Blaine gave the ghost of a smile. “It is.”
“Let’s say mid-morning?” he asked.
From behind Blaine, Fergus nodded. “Two days, down by the auld mill, mid-morning.”
Blaine stood and reached his hand out. His arm rippled with muscle in the firelight, and Mathe again wondered how the boy he once knew had turned into the man before him. He stood slowly, and they shook. Blaine’s grip was firm, but Mathe still held considerable strength in his own sinewy arms, and matched it. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Blaine nodded once and withdrew his hand.
“Farewell,” he said. “Mathe MacBrennan.”
14
Lilidh MacBrennan
“Mind yerself, widow,” Cora warned. “Those plates werenae wiped down properly.”
Lilidh bit her tongue and nodded at the older woman. She was becoming more insistent with her taunts and comments as time went on, trying to goad Lilidh into a reaction. Torrey and Nessa seemed to go along with her antics to keep peace in the kitchen, but increasingly it felt that their hearts weren’t in it. Torrey in particular seemed less inclined to make trouble after Lilidh helped her scrub the old cast-iron pot earlier in the week. It had created a bond between them, however tenuous.
Yes, Cora was most definitely the problem. She was much older than the others, and Lilidh knew she had a brood of children and a husband on the castle guard. Perhaps being older made her feel wise, like she was the mother of their little kitchen family, and needed to impose her authority on the other girls? All Lilidh knew was that she was getting right sick of it. Cora would have crawled into a corner if she’d had to face half of the hardships in life that Lilidh had.
As she thought about what to do with the woman, a clatter of smashing plates startled her. It was followed by a scream, and Lilidh turned to see Nessa stumbling forward, her arms outstretched, halfway through tripping. The plates she was carrying in her arms were now broken on the floor and the girl’s scream reached a fever pitch as she ran forward in a futile effort to regain her balance, and fell straight into the kitchen fireplace.
It all happened so quickly; one moment the girl was stumbling, and then her screams had turned into something terribly worse as her coarse linen dress burst into flames. She’d put her hands forward to stop her fall, but they’d sunk into the coals and she couldn’t push herself back out. Lilidh was standing closest, and she moved without thinking; bounding across the open space in three steps, grabbing Nessa’s dress from behind, and pulling the girl backwards with all her might.
The two of them went down together, and Lilidh rolled out from underneath to smother the flames. Nessa’s screams were frantic and filled with pain as her hair caught on fire and the acrid smell filled Lilidh’s nostrils as she threw a sodden dishrag over the girl’s head. She tried desperately to put out the rest of the flames and saw Nessa’s arm, only briefly, and it was enough to make her blanch at the sight of the burnt and bubbling skin.
And then the others were there, and they all beat the girl with rags and doused her with cold water from the basin. Nessa’s screams subsided into whimpers and she crawled into a ball, holding her burnt hands to her chest, rocking back and forth.
Margaret burst into the kitchens. “What is the meaning of this?” she thundered, before seeing Nessa on the floor. Her eyes darted from the smashed plates to the fireplace, ash spilled everywhere, and the blood drained from her face.
“She’s burnt,” Lilidh cried out to her. “Badly.”
“Aye,” Margaret said with a nod, then spun back on her heel. She put her head out of the kitchen and shouted, “find me the steward, now! Ye; bring the physician. Ye, go and fetch the apothecary. Someone go to the barracks and bring back a field medic. Dinnae just stand there. Go! A woman’s life hangs in the balance.”
Within the space of a few minutes the kitchen was filled with people, and Nessa was laid out to be examined. Lilidh took advantage of the confusion to step away and outside, gulping in the fresh air. At first it felt like she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, but after a moment of steady breathing, her heartbeat dropped and she felt the tension drain out of her. It left her feeling empty and exhausted. She closed her eyes but could only see Nessa’s hand; charred black, a hideous parody. She shivered and opened her eyes again.
“Are ye alright?” a voice asked tentatively, and Torrey stepped up beside her. The girl looked even worse than she did.
“Fine, thank ye,” she said, nodding slowly. In truth, she didn’t think she was fine.
