The Bard

by Greyson, Maeve

  “What do ye think, War Chief MacCoinnich? This man is under yer command.” Greyloch glowered at Lachlan, but Sorcha knew was a lie. Da did love teasing as much as he loved his whisky. She gave Sutherland a look that she hoped he would heed for poor Lachlan’s sake.

  Sutherland made a show of scowling at Lachlan until the guard squirmed in his chair.

  Sorcha nudged her husband under the table and cleared her throat.

  “I think they are a good match,” Sutherland said with a wink. “And since I’m the one sitting within reach of yer daughter’s kick, I would ask that ye grant the man yer blessing.”

  Chieftain Greyloch laughed. “Then I do so bless the union, and I will also say, God help ye, Lachlan. I hope ye ken what ye’re getting into. My foster daughter will keep ye on yer toes.”

  “Thank ye, my chieftain.” Lachlan stood. “And thank ye as well, war chief.” He held out a hand to Jenny. “Come now. Ye promised ye would rest as Aderyn ordered if I brought ye to the garden for a wee spell.”

  “Ye have paled even more, Jenny,” Sorcha said. “Ye need to be healed for yer wedding.”

  “Fine.” Jenny relented and slid her hand into Lachlan’s. As soon as she was on her feet, he surprised her by scooping her up into his arms.

  “What do ye think ye’re doing?” she scolded, but her smile betrayed her relief at not having to walk.

  “I am protecting my future,” Lachlan announced before nodding a farewell to the rest of them and marching inside with Jenny in his arms.

  “I like him,” Sorcha said. “He’ll take good care of her.” Another unresolved issue came to mind as she nibbled on a bannock slathered with butter. “By the way, did that woman and her son ever leave?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Sutherland said as he helped himself to the plate of blood pudding. “Lady Delyth Culane made the mistake of poisoning herself and has since gone to meet her maker.”

  “She’s dead?” Sorcha couldn’t believe it. She knew the woman was always drinking concoctions but figured her to have enough sense to keep from killing herself. After all, according to the rumors, she had supposedly known enough about herbs to rid herself of four husbands. “Are ye certain Garthin didna do her in? There was little love lost between those two.”

  “Nay.” Sutherland shook his head as he took another bite. “He confessed to hating her whilst he was chained to the dungeon wall, but he swears she did herself in.”

  “Chained to the dungeon wall? Is he still there?” What else had she missed while she had been held captive in the tunnels?

  Her father waved away the question. “Nay. We let him out when ye went missing.” He shrugged. “He left with his mother’s body this morning. Said he planned to join the priesthood once all her affairs were settled.”

  “Garthin? A priest?” She couldn’t imagine such.

  “His wee spell in the dungeon made him a changed man,” Sutherland said with a smug look.

  “And did anything else happen while I left ye two unsupervised?” She glanced around the garden. “Where’s Magnus? Ye’ve said nothing of him, and I havena seen him. Please tell me no ill befell him during the chaos of the past few days.” She liked Magnus and thought of him as another of Sutherland’s brothers.

  “He’s headed to Tor Ruadh to apprise Alexander of all that’s happened and of my acceptance of the role of war chief.” His plate emptied for the second time, Sutherland leaned back in his chair and stretched. “He’ll pass back through here after a while. He considers Tor Ruadh home but has always been a solitary sort. When the weather isna fierce enough to kill a man, he prefers the sanctuary of the Highland wilderness. Ye might say he’s somewhat a priest of the woods.” He nodded at her barely touched plate. “Eat more, m’lady. Ye have much to do in the coming weeks. Healing. Getting with our first of many bairns. Helping Jenny plan a wedding. Ye canna do any of that if ye dinna eat and build yer strength.”

  “Aye, daughter. Listen to yer husband.” Her father rose, patted his stomach, and belched. “I’ll give the two of ye yer privacy now. Today is the first time in a verra long while where I fully intend to enjoy my walk along the river. For once, I have nothing on my mind other than my blessings.”

