by Pride, Mia
An ache had settled into her bones as of late and the winter’s chill did her no favors, though she should not complain. Louisa had birthed her son in the middle of the summer and though Scotland was no desert, the swelling of her limbs from being overheated was not something Mary envied. Back aching and feet throbbing, Mary grunted as she made it up to the third floor of the tower, feeling decades older than her twenty years.
Reaching her chamber, Mary sighed as she opened the door and kicked off her leather slippers just as the bairn kicked and she let out a small yelp.
“Wean kicking ye in the ribs, once more, aye?”
Yelping once more, but this time with fear, Mary placed her hand on her wildly beating heart and let out a deep breath when she saw Elizabeth’s maid, Matilda, tending to the fire in the hearth near the corner.
“Goodness, Tilda! Ye will make my pains come on too early if ye scare me like that!”
Brushing her red coiled locks away with the inside of her wrist to avoid getting soot on her face, Matilda smiled apologetically and stepped forward. “Och, I apologize, Mary. I only wished to see to it that ye and the bairn would be warm for the night.”
Matilda was only two years younger than Mary, yet somehow she seemed so much younger with her slim waist and unburdened body. Mary would never take the ability to simply walk without feeling like a boulder was between her legs for granted ever again. “Thank ye, Tilda, but ye ken ye dinnae need to do such things for me. I am naught but a maid, myself, now that Elizabeth is the lady of the castle.”
Waving her away, Matilda turned back to the fire and poked at it for a moment, making the flames leap higher as they devoured the wood and moss used as fodder. “Nonsense. Aside from carrying the former laird’s child and the current laird’s nephew or niece,” she said with a wink, clearly hoping for a wee lassie, “ye are a woman carrying a child and deserve comfort, Mary, no matter yer station. I do hope if I ever am unfortunate enough to take a husband and have a child, that ye would do the same for me.”
That made Mary laugh. True genuine laughter was hard to come by, but Matilda always knew just what to say. “Of course, I would. Thank ye.” The bairn kicked her in the ribs once more, and she cringed. Yet another thing she would never take for granted: not having a wee human wedged beneath her bones.
“Come, Mary.” Walking over to the bed, Matilda pulled the covers back and patted the soft mattress. “Ye need to get some rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day. Many guests are on their way and should arrive by the evening meal.”
“Oh?” Feeling lulled to sleep by both the warmth radiating from the hearth and the thought of curling up into her sheets, praying not to have any more of those awful leg cramps during the night, Mary yawned and stretched. “Who will be joining the clan for the Yule this year? Shall the Macleans travel all the way from the Highlands to be here?”
Matilda hastily loosened the ties on Mary’s bodice and she breathed deeply, glad to feel her heavy linen gown slide to the floor. Her under tunic was as light as air and she slid into bed, enjoying the cool covers against her legs. Curse her sore, enlarged breasts for aching all day long, and somehow even more so once out of the confines of her bodice.
“Nay, but Elizabeth mentioned that the Douglases would be joining us. Tensions have been high and they were visiting at Dunnottar with her brother, William. She decided to extend them an invitation with intentions to make an alliance and, most unfortunately, they accepted.” Matilda scowled and rolled her eyes.
Flashbacks of William’s previous visit made Mary crinkle her nose. What was it about Elizabeth’s brother that made her want to kick him in the shin every time she saw him? Aye, he was kind enough and clearly cared for his sister, but when he had first arrived at Drum Castle, he had been overly pompous and controlling, often filled with too many complaints about the Irvine brothers, who obviously mattered a great deal to her, as she carried the eldest’s unborn child. Mayhap a part of her resented him for marrying his sister to Alexander in the first place, yet she knew that was nobody’s fault. Still, having a person to blame gave her a place to direct her ire and William had always made a good target.
“Well then. The Douglases shall be in attendance. That is a good thing, aye? I dinnae ken why ye frown, Tilda.”
