by Cathy MacRae
Grateful for the news, she waited for Brody to hoist a sleeping Abria to his shoulder, then rose and woke Eislyn, motioning her to follow. Mindful of the puppy’s stubby legs and the steepness of the stairs, Carys tucked the furry round body beneath her arm. Eislyn thrust her somewhat grubby fingers in Carys’s hand, grasping tight.
Most of the night was past, and after the initial wave of excitement had waned, Carys had entertained the girls by telling tales, inventing games, and eating from a tray that arrived from the kitchen. After a time, Abria had curled up in Carys’s lap and fallen asleep, surprising her. Carys had been uncertain how to respond. Her heart melted at the trust in the child’s action while her head warned against the tug at her emotions.
I cannot let them too close. Life is too uncertain. Better they learn now to be self-sufficient.
She remembered Brody’s surprise when Abria had left her sister’s side to lean against Carys’s shoulder, and the unexpected frisson of longing as the small hand touched her hair.
I left my chance for children buried beneath Welsh soil. What would it have been like to have Terwyn’s child? Would marriage to Birk include children? He has no son. Surely, he desires a son as all men do.
The thought of birthing a son brought a seed of excitement she quickly squashed.
“A bonnie lass,” Brody had drawled, his voice hushed and matter-of-fact. “Everyone’s favorite for all that she hasnae spoken since her ma died.”
The child had then crawled into her lap, laid her head against Carys’s chest, and, tucking her hands beneath her chin, dropped off to sleep.
I seem to have an affinity for dogs and children.
Eislyn slipped on the stair, her grip on Carys’s hand averting a tumble. She sent Carys a worried look. Carys squeezed her fingers.
“The shallow steps make it difficult for pirates, too.” She smiled at Eislyn’s nod. “I think the tower would be a safe place for you and your sister should you ever need it. But, mayhap we need to find a nurse who doesn’t abandon you.”
Eislyn nodded vigorous agreement. “I’m braver than Ina. She tells lots of scary stories. But she is verra old, and mayhap has forgotten how to be braw.”
“’Tis generous of you to say so,” Carys said solemnly, wondering why the woman would frighten the girls with troublesome tales.
Eislyn tipped her head back, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I dinnae expect Ina could manage the stairs any better than the pirates. Mayhap Abria and I will use the tower whenever we’re in trouble.”
They arrived in the bailey as the first rays of sun lightened the sky. Horses stamped tiredly in the yard, awaiting lads to lead them to the stable. A few soldiers lingered, clustered together as they spoke. There was little urgency; the men’s voices a moderate rumble, their stances relaxed.
Mayhap the pirates gave scant trouble. Carys was startled to find she cared that the men of this clan were whole, uninjured. That it mattered to her that none died.
Ahead, the door to the hall opened, Birk framed in the entrance, arms crossed over his chest.
Mayhap this is where the true trouble lies.
Tired, and frustrated with a mostly fruitless rout of the pirates, Birk waited impatiently to see his daughters. And the woman to whose care he’d entrusted them.
Six men could scarcely bring her in. Why did I believe two wee lasses and one lame soldier would keep her here?
A voice in his head nagged him. She has honor.
Brody entered the feeble light of the sunrise, Abria in his arms. Birk quickly glanced past him, seeking Carys. Her dark brown trews and jerkin blended with the shadows. Her pale face glowed behind the partial curtain of her raven’s-wing hair. Eislyn pattered at her side, fingers tucked trustingly in Carys’s hand.
Relief and an emotion he couldn’t identify swept over him. Tightness almost like a hunger pang centered in his chest, holding his gaze on the woman he meant to marry. She caught his look and returned it with a silent questioning tilt of her head. He stepped away from the door, gesturing them inside.
Awaiting the children’s arrival, Ina stood a few feet away, hands clasped before her, head lowered. Her eyes lighted on the girls and she gasped, clucking indignantly.
“My poor wee lambs!” she exclaimed, reaching for the child in Brody’s arms, casting a resentful glance toward him. The man’s eyes narrowed, his mouth drawing taut with displeasure. Abria woke. She gave Ina a swift, horrified look then buried her face in Brody’s chest, arms tightening in a choke hold about his neck.