  A hard-won sense of contentment warmed her as much as the balmy day as she watched him saunter away. Da spoke the truth. Today was surely a day for counting one’s blessings. She pulled in a deep breath and released it with a happy sigh, surprised when she discovered it hadn’t been too unbearably painful. Apparently, the fresh air and sunshine had done her a world of good. Of course, it could also be because she had shed those infernal bandages Aderyn had cinched around her so tightly she could hardly draw in a tenth of the air she needed.

  Adopting a concerned look, she took Sutherland’s hand and held it to her chest. “I am deeply troubled about something, mo ghràdh, deeply troubled indeed.”

  Her beloved husband immediately became the most protective of warriors. “What is it, my love? What troubles ye?” He leaned close, giving her his full attention.

  “Well…” She bowed her head but glanced up at him through her lowered lashes. “Jenny says it is most dangerous for a man’s health when he holds his seed too long. I fear for ye, my dear one. Has it not been…days?”

  Immediate understanding relaxed him from his defensive stance. “It has been days, mo chridhe, and will be many more. It takes ribs a while to heal. I will do nothing to hurt ye.”

  She gulped in a lungful of air, then expelled it without the slightest flinching. “It appears, my beloved husband, that the bindings were causing me the most of my pain. Without them, I am but a little sore—and I feel quite certain that soreness could be easily forgotten while other things commanded my attention.” She slid his hand inside her neckline. “Especially were I to sit in the lap of a gentle lover who would allow me to move with the greatest of care for the pleasure of us both.”

  Sutherland arched a dark brow. “Truly? Yer reasoning does appear sound, my love. I think we should most definitely retire to our chambers. After all, I have great respect for Jenny’s wisdom regarding a man’s health.”

  “I am sure ye do,” Sorcha whispered as she slid a hand up his kilt. “Dear me. We best hurry, my love. Ye have a great swelling that I pray I can help heal.”

  “Ye most assuredly can, m’lady,” he said as he scooped her up into his arms. “To our chambers.”

  “Aye, my gentle lover,” she said. “To our chambers for the healing we both need.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Three Months Later…

  Castle Greyloch

  If he caught her lifting one more heavy item, he’d turn her across his knee and spank her arse in front of all the wedding guests. “Put it down, Sorcha. Now.”

  She complied, but not without a narrow-eyed glare in his direction. “If I had known ye would be worse than a mother hen protecting a lone chick, I wouldna have told ye about the babe ’til my belly started rounding. I am not an invalid just because I’m carrying our bairn.”

  “Aye, well ye did make the mistake of telling me. So, ye’ll be heeding my wishes when it comes to the care of yerself and the wee one on the way. Ye willna sway me on this, my lovely, stubborn wife. Do ye hear me?”

  With a huffing growl, she turned and stomped away.

  “And just when did she tell ye this bairn will be born?” Magnus asked while tucking his chin to shield his smile.

  “Late spring, most likely.” Sutherland shifted to the side to better see what chore he would have to scold her about next. “Same time as all the calves and foals.” More protectiveness and love than he had ever thought possible tightened his chest as he supervised his wife’s every move around the great hall—much to her irritation. He waved Magnus closer and lowered his voice. “And Jenny’s wee one should come a month or so after ours is born. The poor lass is resting now. She wasna blessed with Sorcha’s constitution.”

  Magnus chuckled. “A union already consummated. God bless Lachlan and give
that quiet lad the wisdom and strength he’ll need to handle that lively lass. I’m glad to see Jenny’s fully healed, but I do believe she’s even more boisterous than before. I assume he knows what he’s in for?”

  “Says he’s loved her since he first laid eyes on her,” Sutherland said. “Poor man is doomed.”

  “Voice of experience?” Magnus asked with a grin.

  “Most definitely.” Sutherland accepted his fate with pride. He had loved Sorcha as soon as he had met her. He’d just been too foolish to know it. Thank goodness fate hadn’t given up on their match.

  “Father Stephen has agreed to hear their vows along the riverside,” Sorcha said as she rejoined them. “I’m glad we talked him into it. It’s so lovely this time of year.” She stepped closer and cast a conspiratorial look back over her shoulder. “And Jenny told me ’tis also where they consummated their union. Probably where they conceived their wee blessing.” With a mischievous smile directed at Magnus, she nudged his arm. “And what of yerself, Magnus? Winter is coming. Will ye nay be lonely? I’m sure we could find ye a lovely wife to keep ye warm.” She looked around and lowered her voice again. “We have several visiting clans from the south. Lots of lovely lasses to choose from. I dinna think ye would find any of them lacking. Shall I help ye with introductions?”

