By morning when there was no fever, all were convinced she would not die.
IN THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED, and even though Sawney asked, Mackinzie never said a word about what truly happened. It was one more secret she intended to take with her to the grave.
The weavers made new shirts for Mackinzie with higher necklines to hide her scars and everyone was pleased when she was up and about, and began to wear MacGreagor colors. The wedding plans were set, the great hall resumed its normal busy activity, and Sawney personally went to all the surrounding clans. He invited each of the lairds who helped him take back the MacGreagor glen and was pleased when they accepted.
With the help of the Swintons, the Haldane rebuilt their tiny village and were happy to take all the things they’d hidden back out of the forest. They believed, and rightly so, they were the only clan in Scotland to have all new homes. Not long after, the subject of the missing horse came up and once more, the Swintons and the Haldane went their separate ways.
IN THE DARKNESS OF the night, Sawney took the golden sword and the remaining jewels back to Carley’s cottage and let her hide them once more in her wall. Perhaps someday they would put the jewels back in the golden chalices.
MACKINZIE SOMETIMES looked for the black stallion when she walked in the glen, but it did not follow them. It would, however, be included in the story of the bone that Sawney would tell his children someday. She was able to move her shoulder with much less pain now and she eagerly awaited her wedding day.
Nevertheless, there was one thing unresolved and when she thought it was time, Mackinzie went to find Dena, whom she had not seen since that day. Dena was not in her cottage, nor anywhere in the glen and when Mackinzie finally found her, Dena was sitting on a rock, staring into the water of the river.
Mackinzie waited until Dena noticed her and then sat on a large rock facing her. “In my home...the Campbell village, there is a river like this one.” Dena would not look at her and Mackinzie was not sure what to say. Not speaking had always been far more comfortable for her, but she could not become mistress over Dena until they settled things. An idea came to her. “Can you forgive me?”
Dena abruptly turned to her. “You have done nothing wrong.”
“Aye, but I have. I knew there were wolves close by and I did not say.”
Dena looked away. “I knew it too and I did not say. ‘Tis my shame, not yours.”
“I wager neither of us will ever do it again, do you agree?”
Tears began to cloud Dena’s eyes. “Why did you do it? I mean, you took the pain that should have been mine. I have considered it and I cannot understand. Why?”
“Because someone once took the pain for me. Shall I tell you about him?”
“Please do.”
“Well, I was once a lass who knew not the sound of her own laughter. Then one day, the lad did something so funny I could not help myself. I laughed until I nearly cried and was astonished by the sound of it. He did other things too that made me want to be a part of his world. And then one day he put his arms around me and took away all my pain. Dena, before the day Sawney held me, I had not felt the arms of another living soul in nearly ten years.”
Dena hung her head and let her tears run down her cheeks. “I did not know.”
Mackinzie gently brushed a lock of hair away from Dena’s face. “How could you? ‘Twas mostly my own fault, for I was the one who hid from the world. Now you are hiding from me.”
“I am too ashamed. I wanted to be mistress and I did not care who I hurt.”
“I see. Have you told anyone this?”
“Nay.”
“Then it is ours alone. You are still young and there are many days ahead. Sawney tells me I am to become a matchmaker.” Mackinzie puffed her cheeks. “I assure you I know nothing about that, but I will try.”
“You mean to find a husband for me?”
“I think you should have a husband who truly loves you. There are five lairds coming to the wedding and two are unmarried. Perhaps one...or both will fancy you.”
Dena wiped her tears with both hands and her mood quickly changed. “Do you think so? They will know I lied to catch a husband.”
“Aye, but a bonnie lass is still a bonnie lass.”
She was so happy, Dena quickly stood up and offered her hand to help Mackinzie. “If you were not hurt, I would hug you.”
“If I were not hurt, I would welcome it. Now, come with me to bathe. The other women will be there and if they see we are friends, they will not think ill of you. If they do, they will wish they faced a gray wolf instead.”
AND SO IT WAS, THAT the MacGreagors, having survived the madness that was Neasan, attended the joyful wedding of their rightful laird and his bride. Mackinzie wore a ring of flowers on her head and a scarf around her neck made from the soft lamb’s wool Tavan gave her.
When the ceremony was complete, she kissed Sawney, left her guests, and headed for the cottage she shared with Paisley. Mackinzie pulled her sack out from under the bed, opened it, and withdrew the carved goblet Tavan gave her. For a moment, she stared at it. She always loved the carving of the wolf and loved it still. Softly, she ran her fingers over it and when she turned, Sawney was in the doorway watching her.
Mackinzie smiled and handed him the sack. “Come with me.”
She took his hand, walked with him to the Keep and when he opened the door, she went in. For a moment, she looked around the great hall for just the right place and then went to the table where the MacGreagor lairds always kept their goblets. Carefully, she set her goblet next to his and then turned to her husband. “Finally, I have a family.”
Sawney smiled. “Finally, you are mine.” He wrapped his arms around her and the passion in his kiss took her breath away.
