The Highlander's Welsh Bride: Book 5 in the Hardy Heroines series

by Cathy MacRae

  “My da died,” Tully stated matter-of-factly.

  “Welcome to my . . . our home,” Hanna said. She stroked a hand over the girls’ heads. “Let us go inside. There is food waiting, and then, I think, a nap. I wish to know more about your new ma.”

  Abria slipped to Carys’s side. “I like her.”

  Hanna paled and Carys caught her breath as the older woman’s mouth dropped and she took a staggering step. A hand flew to her throat and she swayed like a ship’s mast in a gentle swell. After a moment, Hanna broke her gaze from Abria and fixed an astonished stare on Carys.

  “Oh, aye,” she whispered, her voice raspy with shock. “I wish to know much more about ye.”

  * * *

  Birk gazed beyond the dock, but the Alacrity was beyond his sight. Were the pirates bold—or vengeful—enough to attack the larger ship? He snorted. Let them try. The Alacrity was well-protected and took pride in the ballistas mounted both fore and aft. The pirates’ galley was too unstable to risk ramming tactics, and the Alacrity would take little harm. He sent a silent blessing for her fortuitous appearance that morn and safe travel beyond.

  He returned his attention to Dugan and Iain who would send patrols.

  “Have we heard from any clansmen? Word of attacks or even unexplained thefts? Any mention of sightings?”

  A chill swept through him to think what could have happened had the pirates timed their approach even a little sooner. He recalled the agony of Carys’s fear that she’d brought the attack on them for her actions against Colin Dubh. Rage roared through him. By God’s teeth, he’d see the pirates routed one way or another.

  “Nae.” Dugan shrugged. “Mayhap a missing ewe or calf. Who’s to say ’twas pirates, a wolf, or simply a beast yet to be accounted for?”

  Birk ground his teeth. “I willnae wait for them to attack my people,” he growled. “We must find their lair.”

  The men waited quietly as Birk drew a deep breath then settled a calmer line to his jaw.

  “We will find them and put an end to this nonsense. Whatever pockets of resentment still exist in the Isles, I will have it settled—if need be, by the sword.”

  “The king is tolerant of those remaining who dinnae care for the change in rule,” Iain pointed out.

  Birk snapped his head around. “Tolerance be damned! I willnae subject my people or my family to these predations for one more day! They have crossed the line and will suffer the consequences.”

  Dugan and Iain nodded. Birk knew he set them a nigh impossible task. There were many islands and inlets more than able to hide the renegades, not to mention hiding in broad daylight among people who paid tribute to Scotland whilst harboring grudges against the Scottish king. He sent each man a hard stare. Impossible or not, he would have it done.

  He glanced up, seeking Carys and the children across the pier. They were gone. For a heartbeat, he scanned the water beyond the dock, but a cart, three children, their driver and a horse couldn’t have fallen in without creating a stramash of some sort. His gaze flew along the road through the village to the gates of MacLean Castle. The road wove intentionally back and forth, not allowing an enemy a straight path to the fortress. From the dock, he could not see through the village. But he had no doubt where Carys had gone.

  Shite! His careful plan to introduce Carys to the clan—and his mother—had fallen apart. He mounted Bran, retrieved from the makeshift stall aboard the Már and kicked him into a slow canter, hooves clattering on the wooden planks before reaching the packed dirt of the road into the village. Ten mounted soldiers fell in behind him. He slowed as they reached the cobblestone street packed with people, then urged his horse faster as they approached the castle gates. Small carts and foot-travelers gave way before him, closing behind his men-at-arms like water flowing around a large boulder.

  He spied his mother before the keep’s doors, one hand on Eislyn’s head, the other at her throat. Abria and Carys stood at the foot of the steps.

  His gut clenched.

  He drew his horse to a halt a few feet away, tossing the reins to a stable lad who scurried across the yard. Battling down his concern, he reached Carys’s side and placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened. Abria glanced up and held out her arms. Birk scooped her up.

  “My Lord Baron.” Carys’s greeting slid like cold steel between his ribs. “Your mother has a meal awaiting us. Shall we go in? The children are hungry.”

