heard missus,” Sheenagh said, flapping her hands at the remaining staff. “Get about yer work. Have ye nae better use of yer time?”

“Thank you, Sheenagh,” Garrick said, giving the young woman an approving nod which made her flush with pleasure.

Ruth sighed and downed her whisky, sucking in a breath as it left a trail of fire all the way to her belly. Mrs MacLeod studied her for a moment before picking up the bottle and filling her glass again. Ruth thanked her and took a determined sip. A few moments later, she took another, and then one more. Really, this whisky wasn’t that bad. It was illegal, of course, but you’d hardly expect a Scot to pay that any mind. There was a pleasant puddle of warmth blooming inside her. It chased away all the tension that had been building within her and that, she decided, was a good thing. A very good thing. She finished the glass.

Mrs MacLeod had left the bottle beside her and returned to her work. Indeed, everyone had returned to their work and seemed very busy. Ruth sighed. Sheenagh appeared, giving her an anxious glance.

“I’m having a bath drawn for ye. Ye look right peaky.”

“Thank you,” Ruth said dryly.