Eislyn slipped behind Carys, pausing to peer around her legs.
“Come with me,” Ina commanded, changing her tack and holding a hand out for Eislyn’s compliance. She set her lips in a severe line, giving her hand an insistent shake when the child did not comply. Ina took a step closer, brushing against Abria’s sleeve. Abria tore her face from Brody’s chest with a small whimper, drawing away from the woman’s touch. Spying Carys only a few feet away, Abria leaned to one side, arms outstretched, begging the safety of Carys’s arms.
“That will be all, Ina,” Birk growled, surprised then furious to see his daughters’ responses to the auld crone. Far from showing the grandmotherly love he’d envisioned when he’d allowed his dead wife’s maid to care for the children, it appeared her care bordered much too close to negligence—if not outright abuse.
Flashing him a dark look, the woman dropped her arm and, in a swirl of tattered skirts, departed the room, muttering beneath her breath. He’d warned her against revealing his title, but he didn’t believe her half-hidden words were an inability to forego the polite formalities. More likely imprecations against his lineage.
Carys’s gaze followed the old woman. As she disappeared through a distant doorway, Carys shifted her attention to Birk.
Purplish stains beneath her eyes attested her near-exhaustion, and Birk realized she’d likely had little rest since she’d been brought to Dairborrodal Castle the day before. He didn’t want to acknowledge her efforts beyond those required to keep his daughters safe, but again he was struck by her willingness to sacrificed herself to help others. When was the last time someone had gone out of their way to help her?
“My thanks for caring for Eislyn and Abria,” he said, moving closer. “It appears Ina was a poor choice as a nurse. They are good lasses and deserve better.”
Abria’s waving arms succeeded in gaining Carys’s attention. Setting the puppy on the floor, Carys accepted the child into her arms. Just as she settled Abria on her hip, the child wriggled down, chasing after the puppy that collapsed onto the floor beneath a bench with a thump and a sigh, obviously anxious to return to its rest. Abria curled about the pup’s body, eying the adults from her chosen spot on the floor. Eislyn hurried to join them.
“Why did you choose Ina?” Carys asked. “The girls do not seem to like her.”
“She was their mother’s maid, and I thought she would care for them as she had Rose.” He rubbed the back of his neck, striving for civility though he chafed at being asked to explain himself. “Their grandma, my ma, often has the care of them when we are at MacLean Castle, but she was unable to make the journey with us to Dairborrodal this time.”
Carys’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer. “Tell me of the pirates,” she invited, changing the subject.
Birk settled on the bench next to his daughters, and Carys and Brody took seats close to the table. Eislyn leaned against his legs. A sense of well-being enveloped him, making the long hours they’d spent chasing the elusive pirates worthwhile. He gently ruffled his fingers through the hair on the top of his eldest daughter’s head.
A serving girl approached with a tray, stifling a yawn, and poured warm ale into mugs. She set them on the table and left.
“We have had trouble with pirates—not that ’tis unusual. Bands of them show up from time to time.” He nodded to Carys, watching her face with a keen gaze. “Captain Ferguson—whose ship was lost in a storm a few months ago—related a tale of a sailor of his who put to
rout pirates with a few clever tricks he’d not seen before.”
Birk noted the wary look Carys gave him but did not force her to admit she was the sailor he referred to.
“We were glad to know of the end to those pirates,” he continued. “But there is another band we seek. They strike without warning and appear where least expected. We believe the same band has been operating in and around the strait for twenty years or more. ’Tis possible they were related to Colin Dubh.”
This time Carys’s eyes widened, betraying her knowledge of the man.
“Ye killed him.”
She gave a slow nod.
“How many men were with him that night?”
“Three. I shot them with my arrows. Two died instantly. One . . ..” She frowned. “He took my arrow in his chest, but I did not watch him die.”
Birk grunted. “There were but two when I arrived. If the third man escaped, he could have carried the tale with him.”
A look of horror swept across Carys’s face.
“Dinnae fash. They were raiding villages long before ye interfered.”
