His gray eyes concerned, he took her hands in a gentle grip. “Sabrina…I’ve always been of a mind that one who makes his bed must lie in it…but I wish you to know, if you find yourself truly unhappy, you may always make your home with me.”
“Thank you, Papa,” she said huskily through her tears, and embraced him again with all the love in her aching heart.
She greatly regretted her stepfather’s departure, and was glad for her dog’s companionship. Yet her new position as laird’s wife left her little time for melancholy. And happily, she discovered a friend in the McLaren housekeeper, Mrs. Paterson.
Over a breakfast of oatcakes and honey, the elderly woman welcomed Sabrina with genuine warmth.
“’Twill be good to have a mistress of the house again,” Mrs. Paterson admitted with a sigh. “And good for the laird to have a wife, no doubt. Mayhap marriage will settle him down and persuade him to abandon his wild ways.”
Sabrina wanted very much to ask about the laird’s “wild ways,” but did not consider it appropriate.
Immediately after breakfast, Mrs. Paterson gave her a detailed tour of her new home. The three-storied fortified manor had been built two centuries ago to withstand seizes by English armies and warring clans, yet everywhere she turned, Sabrina spied touches of elegance and comfort inspired by the late Lady McLaren.
The walls of the banqueting hall were lined with tapestries and leather hangings to relieve the cold stone, while other chambers had been wainscotted or papered in flocked damask. The most formal rooms boasted molded ceilings, rich wood paneling, brass chandeliers, and intricately carved firescreens, while the family living quarters were decorated with thick carpets, gleaming furniture, and landscapes and portraits done in oils, with the prize possession, the exquisite pianoforte, in the drawing room.
With Mrs. Paterson, Sabrina reviewed the household accounts, yet she was wary of overstepping her bounds, and anxious to discuss her role as mistress with her new husband.
Regrettably Niall remained gone much of the day, returning barely in time for supper. Mrs. Paterson had prepared a special meal to honor the bridal couple, so they ate alone in the blue parlor, in an atmosphere made cozy by candlelight.
As she faced him across the small table, Sabrina found herself dismayingly tongue-tied. After the carnal intimacies she had shared with Niall the previous night, she could scarcely meet his gaze.
“You are too quiet, mouse,” he said finally as she toyed with the braised mutton on her plate. “Is something amiss?”
“No. I was…simply thinking.”
He raised a dark eyebrow.
“I think…Do you not agree we should discuss how we are to go on?”
“Go on?”
“As husband and wife. How we are to live our lives.” Niall sipped his wine. Of course Sabrina would wonder how she was to fit into his life, his clan. “Aye, that might be prudent. What do you wish to discuss?”
“Well…I am a stranger here, and a Lowlander, but I don’t care to remain idle. I should like something to occupy my time.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I wondered…Shall I have the running of your house, for instance?”
Humor lit Niall’s blue eyes. “I have no knack for managing a household. You may have the office with my blessing.”
Sabrina let out a pent-up breath. She had been prepared for a major battle. “I am good with accounts, as well. I often examined my stepfather’s books to verify his clerks’ tallies.”
“Ah, yes.” A smile curved his beautiful mouth. “I recall you claiming that you have a head for figures. I would be glad of the assistance. I’ll show you the estate accounts at the first opportunity.”
She hesitated. “And I should like to meet your tenants.”
Niall nodded, pleased she cared enough to involve herself with his clan. “You are mistress here now. On the morrow, if you wish, we shall tour the McLaren lands together.”
Sabrina felt her tension ease measurably. This would not be as difficult as she had expected. Niall was being entirely reasonable. He might not have wanted to wed her, but he seemed prepared to accept her as mistress, at least. “I would like that a great deal.”
They conversed about his clan then, with Niall explaining the relations of his kinsmen and describing the people Sabrina might meet on the morrow. Some time later, he asked if she had finished her meal. “We should retire now if we are to get an early start in the morning.”
“Retire?” Sabrina repeated, her tension rising abruptly again.
Amusement lit his remarkable blue eyes. “Are you not acquainted with the word, mouse? It means to sleep.”
She flushed. “I know what it means. I simply…I did not expect us to retire together. I assumed we would have separate chambers.”