Johanna shook her head. “This matter doesn’t concern him.”
“I will stop giving nicknames, m’lady,” Glynis said then. “And I apologize if you were hurt by my cruelty.”
“Were you hurt by mine?”
Glynis didn’t answer for a long minute. Then she nodded. “I was,” she whispered.
“Then we are even. Auggie isn’t daft,” she added. “He really is clever. If you spent any time at all with him, you’d realize that.”
“Yes, m’lady.”
“There,” Johanna announced. “We’ve settled this problem. Good day to you, Glynis.”
She made a curtsy and turned to leave. Glynis followed her to the edge of the path. “We only called you Courageous until you put Dumfries back together with your threads, m’lady. Then we changed your name.”
Johanna was determined not to ask, but curiosity won out. “And what did you change my name to?”
She braced herself for the insult she knew was coming.
“Timid.”
“Timid?”
“Aye, m’lady. We call you Timid.”
Johanna was suddenly in a fit mood again. She smiled all the way home.
They called her Timid. It was a fair start.
CHAPTER 13
Johanna didn’t see her husband until dinner. The men were already seated at the two tables when she walked down the steps into the great hall. No one stood up. Gabriel wasn’t there yet. Both Father MacKechnie and Keith were also absent. The servants were busy putting oblong platters of meat on the table. The aroma of the mutton filled the air. A wave of nausea caught Johanna by surprise. She thought the soldiers’ behavior was the reason she was suddenly feeling ill. They were grabbing handfuls of food before the trenchers were even placed in front of them. They weren’t waiting for their laird to join them or for the priest to give the blessing before dinner.
Enough was enough. Mama would have heart failure if she witnessed such shameful behavior at her dinner table. Johanna wasn’t about to be shamed in front of her dear mother. She’d die first. Or kill a couple of the Maclaurins, she thought to herself. They were the worse offenders, though the MacBain soldiers were certainly trying to keep up.
Megan noticed her mistress standing by the entrance. She called out to her, realized Johanna couldn’t hear her over the noise the men were making, and walked across the hall to speak to her.
“Aren’t you going to have your supper?” she asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“M’lady, you don’t look well. Are you feeling all right? You’re as pale as flour, you are.”
“I’m fine,” Johanna lied. She took a deep breath in an attempt to get her queasy stomach under control. “Please fetch me a large bowl. Bring one that’s cracked.”
“Whatever for, m’lady?”
“I might have to break it.”
Megan thought she’d misunderstood her mistress. She asked her to repeat her explanation. Johanna shook her head. “You’ll understand soon enough,” she promised.
Megan ran to the buttery, grabbed a heavy porcelain bowl from the shelf, and hurried back to her mistress.
“This one’s chipped,” she announced. “Will it do?”
Johanna nodded. “Stand back, Megan. Sparks are about to fly.”
“They are?”
Johanna called out to the soldiers first. She knew they wouldn’t hear her over all the racket, but she thought she should at least attempt ladylike conduct at first. She tried clapping her hands together next. Finally she whistled. Not one of the soldiers looked up.
She gave up trying to be diplomatic. She lifted the bowl and hurled it across the room. Megan let out a loud gasp. The bowl crashed into the stone hearth and splintered to the floor.
The effect was just as she’d hoped. Every man in the hall turned to look at her. They were silent, looking incredulous, and she couldn’t have been more pleased.
“Now that I have your attention, I have several instructions to give you.”
Several mouths dropped open. Calum started to stand up. She told him to stay where he was.
“You meant to throw the bowl?” Lindsay asked her that question.
“Yes,” she answered. “Please listen to me,” she explained. “This is my house and I would therefore appreciate it if you would follow my rules. First, and most important, none of you will eat until your laird has been seated and served. Do I make myself clear?”
Most of the soldiers nodded. A few of the Maclaurins looked irritated. She ignored their frowns. Calum, she noticed, was smiling. She ignored him, too.
“But what if our laird doesn’t come in for supper?” Niall asked.
