God knew how long hed been in here, she thought. Long enough to lick all the butter out of its mold, pull down a cluster of smoked fish from the raftersand how something so fat had managed the acrobatic feat required for that Luckily, the honeycomb had been stored in three separate jars, and only one had been despoiled. But the root vegetables had been dumped on the floor, a fresh cheese mostly devoured, and the precious jug of maple syrup had been overturned, draining into a sticky puddle in the dirt. The sight of this loss enraged her afresh, and she squeezed the potato she had just picked up so hard that her nails sank through its skin.
Bloody, bloody, beastly, horrible, bloody beast!
Who? said a voice behind her. Startled, she whirled and fired the potato at the intruder, who proved to be Roger. It struck him squarely in the forehead and he staggered, clutching the door frame.
Ow! Christ! Ow! What the hells going on in here?
Raccoon, she said shortly, and stepped back, letting the waning light from the door illuminate the damage.
He got the maple syrup? Bugger! Did you get the bastard? Hand pressed to his forehead, Roger ducked inside the lean-to pantry, glancing about for furry bodies.
Seeing that her husband shared both her priorities and her sense of outrage soothed her somewhat.
No, she said. He ran. Are you bleeding? And wheres Jem?
I dont think so, he said, taking the hand gingerly from his forehead and glancing at it. Ow. Youve a wicked arm, girl. Jems at the McGillivrays. Lizzie and Mr. Wemyss took him along to celebrate Sengas engagement.
Really? Who did she pick? Both outrage and remorse were immediately subsumed in interest. Ute McGillivray, with German thoroughness, had carefully selected partners for her son and three daughters according to her own criterialand, money, and respectability ranking highest, with age, personal appearance, and charm coming well down the list. Not surprisingly, her children had other ideasthough such was the force of Frau Utes personality that both Inga and Hilda had married men that she approved of.
Senga, though, was her mothers daughtermeaning that she possessed similarly strong opinions and a similar lack of inhibition in expressing them. For months, she had been hovering between two suitors: Heinrich Strasse, a dashing but poor young manand a Lutheran!from Bethania, and Ronnie Sinclair, the cooper. A well-off man, by the standards of the Ridge, and to Ute, the fact that Ronnie was thirty years Sengas senior was no bar.
The business of Senga McGillivrays marriage had been a topic of intense speculation on the Ridge for the last several months, and Brianna was aware of several substantial wagers riding on the outcome.
So whos the lucky man? she repeated.
Mrs. Bug doesnt know, and its driving her mad, Roger replied, breaking into a grin. Manfred McGillivray came to fetch them yesterday morning, but Mrs. Bug hadnt come down to the Big House yet, so Lizzie left a note pinned to the back door to say where theyd gonebut she didnt think to say who the fortunate bridegroom is.
Brianna glanced
at the setting sun; the orb itself had sunk out of sight, though the blazing light through the chestnut trees still lit the dooryard, making the spring grass look deep and soft as emerald velvet.
I suppose well have to wait til tomorrow to find out, she said, with some regret. The McGillivrays place was a good five miles; it would be full dark long before they reached it, and even past the thaw, one didnt wander the mountains at night without a good reasonor at least a better reason than mere curiosity.
Aye. Dye want to go up to the Big House for supper? Major MacDonalds come.
Oh, him. She considered for a moment. She would like to hear any news the Major had broughtand there was something to be said for having Mrs. Bug make supper. On the other hand, she was really in no mood to be sociable, after a grim three days, a long ride, and the desecration of her pantry.
She became aware that Roger was carefully not contributing an opinion. One arm leaning on the shelf where the dwindling stock of winter apples was spread, he idly caressed one of the fruits, a forefinger slowly stroking the round yellow cheek of it. Faint, familiar vibrations were coming off him, suggesting silently that there might be advantages to an evening at home, sans parents, acquaintancesor baby.
She smiled at Roger.
Hows your poor head?
He glanced at her briefly, the waning rays of the sun gilding the bridge of his nose and striking a flash of green from one eye. He cleared his throat.
I suppose ye might kiss it, he suggested diffidently. If ye liked.
She obligingly rose on her tiptoes and did so, gently, brushing back the thick black hair from his brow. There was a noticeable lump, though it hadnt begun to bruise yet.
Is that better?
Not yet. Better try again. Maybe a bit lower?
His hands settled on the swell of her hips, drawing her in. She was nearly as tall as he was; shed noticed before what an advantage of fit this was, but the impression struck her forcibly anew. She wriggled slightly, enjoying it, and Roger drew a deep, rasping breath.