The woman wrenched her arm free. “What are ye talking about?” she demanded. “I simply tripped.”
“Nay, ye didnae. I’ve been watching ye bump and hit Lilidh all morning.”
“I’ve done nay such thing.”
“Just stop it,” Torrey snapped. “Ye're acting childish and we all know it. Lilidh has done naught wrong to deserve such behaviour. She saved Nessa’s life!”
“This has naught to do with ye,” Cora replied hotly.
“We all work here together, Cora, so aye, the way ye’re treating Lilidh affects me. The way ye behave affects all of us.”
“Widow can speak for herself.”
“Aye,” Lilidh said. “I can. And I agree with Torrey. Are ye upset that I received some attention this morning?”
Cora barked a laugh. “Ye think it’s about that?”
“Then what have I done to ye?”
“What have ye done?” the woman hissed. “Ye dinnae need to do anything. It’s who ye are, widow.”
“It’s Lilidh.”
“It’s widow, and it always will be,” Cora said with surprising venom. “So keep enjoying the attention. Ye think ye’re so much better than anyone else here, like ye’re too good for the kitchens. Poor Mrs MacBrennan, brought low.”
“That’s no' true,” Lilidh said firmly. “I work hard and ask for naught. Certainly harder than ye. Why do ye hate me, Cora?”
“Because MacBrennan killed my brother, that’s why. I’ll never forgive him, or ye.”
Lilidh felt herself grow cold. “What?” she breathed.
“Cora,” Torrey interrupted, “ye told me yer brother died fighting the McPhees.”
“Aye, he did,” Cora said, “and who kept the fighting going? It certainly wasnae Laird McPhee. It was our own laird, our cursed laird, and his twisted lieutenant.”
“Mathe wasnae a soldier,” Lilidh protested. “He didnae fight the McPhees, or even get involved.”
“Nay, but him and the laird thought as one, didnae they?” Cora demanded. “They plotted together, and they did everything together, and they both had a thirst for blood. Ye're fooling yerself if ye dinnae think MacBrennan kept the war going as long as he could.”
Lilidh shook her head in dismay. Was this how people viewed her husband? Mathe had been a bad man, and certainly committed evil acts, but he wasn’t involved in the war. He didn’t have a head for troop strategy and never fought with the soldiers. The old laird needed him for other reasons that were certainly no less dark, but nothing to do with the McPhees.
“Ye're wrong,” she said. “Mathe didnae kill yer brother, and yer’re blaming the wrong people.”
“I dinnae think so,” Cora spat. “Yer husband was a monster. And what kind of woman marries a monster? Ye should be ashamed of yerself.”
Lilidh felt the room grow hot. The woman’s words had cut her deep, and once again she felt the sudden need to resist. To fight back and push herself up; a refusal to lie down and bear the brunt of the storm. Lilidh had faced many injustices in her life, but she was damned if she would let this woman make her feel so… small.
“I married a good man,” Lilidh said, her voice rising sharply. “I married a good man, and the auld laird twisted and broke him.”
“Lilidh,” Torrey said, putting her hand on her arm.
She shook it off. “Ye never knew Mathe before. Nobody did. All anyone ever sees is MacBrennan, the monster. Well,” her voice rose into a shout, “how do ye think I feel? I had to watch my husband - a good man - turn into that monster. Ye lost yer brother, Cora? Well, I lost my husband. Twice. So I refuse to have ye speak to me in this manner, when all I’m doing is trying to support my family. Ye should be ashamed of yerself.”
“Yer family,” Cora scoffed. “MacBrennan’s runt. He should have died in the farmhouse when it caught fire.”
At once, Lilidh closed the space between them. She didn’t remember moving, and yet she pushed hard against Cora, thrusting her face into the other woman’s. “Ye will never speak ill of my son,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
Cora bristled and pushed back, and the two girls fought, each of them twisting desperately as they reached for each other’s hair, fists flailing, shrieking like banshees. Lilidh could only see red and wanted to hurt Cora, to make her regret ever speaking those words. She struck out again and again.
