The Gift: The Pocket Watch Chronicles

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Thank ye, my lady. I’ll take care.” Cassie was used to horses like this and was looking forward to the ride. She was slightly worried that she might have to ride sidesaddle. She had done it before, but she was by no means proficient. She knew sidesaddles came into use sometime in the fourteenth century, she just wasn’t sure when. Before that women rode astride. She wracked her brain trying to remember if Lady Ranald had ridden sidesaddle the day Cassie had arrived, but she hadn’t taken notice. She had been far to overwhelmed by the handsome man on whose lap she herself rode to pay attention to much else.

  Cassie was tremendously relieved when Tavish walked towards her leading two horses—both with regular saddles. She stepped towards the dappled mare she had seen Lady Ranald riding and stroked the beast’s neck. “Hello, Belle. Aren’t ye lovely?”

  The horse whickered softly to her.

  Tavish came to her side. “I’ll lift ye on.”

  Cassie smiled at him, taking Belle’s reins from his hand. “Ye needn’t. I can mount a horse.” Then without waiting, she put the reins over Belle’s head. Cassie glanced down at the horse’s hooves and pushed her a little, until she took a step, squaring up her stance. Then with the reins in her left hand, she grabbed a fistful of Belle’s mane, and with her right hand she gripped the front edge of the saddle. She started to put her left foot into the stirrup when she realized her dress was in the way.

  She frowned. She’d never mounted a horse in a floor-length gown before. She looked up at the sound of Tavish’s chuckle and laughed too. “I guess my dress wasn’t as much of a problem when I was a wee lassie.”

  “I suppose not,” he said with a grin as he stepped towards her to give her a knee up.

  Once on Belle’s back, Cassie put her feet in the stirrups and arranged her long full skirts to ensure they covered her legs before glancing at a very amused Lady Ranald.

  His mother said, “Tavish, I’m glad to see a smile from ye. See if ye can’t make it last. It’s a fine afternoon. Enjoy the ride,” she called as she went back into the keep.

  It was probably a good thing that Lady Ranald didn’t see the frown her statement brought to Tavish’s face.

  By this time, three mounted guardsmen had joined them. Still scowling, Tavish mounted his own horse. Without sparing Cassie another glance, he said, “Let’s go.”

  Cassie sighed and followed him out of the bailey, the guardsmen trailing behind them. She smiled to herself. Even in the fourteenth century I have a security detail.

  They all rode through the village towards the heath that lay beyond it to the northeast. When they reached the open area, he urged his horse into a canter.

  She did as well, maneuvering until she rode beside him.

  He didn’t look at her or speak for the longest time.

  She tried to draw him into conversation. “Does yer horse have a name?”

  Tavish frowned. “Of course he does.”

  When he didn’t actually tell her the beast’s name, she prodded, “What is it?”

  “What is what?”

  She gave an exasperated sigh. “What is yer horse’s name?”

  “Raven.”

  She tried again. “Where are we going?”

  “Our final destination is Castle Ranald.”

  “I could have worked that much out on my own.” She had trouble keeping the irritation she felt out of her voice. “Where are we going before we return to the keep?”

  “We’re not going anywhere. We’re just taking a ride on the moor.”

  “Do ye often ride on the moor?”

  “Nay.”

  “Why not?”

  He frowned at her again. “Because I usually am not required to entertain a visiting noblewoman.”

  Clearly, he wasn’t required to carry on a conversation often either.

  She rode silently beside him for a little longer. Finally she reined in, stopping.

  The guardsmen who had followed at a distance reined in when they reached her, but Tavish rode another hundred yards or so before he realized she had stopped. Then he turned his mount around, riding back to her. “Are ye ready to return to the keep? Is that why ye stopped?”

  She smiled. “Nay. I stopped because I wanted to talk with ye.” She dismounted, which she could manage without help, in spite of her clothing. “Can we walk for a bit?”