  Without lingering for his answer, she swept up the steps, Tully on her heels. She nodded to Hanna who sent Birk a wide-eyed gaze that settled on Abria. Birk patted his daughter’s back and followed the others inside.

  A cheer went up from a group of soldiers gathered at one end of a row of tables. Servants paused, glancing at the door. A few joined the huzzahs while others doubled their industry. Abria squirmed to the floor, joining her sister as they bolted for the head table. Carys seated them and Tully, hands in their laps as they awaited permission to eat, bottoms bouncing eagerly in their chairs.

  Hanna sat, waving Birk to the table Carys calmly took her seat to Hanna’s right, leaving the large chair—the lord’s chair—his chair—empty. Talk slid to an awkward halt in the room as all eyes turned to Carys who’d claimed Lady MacLean’s seat as though her right. A speculative buzz swept the crowd.

  “Please be seated, Birk,” Hanna chided, her voice clear. “I wish to get to know your lovely wife better, and our meal is getting cold.”

  His eyes narrowed. They’d not been five minutes ashore and Carys had already drawn Hanna to her side. He trod forcefully across the boards to the table and yanked his heavy chair from beneath the table and sat. The room grew hushed again as he said a brief prayer over the meal. Before the chatter could resume, he rose.

  “My apologies for not being available to escort my wife into the castle. ’Tis difficult to bribe children to remain in place a moment longer when food and their amma await.”

  The people stared at him in wordless astonishment. Birk ground his teeth and hid his scowl. “Carys Wen fila Pedr honored me by becoming my wife a little more than a fortnight ago. We will celebrate with a feast tomorrow night.”

  He returned to his seat and dragged a platter of sliced meat to his trencher. He added bread and cheese before taking a bite.

  “Don’t forget your vegetables,” Carys murmured, reaching for a platter of roasted carrots. She placed a number of them on his trencher. “The girls need ye to set a good example.” She gifted him with a brilliant smile, its effect marred by the arched brow challenging him to complain.

  He grabbed a carrot and tore it in half with his teeth, eliciting a giggle from Eislyn, a hesitant smile from Abria, and a mimicking move from Tully. Carys smiled serenely. Hanna raised an eyebrow in reproof.

  The girls’ high spirits soon unraveled into bickering, emphasizing their need for a restorative nap.

  Carys rose. “I will see to the girls.”

  “I have missed them. I shall accompany ye.” Hanna stood. “Tully, would ye care for a bit of a rest, or are ye well enough here?”

  Tully glanced at Birk. “I dinnae need a nap.”

  Birk nodded. “He is fine with me. Dugan or I will show him about.”

  Carys paused. “Then do not look for me before the evening meal. I will find my way back.”

  Birk bristled at her tone. What had he done? The woman who had melted in his arms whilst aboard ship, had once again erected a chilly barrier between them. And dragged Hanna behind it with her.

  * * *

  Hanna kissed each of the girls and tucked their blankets to their chins. “I wish to hear all about your new ma as soon as ye wake from your naps. Mayhap after supper?”

  “Aye,” Eislyn yawned, sleep already catching up with her. “She came to us ’cause of the pirates.”

  Carys’s heart warmed. Eislyn had a warrior’s heart, her sister the gentle one. Though Eislyn obviously cared a great deal for Abria, she was fiercely protective rather than nurturing.

  “She he
lped me name Tegan,” Abria added.

  Hanna brushed a lock of hair from Abria’s cheek. “I love hearing your voice.” Her tone was light, but Carys heard the conflicting undercurrents of pride and pain. Hanna placed a kiss on each girl’s forehead and motioned Carys to the chairs near the hearth.

  Carys tucked Tegan onto a rug beside Abria’s bed, though she knew where she’d find the puppy later. “We will linger a bit until ye are asleep,” she reassured them, noticing their sighs as they closed their eyes.

  Hanna stood silent a moment then turned her gaze from the girls to Carys. “Will ye join me?”

  Carys perched on the edge of one chair, apprehension striking again as she realized she faced her husband’s mother. Though Carys had taken a moment to change from her travel-stained leggings and tunic into a plain woolen gown, she didn’t think Hanna would make the mistake again of judging her by outward appearances.

