by Jaid Black
Iona blushed. “I am. He’s more handsome a mon than I ever dared dream tae wed.” She glanced up at Lucia. “Yet ’tis the way Sir Cawley declared Leith tae be his verra own son that won my heart.”
Lucia smiled. “You will be a lady. I suppose I’ll need to find another cook.”
“Why?” Iona breathed out. “Ye are no’ happy with—”
“I’m very happy!” Lucia cut in. “I just assumed ladies here don’t work.”
Iona snorted at that. “Mayhap Lowlanders. In the Highlands everyone needs tae do their part.” She smiled. “In truth, I would go daft sitting around all day serving no purpose. I prefer tae do my part, just as ye do, milady.”
Lucia couldn’t fault her logic. “I agree. It’s not healthy for your mind or body to be idle all day.” Speaking of health… “How is Leith? Has he had any more seizures?”
“Only one,” Iona returned. “The strap works verra well. His last one was no’ so bad as afore.”
“That’s good,” Lucia murmured. “With your permission, though, I’d like to teach him some things that may prevent him from having those spells to begin with.”
“Of course, milady. Any aid ye are willin’ tae give we are humbled tae receive.”
“I don’t want to put it off until after the holidays.” Lucia sighed. “And yet the next two days are filled with cooking, cooking and more cooking.”
“I have everything under control in the kitchens and plenty of clanswomen wantin’ tae help. Ye have already concocted yer tarts and cakes. ’Tis no’ trouble for me tae put them in the ovens.”
Lucia acknowledged it was probably best if Iona did handle the so-called ovens because they looked more like fire pits to her. She didn’t want to ruin the sweets she’d worked so hard on by burning them.
“Okay.” Lucia inclined her head. “I’ll go fetch Leith and get started.”
* * * * *
Cainnech and Niall stood at the doors to the laird’s bedchamber and gawked. Lucia and Leith were splayed out on the floor, the deuce of them contorting their bodies and breathing in bizarre ways. Lucia’s voice was a serene whisper as she kept instructing the lad to find his happy place.
“His eyes are closed,” Niall whispered. “How can the boy find aught whilst blind?”
“I canna say.”
“Mayhap ’tis more witchery.” Niall kept his tone a hush. “Think ye she is tryin’ tae take them tae her future?”
“Nay, dunce.” Cainnech frowned. “Think ye she would kidnap Iona’s bairn?”
“Then what is she aboot?”
“If I kenned as much we would no’ be havin’ this lackwit conversation.”
“On the count of three,” they heard Lucia murmur, “we will start to wake up. Do not open your eyes until three.”
“She thinks they are asleep, Cain?”
“I will kill ye where ye stand do ye ask me another question I canna answer.”
“One,” Lucia whispered. “Start wiggling your toes.”
Cainnech and Niall shared a bewildered look.
“Two,” Lucia continued. “Start wiggling your fingers.”
’Twas mayhap the most bizarre sight Lucia had given Cainnech yet. ’Twas saying a lot, that.
“Three,” Lucia finished. “Open your eyes when you’re ready.”
Cainnech and Niall stood there perplexed as they watched wee Leith slowly open his eyes. Lucia opened hers next, then rolled onto her side to look down at the boy.
“How does your body feel?” Lucia asked him.
Leith thought that over for a moment. “Different. Good. ’Tis like the upset inside it has gone.”
Lucia smiled. “We’ll practice this every day together until you remember how to do it all on your own, okay?”
“Aye, milady. Do ye really think ’twill keep the bad spells away?”
“Yes. You may still have one every so often, but I don’t think as often or as bad.”
“But how?”
Lucia’s expression was thoughtful. “Remember how you said your body feels like the upset inside it left?”
“Aye.”
“That upset is what we call stress in my world. After talking with your mom it seems most of your spells happen when you feel upset inside, so we are teaching your body how to let the stress leave it.”
“Ye did this in yer homeland?”
“Yes. Lots of people practice it or at least something similar. It keeps your mind and body healthy.”
Leith smiled. “I love ye, milady. I hope Laird Mackenzie willna be vexed by me sayin’ so.”
“I’m sure he’d be happy that such a smart, caring boy loves me.” She bent her head and kissed his forehead. “And I love you too, little man.”
“Everra since ye came tae Eilean Donnain me and mum have been happy. Ye are no’ leavin’ the island?”
Lucia was silent for a moment. Cainnech’s muscles instinctively tensed.
“No,” Lucia said slowly. She grinned. “I’m the Great and Powerful Viking of Oz and this is my home.”
“Good.”
Lucia affectionately ruffled the hair atop his wee head. “Go to the kitchen and get yourself a treat. You earned it.”
Cainnech and Niall watched from the shadows, still undetected. As was customary, ’twas Niall who first broke the silence.
“I am nigh close tae cryin’ again.”
The laird grunted. “Me tae.”
“Think ye she can fetch me a wench from yon future tae wed?”
“Nay.”
“Why?”
“Because ’tis unlikely my wife could find a future wench willin’ tae wed with a dunce.”
* * * * *
“You scared me!” Lucia paused from dressing long enough to catch her breath. She smiled. “You should take your bath and get dressed. We have a castle full of guests.”
When Cainnech simply stared at her without speaking a word, Lucia’s forehead crinkled. “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Aye,” Cainnech finally drawled. “Everything is better than I could have dared dream.”
Lucia frowned thoughtfully. She couldn’t read his mood or guess his thoughts, which was unusual. “Then why are you staring at me?”
“I’m thinkin’.”
“About?”
“Ye. This marriage. Our life.”
Lucia didn’t know what to say. She’d never seen him like this before.
