"Och, Mistress Mhairi, what has that beast done to ye? I felt sick last night when I watched him carry ye off to be ravished." Flossie rushed up and flung her arms around her. "Ye puir wee lassie. What you've gone through, and nobody near to offer ye a kind word."
Actually that wasn't quite true, Mhairi realized with a shock. If one set aside snatching her in the first place, the Mackinnon had often been kind to her, and in the face of strong provocation not to be, too. Jean had also been kind – and she had no reason to love anyone called Drummond.
Flossie drew back and stared at her with concerned brown eyes. "Are ye all right? I've been fair fashed about ye."
Mhairi took the maid's hands and studied the familiar, narrow features under the coronet of brown plaits. "I'm fine, Flossie."
The girl looked puzzled, her brows drawing together in her freckled face. "But…"
"The Mackinnon didnae lay a finger on me. It was all a show."
Flossie didn't look convinced. "But everyone saw him carry ye off, and he looked ready to do murder, although he put a good face on it. Ye shouldnae have thrown that wine at him."
"He shouldnae tell everyone I'm marrying him."
Flossie's eyes went as round as pennies. "Och, you're so brave. He fair makes me shiver in my shoes, even if he is such a handsome devil. Are ye sure he didnae tumble you last night?"
To her surprise, Mhairi laughed. She hadn’t laughed properly since the Mackinnon had stolen her away from Bruard. "I'm sure I'd know if he had. Jean stayed with us all night." Some inexplicable impulse made her reluctant to tell Flossie that Jean had locked the laird out in the cold.
"He hasnae hurt ye otherwise?"
"No, I’ve been treated well."
"Och, that’s such a relief."
"What about ye? It's all my fault that you're here. What happened when they took you?"
"I made a bit of noise at first, but Duff and I soon found a way to go on."
"Did he…"
Flossie shook her head. "He showed me the greatest respect. They’ve put me to work in the kitchens, and I sleep under Jean’s eye in a room with two of the other girls. She willnae let the laddies into the maids' quarters to do mischief. This is a gey well-run household – and a rich one. The servants eat as well as a man-at-arms in your father's keep."
"Flossie, they're Mackinnons," Mhairi protested.
A stubborn expression settled on Flossie's face. "Aye, they are, and I'm a Drummond. But I never bought into the feud. Why should I? Nae Mackinnon did me wrong, and I have nae plans for doing wrong by a Mackinnon."
"Ye never said."
"It never came up. It seems to me that too many have died on both sides without a halfpenny's worth of gain. It's grown men acting like bairns. High time everybody grew up."
Mhairi could hardly believe she heard her dearest friend repeating the Mackinnon's arguments for peace.
"Are ye saying I should marry Black Callum?" Sarcasm weighted the question.
Flossie shrugged and answered sincerely. "All his people love him, and it's clear living here that he’s a good laird. He’s young and vigorous, and a fine-looking laddie. Unless I'm mistaken, he's got an eye for ye. If he hasnae raised a hand to ye yet, I'd say he's a kind man as well."
"Ye called him a beast a few minutes ago."
Flossie’s lips pursed. “That’s only because I thought he’d had his way with ye."
Disturbed to her soul, Mhairi dropped Flossie's hands and stepped away. "I cannae believe you're saying this. They stole us both away from our home."
"Och, Mhairi, ye need to look to your future. You're not the first Highland bride who found a good husband after a rough wooing. Is ending the feud no’ enough to make ye look on the laddie with favor?"
Bewildered, Mhairi surveyed her maid. It was as if all their years together had left them strangers. "My father would never forgive me."
Flossie looked sulky. "Your father isnae perfect, Mhairi. He's indulged ye and given you your own way, but things havenae been so good for the rest of us at Bruard."