“’Tis unlikely he saw me. I stood in the shadows and wore my hood pulled low.”
“Good. I will set a patrol along the coast.” He sighed. “Again. We have searched but have been unable to locate their nest. ’Tis possible someone shelters them and encourages the raids on those loyal to the King of Scots, for even with the Treaty of Perth, allegiances are uncertain.”
“There is something driving them other than greed?” Carys asked.
“’Tis possible. Though it has been some years since the king of Norway ceded the Isles to King Alexander, old grievances yet simmer.” Birk shrugged away his annoyance at her persistence. “But they prey upon my land and I willnae give in to their demands. I will see my people safe from such scoundrels if I must chase the devils to hell myself.”
He peered at his daughters, struck anew at how precious they were. “They deserve a life free from such fear, as do all children,” he added, eying Carys, recognizing her life had been anything but free from unending strife and fear that might have disabled another, less hardy spirit.
Carys nodded. “Aye. There are many things we would attempt for our children.”
Birk leaned forward, hands clasped, forearms resting on his thighs. “’Tis clear the lasses learned to like ye this night. They did not fear being in the tower?”
Carys’s face softened, yet she drew back, caution in her eyes. “They were happy enough to hear stories of Cymru and nibble the food your cook sent up.” She clapped her hands on the bench on either side of her legs. “I must seek a bed for a few hours’ sleep. Is the tower room your preference?”
“She can sleep with us, Da,” Eislyn said, scooting forward to peer up at her father. “She isnae afraid of anything, and Abria and I willnae bother her.”
“Ye like Carys, aye?” Birk tilted his head, curious to see the Welsh woman’s reaction. Her cheeks pinked then blanched.
“She knows Cymraeg, Da,” Eislyn reported as though this were of vast importance.
“Did she help ye choose a name for yer wee pup, then?”
“Och, I dinnae know,” his daughter replied breezily. “I think Abria should choose. ’Tis more her pup than mine.”
I would give half my life for Abria to speak the dog’s name aloud. Birk shook his head gently. “Mayhap ye should help her make the decision. I’m certain she will like whatever ye choose.”
Eislyn worried her lip through a gap between two lower teeth where she’d lost a baby tooth just the week before. “Carys told us banon and maelona mean queen and princess,” she mused. “I like those for names.”
“Her name is Tegan.”
A voice Birk hadn’t heard in more than two years piped softly from the floor at his feet. His blood ran cold then heated his body in a rush as he realized Abria had spoken. Tears sprang to his eyes and his hands trembled. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to remain calm.
“Tegan is a beautiful name, Abria. Is it Welsh?”
Slowly he allowed his gaze to drift to his youngest daughter, cautious lest he startle her. Eyes seemingly too big for her thin face stared at him, fathomless dark pools glistening with tears. Her lower lip trembled slightly. Birk gently curved his lips into a soft smile, begging her and all the saints for another word.
God, please dinnae let her retreat from me again! Whatever miracle has been wrought, dinnae take it from me.
Abria’s gaze slid to Carys who gave an encouraging nod. “Do ye remember what tegan means?” she asked.
“Pretty,” Abria whispered. She grasped the puppy tighter in her lap, pulling the unresisting furry body against her chest.
“Rydych chi’n ferch ddewr,” Carys murmured soothingly. “You are a brave and beautiful girl. ’Tis a pleasure to hear your voice.”
Memories crashed through Birk’s heart of a time misspent in anger and impatience, of two wee lasses perplexed at the whims of their mother’s love. Overwhelmed by the change wrought in the past hours, he struggled to find his voice.
His eyes met Carys’s, her face swimming in his watery gaze. “Ye have no idea . . ..”
A lump rose in Carys’s throat. She’d watched Abria all the long night after Brody’s revelation. Poor lass, bereft of her ma and trusting none but her sister, and mayhap her grandma when she was available. Not a sound had the child made, not through tales of mermaids or dragons, nor in response to the morsels on the tray sent up from the kitchen.
Only Abria’s silent crawl into Carys’s lap had broken the child’s long hours of reticence. It had warmed Carys’s heart to have the small body press trustingly against hers. It reduced her to tears now to hear the sweet tentative voice.