  Sutherland held his breath and remained silent for poor Magnus’s sake. Sorcha’s temperament and patience had been unpredictable of late. He prayed it was because of the bairn, but as far as he was concerned, it was every man for himself when it came to his wife’s plotting. Magnus was doomed.

  “Thank ye kindly, m’lady, but I beg ye to excuse me. I’m sure we can discuss it later. I must hurry outside. Merlin could fly in at any time.” Magnus stiffly bowed his regrets and strode away at a breakneck pace, like a man fleeing for his life.

  “If ye mean to trap that particular stag, ye’ll have to devise a snare that’s better hidden and baited with something he canna resist.” Sutherland pulled her close.

  “Dinna underestimate me, husband. I trapped ye, didn’t I?” she gloated.

  “I would never make the mistake of underestimating ye, my love.” He kissed her soundly and pressed into her curves that were becoming even more delightfully luscious with her body’s changes for the coming babe. “However, I do feel we should retire to our chambers and rest a bit before the ceremony. I dinna wish ye to become overtaxed. Ye’ve been buzzing about the keep since dawn, seeing to all the preparations.”

  “Ye are so protective.” She snuggled tighter and placed her lips close to his ear. “All the maidservants are busy. If we wish to be truly comfortable, I fear I shall need yer help getting out of these clothes. Aderyn insisted I begin wearing special stays because of the bairn, and the devil himself couldna deal with all these laces.”

  Sutherland swept her up into his arms and headed for the stairs. “Trust me, m’lady. Ye can always depend on me when it comes to relieving ye of yer clothes.”

  “Sorcie!” Jenny’s cry of distress echoed from the base of the stairwell leading to her suite.

  “Damn.” With a heavy sigh, he set his enticing wife back on her feet. He knew better than to ignore Jenny and keep walking. The bold lass would just follow them and stand outside the door, talking until they came back out.

  “It is her day,” Sorcha soothed with a resigned sigh of her own.

  “Sorcie…” Jenny pressed a square of linen to her forehead, her mouth, then her throat. “I canna stop retching. How will I say my vows without heaving everything I even thought about eating all over his boots?”

  “I shall fetch Aderyn,” Sutherland volunteered more as a means of escaping what would most likely be a conversation only fit for women’s ears. He waved them both back toward the stairs. “Help her back to bed. I’ll send the old witch to her.”

  “Sutherland!” Sorcha’s scolding tone was softened by her poorly restrained grin. He had called Aderyn ‘the old witch’ ever since the crone had informed them she had foreseen that they would be the proud parents of an entire herd of children—maybe even thirteen. “Dinna let her hear ye call her that. She’ll curse ye with even more bairns.”

  He kissed her forehead and shooed them onward. Jenny had paled and looked close to losing whatever might be left in her stomach. “Go now. I’ll fetch her.”

  A sense of satisfaction filled him as he trotted down the front steps of the keep and headed for the small, newly built cottage tucked between the outer kitchens and the herb gardens. With the events of the past several months and the hopes of the bairns to come, he had convinced both Aderyn and Chieftain Greyloch that the healer needed to reside within the skirting walls of the keep rather than down in the village. He didn’t wait well for anything, and waiting for a healer to be fetched for his precious Sorcha was something he truly hated. The old witch’s home had been finished in record time.

  Aderyn sat on a bench outside her doorway with her eyes closed and her face uplifted to the sun. Her hands rested palms up on her lap, making Sutherland wonder if she was praying to whatever deities the odd soul believed in.

  “I am not praying,” she said without opening her eyes. “The warmth of the sun eases the aching in my bones brought on by more years than I care to confess.”

  “Jenny needs ye,” he said. “She fears she’ll nay get through her vows without retching all over Lachlan’s boots.”

  Aderyn chuckled and shook her head. “If Jenny would use the mint I gave her and drink the tonic first thing each morning, it would help.” She patted the bench beside her. “Sit, future chieftain. I would speak with ye before I tend to those who dinna have the sense to listen when I try and help them.”

