Highland Brawn (The Band of Cousins Book 8)

by Keira Montclair

  She had twenty different chambers she cleaned, so she adhered to a tight schedule, but it pleased her whenever a nun told her what a thorough job she’d done. It gave her a sense of pride she’d not experienced before.

  Each evening, her prayers ended with, “Have I done enough for You not to hate me, Lord?”

  Somehow, somewhere, her answer would come, although it had not happened yet.

  While Claray’s nightmares were improving, Sela often woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, swinging at imaginary creatures. Claray slept on a pallet next to her small bed so she didn’t have to worry about striking her.

  Torry slept in the box filled with an old soft plaid that Torrian had given her. The pup slept with his nose wrapped inside the plaid, something mother and daughter loved to watch each night when he settled himself just so. After four or five circles, he’d finally plop down with a grunt, then tossed the blanket a wee bit until his nose was in the middle of the folds.

  Sela thought about Connor often—his gentle ways, his manly scent, his strong character—but mostly she just thought about how much she’d loved being held in his arms. Would she ever have the pleasure again?

  She hoped so. But she hadn’t completed her penance yet.

  Mayhap she never would.

  She was cleaning her chamber one afternoon when Sister Grace came inside to join her. “I thought I’d check on wee Claray. This morn I thought mayhap she was taking a sickly turn. How is she?”

  Sela turned around and looked at her daughter, quietly sitting on the floor playing with Torry. True, she was usually chasing the puppy in circles, but she seemed fine. “I think she’s hale, Sister Grace, but you may be more experienced than me. She wasn’t always with me over the last year.”

  Sister Grace simply smiled—she always smiled, yet it never failed to look genuine—and strode over to Claray. She felt her forehead, then said, “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “My thanks,” Sela said. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  Sister Grace was about to walk out the door, but she hesitated and glanced back. “Did you not clean your chamber yesterday?”

  “Aye, I did.”

  “But you don’t clean all the chambers every day, do you?”

  “Nay, I just like to make sure that the chamber is clean for Claray.” She turned back to the wall she’d just started to scrub before Sister Grace had joined them. “I’m nearly done.”

  Sister Grace strolled over until she stood next to her. “Child, what is it you are afraid of? I sense a deep fear in you of something, but I’m not sure what it is.”

  Sela blushed but kept scrubbing. “’Tis naught, Sister. I’m fine.”

  “Mama and I are afraid of spiders,” Claray said, all innocence. “I don’t like them because they bite.”

  Sela ignored her daughter and continued to work, hoping the nun would accept Claray’s answer and walk away.

  A strange look passed through the nun’s eyes, but she only said, “Well then, I can see ’tis important for you to clean the spiders away every day. If you need anything, Sela, please let me know.”

  “Many thanks to you, Sister Grace.” She stood up to make a slight bow to the dear woman before returning to her work.

  She was surprised that Claray did not wish to go down to the hall for dinner, but since she wasn’t especially hungry herself, she lay on the bed and told Claray a story, a tale about a handsome Highlander who spent his time saving lasses from cruel men.

  Claray asked, “Is his name Connor, Mama? He saved us from mean men.”

  The sound of his name sent Sela’s heart into her throat. “If you like, we can call him Connor.” She couldn’t decide how to end the tale, but she needn’t have worried. They both fell asleep halfway through the story.

  She awakened to an odd sound. Rolling onto her side, she glanced at Claray, realizing the sound came from two sources. One was an odd moaning from her daughter, and the second, louder noise was from Torry whining whenever he sniffed Claray. She bolted up and touched her daughter’s cheek to awaken her, only to find she was burning with fever.

  Claray wouldn’t wake up.

  Filled with panic, Sela picked her up and ran down the passageway screaming, “Help me, please. My daughter.” She didn’t know what to do for her, but someone had to know. Claray was everything to her.

  Many nuns came out of their chambers. “What is it?” one called. “What’s wrong with Claray?” another asked.