  “I have so many questions,” Hanna began. “But no matter who ye are or what your circumstances, I will never forget Abria’s first words to me were of ye.” She blinked her eyes rapidly. “When did this miracle occur?”

  “A little more than a fortnight ago.”

  Hanna’s bland questioning look told Carys she awaited a better answer.

  “I had arrived at Dairborrodal Castle, and the village came under attack.”

  To Hanna’s credit, she merely drew her lips into a hard line.

  “I have fought—many times.” Carys wasn’t certain Hanna would understand. But the older woman nodded.

  “Your clothing when ye arrived told me ye arenae merely a pretty face. There is sorrow and hardship behind ye. ’Tis possible we share a similar past.” She favored Carys with a half-smile. “Mind ye, my allegiance is to my son, but I do not speak out of turn when I say Birk needs a strong wife. Tell me more of Abria.”

  Carys gave Hanna’s words a chance to settle. It cheered her to know her new mother by marriage did not harbor unreasonable expectations of her son.

  “Their nurse, Ina . . ..” Carys paused when Hanna nodded thoughtfully. “Ina was nowhere to be found. Eislyn announced she was hiding beneath a table, but we did not have time to seek her out. Though I was on my way to lending a hand with the rogues in the village, I could not leave the girls unprotected.”

  Another thoughtful nod, this one accompanied by a low hum of approval.

  “Birk sent Brody and me with the girls to the tower room. We spent a lot of time singing, playing games, and telling stories.” Carys shrugged. “It comforted Abria, I think.”

  “We have spent two years comforting the child,” Hanna disagreed.

  “But I was a stranger yet vowed to protect her.”

  “Ye offered your life for hers, should it come to that. And ye wrought a miracle.”

  Carys opened her mouth, but Hanna shook her head. “’Tis the most precious gift, and I will not have ye tarnish it with your denial.” She leaned back in her chair and laced her hands across her lap.

  “Tell me how ye and my son met.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Birk attempted to settle into the shipping business at hand in the solitude of his solar, but thoughts of his ma and Carys left him uneasy. He pushed away from his desk and stormed across the room.

  I willnae leave either of them to weave tales about me—true or not. The time to tell Hanna how he’d met and married Carys in his own words was well past, but perhaps he could salvage at least part of the story. He did not expect her to lie, but the part of the story Carys knew was enough to put him in his ma’s bad graces for quite a long while.

  He grasped the latch as a knock sounded. Surprised, he jerked open the door, startling the man on the other side of the portal. Slim, with the wiry build of a sailor, skin burnished from hours in the sun, he bobbed his head.

  “’E’en, m’laird,” he said, fumbling in a leather pouch looped over his shoulder with a thin strap. Finding what he sought, he handed Birk a packet wrapped in oiled cloth. Birk accepted it and motioned for the man to join him in the solar.

  “Thank ye, but th’ missus will be lookin’ fer me, and I’ll no’ miss one of Agnes’ meals an’ I can help it.” He grinned. “Master Dawe said he’d be along shortly if ye have any questions.”

  “Be off with ye, then, and dinnae give Mistress Agnes reason to think badly of me.”

  The man bobbed his head respectfully before continuing on his way.

  Returning to his desk, Birk opened the packet the dockmaster had sent and removed a scrap of wood about the size of his hand, planed very thin and gray with age. The surface had been wiped clean many times, but smudges of ink from previous use stained one corner. It did not take Birk long to decipher the writing. He smiled, pleased with what he’d discovered. Carys would be pleased as well.

  * * *

  Hanna offered Carys a mug of watered ale. “Tell me about yourself. What manner of woman caught my son’s heart after rejecting numerous offers?”

  Carys blinked. “He had women proposing marriage to him?”

  That did not follow her opinion of him. Tall, broad-shouldered, built as a warrior, he doubtless set feminine hearts aflutter. But his curt dismissal of things—and people—that did not interest him should not make him the target of a large number of women.