~ the end ~
TRIPLETS
Book 10
Marti Talbott’s Highlander Series
Sample chapter
THREE TIMES THE HANDSOME young men meant three times the trouble. Off to see the king, Tavan goes missing and the betrothed Patrick might be falling for another woman. Abruptly married to save a woman from harm, Callum has no idea his wife intends to run away. Will she truly leave him and if so, why?
CHAPTER I
THE KING OF SCOTS WAS an elder by the time the much younger King of England decided to count all the inhabitants of Scotland. This, the King of Scots called irritatingly ridiculous. If anyone needed to know, he did, and the count changed so often he found no need to know. All the King of Scots cared about were the number of able-bodied men willing to fight should the English want a war.
The message from the King of England stated the need of the count was for the sake of history, and to know how soon their island would be too small to house them all. The King of Scots suggested that if the English would leave, the Scots would have plenty of room and would be happy to write their own history. Rumor had it the King of England was not amused.
Everyone feared a war with England would soon come, but aside from a few skirmishes along the imaginary border between the two kingdoms, a full-scale war did not materialize—at least not yet.
WINTER WAS EXCEEDINGLY harsh in the MacGreagor glen the year the triplets were born. A thick undergrowth of hair on the animals gave them ample warning and time to prepare. The direct descendent of a Viking, Laird Sawney MacGreagor asked the elders what needed to be done and took every advantage of the advice they gave. The clan set aside their normal duties to gather extra wood and peat moss for their hearths and to dry meat so the hunters could stay inside. Builders took a good look at thatched roofs just in case there came a heavy snow, and advised for or against remaining inside. Weavers made new, while mothers darned old socks, and all made certain to hang thick tapestries over windows lacking coveted English glass. Tree sap was used to seal the edges of the tapestries and everyone agreed it greatly helped hold the heat in, although more candles were needed to light the darkened rooms.
Then, on the third day of February, the clan aw
oke to a blanket of snow on their long, wide glen with an abundance of fluffy white flakes still falling from the sky. The children were thrilled and even the adults had to admit the covering of white on their village was wondrous and beautiful. Yet the colder northern air was sure to come and when it did, they feared they would all freeze to death.
Laird MacGreagor ordered the guards inside as well, for he was convinced none of the lairds in neighboring clans were witless enough to order an attack in that kind of weather.
After the first week, the families doubled up to conserve fuel. By the end of the second week, there were three families to a cottage with twelve families living in the Keep, including and especially the midwives, Sernoot and Grainee.
The MacGreagor keep consisted of three stories with only one very large hearth near the end of the great hall on the bottom floor. Normally, the rising heat from the hearth generated more than enough warmth for the upper floors. Yet in this kind of weather and with so many people inside, there never seemed to be enough for them all without taking turns sitting beside the hearth on the bottom floor. For this cause, and to ward off the boredom a lack of outside activity brought about, they played old games and invented new ones. A game of changing places near the hearth, to the tune of the flute player, soon became a favorite of the children.
Yet the clan needed water and the livestock still had to be looked after, so the men took turns braving the cold, breaking the ice, filling buckets and trying not to fall on slick paths that meandered between the cottages. Packed snow became solid ice and the large courtyard in front of the Keep was the most dangerous. More than one man returned with a twisted ankle or a bruised hip.
In the great hall, a place where the clan normally tended its daily business, the ageing tapestries had also been moved to cover the windows. Lighter colored stones behind them revealed how much soot had collected on the walls over the years, and a good scrubbing was in order, should the weather ever warm up again. On other walls, weapons of various kinds served as decorations. The table, which normally occupied the center of the room, was moved against the wall at night to make room for sleeping. Although the children did not seem to mind, uncomfortable wooden floors made the adults covet the coming of spring that much more.
They were a sea of green kilts for the unusually large men, sun bleached white shirts for all and long plaids for the women. Each wore a matching length of plaid over their left shoulder, and while the women wore shoes that only covered their ankles, the men had long straps that laced up their bare legs to the knee. For warmth in winter, they wore capes or coats made from the wavy longhaired hides of Highland cattle. Some hides were black, some red, some brown and some garments were sewn using a mixture of the colors, which made the men harder to spot in the forest.
MANY A MOTHER AND FATHER kept wee babes in their laps and shared both coat and body heat, for fear little toes would turn that awful black that meant a horrible and dreaded death. Cooking for so many was an all-day affair with not a drop going to waste. Dogs and cats were kept outside and forced to fend for themselves, although the older children made certain the animals had access to places of protection from the cold northern winds. Therefore, the children fretted over pets, the parents fretted over children, the women fretted over having enough food, the men fretted over the livestock and Laird MacGreagor worried they would run out of fuel for the hearths.
To help while away the empty hours, the men took to placing wagers on nearly everything they could think of. Their favorite, of course, was betting on their laird’s every move during the birth of his first child. For generations, the men gathered in the great hall as soon as a wife’s labor began. Two wager boards were brought out, one for a girl and one for a boy, upon which the men could put their mark. It was understood the losers were expected to take on the chores of the winners for one full week. Once their bets were placed, they drank heavily, said things a woman was not supposed to hear, jeered at the nervous father and waited for the birth.