“They are a sordid lot, Mary, ye ken. They are the Black Douglases and I dinnae trust them. Besides, they are arriving here with Marjorie, the laird’s daughter. She is simply atrocious and crazed for all the lads. Though she has never been to Drum, she was at a festival we attended on Fraser lands and couldnae stop following Reg. Verily, she fancies herself in love with the man.” Matilda made a gagging gesture and, not for the first time, Mary wondered if Matilda had feelings for Reginald that she cared to keep silent. Though he was above her station as the laird’s brother and a noble-born man, he and Matilda seemed to mix well and be the cause of too much mischief on most days, including the plot a few months ago to fake a marriage between him and Elizabeth simply to make Robert jealous and realize how much he cared for her.
“Thankfully, she was visiting Dunnottar to explore a potential marriage between her and William. Hopefully, she will be besotted enough with him by now to leave Reg alone,” Matilda added, and Mary frowned.
“William is spending the Yule here, as well?”
“Aye. He is Elizabeth’s brother, after all, and he was hosting the Douglas Clan. Lizzie wouldnae invite her brother without inviting his guests… between me and ye, ’tis the only reason she invited them along in the first place. I dinnae think she wants William to match with Marjorie and be saddled with her for a lifetime. I sense she wished a better match for him and already kens who she prefers.”
Pulling the covers over herself, Mary crinkled her brow, curiosity driving her to ask more questions. It seemed she was always on the outside of the gossip these days.
“Who does she wish William to wed?”
Shrugging, Matilda snuffed out a candle resting on the table beside the bed and waved away the smoke. “I dinnae ken. She never said and I never asked. But any lass is better than Marjorie Douglas, of that, we can all agree. I only hope she leaves Reg alone while she is here.”
Mary pursed her lips to hide a smile. Matilda seemed to care an awful lot about who Reginald wed. “Well then, I suppose we have a lot to prepare for on the morrow,” Mary added with a stretch and a yawn.
“Ye have naught to prepare for but birthing this child! Ye willnae lift a cursed finger, ye ken?”
“I am not helpless, Tilda. I am with child! And dinnae forget I was running this keep well before ye and Elizabeth arrived.” Indignance was Mary’s most frequent emotion as of late. It seemed nobody felt she was good for anything other than breeding, but she was not a broodmare, curse it all. She was an Irvine lass and would do all she could to be involved and keep distracted from the unpleasantness that was William Keith, Laird of Dunnottar and Marischal of Scotland, for his very presence made her wish to pull the hair on his arm just to make him yelp. Just one hair… that’s all it would require. She smiled wickedly at that thought and caught Matilda eyeing her oddly.
“As ye say. We shall see what needs doing in the morn. Sleep well, Mary.” The sincerity in Matilda’s voice helped to placate Mary, and she wished her companion a good night before rolling over in her bed, hoping to dream of being in Alexander’s arms, and determined to avoid William Keith at all cost once he arrived.
Chapter Two
When the familiar tower of Drum Castle finally showed in the snowy distance, William sighed and looked up at the gray wall of clouds overhead. Usually, he enjoyed traveling in the winter months very much. The snow was never a deterrent for him, nor was the wind. No force on this earth could be a greater burden during his travels than the one riding beside him on a white horse, complaining of the elements as if she had never seen a flake of snow in her entire six and ten years of life.
“Is it colder than usual? It feels colder than usual,” Marjorie said for the third time in the past h
our, and William sighed inwardly, tightly gripping the reins of his horse with his gloved hands, cherishing every stride that brought him closer to Drum.
“Our destination is just there, on the horizon. We shall arrive shortly, Marjorie.” Somehow, he found the will to remain calm and kept a soothing tone, a hard feat for a man known for his quick ire.
“Marjorie! Haud yer wheesht, lass! Ye willnae ever find a husband if all ye do is run yer mouth, ye cursed fool.”
Receiving a firm scolding from her father, Marjorie frowned but did as she was commanded and very dramatically pursed her lips together to make a show of obedience, but William would bet his best horse that the lass would be complaining once more before they arrived.
The winter solstice was tomorrow, which meant the Yule would officially begin, and he looked forward to twelve days of merriment and wassailing with his family from both the Keith and Irvine Clans. Between the Keiths and the Douglases, William had over fifty men arriving with him, and one very unpleasant lass.