  “She will not awaken. Her skin is hot and sweaty, and I know not what to do. Help me, please. Where is the healer?” She searched each face in desperation.

  The first nun who’d spoken said, “I’ll send a guard for Mistress Jennie. She’s a fine healer.”

  By the time Jennie arrived, Sela was sitting in a chair in one of the receiving rooms sobbing, clutching her daughter to her chest and repeating, “Please don’t take her, please don’t take her, please, God. She’s all I have. Please save her.” She rocked in a motion that nearly made her sick, but she couldn’t stop.

  Claray was her first bairn, so she often felt lost. How she wished her mother were here to help. Claray had only had a fever once before, and it hadn’t been this bad. What was she to do?

  A woman stepped inside the chamber, and her likeness to Alexander Grant marked her as Jennie. Her brown hair had a few strands of gray in it, but she was still a beautiful woman with kind eyes. “Ah, this must be Claray,” she said. “I’m Jennie Cameron. Are you not Sela?”

  “Aye, Sela Seton. This is my daughter and I don’t know what to do to help her. I’ve never seen a fever this bad…I don’t know…bairns are puzzling…how can I help…”

  “Hush. I’ve been caring for bairns for a verra long time. May I hold her?”

  Sela handed her over with a nod. If this woman was Connor’s aunt, she could be trusted. Jennie cradled Claray on her lap as she quickly instructed the nuns on what she needed. She then poked and prodded the lassie in what was probably an attempt to awaken her.

  Claray did not stir.

  “Wee ones often get sicknesses, much more than we adults do. They come and they go, and sometimes there’s naught we can do but keep them warm and give them things to drink. The fever burns them dry so we must get her some goat’s milk or even water.”

  One nun said, “I’ll get the milk, Mistress Jennie.”

  Jennie unwrapped Claray from much of her clothing. “I’m going to cool her down a wee bit to see if that will help.” She shot a glance at Sela. “Connor told me about you and your daughter, you are aware of this?”

  “Aye. He looks much like you, and you look like his sire.”

  “Alex is my eldest brother. Brenna Ramsay is my dearest sister. I’m sure you have met her. Our mother and grandsire were both healers. Tell me how you met Connor.”

  Once the nuns brought her everything she needed, she sent them out and asked them to close the door. “I’d like to hear about you and Connor. Please do tell. He is a dear nephew because he reminds me so much of my brother.”

  “Connor…I…” What should she say? For some reason, she decided brutal honesty would be best with this woman. “I met Connor when I was known as the Ice Queen of Inverness. I worked for the Channel of Dubh. While I wasn’t aware they were selling lads and lasses until the very end, I was involved with other parts of their operation. Connor and his cousins fought the Dubh men in Inverness, Edinburgh, and finally put an end to the bastards in Berwick. I’m here to make amends for what I did. I’m deciding whether to take my vows as a nun.”

  Jennie Cameron assessed her for a few moments as she washed Claray with cool water. “And Claray’s sire?”

  “He’s dead. Truthfully, I’m not exactly sure who her sire was.” Sela stared at the unlit hearth in front of them, waiting to see if the woman would chastise her. “There were two men, both are gone.”

  Jennie’s voice came out in a soft, compassionate tone that reminded her of her dear mother. “So if I were to guess
, you were stolen from your home, raped, and forced into servitude. You gave birth to this beautiful bairn, but they used her as leverage against you. Made you do things to ensure her safety.”

  Tears flooded her cheeks. Jennie was as brutally honest as she’d been.

  And exactly right. How had she guessed? All she could do was mumble, “Aye.”

  “And I would also guess that you love Connor, but you don’t feel you are deserving of his love and all he offers you.”

  She stared at the ground, unable to speak.

  Jennie’s voice washed over her, reminding her of the way her mother had spoken to her when she’d woken up in the night, feeling poorly. “You need not say anything, but you’ve answered my questions. I’ve seen women in similar situations, and what I’d like to tell you is that you needn’t make amends for anything you did while horrible men kept control of you by holding your daughter. You have every right to happiness and should forgive yourself.”