A LITTLE MORE THAN a year before, Sawney MacGreagor made Mackinzie Campbell his wife, she was about to give birth, and there was no better entertainment than that of watching a first time expectant father. Already Sawney insisted someone stay with her at all times and swore he could hear it every time she so much as moaned, albeit from two floors below. The clan roared with laughter.
Mackinzie’s stomach was unusually large and the midwives were so certain she carried twins, Sawney ordered two new boxes made for his sons...or daughters, as the case may be. Every man wanted sons to carry on the family name. Nevertheless, he assured Mackinzie he would be just as delighted with daughters. She didn’t believe a word of it.
By the end of her seventh month, Mackinzie could hardly walk and needed help climbing not one, but two flights of stairs to the bedchamber they shared on the third floor of the Keep. When the snow began to fall, she elected just to stay where she was and rest under a mountain of blankets.
At last, warmer air melted the ice and snow, the families returned to their cottages, those that still had a roof, that is and early in the morning of the very next week, Mackinzie moaned loud enough for nearly half the village to hear. Sawney sat straight up in bed. He had just enough time to tell her he loved her, grab his belt and shirt, and wrap his kilt around his waist before the midwives burst into the room and ordered him out.
They shut the door in his face and for a moment, he stared at it. Never had he been so happy and so terrified at the same time. Much could go wrong and many a good woman had given up the ghost trying to bring a child into the world, including his own mother. He could but wait and waiting was not something he enjoyed, nor did he like hearing his beloved Mackinzie in pain. The guilt was his and his alone, but how else was a man to have sons...or daughters?
Suddenly the door opened and Sernoot nearly ran him over. “Have you nothing to do?”
“Nay, I do not,” he answered. “What shall I do?”
She scurried past him and was halfway down the top flight of stairs before she answered, “Drink, MacGreagor, that is what all the men do to calm their nerves.”
It sounded like a very fine idea to him, yet he was torn between his own need and being too far away from Mackinzie at a time like this. The wine was in the great hall two flights below and he contemplated just how quickly he could dress, retrieve a flask and return.
“Are you still here?” Standing right behind him carrying a length of forgotten string, Sernoot giggled when the sound of her voice made him jump. “The lads are gathering in the great hall, best you keep them company.”
“She might need me.”
Exasperated, Sernoot put her hands on her hips. “For what?”
Sawney had no ready answer to that question and puffed his cheeks.
“Stoke the fire, MacGreagor, and heat the place. That’s what a husband must do to keep the wee one warm.”
“I see.”
The stricken look on his face was something Sernoot would enjoy telling everyone about for weeks to come. He held the highest position in the clan and was quite possibly the largest of the men, but first he was an ordinary man, confused, concerned and looking as though a sound thought would never again enter his mind. Save for being the first to hold a new life that look on the face of every man about to have his first born, was a midwife’s delight.
Reluctantly, Sawney descended the stairs, pausing only long enough to slip into a bedchamber on the second floor and dress. All the men were there when he made it down to the great hall, including Keter, his second in command, Blair, his third, and Sawney’s brother, Hew, who had recently married. Already the lot of them were laughing at Sawney and he wondered how he could possibly endure hours and hours of it. He saw nothing funny at all.
The question of twins was bound to come up and it posed a particular problem for the men. Who would win the wagers should there be both a boy and a girl? It stirred a hearty discussion among them that lasted quite a while, for no winners at all was unthinkable. Ther
efore, they decided, they must have a second set of boards for the second child. Two new boards were fetched and the men lined up to choose the sex of the second child, should there be one.
The wine did not seem to help Sawney at all and while the men watched each time he began to pace the length of the room, he was too worried to pay much attention. A wager, he finally realized, had been placed on the number of times he sat and then returned to his pacing. As the hours dragged on and Sawney renewed his march from one end of the room to the other, one man or another would moan his defeat.
Then there were the number of times he stoked the fire to keep the baby warm, should it appear anytime soon, and the number of goblets of wine he consumed, and lest any man forget, the times he ran his fingers through his hair. Best of all was the wager on how often he glanced up the stairs, although he could not possibly see anything from there.
Each man remarked, at one time or another, on how brave Mackinzie was being. She did not scream her pain the way some wives did. In fact, when she stopped moaning and got quiet, it unnerved them all.
“‘Tis a boy!” came a shout from above, at last.
Several men moaned their lost wager and Sawney knocked over a chair trying to get to the stairs—only to hear Grainee yell, “Not yet, Sawney.”
Again, it grew silent. The wager then rested on a single or a double birth and all the men held their breaths.
“‘Tis another boy!” Sernoot yelled.
A third of the men moaned while the others cheered and just as he started up the stairs again, Grainee shouted, “Not yet, Sawney.”
He turned and stared at his brother. “How does she know I am coming up?”
A Time of Madness Page 20