“Then you’ll wait until your mistress has been seated and served before you eat,” she answered.
There was a considerable amount of grumbling over her dictate. Johanna held onto her patience.
The men turned back to their trenchers.
“I’m not finished giving you my instructions,” Johanna called out.
Her voice was drowned out by the clatter again. “Megan, fetch me another bowl.”
“But m’lady . . .”
“Please.”
“As you wish.”
Less than a minute passed before Megan handed her mistress a second bowl. Johanna immediately hurled it at the hearth. The loud crash turned everyone’s attention again. Several of the Maclaurin soldiers were giving her surly looks now. She decided a threat or two would be appropriate retaliation.
“I won’t throw the next bowl at the hearth,” she announced. “I’ll throw it at one of your heads if you don’t pay attention to me.”
“We’re wanting to eat, m’lady,” another soldier shouted.
“I’m wanting your attention first,” she replied. “Listen carefully. When a lady enters the room, the men stand.”
“You interrupted our supper to tell us that?” Lindsay shouted. He added a nervous laugh and nudged his neighbor’s side with his elbow.
She put her hands on her h*ps and repeated her dictate. Then she waited. She was pleased to see every soldier finally stand up.
She smiled, satisfied. “You may sit down.”
“You just told us to stand up,” another Maclaurin muttered.
Lord, they were dense. She tried to hide her exasperation. “You stand when a lady enters, and you sit when she gives you permission.”
“What do we do when she comes in and then goes right back out again?”
“You stand, then sit.”
“Seems a nuisance to me,” another Maclaurin remarked.
“I’m going to teach you manners even if it kills you,” she announced.
Calum started laughing, but her glare stopped him.
“Why?” Niall asked. “What do we need manners for?”
“To please me,” she snapped. “There won’t be any more belching at my tables,” she said.
“We can’t belch?” Calum asked, looking astonished.
“No, you can’t!” she said in a near shout. “You can’t make any other rude noises either.”
“But it’s a compliment, m’lady,” Niall explained. “If the food and drink are good, a belch is due praise.”
“If you enjoy your food, you’ll simply tell your host it was a fine meal,” she instructed. “And while we’re on the topic of food. I’ll tell you I find it gravely offensive when I see one of you ripping food from your neighbor’s trencher. That’s going to stop right now.”
“But m’lady—” Lindsay began.
She cut him off. “You aren’t going to slam your goblets together when you give a toast,” she announced. “The ale spills everywhere.”
“We do it on purpose,” Calum explained.
Her eyes widened over that admission. Niall hurried to tell her why. “When we toast, we make certain some of our ale spills into the other goblets. That way, if there’s poison in one, everyone will die. Don’t you see, m’lady? We do it to ensure no one will try trickery.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were the Maclaurins and the MacBains that suspicious of each other?
The Maclaurins dared to turn their backs on her again. Johanna was infuriated by their rudeness. They were being deliberately loud now in their bid to drown out her voice.
“Megan?”
“I’m fetching it, m’lady.”
Johanna lifted the pitcher in the air, turned toward the Maclaurin table, and was just about to throw the thing when it was snatched out of her hand. She turned around and found Gabriel standing right behind her. Keith and Father MacKechnie flanked his sides.
She didn’t have any idea how long they’d been standing there, but the stunned look on Father MacKechnie’s face indicated it had been long enough.
She could feel herself blushing. No wife wished to be caught screaming like a shrew or throwing things to get attention. Johanna wasn’t about to let her embarrassment deter her, however. She’d started this and by God she was going to finish it.
“What in God’s name are you doing, wife?”
His deep tone of voice, added to his frown, made her wince. She took a deep breath, then said, “Do stay out of this. I’m in the middle of giving my instructions to the men.”
“No one seems to be paying you any attention, m’lady,” Keith pointed out.
“Did you just tell me you want me to stay out . . .” Gabriel was too flabbergasted to continue.