“What is going on here?” Margaret bellowed, marching into the kitchens. Immediately the two women let go of each other, and Lilidh stepped backwards in shame.
What had she done?
The chamberlain looked at them both for long moments, breathing heavily. “Cora,” she snapped, “wait in the dining hall. Lilidh, my study. Now.”
Lilidh followed, feeling a growing panic within her. Had she worked so hard for so many months, only to throw it all away over one silly argument? Why had she let Cora get under her skin like that? She paused for a moment, overcome by a sudden dizziness, worried that she was going to be sick. She placed her hand on the wall and leant over until the moment passed.
“Here,” Margaret said, thrusting a small jug of water at her. Lilidh took it gratefully and drank.
“Thank ye,” she said in a small voice.
Margaret led her to the study, and they sat down on each side of the table. The chamberlain watched her in silence and Lilidh felt herself diminish, and the sickness returned.
“Have I lost my job?” she asked weakly.
Margaret slowly shook her head. “Nay, Lilidh, ye haven’t lost yer job.”
Lilidh almost collapsed in relief. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I dinnae know why -”
“I do,” Margaret interrupted. “I heard the two of ye arguing long before I needed to come in.”
“Oh,” Lilidh said. So she’d heard Lilidh defend Mathe, and the things that Cora had said to her.
“I heard Torrey say that Cora has been acting aggressively towards ye all day. Bumping and hitting, I believe her words were.”
Lilidh nodded. “Aye, but I still shouldnae have done it. I should have been better than that.”
“Perhaps,” Margaret said with a shrug. “Perhaps no'. I’m going to mark this down against yer record, but it willnae see ye losing yer job. Provided ye make sure it doesnae happen again.”
“Of course,” Lilidh replied quickly. “Oh, chamberlain, thank ye so much.”
Margaret waved her hand. “There was something I wanted to speak to ye about, anyway.”
“Aye?” Lilidh asked uncertainly.
“Aye. Mathe MacBrennan.”
Lilidh felt the sickness return. “What about him?”
“Last time we spoke of yer husband, ye assured the laird that ye wanted naught to do with him. And yet the words ye spoke in the kitchens told an altogether different story. Tell me, how do things stand between the two of ye?”
Lilidh looked down, suddenly nervous. She knew she had done nothing wrong, and yet she felt it all the same. Yes, she had told them she wanted nothing to do with him. But then Blaine had told her that despite her assertion, she might not have a choice. Did he know something that she didn’t, or was he simply more wise in ways of the heart? The rumour was that he’d gone through quite a few trials of his own to wed Kenzie McCaskill, after all.
“We’ve been… spending some time together,” Lilidh admitted.
“I see,” Margaret replied with a grim face. “I hope ye dinnae mind me asking.”
“Nay,” Lilidh said. “I ken. It started with Fynn. He took the lad to help him, without me knowing. That was the start of it, I guess. The two of them formed a connection, and I didnae have the heart to break it.”
“And ye’ve continued to see him?”
“Aye, mostly for Fynn.”
“Mostly?”
Lilidh frowned. “Margaret, I know ye willnae believe me, but Mathe seems to be a changed man.”
“Changed how?” Margaret asked.
“Just, more like the man he was before. When I first married him.” Lilidh
paused. “He seems sincere in his promise to make amends.”
“I doubt men like MacBrennan can change,” Margaret said.
“But he has,” Lilidh protested. “Ye haven’t seen what I have. The way he is with Fynn. He’s so patient and kind, no' at all like the man he was when he left. I dinnae know what happened to him while he was away, but it seems to have changed him. Or reminded him, I should say.”
The chamberlain nodded slowly. “Why didnae ye tell us? I remember Blaine was clear in what he expected from ye.”
“Aye, which was to let him know if anything seemed out of the ordinary or jumped out at me. And Margaret, truthfully, naught has. He works hard at the West Gate, building furniture for Rabby Gordon, and I see him sometimes afterwards. One day we took a walk over the Dundonnell to find some scrap wood. And that’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“Aye, that’s it.”
