A Price to Be Paid
Legacy of the Laird, Book Two
Darcy Armstrong
Copyright © 2021 by Darcy Armstrong
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Contents
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AD 15th Century
Prologue
Prologue
One Month Later
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Five Days Later
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Denouement
Denouement
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Teaser
Teaser
A Word From the Author
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The Steward of Her Heart
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The Steward of Her Heart is the humorous and heartwarming story of Fergus and Margaret, and how they find love at long last.
AD 15th Century
Highlands, Scotia
Prologue
Lilidh MacBrennan
The castle loomed high above Lilidh MacBrennan, and she looked at it with trepidation.
She’d made this walk more than once over the last six years, and it had never become easier. The wide cobbled avenue wound up a steep slope from the town and was an ardous climb, but it wasn’t the physical act that Lilidh found so difficult. Rather, it was the act of stepping back into her past.
A past best forgotten.
She squared her shoulders and took the first step, then the one after that, and with each step found the going easier. The street around her was busy with merchants and shoppers going about their business, moving towards the castle and away, shouting and advertising their wares as they went.
One such merchant passed close by with a basket of salted fish under one arm, and Lilidh gave him a smile. The man lifted his head with a ready smile in return, until their eyes met, and his face froze. As she watched, his lips turned down into a frown and he quickly stepped past her.
Lilidh sighed, then asked herself why today would be any different.
The going was slow and Lilidh watched in grim amusement as some people recognised her and moved out of the way, a few even going so far as to cross the street to avoid her. She must have been a truly terrifying figure, in her best dress and boots, and hair tied up into curls.
At the top of the hill, the street turned into a stone bridge that spanned across to the castle gate. Guards stood to either side and she felt her breath quicken at the sight of their long swords and steel breastplates. They stopped each person as they approached, questioning them briefly, before stepping aside and waving them into the castle. Lilidh waited patiently until she was next.
A guard motioned her forward and she lifted her head and approached confidently. After all, she had every right to be there.
“State yer business,” the guard said, his eyes narrowing.
“I’m here for an interview with the chamberlain,” Lilidh said. “For the position that’s available in the kitchens. My name is -“
“I know who ye are,” the man said gruffly.
Lilidh nodded; of course they did. She gestured towards the gate. “May I?”
The man stepped back and conferred with the other guard in low tones, and every few seconds one of them would glance up at Lilidh. She started to grow impatient, when the first guard broke off and returned to her.
“Ye'll be escorted into the chamberlain’s study,” he said. “One moment.”
“Escorted?” Lilidh repeated. “Am I such a threat?”
The man shrugged. “Ye are who ye are. Please stand over there.”
Lilidh bit down an angry retort and moved to one side to allow the flow of people to continue. They all looked at her with interest, and she felt suddenly self-conscious; after all, who else needed an armed escort even to enter the castle?
Only Lilidh MacBrennan, it seemed.
A third guard appeared shortly and waved her over. “To the chamberlain’s study?” He asked.
“Aye,” Lilidh answered, and then held out her hands. “Unless ye want to put me in chains, first?”
He shook his head, and Lilidh had the alarming feeling that he was considering the jest seriously. “I dinnae think that will be necessary,” he said slowly.
Lilidh sighed. It appeared that having a sense of humour wasn’t in their job description. “Fine,” she said. “Lead on.”
The man turned and walked into the castle with one hand on the pommel of his sword. Lilidh swallowed nervously as she followed him under the gate, feeling the disapproving stares of the guards burn into her back as she did so.
The table in front of Lilidh was smooth and polished to a sheen. Even in the reflection, she could see the frowning face of the chamberlain staring back across its expanse.
She did her best to keep her hands clasped still in front of her, but today of all days, she had more reason to be nervous than most. What was she doing here? She didn’t belong in the castle; her place wasn’t amongst the laird and his family, or the world he was trying to build.
No, her life was mixed in with the ashes of the past, churned with bitter memory into mud.
The chamberlain looked at her in silence. How many young lasses had she interviewed across this very table, sizing them up and taking their measure, before even a word was spoken?
Only, Lilidh wasn’t a young lass, and she was considerably more complicated besides.
She looked down at her hands, shaking as they were, and had a sudden need to be out of the woman’s stare. She was wasting both of their time. It was a silly thing to believe that she would ever work in the castle, and so with a slight sigh, she straightened her back and prepared to stand and offer an apology.