She caught the gist of what he wanted to say. “Yes, I do want you to stay out of this,” she agreed before turning her attention to Keith. “They will pay attention or suffer my displeasure,” she promised.
“What happens when you’re displeased?” the Maclaurin soldier asked.
She couldn’t think of a suitable answer. Then she remembered what Gabriel had said he’d do when he was displeased.
“I’ll probably kill someone,” she boasted.
She was certain she’d impressed the Maclaurin soldier with that announcement. She added a nod so he wouldn’t know she was bluffing and waited for his reaction.
It wasn’t what she expected. “You’re wearing the wrong plaid, m’lady. Today’s Saturday.”
She suddenly wanted to strangle Keith. A loud belch sounded behind her. She reacted as though she’d just been stabbed in the back. She let out a loud gasp, snatched the pitcher out of her husband’s hand, and turned to the men.
Gabriel caught her before she could do any damage. He tossed the pitcher to Keith, then turned her around to face him.
“I asked you not to interfere,” she whispered.
“Johanna . . .”
“Is this my home or isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Thank you.”
“Why are you thanking me?” he asked, wary now. She was up to something all right. The glint in her eyes told him so.
“You just agreed to help me,” she explained.
“No, I didn’t.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because this is my home, isn’t it?”
“Are we back to that?”
“Gabriel, I would like a free hand in the running of my household. Please?” she whispered.
He let out a sigh. Damn but it was impossible for him to deny her anything. He wasn’t even certain what he was agreeing to, but he still nodded.
“How many more bowls and pitchers will you throw?”
“As many as it takes,” she replied.
She turned around and hurried over to stand at the head of the Maclaurin table.
“Keith, if you’ll take one end, and Father, if you would be so good as to lift the other end, I’ll run ahead and hold the doors open. Gentlemen,” she added, her gaze directed on the soldiers seated at the table now, “please help by carrying your stools. This shouldn’t take us any time at all.”
“What are you thinking to do?” Keith asked.
“Moving the table outside, of course.”
“Why?”
“I want to make the Maclaurins happy,” she explained. “They’re part of my clan now and I believe they should be content.”
“But we don’t want to move outside,” Lindsay blurted out. “Why would you think we would? I only just got the honor of eating with my laird. I want to stay here.”
“No, you don’t,” Johanna countered. She smiled just to confuse the warrior.
“I don’t?”
“You’ll all be much more content outside because you won’t have to follow any of the rules of my household then.’Tis the truth you all eat like animals. You might as well eat with them. Dumfries will be happy for the company.”
All of the Maclaurins looked at Keith. He looked at his laird, received his nod, and then cleared his throat. It was up to him to set his mistress straight.
“I don’t believe you understand the situation here, m’lady. This keep has belonged to the Maclaurin clan for as long as anyone can remember.”
“It belongs to me now.”
“But, m’lady ...” Keith began.
“What does she mean when she says our land belongs to her?” Niall asked.
Johanna folded her hands together. Gabriel walked over to stand next to her.
“I’ll be happy to explain, but only once, so please try to follow along,” she said. “Your king bartered this land away. Is everyone here in agreement with that fact?”
She waited until the soldiers nodded. “King John gave the holding to me. Does everyone agree with that fact?”
“Yes, of course,” Keith agreed. “But you see . . .”
She wouldn’t let him finish. “Pray forgive me for interrupting you, but I’m anxious to finish this explanation.”
She turned her attention back to the soldiers. “Now then—and do pay attention, please, for I hate repeating myself—when I married your laird, the land became his. Do you see how simple it is?”
Her gaze settled on Lindsay. He nodded to make her happy. She smiled. The room suddenly started to spin. She blinked, trying to bring everyone back into focus. She grabbed hold of the edge of the table to balance herself. A wave of nausea washed over her, then just as rapidly disappeared. It was the meat, she thought to herself. The awful smell was making her sick.
“You were saying, lass?” Father MacKechnie prodded, beaming with satisfaction over the gumption his mistress was showing in front of the men.