  He dismounted too. “We can, but I don’t see the need in it. I have nothing to say.”

  She glanced sideways at him. “Ye’ve made that painfully obvious. However, the up side is that ye won’t interrupt me while I speak.” She handed Belle’s reins to one of the guardsmen.

  Tavish arched a brow at her, handing off his reins as well. “Excuse me?”

  She turned and walked away in the direction they had been riding making him take several long strides to catch up to her.

  “Ye heard me correctly. I have a few things to tell ye and it’s better to get it out of the way so ye can stop behaving like an arse.”

  His mouth fell open and his expression was both shocked and amused. “Well then, my lady, please enlighten me.”

  She stopped walking and looked at him. “It’s clear that ye’re not happy with this situation. With me being here.”

  He had the good grace to look contrite. “It has nothing to do with ye, personally.”

  Holy shit. Were men in any time different? Was he really going to give her the medieval version of the “it isn’t you, it’s me” speech? She almost laughed. “Of course it has nothing to do with me. Ye don’t know me and I’ve done nothing wrong. So I can only assume there’s another reason ye’re so angry. Perhaps if ye tell me what it is, we can get past it.”

  He captured her gaze for a moment then shaking his head looked away. “It’s simple. I don’t want to be married. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry if that disappoints ye, but I’m just not ready. My father knows that and brought ye here anyway. I was completely unaware that he’d done it until moments before we rode to meet ye.”

  Ah, now Cassie understood. He’d been blindsided—much as Claire had been. “Tavish, believe me, I understand. I didn’t want to come here either. I had very little choice.”

  He frowned. “What do ye mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve lived at the abbey for most of my life and I was happy there.” Or at least Gertrude said Claire was. “I didn’t want to leave and I don’t want to marry right now either. But my brother gave me no choice.”

  “Ye wish to take vows?”

  “I don’t really know. Coll knew I was considering it.”

  “Then why did he make ye leave?”

  She shrugged. “If I had to guess, I’d say guilt.”

  “Guilt?” He sounded astonished.

  “Aye. My father sent me away when I was very young and as good as forgot me. I think Coll fears I will take vows because I know no other life. He wanted me to leave the abbey for a few months, to see what life outside its walls is like. After he’s sure I know what I’m turning my back on, he will allow me to join the order.”

  “And he sent ye here instead of bringing ye home?”

  “He gave me a choice. I could have come here or returned to Lewis, but I had to leave the abbey.”

  His brows drew together. “If ye don’t want to marry, why did ye choose to come here?”

  Cassie thought about how to answer that. The real reason—it would be easier not to have to feign amnesia—wouldn’t work. She sighed, remembering her own life and being away at boarding school. When she graduated, she hadn’t made the choice to go home. She hadn’t even chosen to attend a college her parents approved of. She rebelled and chose something different—a completely new experience. It seemed reasonable to give him an answer based in the truth of her own life. “I suppose, once I was resigned to the fact that I had to leave the abbey, at least briefly, I decided that I may as well make the most of it. Going back to the old life that I left ten years ago seemed pointless. I wanted to experience something new.”

  “So ye came h
ere knowing ye had no intention of marrying me?”

  She laughed. “Don’t sound so affronted. I didn’t say that. I suppose if things had gone extremely well and there was any attraction between us, I might have made the decision to stay. But we’ll never know. You don’t want to be married, remember?”

  He canted his head, capturing her gaze again. “So I don’t have to worry about breaking yer heart?”

  “Nay, ye don’t.” My heart was broken before I arrived.

  “Then we can just set this farce aside?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the best plan for either of us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because like it or not, ye know ye must marry eventually. And, like it or not, I cannot return to the abbey for nearly two months. So perhaps we can both benefit. I can see what the world outside the abbey is like and ye can begin to get used to the idea of allowing a woman into yer life—while knowing it’s only temporary.”

  “What if ye decide ye don’t want to go back to the abbey after this?”