  She considered the hall below. She’d had little time to study its appointments, but she’d noticed the large tapestries, the vast display of weaponry on the wall behind the head table, some swords in shapes she’d never encountered before. The food had been excellent and plentiful, with golden candelabra and goblets marching across ironed white linen spread across the tables. The soaring ceiling had reached two—no, three—storeys high, and the doorway she’d entered from the outside had taken three paces to clear.

  Baron Birk MacLean was a very wealthy man.

  “There were ambitious fathers presenting their daughters,” Hanna amended, possibly following a similar train of thought. “The council was eager for him to present an heir, and not inclined to consider either of his daughters as potential clan leaders.” She shared a smile. “Men.”

  “Aye. Even in Cymru,” Carys agreed.

  “Ye fled Edward’s army?”

  Carys went along with Hanna’s change in topic. “My brother Hywel and I fought alongside Prince Llywelyn ap Gruffudd after our parents were killed. My husband died in battle as well.”

  Hanna’s surprise was evident as she tilted her head. “Ye were married before?”

  “Aye. Briefly. Kings rarely consider the impact of war on families.”

  “’Tis the Lord’s truth.” Hanna subsided into her own thoughts.

  “Hywel and I escaped Cymru after the battle at Orewin Bridge once the prince was killed.”

  “Some say the prince was betrayed.”

  Carys sent Hanna a startled look.

  “Just because I live in Scotland does not mean I do not take an interest in other places.” Hanna smiled. “Ye truly know so little about the man ye married?”

  “I must confess, I believed I married a man of minor consequence, mayhap the captain of the guard, for there is no mistaking his commanding manner or his skill with weapons. I did not think him the gaoler for long.” Carys sighed. “I came to these shores seeking refuge and mayhap a family of my own in time.”

  “Ye will find peace, and your family is larger than you know.”

  Carys turned a bleak expression on her new mother by marriage. “I was afraid of that.”

  Hanna frowned, her brow furrowed. Carys fluttered her fingers to stall the questions. “My brother died when our ship sank in a storm off the Ardnamurchan Peninsula this spring. Tully, the captain’s son, and I, along with his dog, were the only survivors.”

  Hanna blanched. “I knew Captain Ferguson. He was a good man. I am grieved by his loss.”

  “He was not simply a business acquaintance, then? Birk mentioned he knew the captain.”

  “Nae. He was a family friend for all we only saw him when his ship docked
here. I know little of his wife and children. He was full of tales of his travel.”

  “We mean to find Tully’s remaining family and take him home.”

  Hanna appeared lost in thought, but her eyes saddened and Carys wondered what memories haunted her.

  “His mother will be undoubtedly overjoyed to have her son returned to her.” Hanna forced a slight smile. “Not all mothers are so fortunate.”

  “I am sorry for the loss I see in your eyes,” Carys murmured.

  Hanna patted her hand. “Not to worry. My son died defending our home. At least . . . nae I will not speak more of it. It belongs in the past.”

  Carys did not press her, understanding the wretched misery of thinking on the things that occupied the holes in her heart.

  “King Edward’s political ambitions drove us here and killed Hywel as surely as if he’d fallen in battle. Marriage to a man with no title would have left me safely in obscurity from my past and from any who thought to finish what Longshanks started. Now I find myself brought to prominence I did not seek.”

  “Ye are well-spoken,” Hanna commented, her tone reflective. “And ye do not seem worried about running a castle of this size. Ye have lived this grand before.”

  There was no question in Hanna’s words, and Carys merely shrugged. “Grander. From time-to-time.”

  Hanna nodded. “Ye are quite an enigma, Carys MacLean. I will enjoy chatting with you more. For now, I believe the girls are asleep. Let us see what my son might add to your story.”

  * * *

  Birk placed the parchment-thin scrap of wood next to a slim, hide-bound book he’d left on his desk still opened to a treatise on use of lateen sails on a ship. The packet he’d brought with him from Dairborrodal sat square in the center of the desk. He perched one hip on the edge of the desk, his mind on Hanna and Carys.

  She has apparently won Hanna over. Just like she did Eislyn and Abria. And Cook. And even the men she trounced rather than agreeing to come along peaceably. He shook his head, eyebrows lifting as he remembered the day they’d captured her. As easily as she won me over.