“It was terrible,” Torrey said. “So terrible. Her hand.”
Lilidh didn’t quite know what to do, so she lay her hand on the other woman’s back. Torrey stiffened at first until Lilidh rubbed her hand up and down gently. They stood together without speaking, and Lilidh drew simple comfort from her presence, and wondered if Torrey felt the same.
After some time Margaret joined them. She stretched her back with a muttered curse and looked at Lilidh, and her face relaxed into a weary smile. “I hear ye pulled her out of the flames. It was a brave thing ye did, and it more than likely saved her life.”
“Anyone would have done it,” Lilidh said softly, even as she wondered if any of the girls would have pulled her out, had she been the one in the fireplace.
“Perhaps. I’ll tell ye what; why dinnae ye go home for the afternoon? Both of ye. It was a horrible thing ye had to see in there.”
Lilidh nodded. “Aye. Thank ye.”
She waved her hand. “Of course. Now off ye go.”
Lilidh gave Torrey’s shoulder a squeeze and then stumbled out of the castle, the memory of Nessa falling into the fire playing repeatedly in her mind. She wondered if she should have moved quicker. Lilidh remembered a moment where she’d frozen in sudden shock. How long had she remained on the spot, watching it unfold before her? She couldn’t say. It could have been a brief moment, or it could have been long seconds.
On this morning, Nessa had woken up like she did any other morning. Only now she might never wake up again, and even if she did, things would never be the same. Lilidh had seen burns like that before and knew that there were some things that couldn’t heal. The poor woman had a lifetime of pain awaiting her, and she didn’t even know it yet. How quickly life could change; how irrevocably, without rhyme or reason.
Thoughts of fate and circumstance turned to Mathe, and the kiss they shared last night. She had lain awake for half the night, scared at what it would mean, and for the greater, unspoken fear that lay underneath.
How much she wanted it.
She’d been denying it to herself, but now, in her vulnerable state, she knew she was losing the battle. Every time she saw Mathe, they grew closer. He seemed truly changed, more like the man she married and less like the man he ultimately became, and she was finding herself drawn to him once again. Her body reacted to him, yearned for him, surprising herself with the strength of that ardent desire.
It scared her, in truth, but what she’d just seen had reminded Lilidh that life was fickle, and could change at any moment. There was no right or wrong when it came to the heart, and although she didn’t know what she wanted in the future, all she knew was that right then, she wanted her husband. She wanted Mathe to hold her in his arms and comfort her, and to whisper to her that everything would be alright.
Was that so wrong of her?
She left the main gate, lost in the maze of her own thoughts, when his voice called out to her from behind.
“Lilidh.”
She stopped and turned, almost unwilling to believe what her ears told her. It was indeed Mathe. He leant against the stone wall next to the gate with a smile on his face, and a bunch of primrose flowers in his hand. She’d been so distracted that she’d walked right past him. He pushed himself off the wall and came towards her, holding the flowers out. They were yellow and red and purple. She looked down and focused on them so he wouldn’t see her tears, but after a moment his hand rested on her shoulder.
/> “What’s the matter?” he asked with a voice full of concern. “Has something happened?”
Lilidh opened her mouth to tell him of the events in the kitchen, and then instead of words, she let out a sob. Then she fell forward against his chest, her knees buckling, and felt herself break down. She grabbed his coat with her hands and cried, and she couldn’t even say what drove her to do so. It was as if the bottled tension and fear that had lain within her for so long had decided to come out right at that moment, mixing with the memories of burnt skin and Nessa’s shrieks in her ears.
Mathe stroked her hair and whispered into her ear. He patted her back soothingly and then wrapped his arms around her. Time stretched on and Lilidh felt the tears run dry, and her composure slowly returned. She pulled away from him and looked up with a tremulous smile on her face.
“Better?” he asked gently.
“Aye,” Lilidh said. “And I suppose after all that, ye'd better come down for dinner.”
“I cannae wait for these potatoes,” Mathe said, rubbing his stomach.
Fynn made a face. “Really?”
“Oh, aye. They make ye big and strong, potatoes. If ye keep eating them, one day ye’ll be as tall as me.”
