Highland Grace by K. E. Saxon Page B

peddler was settled on his cart and all her
sundries and belongings were piled upon it!
    “Bao!” She dropped the bucket and the ladle
went flying. “What are you doing! These are—These are mine!” The
dress made from the material her husband bought for her on his
fatal last journey poked out in bunches from the lid of her chest.
She bunted Bao aside and started hauling the chest out of the cart.
But he gripped her wrist and forced her to release her hold. “It
displeases me to see you in such rags. I’ve purchased others for
you. Come inside and I’ll show you.” He turned to the peddler.
“Enjoy whatever coin you can gain from these items, good man.”
    Her eye fell on a small wooden box, the one
that held all her son’s secret boyhood treasures. “Wait! That’s Alleck’s—he’ll be much grieved at it’s loss!”
    Bao lifted the box from the cart and tucked
it under his arm. He hauled her into the cottage then and slammed
the door. “Do not ever gainsay my decisions. You will do as I
will.” His smile was dark, brutal, when he said, “I saw you in the
wood earlier. Do you miss the fucking, dove?”
    Fire licked her neck, her cheeks and she
shook her head.
    His eyes narrowed. “Go into your bedchamber
and change into the gown I left lying on the bed.”
    Seeing no way around his bitterness and
wanting only a bit of peace, she did as he demanded. Her eyes
scanned her chamber, emptied of her precious possessions, and they
welled, but she swallowed the tears down. Nay. Do not think of
things you cannot control. She walked over and stood at the
edge of the bed. Her breath caught when she saw the fineness of the
ruby-colored material, but when she lifted it, she gasped. ‘Twas as
sheer as a spider’s web and just as daunting. What game was he
playing? She could not be seen in public wearing this. She’d be
banished.
    This had gone far enough. She whirled around
with the gown fisted in her hand and stormed into the front
chamber. “I’ll not wear this to supper with your family, ’tis
unseemly!”
    He laughed for the first time since they’d
wed. A real, honest, joyful laugh that reached his eyes and
reminded her of his old self. “Nay, you shall not!” He sobered and
the anger came into his eyes again. “But you shall wear it
for your master.”
    Oh, God. She took the gown back into
her bedchamber and felt proud of herself when she closed the door a
bit louder than she normally did. Just wanting to get through
whatever bitter, resentful game he’d planned for her, she quickly
doffed her gray gown and cotton chemise and replaced them with the
gossamer pale-rose colored chemise and ruby gown. She kept her
muddy boots on and walked back into the front chamber. “What would
you like from me now, m’lord?” She had yet to call him ‘master’ as
he’d demanded repeatedly she do in privy. ‘Twas a small rebellion,
and one that he clearly believed not worth the trouble of punishing
her for, so she’d continued it with a secret pleasure.
    “Come here, slave. Show me what hangs so
coarsely around that white neck of yours.”
    The coin! The coin her Bao, the
real Bao, had given her last summer. Why had she not remembered to
take it off! With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she
stumbled forward and drew the leather thong from around her neck.
“I believe this is yours,” she said with a note of sadness, holding
it out to him.
    He fingered the gold piece as if it were the
made of the finest silk. “My mother’s last treasure,” he said, his
voice, far away. But when his gaze lifted, it snapped and spit
daggers at her again. “If I’d only known to whom I’d bestowed this
gift, I’d never have done it. ‘Twas a mockery of my mother’s
memory.”
    “Please, Bao. Tell me what it is you think
I’ve done—what have I done to deserve so much censure from you?
What?”
    “Ask your brother.”
    That gave her pause. “He’s dead. I told
you.”
    “Then I suppose ‘twill be for