  “I’m fairly certain I’ll return to the abbey, but if not, I’ll go to Lewis. I’ll tell my brother we were not compatible. Who knows? Maybe he’ll find a man who does wish to marry me and will love me.”

  A fleeting frown crossed his face. “I don’t doubt that if ye choose not to return to the abbey, yer brother won’t have any trouble finding someone who will adore ye. Ye deserve that.” Almost as an afterthought he added, “Every woman does.”

  Her heart caught. Tom’s mother used to tell him: Be gentle with her heart and always make certain she knows you adore her. Every woman deserves that. Cassie had never doubted that Tom adored her. But that was her past and these sixty days were meant to help her heal. She wasn’t seeking love or adoration now—just peace.

  “Well that’s neither here nor there. I am not seeking a husband. I just want a taste of life. I want to meet new people and try new things. I want to gallop across open heaths chasing the wind. I want a chance to run barefooted beside the sea again. I want to feel the sun on my face on a clear bright day and touch the sky. And even if it’s only once, I want to dance.” She looked away from him for a moment. “Maybe, if I do those things—” my heart won’t ache so terribly “—I’ll return to the abbey, with renewed purpose.”

  ~ * ~

  There was something so sad and wistful in her voice, Tavish felt a little of the ice around his heart melt. He didn’t delude himself. He wouldn’t fall in love. He couldn’t. And for that reason alone he knew that this sweet, beautiful, audacious woman was not the one for him. But somehow he couldn’t imagine that a lass who wanted to “chase the wind” and “run barefooted beside the sea,” could choose the religious life either. She deserved to grow old beside a man with the same zest for life she had and who loved her above all else. Maybe he could help her see that too.

  But, nevertheless, if nothing else, he would see her dance.

  “Well ye’re right about the fact that I cannot avoid marriage and I was deluding myself into thinking it could be put off forever.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “And ye were also right about the fact that I didn’t handle yer arrival here very well.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Ye called me an arse.”

  “I did not.” She grinned. “I said ye were behaving like an arse. There’s a big difference.”

  He chuckled. “Fine, I was behaving like an arse—a clear sign I wasn’t handling things well. And I’m sorry about that.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Ye were upset with yer da, not me.”

  “But I was behaving like an arse towards ye, not my da.”

  “So ye’ve already learned one lesson for the future. If ye’re angry or upset about something that someone else has done, don’t take it out on yer wife.”

  He laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Once again, he felt a profound sadness from her and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to banish it.

  As if knowing he could read her, she looked away.

  He reached out and touched her chin, turning her face back to him. “Now, how about we mount up again, have a gallop across this open heath, and chase the wind?”

  Chapter 8

  Cassie found supper that night a much more agreeable experience than the last several. There were no stubborn scowls to be seen, either on Tavish or his father, and the conversation was pleasant. Breakfast the next morning was much the same.

  Before leaving the table, Tavish said, “Claire, there are some things I must attend to today but tomorrow is Sunday. If the weather is fine, I thought we’d spend the day together. Perhaps we’ll ride to a sandy stretch by the sea. Ye mentioned ye’d like to do that.”

  She flashed him her brightest smile. “That sounds wonderful. I’d love to.”

  He took one of her hands in his and kissed the back of it. “Until later then.”

  She nodded. “Aye, until later.” Evidently, he had taken their discussion to heart. If he were actually trying to win a girl’s affections, this would certainly be a good start.

  When Tavish and Laird Ranald had left the hall, Lady Ranald leaned closer and asked softly, “How did ye do that?”

  Cassie laughed. “How did I do what?”

  “Pull Tavish from the mood he’d been in?”

  “Ye give me too much credit. I didn’t do anything. ’Twas Laird Ranald who reminded him of his duty.”

  “That may be, but he was still angry when he left with ye yesterday.”

  “Nay, he wasn’t. Ye said yerself he was smiling.”