“Are we almost there? ’Tis awful cold.” William breathed out a frustrated breath, seeing wisps escape from his mouth and curl into the cold air. It felt like it was his very soul being sucked out of his body by this Douglas succubus, but he simply shook his head and looked straight ahead.
“William?”
“Aye?” he replied curtly.
“What is Reginald like?”
“Ye have met him, aye?”
“Aye…” she said slowly from beside him but he vowed not to make eye contact. “He was quite occupied when we met. He wished to spend more time with me, I ken, but he was continually pulled away by some insufferable maid who dinnae seem to ken her place.”
“Ye speak of Matilda, Elizabeth’s maid. And aye, she kens her place well. She is beloved by the Irvines and though she behaves boldly for a servant, she is family to Elizabeth and a companion to Reginald. Ye would do yerself a favor to remember that and respect her if ye wish to earn the respect of the Irvines. If ye wish to meet Reginald upon our arrival, I shall make it so.”
“Ye will?” Her voice squeaked, and he smiled like a cat about to trap a mouse.
“With pleasure.”
Fortunately, his promise put her in better spirits, and the rest of the journey continued with moderate silence with the sounds of wind and the crunching of fresh snow beneath the hooves of horses to occupy him. White flakes fell on his plaid, a stark contrast against the dark green and blue of Keith colors he wore proudly. It was a satisfying feeling to arrive on Irvine lands and know himself as an ally rather than an enemy in danger. Too many had died in the rivalry over the years, even innocent children that his clan had shamefully set afire without his father’s knowledge. It had started a most dark time between the neighboring clans and had escalated the feud from simple cattle raids to all-out war anytime a Keith crossed paths with an Irvine.
Now, thanks to Elizabeth, the clans were at peace. Mayhap she was with child and that was the news she was so eager to share. A child born of their union would work to solidify the peace for all time and a male heir would mean the next Laird of Drum would share Keith blood.
Just as darkness began to set in and the gentle snow threatened to become an aggressive storm, his entourage arrived at the gates of Drum, being immediately signaled to enter by the guards who obviously expected their party.
“Yuletide greetings, Marischal,” Anthony, one of their best guards and warriors shouted as his men opened the gates. Our laird and lady have expected ye.”
“Many thanks, Anthony!” he shouted back and whistled to his men, urging them to follow him into the outer bailey where the stables and the chapel, where Elizabeth had first married Alexander, and then Robert, were located. The tall, dark, stone walls of Drum towered overhead, surrounded by forest land on most sides, unlike Dunnottar which was nestled on a cliff overlooking the sea. At night, William heard waves crashing against the cliffsides while he slept, herring gulls calling out as they flew around the shore. Here at Drum, the sounds of leaves rustling in the wind while wild animals made themselves known had consumed the night instead. However, with winter upon them, he doubted many leaves or animals were still to be found in the Royal Forest of Drum.
Once William saw Finlay, the elderly stable master, standing by with his stable workers to see to the many newly arrived horses, he dismounted and greeted the old man who he remembered Elizabeth was quite fond of.
“Welcome back to Drum Castle, Marischal,” Finlay said with a respectful bow. “We have room in our stables for all the horses though it shall be a tight fit.”
“I trust ye to take care of them, Finlay. My sister grew up on horses and loves the creatures dearly. She speaks highly of ye, so I ken ye truly are a master of yer craft.”
Beaming, the old man smiled, pulling his Irvine plaid closer to his chest as the storm winds howled and blew wildly. “Thank ye, Marischal.”
Nodding, William turned to help Marjorie off her horse, dismayed when she clung on a wee bit too tight and most definitely too long. He had hoped she had diverted her interests elsewhere, yet as he placed her down, she verily dug her claws into his back.
When the doors of Drum’s keep flew open, William smiled and forgot all about Marjorie as his sister ran out into the cold, arms wide open to greet him. “Will! Och! ’Tis good to have ye back at Drum for the Yule!”
“I am glad to be back,” he said, meaning it with all his heart. He had meant to spend the Yule at Dunnottar, but Drum felt like his second home, and Elizabeth beamed with obvious contentment. William truly owed Robert for treating his sister so well.
