My Fair Highlander by Mary Wine Page B

the expressions on those faces. Lust was there for certain, but there was also heat and passion. The girl carried herself with supreme confidence, and the cutting glances of the other Barras women didn’t gain even a tilt from her head. Instead she smiled at the men watching her, absorbing the attention they lavished on her.
    Envy filled Jemma. Bitter and irrational, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted what that girl had.
    Do I?
    That little voice inside her head shocked her, but the question was still a valid one. If she wanted what that girl had, then she would have to be willing to surrender her body to gain it. She’d never questioned remaining pure, it was expected of her, but to be honest she had never even thought about what life might be like if she chose to do otherwise.
    Well, it might be very harsh. Jemma watched the woman at the hearth, and things were not so good for her now. The other women sent her cutting glances, and the cook shook her long-handled spoon at her. The girl frowned but pulled her linen cap from her belt and placed it on her head. The cook was not satisfied and reached out to deliver a quick slap. The girl turned red but took her chastisement and snatched a pitcher off the table before turning around to begin filling tankards. Once more she was the center of adoring attention from the men, but the women sent sharp glares at her.
    What was worse? Being the virgin bride who gained approval of the females in the house while her husband dallied and everyone knew it, or the woman who was frank enough to flaunt what she enjoyed? Even thinking such a question defied every bit of higher authority that she had been raised with, but Jemma still pondered the idea. When her father became ill, she had stepped out of society and all of its expectations. There had only been what he needed and the time they had left to share with each other.
    â€œMistress Jemma.”
    Gordon’s voice sliced through the conversation filling the hall. Everyone near her turned to look at her, and she could feel many, many more staring at her. The woman sitting next to her sent her elbow into her ribs because Jemma hesitated.
    Pushing her bench back, she stood up and looked toward the head table. Gordon was watching her with his blue eyes, but his expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.
    â€œI was pleased to hear you attended Mass this morning. You pleased the clergy by doing so.”
    A murmur of approval rippled across the hall. It made her swallow her response and simply lower herself. Acceptance was not something that anyone gained through challenging the rules that governed life. Besides, no matter if she did disagree with some of the ways that life was dictated to her, order prevented having to live with savageness. Gordon was laird, maintaining order by having expectations for everyone living on his land, including himself. But that did not mean that she would meekly accept the man’s rule over her.
    â€œIt was most kind of your people to make me welcome, especially since I am to depart so quickly, but I am most appreciative.”
    He stared at her, his lips curving just the smallest amount while everyone waited to hear what their laird would say. She had never been the center of so much attention and decided that it was not something she enjoyed. Sweat trickled down her back beneath her clothing, and her heart was beating faster. But she held her chin steady, keeping herself looking as if nothing was bothering her at all.
    â€œI consider myself most fortunate to be having yer company here for the next few days.”
    â€œDays—” Jemma clamped down on her outburst and watched the beast hide his grin behind his tankard. More than one of his captains was shielding a similar expression. “Forgive me, Lord Barras, but it seems that you were not informed of the fact that I plan to return to my home this morning as my brother would expect me to.”
    â€œUnfortunately I can