  “Forgive myself?”

  “When people control you like that, it warps your way of thinking, and most mothers will do whatever they have to in order to protect their bairns. I see your actions as no different. ’Tis the way nature intended it. Every bear, every boar, every creature of God acts the same. You did as nature intended for you to do.”

  That thought had never occurred to her. Were all mothers equally fierce? Her mother definitely had been. She recalled how Mama had tried to hide her from Guy and Dee.

  “Mama?” Claray opened her eyes and stared up at Mistress Jennie.

  Sela jumped up and knelt next to her. “Sweetling, how do you feel?”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Jennie sat her up and said, “We have some fresh goat’s milk for you. We’ll help you drink.”

  Claray touched Jennie’s face and said, “Who are you? I like you.”

  So did Sela, and she’d never forget her kind words. Even though Connor had told her much the same thing, Connor loved her—it felt different hearing the sentiment from this strong, wise woman who had no reason to stretch the truth to comfort her.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Claray was much better two days later. Mistress Jennie had stopped by to see her twice a day, and each time, she and Sela ended up talking for hours. Jennie liked to tell stories about how wee Connor had tried to mimic his twin brothers, grabbing every sword he could get his hands on. He’d given his mother several starts when he was caught dragging men’s swords across the bailey at the tender age of three.

  But then again, his older brothers had done the same.

  She’d also told Sela that Alex had carried each of his bairns around on his chest, wrapped into position with a plaid. Connor had especially loved it when his papa would carry him out to the lists that way, facing outward so he could watch the men practice. He’d bounce up and down in excitement, so much so that Alex would often need to catch him to keep him from falling.

  Sela loved hearing her stories, but it seemed her nightmares had gotten worse as Claray’s condition improved. More often than not, she woke herself up because she was swinging her fists so forcefully.

  When she confided this to Mistress Jennie, the older woman clucked her tongue. “Why don’t I take Claray and Torry home with me for a few days? I have two daughters who would love to fuss over her.”

  Claray was so excited by the prospect of her adventure she nearly jumped on the horse—further proof that she was indeed well. She sat in Jennie’s grasp and waved goodbye, her dear puppy in a guard’s care. “Bye, Mama. I’ll be back soon.”

  Sela waved back. While she knew Claray was accustomed to being away from her, the way her bairn had left so easily—and with such excitement—had hurt her heart.

  So she returned to scrubbing. She cleaned the chambers every day, but still the nightmares persisted.

  One night, she woke up and swore Hord was standing on the other side of the chamber. She screamed and two guards rushed inside, but no one was there. During the day, she paced the grounds of the abbey, while at night she scrubbed the inside of her chamber and slept with the tallows lit and her door open.

  If she could call what she did sleeping.

  She slept less each day.

  Hord was here. She knew it.

  ***

  The group of Grants left Ramsay land. Connor’s father had promised Maddie she’d be back in time for Yule, and Braden and Roddy were both ready to head home.

  The temptation to turn toward Cameron land and Lochluin Abbey was undeniable, but everyone had advised him to be patient.

  And patient he was for nearly a sennight at Grant Castle. By then, his every thought was for Sela. His hope that she would accept his proposal had dimmed, yet he longed to know how she was doing.

  If she was well.

  He awakened early and went down to the great hall to break his fast. To his surprise, his sister Kyla was already sitting at the dais, munching on an apple. “’Tis quite a belly you’re growing there, lass,” he teased. “Think you ’tis a lad or a lassie?”

  She giggled, her dark hair unbound and hanging down her back. “I think ’tis a lassie, but if I have to listen to one more of Finlay and Jamie’s arguments about who’s having the first laddie, I’ll tear every single one of my hairs out.”

  He smiled at his sister. “You’re verra happy. I like seeing you this way.”