Judging by the look on her da’s face, and the shock on Brody’s as well, she was not the only one so affected. Eislyn hugged her sister.
“I like Tegan. ’Tis a good name.”
Abria didn’t answer, her chin propped atop the puppy’s chunky head, a pointed ear brushing either side of her face.
“I should grant ye yer freedom for the miracle ye’ve wrought,” Birk said, his voice hoarse. “But even at sword point, I wouldnae give ye up.” His face grew grim. “There is still the matter of our marriage.”
A prickle of fear slid down Carys’s spine. What would Hywel counsel? Marriage to a man I do not know, in reparation for a crime I did not knowingly commit? ’Tis no way to start a marriage. I do not know how to trust him, much less build a relationship with him.
She was reminded of her boast to her brother. I do not need a man for my life to be complete. She glanced at Eislyn and Abria, their eyes round with expectancy. But I do need family, and mayhap love. Would a son to help replace the men I’ve lost in my life be too much to ask?
Her gaze shifted to Birk, the planes of his face unyielding, the tilt of his chin proud. But his eyes—his eyes flickered with insistence. He wanted her to agree.
But did he want her?
“Grant me the ability to finish my task. I have sworn a promise and will not rest until I see it through,” she countered.
He’s admitted knowing Captain Ferguson and Tully. Mayhap he knows where to look for Tully’s mam. And ’tis possible I can find a way to meet with Gorrie and help supply food for his family and continue his training. Dairborrodal Castle isn’t so far away.
Birk’s jaw clenched, a ripple of muscle stretching the skin taut at his temples. Something kept him from releasing her. He warred with his thoughts and his brow lowered. Finally, he sent Brody a curt nod.
“See the lasses to their room. I will find someone to stay with them.”
He rose and motioned Carys to join him. “Ye and I must talk.”
A sliver of hope lit in Carys’s heart. It seemed a small thing, but the fond murmurs of her mam and da late in the evening hummed in her ears. A smile tempted her lips. This could be the start of a new life. A son of hers would not only be an heir for Birk, but an heir of Wales. She would not let the
prince’s lineage end with her.
Hywel would be pleased. Whether the child ever returned to Wales or not, the prince’s bloodline would prevail.
Carys could almost see her brother’s face, a grin of encouragement as she fell into step with the man who would soon claim her as wife. Hywel would want her to live.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A rhythmic pounding caught Carys’s attention as she and Birk entered the bailey. Birk paced slowly, hands loose at his sides while Carys searched for the source. Mists swirled from the ground as the sun peered over the castle walls. Premonition ran chilled fingers up her spine.
A tall post, leaning slightly with the weight of a cross piece near its top, loomed dark against the pale morning sky. Two men at its base hammered a support in place.
Carys whirled on Birk, anger flaring, loose strands of black hair snapping in the wind. “A gallows? You had a gallows erected?”
Birk motioned to a coarse wooden bench next to the smith’s shed. It leaned against the newly repaired wall of the smithy, though no fire burned in the forge.
“That isnae what I wished to discuss.”
“Wish it or not, ’tis standing in your bailey,” she snarled. “Discuss it or not, it is meant to remind me of my fate, should I not agree to this marriage.” She waved a hand at the new construction.
“Or, mayhap there are other miscreants in this castle soon to meet their fate.” Birk countered her furious gaze with a steady look. “I wish to speak of your request to return to the forest. Howbeit, if ye would rather discuss the gallows, we can waste time there.” He sat on the bench, his casual manner infuriating her further.
“Tell me the truth,” she demanded, flinging a hand toward the edifice. “Is that meant to influence my decision? Remind me of what little choice I have in the matter?”
One dark eyebrow quirked upward. “I am not in the habit of looking for ways to frighten women.”
“Choosing the gallows over you does not frighten me overmuch.” Carys folded her arms across her chest, not only to keep from slapping the calm arrogance from his face but to shield herself from his gaze. She inspected his robust form from head to toe, his seated position doing little to minimize his tall, muscular build. He radiated power and authority, his body purely male, perhaps even attractive. At least, some women might think so.