“Alright, lass, I believe ye,” Margaret said. “I’m asking because I dinnae want ye to get hurt. Ye heard Cora; she might have been out of line, but her thoughts on yer husband arenae hers alone. Mathe will never be loved here, whether ye do or no'. Some things are just a part of this place, and I fear the legacy of MacBrennan is one of those things.”
“I ken,” Lilidh said. “And I think Mathe does, too.”
“How do ye see this ending?” the chamberlain asked.
Lilidh frowned at her words, and how closely they mirrored her own. The question she couldn’t stop asking herself; where would this road take them? “I dinnae know,” she said truthfully. “I need to do the right thing for Fynn, and I thought that was to keep him away from Mathe. But now?” She shook her head again. “I just dinnae know. They both seem to need one another, to make them whole in some way. Who am I to prevent this?”
“It’s a hard decision ye have to make, lass,” Margaret said softly. “I dinnae envy ye.”
“At least I still have my job,” Lilidh said with a smile, hoping she wasn’t pushing her luck.
“Aye, at least ye do. Just make sure ye keep yer hands to yerself in the future, or I might send ye to the barracks to train with the men instead.”
Lilidh dropped her apron back in the kitchen nervously, but Cora was nowhere to be seen. Torrey straightened when she entered, and Lilidh gave her a wave.
“Thank ye for earlier,” Lilidh said, almost shyly. “I’m no' sure I deserved it.”
Torrey shook her head. “It’s fine. Cora went too far, today, so she needed to know that it willnae be tolerated.”
“She’ll be angry with ye.”
“Aye, until she realises she doesnae rule the kitchen anymore. We’ve always let her carry on this way, because it was easier than dealing with the alternative. But there’s naught about her that is more important than any of us, so maybe it’s time for things to change.”
Lilidh nodded. “Aye, perhaps so. Still, I appreciate yer help.”
Torrey nodded and left Lilidh to hang up her apron and let out her hair. Amongst all the drama, she’d almost forgotten that Mathe and Fynn were going to be meeting her for a walk, and the thought brought a smile to her face. Of all the days she needed a bit of a walk and a blether, today was surely it. Mathe seemed to have a knack for calming her down and setting her mind at ease, which was something that wouldn’t go amiss. She passed out of the front gates, nodding to the guards, then hurried down into the town.
She saw them long before they spotted her. There was no missing Mathe’s tall frame, as he lifted Fynn to look into the window of a merchant’s store. She could see him pointing things out, and the boy’s hands press against the glass. The sight made her smile, and in her mind she could almost hear Fynn’s excited exclamations about whatever goodies lay inside.
So intent were they on pointing things out that Lilidh approached without them noticing. She stood next to them and peered in.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Mama!” Fynn squealed in delight, leaping into her arms. “Look, mama, there’s all sorts of things in there.”
“I can see,” she replied, giving them both a smile. She mouthed a greeting to Mathe, and he inclined his head, eyes sparkling. Ye're bonny, he mouthed back. She felt herself blush and looked back in the window.
“How about we stretch our legs?” Mathe suggested. “Its getting dark later, so we’ve plenty of light left.”
The three of them departed, with Lilidh and Mathe walking on the outside and swinging Fynn between them. He laughed and jumped, and they let him pick random directions whenever they reached a crossroads. It felt so strange to be with her family in this way, walking openly in the town. After a while, Fynn let go of their hands and they let him walk in front of them. Mathe stepped closer and put his arm around her shoulder, and she leant into him.
“What are ye having for dinner?” Mathe asked. “Nay, wait, let me guess.”
Lilidh laughed. “Aye, Mathe, it’s potatoes.”
“I knew it!” he exclaimed.
“Such an educated guess.”
“I really need to get ye something other than potatoes,” he muttered.
“I’m going to hold ye to that,” she said archly.
“Go ahead. I need to do something; I’m starting to agree with the lad.”
“Well, ye know he ate them better for ye than he ever does for me,” Lilidh said. “I could do with that kind of influence again.”
“Lilidh, are ye asking me to stay for dinner?”
“To help Fynn,” she explained.
“Of course,” he agreed. “To help Fynn.”
Lilidh gave an exaggerated shrug. “And, since ye’re there anyway, ye might as well stay the night.”