The boy craned his neck to look up. He looked impressed. “As tall as ye?”
“I wasnae nearly so tall until I started eating potatoes,” Mathe explained. “Yer mother just wants ye to reach things on the top shelf. She’s getting auld, ye know.”
Lilidh looked over to him and shook her head with a smile as she stirred the potatoes in boiling water. She was getting mighty sick of them herself, truth be told, but the boy didn’t need to know that.
“I have a surprise tonight though, Fynn,” she said. “No' just potatoes.”
His eyes lit up, and he bounced out of his chair. “What is it, mama? Oh, tell me.”
“What’s yer absolute favourite thing in all the world?” she asked.
Fynn clapped his hands together. “Neeps! Is it neeps, mama?”
She laughed. “It most certainly is. Neeps and tatties for us all, tonight.”
“Neeps?” Mathe asked with a frown. “That’s yer most favourite thing in all the world?”
“Oh aye, I love neeps,” Fynn replied. “Dinnae ye?”
Lilidh shot Mathe a warning look and wagged a finger at him.
“Of course,” Mathe said quickly. “They’re one of my favourite things too, as it happens. Maybe no' quite my number one favourite, but certainly in my top five.” He paused. “Top ten.”
“Why dinnae ye wash yer hands, both of ye,” Lilidh said. “We’re almost ready to eat. Mathe, help Fynn with the soap.”
“Aye, miss,” Mathe replied and took Fynn to the basin and washed his hands. “Now yer turn, if ye please.”
Lilidh gave the potatoes one more stir, then walked over with her hands up. Mathe took the soap and worked it into her palms, the top of her hands, and through her fingers. He wrapped his own fingers in hers and massaged gently. His hands were soft, and she squeezed them, feeling her mouth growing dry, the sweet scent of soap in her nose. Mathe looked down at her and his eyes sparkled with something she hadn’t seen in a very long time; something that made her feel weak in her knees. Their hands stopped moving and simply held each other tightly as they stared into each other eyes.
“Mama, I’m hungry,” Fynn complained.
Mathe smiled and released her hands. Lilidh stepped back from the basin, gave a shuddering breath, and turned back to the potatoes. The others took their seats, and she served dinner and they ate together, laughing and joking. Lilidh wondered what the sight must have looked like to someone outside; nothing more than a family enjoying their time together. A protective husband, encouraging his son to eat his potatoes, and a wife with a smile on her face that wouldn’t seem to go away.
And what would it look like to Lilidh, if she could have seen this a year ago, or even a month ago? Would she have been pleased to see her own happiness at the return of Mathe MacBrennan? After all, the way she’d found herself drawn back to Mathe after such a short period had surprised even herself. Would the Lilidh of the past begrudge herself future happiness, or embrace it?
After dinner they piled their plates in the sink and prepared Fynn for bed. He gave them both a hug and Lilidh’s heart lurched when she watched how he embraced Mathe, squeezing him tightly, before slipping under the covers.
“I have an auld bottle of wine in the cupboard,” Lilidh said, almost shyly. She didn’t know what she wanted, only that it seemed too early to say goodnight. “We could have a glass before ye went home.”
“Aye, that sounds nice,” Mathe replied. “Will we keep the lad up, though?”
“He’s a heavy sleeper, if we keep our voices low.”
“Why dinnae we try to hang up one of the bedsheets to give him some privacy?” Mathe asked. “We could put him in the corner.”
“I’ve thought of that before, but I could never reach the roof,” Lilidh admitted.
“Then ye should count yerself lucky that I’m here tonight,” Mathe said with a smile.
“Aye, I should,” she said softly.
Together they gently moved Fynn into one corner and Mathe fixed a sheet to the roof. It hung down and created a makeshift wall, giving the boy some semblance of a private room for himself, small though it was.
“There,” Mathe said in satisfaction. “Now, about that wine.”
“Let me clean up first,” Lilidh said, walking to the basin.
“I’ll help,” Mathe offered, but she shook her head.