  Sutherland suddenly felt like a lad about to be scolded by his mother, but he complied. Old ones held wisdom earned throughout the years. It was well to listen to them. “What have ye to share with me, my favorite old witch?”

  The healer chuckled and patted his arm. “I appreciate the compliment.” With her gaze fixed on something only she could see, her contented look faded. “Ye will rise to be chieftain of Clan Greyloch sooner than ye expect.”

  “What?” The balmy summer’s day suddenly didn’t seem quite so pleasant.

  “Greyloch will enjoy some time with his first grandchild, but willna live to see yer bairn’s one-year mark.” She shifted on the bench to give Sutherland a stern look. “Sorcha will struggle mightily with his loss. But ye must help her remember that her parents will be reunited and happy once more. Soulmates separated are never content until they’re rejoined.”

  “There isna any way we can keep him with us a while longer? Protect him from whatever ye see befalling him?” Sutherland had grown fond of Greyloch and knew Sorcha would be devastated when her father passed.

  “It will be his time.” She shrugged. “All our days are numbered. Our endings are chosen at the same time as our beginnings.”

  He bowed his head and blew out a heavy sigh. “Why today, old woman? Why would ye tell me this on a day that should be filled with nothing but joy?

  “So, ye will be prepared to not only help the clan but also yer wife.” Aderyn pointed down at a circle she had scratched in the dirt. “And I must do something I have never done before.”

  After the doom-filled prophecy she had just spoken, Sutherland dreaded what she would say next. “And what is that?”

  “I must tell ye that I was wrong about yer bairns.”

  “Dinna speak ill about my children, witch. Not a word of darkness about them, ye ken?” He shot up from the bench. For Aderyn’s safety, it was best he walk away.

  “And now the word witch is no longer a compliment but a blasphemy.” The healer slowly shook her head. “I am the one who is cursed, my fine war chief. Cursed to see the things that would make others cringe.” A sad smile trembled at the corners of her mouth. “I told ye of Greyloch’s death to help ye prepare. I tell ye of yer bairns to help ye do the same.”

  He forced himself to remain calm. Too many were around to
hear him roaring at the healer to keep her dire predictions to herself. “Speak then.”

  Pushing herself up from the bench, she reached inside the opened doorway for her familiar cloth sack of remedies. She handed the bag to Sutherland and retrieved her cane. Her free hand kept time with a rhythm only she heard as she started across the courtyard with slow, methodical steps. “Ye willna have thirteen bairns, as I said before.” She shook her head and made a face. “I canna believe I got it as wrong as I did.” She wagged a finger at him. “But neither will ye have the nine of yer wife’s dreams.”

  The more she talked, the more he found himself calming. So far, she had said nothing that warranted him losing his temper. “I am listening,” he said with a tightening of his jaw.

  “Ye will sire seven sons and one daughter.” Aderyn smiled. “The wee lassie will come last in answer to her mother’s prayers. That one will be spoilt rotten by all in the clan—especially by her brothers.” She stopped walking and rested a hand on his arm. “I will also have ye know that the two of ye are truly blessed. I have seen that ye will walk through the years together to a great age. Not only that, but when ye both leave this world, ye do so within hours of one another. At that time, ye will be surrounded not only by yer children but also by yer children’s grown children and beyond. ’Tis a wondrous gift to have been granted such a life. A pair of such rightly matched hearts couldna hope for more.” She chuckled and started walking again, staring down at the ground. “So, ye see, my future chieftain, not all my words for ye on this summer’s day are dire.”

  Her gentle scolding made him smile. “I thank ye, my favorite witch, and I shall bear it in mind that I need to hear the bad along with the good—for the benefit of all.”

  She lifted her head and nodded. “Ye will be a fine chieftain.” Pointing her cane at the front of the keep, she chuckled. “Yer wife is coming to ye. It does little good for one queasy stomach to see to the caring of another.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ye may share my words with yer wife. In the end, they will help her as they have helped ye look ahead. All I ask is that ye wait until after today to tell her about her father. Let today be a gift of oblivion for her, aye?”