Mathe looked down and chuckled. “Aye, I suppose I might as well.” And he tightened his arm around her, squeezing gently. “In truth, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Just dinnae expect three rounds again. I’m only human.”
Lilidh threw her head back and laughed, and Mathe joined her. Fynn looked back with a smile of his own.
“What’s so funny?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“Naught, bhobain,” Lilidh replied. “Just an adult joke.”
They turned another corner and Mathe suddenly slowed down, a frown on his face. For a moment she felt his grip on her tighten and then immediately loosen, almost as if he was forcing himself to relax.
“What’s the matter?” Lilidh asked.
He started and looked at her. “Naught,” he said. “Fynn, come back here.”
The boy paused and looked back. “What?”
“Now,” Mathe ordered, with a gruffness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before. No, she corrected herself; it was a voice that she hadn’t heard in a long time. Lilidh felt a coldness sweep over her arms and shivered.
“Mathe, what is it?” she asked again, putting a hand on his arm.
“I didnae realise where we were,” he muttered. “I dinnae want to to go down that way.”
Lilidh followed his gaze to the cobbled street that traveled down a slight slope, into a warren of overhanging buildings and long shadows. It was the old quarter of town; a place with an ill reputation. Lilidh had no cause to ever take herself to this side of the town, but she remembered Mathe used to frequent an inn somewhere in its bowels.
“Mathe, it’s alright,” she said, rubbing his arm. “That’s no' who ye are anymore.”
He tore his eyes away from the street and looked down at her. “Aye,” he said. But his eyes looked troubled.
“I mean it,” she said again. “Ye're a better person, Mathe. Ye're trying hard, and I can see that. Whatever ye used to do down there was a long time ago. Those days are over, and those people are gone.”
He nodded slowly. “Aye,” he said again. “Let’s go back.”
Lilidh nodded and pulled Fynn towards her, and the three of them turned back to the centre of town. But not before Mathe twisted, once, to glance quickly behind him, his eyes searching. Lilidh frowned and wondered what he was looking for. He hadn�
�t been there in six years. Those days were indeed long gone, and nobody would recognise the man beside her.
So why had he looked back?
17
Mathe MacBrennan
Mathe woke in the darkness before dawn.
He quietly rose and cracked the door open, noting the faint band of light to the east. The sky was cloudless and dark and there was only the faintest hint of stars overhead. He closed the door again and returned to the bed, pulling the sheet up to cover them both. Lilidh rolled over and draped her hand across his chest and he smelled her hair and once again asked him what he’d done to deserve such a thing in his life once more.
And what on earth he was doing by risking it.
But the answer, of course, was all around them. It was in the walls, with their gaps and their draughts, and in a floor that was barely raised above the mud. Mathe looked around and knew why he was doing it, but the thought alone didn’t ease the guilt. He shifted his weight and Lilidh stirred, raising her head sleepily. Her hair was down and over her face and she looked so beautiful that he wanted to kiss her.
“Good morning,” he whispered with a smile.
She turned her head to yawn, then turned back and looked at him with her own smile, and Mathe marvelled at the way it transformed her, made her young again. For a moment in his mind, they were just married. Their love was new and sincere. She rolled closer and he turned slightly into her, putting one arm behind his head, savouring the feeling of the sheets and her body against his naked skin. Such a simple feeling, one shared by lovers and husbands and wives every day, and yet to him it was both intense and wonderfully relaxing. He could lie like this all day.
Except that he had something else in mind.
Before he could act on his impulse, though, Lilidh’s hand on his chest stroked downwards under the sheets. He smiled as her fingers tapped down his torso and across his pelvis, the way his body slowly responded to her touch, almost lazily. Her head lowered and they kissed softly, mouths open and in silence. Mathe arched his back as he stretched and Lilidh’s hand stroked up and down, gently at first. It was still dark in the house and their breaths became louder, more ragged, more insistent. His own hands began to explore under the sheets and he found his wife was also naked. They’d had another late night last night, and once again Mathe had been surprised by the strength of his own body and the way it had refused to yield.
A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2) Page 16