“Mrs MacBrennan,” the chamberlain said suddenly.
Lilidh paused and slowly lowered herself back into the chair, hoping the woman hadn’t caught the movement. “Aye.”
“This isnae the first time ye’ve applied for a posting in the castle, is it?”
“Nay, chamberlain.”
“Margaret,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Nay, Margaret. I’ve applied for every posting that has opened up in the last four years.”
“I see. And that was how many?”
“Seventeen.”
Margaret nodded slowly, almost to herself. “Seventeen applications. And this is yer first interview.”
“Aye.”
“Tell me, Lilidh, why do ye keep applying?”
Lilidh looked down at the table and frowned. “I suppose it’s because I have to.”
Margaret nodded and glanced down at her notes. Lilidh could see her scan the page, eyes moving left to right. “Ye have a son?” The chamberlain asked finally.
“Aye, a wee lad. His name is Fynn, and he’s six years auld.”
Margaret tapped one finger on the table as she read. “So tell me, Lilidh, do ye know why ye’ve never sat at this table, despite seventeen applications?” she asked.
Lilidh took a deep breath. “Aye, I know.”
“Good. Then before we go too far, perhaps it’s best we talked about it.”
“Him, ye mean,” Lilidh said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Aye, him,” Margaret agreed. “Mathe MacBrennan, your late husband.”
“It always comes back to him, doesnae it?”
“Of course,” Margaret replied. “Mathe was the most feared man in Dun Lagaidh, and did terrible things in the name of the auld laird. His very name reminds us of a time we’re all best forgetting, so it’s nay surprise his legacy would continue to affect you.”
“I needed an armed escort just to get into this room,” Lilidh said. “And do ye know what the people of the town call me? Widow MacBrennan. I dinnae even have a name to the townspeople. I’m just the widow MacBrennan.”
“Mathe might have died many years ago, but such things arenae forgotten easily, or quickly. Either in the castle, or in the town.”
“Aye,” Lilidh said, “and he continues to make life hard for me and my lad, even from the grave. I’m shunned by the townspeople, Margaret, and Fynn doesnae have any friends, because nobody will let their children play with the son of MacBrennan.”
“Ye havenae taken another man?” Margaret asked. “Ye’re still a young woman, after all.”
“Nay, I havenae taken a man. Word travels fast, and even strangers in Dun Lagaidh learn who I am, soon enough, and that I have a wee lad besides. Why would any man look at me? There’s simply nay good reason to take that chance.”
Margaret nodded and scribbled something down on her paper. “And so, if I were to ask ye to summarise yer feelings towards yer late husband?”
“Hate,” Lilidh said after barely a moment’s consideration. “I hate him.”
“A strong emotion.”
“Why wouldn’t I? Even when he was still alive, we’d drifted apart because of his cruel nature. We were almost living like two strangers, and no' man and wife. He spent more time in the castle than he did at home, and even slept there. He made my life hard when he was alive, and harder still when he died. Of course I’m going to hate him.”
Margaret nodded. “I’m sorry that I needed to ask.”
“I ken,” Lilidh said, blowing out her breath. “I do.”
“Thank you. Now, I think I’ve covered all I need to know about your late husband. Perhaps we should we move onto other matters?”
“Please,” Lilidh said fervently.
“Good,” Margaret said, and gave her a suddenly warm smile. “Let’s continue with the interview, then. I’d like for ye to tell me what this position would mean for ye.”
Lilidh leaned forward in response to the sudden thumping of her heart. “It means everything, chamberlain,” she said earnestly. “It means security for me and my lad. It means I can save my coin for a house; to put a stable roof over our heads and give Fynn the semblance of a normal life.”
“Ye dinnae have a house?” Margaret asked with some measure of surprise. “I thought ye lived in the crofting valleys to the west.”
“I did. It was my father’s house, and it was in my family for generations.” Lilidh swallowed, feeling the surge of familiar grief whenever she thought of her childhood home. “Someone burned it to the ground the year after Mathe died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Margaret said, shaking her head. “What have ye been doing since then?”
“Doing our best, mostly. Moving a lot, trying to save money wherever I can.”
“Where are ye living now?”
“In one of the houses on the western wall.”