  “Aye, but I had no doubt his foul temper hadn’t been tucked too far away. But he had certainly calmed by the time ye returned. He was positively charming at the evening meal last night.”

  Cassie shrugged. “Perhaps it was the leisurely ride that did it.”

  Lady Ranald practically snorted. “I’m fairly certain that wasn’t enough to calm his ire, but ye needn’t tell me if ye don’t wish to. I’m just thankful he’s come around and accepted the idea of a betrothal to ye.”

  Cassie wouldn’t disavow her of this notion. After all, he was coming to terms with the idea of marriage—if not to her. “I’m glad ye’re pleased.”

  She patted Cassie’s hand. “Extremely pleased, my dear lass. Extremely pleased. Now, shall we start our day?”

  “Aye, my lady.” Cassie accompanied Lady Ranald as she went about the business of running the keep, meeting with the steward, the head cook and the head housekeeper. When that was accomplished the older woman suggested they spend the rest of the morning in her solar.

  “I’m working on a tapestry and ye can bring yer paints and brushes and such to work on yer painting.”

  “Thank ye, my lady. I’d like that. I’ll just need to fetch an egg, a bowl and a pitcher of water from the kitchen in order to mix my paint.”

  “Just fetch the things ye need from yer chamber. I’ll send a maid for the rest of it.”

  Cassie had to make two trips. First she brought Claire’s easel and the wooden box containing Claire’s brushes, towels, pigments and small bowls for preparing paint. Then she returned with her palette and the unfinished painting of the Virgin and the cherry tree.

  Lady Ranald had already positioned the easel near the window through which the bright morning sun streamed. And she’d placed a work table nearby. She looked up as Cassie walked into the room. “I was thinking this might be a good place for ye to work. Ye’ll have several hours of full sun.”

  “That will be perfect, my lady. Thank ye.”

  Lady Ranald beamed before crossing the room to her tapestry frame.

  Cassie put the wooden panel on the easel and looked at it closely in the light. It had been sized, coated with white gesso, and tempered with a resin varnish. She found gypsum, zinc, and what she assumed were grains of rabbit glue among Claire’s supplies, so clearly the girl had been able to make gesso herself. Cas
sie had used those same ingredients to make the gesso with which she had prepared the altarpiece she made in prep school. There was also a leather bag containing chunks of what appeared to be solidified resin—perhaps amber. Claire would have dissolved these in alcohol to create the varnish.

  The result was a panel of wood with a smooth white surface that wouldn’t absorb the paint.

  Claire had completed much of the background, as well as the image of the Blessed Mother. The cherry tree was the major component left to finish. So Cassie prepared several green paints using green earth, malachite, and verdigris. She mixed browns using varying amounts of ochre and umber. She also mixed white paint. She was careful not to touch it. She assumed the pigment was carbonate of lead, the only white pigment used for hundreds of years. She knew lead was toxic and could be absorbed through the skin. For this reason, the white paint she used in her prep school project was the only thing that hadn’t been authentic. She had used zinc instead.

  Once the paint was mixed, she prepared her palette and picked up a brush. At that moment, she was suffused with warmth and her fingers tingled. It was almost as if the part of Claire who remained within her was awakened once she held the brush in her hand.

  Cassie let the warmth flow through her and began to paint. She became so engrossed with the painting that she lost track of time.

  A gentle voice penetrated her trance. “Claire. Claire, dear.” Lady Ranald was at her elbow.

  “Oh, my lady, I’m sorry. I was so focused on my work. I guess I didn’t hear ye.”

  She smiled warmly. “I could see that. Watching you was…well…enchanting. But we should go down to the great hall for the midday meal.”

  Cassie felt a warm blush flood her cheeks. She had felt enchanted. “Aye, of course. I’ll just cover my paints.” She wet one of the towels, squeezing out most of the water and covered the small bowls in which she’d mixed the paint.