  “I am,” she said, beaming, but her smile slipped as she looked at him. “But you’re not. I wish I’d met Sela. Tell me about her.”

  “She’s almost as tall as I am, and her hair is long and so blonde ’tis nearly white. She’s beautiful, but I saw the pain in her eyes right away. I knew she was hurting. Although I didn’t understand her circumstances at first, I suspected there was more to her than met the eye. I don’t know what else to say other than the more I learned about her, the more I started falling for her.”

  Their mother emerged from the kitchens with a bowl of porridge, her eyes lighting up when she saw them. They were the only ones in the great hall because it was so early. “May I join my children?”

  “Of course, Mama,” Kyla said.

  “Am I interrupting anything?” Maddie asked as she sat beside Kyla. “I don’t wish to get in the way of an important conversation.”

  “Connor was just telling me about Sela.”

  “Mama,” Connor said, “I’ve been wanting to ask you a question, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll answer if I can,” she said, taking a bite of her porridge.

  “Papa told me it took you awhile to accept his proposal. What changed your mind?”

  His mother fussed with the stray hairs that had fallen from her plait as she thought. “I was afraid of your father. He had this way of yelling when he got upset that I didn’t like.”

  “Papa?” Kyla said in surprise, leaning forward on her elbows. “He never yells.”

  “Now he rarely does, but when he was young? Ask your uncles. They’ll tell you the same. Age has mellowed him, definitely, but my reluctance to marry him was more about me, not him.” She lowered her spoon into the bowl and set her elbows on the table, folding her hands. “Connor, that poor woman was misused for five years. But the worst part of the ill treatment she suffered is she was forced to watch her bairn be misused. I can’t imagine going through something like that. Her guilt, however misguided, must be verra powerful. At least, mine would be.”

  “But why?” Kyla asked. “’Twas not her fault if the men controlled her.”

  “No matter what, I would wonder if there was something I could have done for my bairn, some way I could have outsmarted them or run away.”

  A fast scowl stole over Kyla’s face. “Oh, Mama. I have to agree with her, Connor. I was awfully mad I couldn’t outsmart my captors when I was kidnapped. I was mad at them, but I was also mad at myself for not being clever enough to get myself out of the situation.”

  “But you did get away,” Connor reminded her.

  “Aye, but that didn’t matter. I’ll n
ever forget how hard it was to talk to Papa when I came back. I was so ashamed of what I’d done.”

  “And Sela’s suffering was on a much larger scale,” his mother said. “I don’t believe any of us can comprehend what she’s been through. Watching her parents killed, watching her daughter undergo torture. My heavens.” She stared into her bowl of porridge as if transported back to another time long ago. “You have to be patient. And I know this doesn’t make sense to you, but she has to learn to love herself again.”

  “What?” Connor asked.

  “She’s angry with herself for all that transpired. She may even believe that she could have prevented either of her parents’ death. She has to love herself before she can love another.”

  Kyla nodded, taking another bite of her apple. “Our mother speaks wisely. Heed her words.”

  Connor’s twin brothers burst in through the front door, full of energy and vigor despite the early hour. “Get your lazy arse out in the lists, brother,” Jake bellowed. “I’d like to see how you beat those Dubh men.”

  “Nay,” Jamie said. “I want him to go to the butts with me. I heard Aunt Gwyneth worked with you for a time.”

  He nodded. “And Gregor. What better teachers could I have? I’ll visit the butts with you, Jamie. They gave me some special arrows I’ve not seen before.”

  He got up from the table, leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek, and said, “My thanks to you both.”

  Connor spent several hours working with his brothers, taking the occasional break for ale and conversation. It was a good distraction from thoughts of Sela—until Jamie mentioned her.

  “Are you worried about Mama and Papa accepting Sela?” Jamie asked.

  Connor thought about his recent conversations with his parents. “At first, aye. But they both told me they don’t judge her for what she did under the control of the Dubh men. Do you feel differently?”