“Nay, it will only take a moment.” She took boiling water from the fire and used it to clean the plates, stacking them on the old wooden countertop. It was faded and chipped and Fynn wasn’t allowed to touch it or he’d be liable to pick up a splinter. Her shoulders ached from lifting crockery all day and she reached behind to rub her neck. As she did, she felt movement behind her, and then Mathe’s hands rested on her upper back. She stiffened at first, but then allowed herself to relax. His touch was firm and yet gentle, and he massaged her skin. It was most unexpected, and yet Lilidh felt in her bones how it felt so very right. She put her dishrag down and tilted her head to one side to open up her neck, giving a soft moan. It felt so good after a long day.
Mathe’s hands worked up and down her neck, her shoulders, and her upper arms. She closed her eyes at the feeling and the way his fingers trailed down her sides, his hot breath on her neck. She shuddered and pushed herself back into him and could feel his quick, shallow breathing as his chest rose and fell against her. She reached one arm up and behind her, snaking it around his neck, feeling strangely sensual.
Mathe’s voice rumbled deep in his throat, a growl without words, as he pulled her tunic off one shoulder and kissed her skin. His lips were both warm and moist. She could feel his kisses quickly cool in the evening chill as he went, moving to the crook of her neck and behind one ear. The surrounding air was thick, constricting, and her own breath was loud and ragged.
“Mathe,” she whispered.
His hands seemed to be everywhere; on her shoulders, then her hips. He guided her forward and back, ever so softly, pulling her into him with low groans that were little more than a breath in her ear. She twisted to face him and their lips met in a savage kiss, full of need. How long had it been since someone kissed her like this? Their tongues met and sparred and she moaned into his mouth even as her hands gripped him tightly, pulling him into her, joining them together as one, wanting more and more.
Mathe lifted her and turned to the bed. It was a small and meagre thing, with a mattress barely as thick as two planks of wood. He sat her down gently and pulled her tunic up and over her head, before taking off his own coat and shirt. His skin was white, and he still looked so frail; his physique only a shadow of the man he was. And yet he was now everything she’d ever wanted. His eyes were on her and the thin chemise she wore, and he breathed heavily.
“Oh, Lilidh,” he whispered. “I’v
e dreamed about ye for more nights than I could ever count.”
“Of this?” she asked, tilting her neck, pulling her chemise down slowly to reveal her breasts, looking at him with smouldering eyes.
He didn’t answer, only gave another one of his deep growls, and then knelt down to her. Lilidh moaned as he explored her with his hands and his tongue, and her body responded so urgently that it almost surprised her. Had this desire been there all along, waiting? She’d done her best to put such thoughts out of her mind during the long years alone, but perhaps it was time she acknowledged she was a woman, and had her own needs that were as powerful as Mathe’s, if not more.
She needed to be loved.
Her hands clawed through his hair and stoked his beard even as he fumbled with his belt. Yes, she needed this. Perhaps more than anything she needed in her life at that moment.
“Mathe,” she breathed, pulling her skirt off and helping him pull his trousers down. Their movements were quick and desperate, and the clothing at their side piled up until they were both naked in the darkness. Lilidh stretched and lay back, legs splayed, and gasped as her husband pushed himself into her with a guttural sigh. She felt such a sweet ache as he moved forward and back, gently rocking, shuddering against her, a single trail of sweat running down his chest. She wiped it with her finger and it tasted of salt and of him. Of the man she had loved for so long and then hated. The man who knew her better than anyone else.
“Jesu, Mathe,” she whispered. “I’d forgotten.”
“Aye,” he replied. “Although I’d forced myself to forget. Sharing a cell with two other men will do that to ye.”
Lilidh laughed quietly. “Well, now ye can stop thinking of them, and start thinking of me. I need this.”
Their movements grew more frantic and her moans became louder. Yes, she needed this. She needed the way he slid up and down inside her, the way he looked down with his eyes that sparkled green even in the darkness. She needed the smell of him, the feel of him, the weight of his body atop hers. It had been so long, so long, since she’d felt like this. She’d almost forgotten how complete it made her feel, to have her husband inside her, to be joined at the hips and joined in their passion. Her grip on him tightened.
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 14