Robert stepped up beside Elizabeth and put out his arm. “Greetings, William. Welcome back to Drum.” Robert was a tall, muscular man with dark hair and blue eyes, much different than William who had reddish-blond hair and light green, almost yellow, eyes, much like his sister. Yet they were built rather similarly, both having been trained to fight at a young age and serving as warriors in more wars than he cared to consider.
“Thank ye for inviting me to join ye. ’Tis a pleasure to be back.” William shook Robert’s outstretched forearm and began to speak when he was interrupted by the sound of Marjorie clearing her throat beside him.
“Are ye going to introduce me, Will?” she asked sweetly, making a show of gripping his arm just as he saw Reginald, Matilda, and the woman he remembered as Alexander’s mistress appear at the entrance. Her name escaped him, but he recalled that she was with child and by the look of her, she was ready to give birth any day. They had interacted on more than one occasion, but between the Battle of Harlaw calling them away, Alexander’s death, and the ridiculous situation with Elizabeth deciding which Irvine brother to marry, the red-haired lass’ name escaped him, though her temper did not. She had been rather headstrong and free with her opinions if he recalled.
Looking from Marjorie to his sister and Robert, he saw her smirk and knew Elizabeth was amused by the show, awaiting his introduction.
“Robert and Elizabeth, as ye ken, I have arrived with the Douglas Clan, who was staying with us at Dunnottar. Please meet Archibald, the Earl of Douglas, and his daughter, Miss Marjorie of Douglas.”
“I am pleased to meet ye and welcome ye both to Drum,” Robert said to Archibald, putting his arm out in greeting. “I am Robert Irvine, Laird of Drum, and this is my wife, Lady Elizabeth.”
“Aye, I ken who ye are,” Archibald replied, not bothering to clasp forearms with Robert. “We grow weary and my men crave ale. I presume ye Irvines have ale?”
Elizabeth looked at Robert and frowned before looking at William. He could see she was flustered by the earl’s cold demeanor, but he wasn’t called the Black Douglas for nothing. He was said to have a heart of stone and blood so cold that not even the snow in the dead of winter could compare. William shook his head at Elizabeth and she cleared her throat, looking at Archibald with a forced smile.
“Aye, of course, we do. The finest ale and mead to be sure.”
“I am t
ired and cold, Will,” Marjorie said loudly, making sure all eyes suddenly focused on her petulant facial expression. Huddling closer to his side, Marjorie looked behind Robert and Elizabeth in search of Reginald and as soon as she spotted him, a smile spread across her thin lips.
“Why do ye not all follow us into the keep? Tomorrow we shall light the Yule log and serve mince pies but, for today, we have a fire in the hearth and a boar roasting for all to enjoy,” Elizabeth said.
“And much ale,” Robert replied flatly before turning on his heels, taking Elizabeth’s arm and leading the way to the hall.
This was not going well, not that he expected it to. Whatever reason Elizabeth had to invite him here must be of great importance if she invited the Black Douglas just to ensure her brother could attend.
Walking into the well-lit hall, William breathed deeply, enjoying the scent of the evergreens draped across the room mixed with the smell of mince pies, savory meats and fresh rushes beneath their feet. It truly felt like the Yule and his heart lightened, finally having arrived and knowing he at least had several days to enjoy himself. Once the solstice arrived on the morrow, no work could be done until the twelfth day had ended. This meant that all the servants in the castle would be preparing all the food and making certain tasks were done before nightfall, so all would be able to enjoy the Yuletide with food, beverage, traditions, and family.
It was William’s favorite time of year and reminded him of the days of his youth when his parents were alive and disgustingly in love. He and Elizabeth had been cared for and raised in a rare environment of peace and indulgence, where their mother was treated as an equal by their father. It had not only instilled within him a deep respect for women but also a standard he found almost impossible to achieve. He had wished to marry for love, but time had passed and no woman ever stole his heart. He had hoped that entertaining the idea of wedding with the daughter of a border clan laird would result in a good match, and yet, so far, everything fell far short of his expectations. Marjorie was the very worst of all and still, she clung to his arm as he stepped further into the hall.