The chamberlain’s eyes narrowed. “The houses just north of the gate? Wood construction, in the drainage basin?”
“Aye. It’s all I can afford.”
Margaret leant back in her chair and looked across the table for a long time without saying a word. Lilidh felt herself shrink under that gaze; to diminish in some strange way. She fought hard to push the feeling away, knowing she deserved to be here as much as anybody else. It wasn’t her fault that Mathe had changed and become the man that he did, and she would work as hard as anyone else. Harder, even.
All she wanted was a chance.
At last, Margaret gave a slow sigh. “Lilidh MacBrennan,” she said, “I’d like to give ye a chance.”
Lilidh sat upright, her heart suddenly threatening to leap out of her chest at the woman’s words, and the way they so closely matched her own thoughts. Had she understood correctly? She opened her mouth to confirm, but Margaret raised her hand sharply.
“However,” she continued, “considering the rather unusual circumstances of yer late husband, I think it’s prudent that we place ye on a trial period.”
“A trial period?” Lilidh asked hesitantly. She’d heard of no such thing before.
The chamberlain nodded. “Think of it like a practice run. Work hard, and ye’ll have nay problem. But if ye come with any sort of trouble, or if the ghost of Mathe MacBrennan manifests in ways that we couldnae have foreseen, then at the end of the trial we’ll part ways.”
“How long would this trial last for?”
Margaret pursed her lips. “One month should do it.”
Lilidh nodded. It meant that the position still came with a measure of uncertainty, but was far better than walking away empty-handed once again. “There’ll be nay problem,” she assured the chamberlain. “I’ll work hard and keep my head down; ye have my word.”
Margaret nodded. “Good. Look at the trial as a formality, naught more. Come in tomorrow two hours after sunrise and we’ll begin yer training. The next few days will be spent going over our expectations, meeting yer coworkers, and learning the tasks and duties of the kitchen staff.”
“I ken,” Lilidh said, unable to stop the smile that formed at the edges of her mouth.
Margaret smiled in return. “Now, ye must be looking forward to getting home to yer son. Get a good sleep tonight, and I’ll see ye on the morrow.”
“Aye. And thank ye, Margaret. I’ll no' let ye down.”
As she walked down the steep avenue that led from the castle into town, the clouds split open and sunshine fell upon Lilidh’s face. She tilted into it as she walked, feeling the heat on her cheek, and allowed a tremulous smile to grow.
She’d done it.
Against all the odds, and against the long shadow of Mathe MacBrennan, she’d done it. Working in the castle meant a new start and maybe even a new life. Her feet almost skipped through the main square and she barely noticed the whispers behind her back, or curious sideways glances. They didn’t matter anymore. She wasn’t the widow MacBrennan today, but just Lilidh, the castle’s newest kitchen worker.
She paused at the edge of the tenement where she lived; a natural depression in the earth pushed up hard against the western wall of the town. The cobbled stone came to an abrupt stop and the ground in front of her sloped down into mud. A dozen buildings sat squarely in the basin, little more than cruck shacks, with narrow planks of wood stretching from their front doors back to the cobbled streets. All the houses were of identical construction, and she could see the owner of the house next door sitting on an old rocking chair on the covered porch. Ev
ery day he sat on that chair, regardless of the weather, and he’d never spoken a word to her.
Lilidh hitched up her dress. It was the nicest outfit she owned, only used for the most special of occasions, and the last thing she wanted was to get it covered in mud. She balanced on the wooden planks and felt them shift and sink underneath her, until she jumped the last gap onto her porch with a sigh of relief.
Before she could reach for the door, it was thrown open and her son was in her arms.
“Mama,” he cried in delight as she scooped him up.
“My big, braw bhobain,” Lilidh said, burying her face in his neck. He giggled and squirmed as she blew onto his soft skin and breathed deeply of him.
“I missed ye, mama,” he said, and squeezed her tightly.
“I missed ye too, Fynn,” she said, carrying him back into the house and closing the door behind her. She put the boy down on the ground in the centre of the room and glanced around. It was a small house. There was a kitchen to one side, little more than a coarse wooden bench and a basin, and two beds pushed side by side against the far wall. On the ground in the centre of the room was a small circle of stones.
“What have ye been up to?” she asked him.
“Making things,” Fynn said proudly. “Look at what I made. It’s a crown for ye.”
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 1