“I love ye,” Cainnech said, surprising her. “Dinna say those words tae me until ye mean them. Just ken that I love ye.”
Lucia opened her mouth to speak, but Cainnech closed the gap between them and kissed her lips. Picking her up, their kiss unbroken, her husband carried her to their bed and thrust his cock inside her.
This time Cainnech didn’t fuck her, but made love to her. It was a first for both of them.
Chapter Thirteen
The Christmas Eve festivities turned out to be better than Lucia could have dared dream. Unlike Protestants—who come to think of it didn’t exist yet—most Catholics of her time placed a greater emphasis on Christmas Eve than on Christmas Day. Midnight Mass, which they were still two hours shy of, was especially revered.
Kinnon and Niall had been thoughtful enough to send for a newer, younger priest and invite him to their celebration at Eilean Donnain. Lucia had instantly taken to Father Ewen and vice versa. She wanted him to remain at the castle and serve as the island’s parish priest, despite Cainnech’s reticence to have a “mon of the church” dwelling in the stronghold.
Thankfully Niall had taken Lucia aside and explained why it was his older brother was so untrusting of the clergy. It turned out the brothers not only shared the same mother, but the same father as well—a man who was a father in more ways than one. Cainnech couldn’t forgive his dad for leaving their mother to suffer in poverty when she’d had two young sons to care for.
When Lucia had gotten her husband alone, she’d given him some food for thought. “Are
you certain your mother told him you and Niall were his sons?” she’d asked. At his nay grunt, she’d gently asked him to consider the possibility. “Even if he did know, and even if he’s as wretched as you believe him to be, you can’t paint all priests with the same brush. You don’t want your new clan conflating you with that monstrous Laird Adaidh so maybe give Father Ewen the same respect?” Cainnech’d given her a begrudging grunt and said nothing more on the topic.
Sitting with the MacKenzie clanswomen at one of the many tables in the great hall, Lucia happened to glance up in time to see the laird and his brother talking with Father Ewen. Their conversation must have been going well because she could see Cainnech laugh as he and Niall conversed with the priest.
The sight was humbling and hopeful. Perhaps Eilean Donnain would soon have a parish priest after all.
“We was thinkin’, milady, that mayhap ’twould be a boon for the wee ones if they played games on the morrow afore we eat the Christmas meal,” Iona said. “What think ye of that?”
Lucia smiled. “It sounds like a great idea to me.” She glanced around. “But where, what and how? The great hall is already overflowing.”
“We ken ye dinna have a care for the snow,” Brae intoned, “yet our menfolk are verra willin’ tae build fire pits outside if ’twould ensure ye grace us with yer presence.”
Fire or no fire, she didn’t have a cloak heavy enough to keep her warm, but their eagerness and thoughtfulness made the gesture impossible to decline. “Of course,” Lucia agreed, “I would be honored.”
The MacKenzie women animatedly brought her up to speed concerning the favorite games of their world. She’d never heard of any of them, but they sounded rather fun. When she admitted she’d like to play along too, the clanswomen started to giggle. “Wenches dinna partake of the games, milady,” Cadha informed her, “only the males of the clan play with the bairns.”
“Why?” Lucia asked. When no one could offer an explanation other than it was just the way it had always been, she said, “Then I suppose there’s no better time for the females to change what’s always been than on Christmas Day.” She shrugged. “We work as hard as the men; we deserve to have fun too.”
They gawked at her with a mixture of shock, amazement and awe. Finally it was Brae who broke the silence. “’Tis bedamned right we do.”
“Mum!” Now it was Cadha gasping. “Yer mouth!”
“I have me moments tae, Cadha. I be yer mum, no’ a nun.”
The table burst into laughter, Lucia included. She couldn’t stop herself from clapping at Brae’s show of medieval brazenness.
“What are ye wenches laughin’ aboot?” Niall asked. “I like tae ken the gossip as much as ye.”
Lucia saw Cainnech roll his eyes, which made her laugh even harder. The giant warlord was growing on her at an astounding rate.
“My lackwit brother is a mon whilst he wields a sword, but a wench with the talkin’.”
That announcement caused all the women to laugh harder. Cainnech’s telltale blush told Lucia the serious laird must not have been accustomed to humoring others. It suited him well so she hoped he let himself indulge in it more.
“We were discussing the games we are going to play tomorrow before Christmas dinner,” Lucia said, grinning. “We women have decided to take part in them as well.”
“No mon or wench can beat me,” Niall exclaimed, “yet ye are welcome tae try.”
“I beat ye everra time, dunce,” Cainnech reminded him. “The morrow shall be naught different.”
More laughter. Lucia was pleased to note he was growing more comfortable with it.
“Oh!” Lucia said, growing serious, “we only have an hour left before Father Ewen says Midnight Mass. We should set out the desserts and light the tree candles!”
“I’ll go fetch Kinnon from yon table tae light them,” Niall said.
“And I’ll see tae the desserts with Cawley and Gabhran,” Iona announced, rising to her feet. “I shall put out only half so we’ve plenty tae serve on the morrow, milady.”
“Good idea,” Lucia confirmed.
“I’ll help ye!” Cadha said too eagerly, bouncing up. “If’n it be tae yer likin’, Iona,” she demurred.
“Aye. Thank ye, Cadha.”
Brae clucked her tongue. “I will be helpin’ then tae for I’ve a feelin’ me daughter is more interested in seein’ Gabhran than the kitchens.”
Most girls would have blushed, but Cadha was her mother’s daughter. “I dinna deny he’s passing fair handsome.”
Twenty minutes later, the tree was lit and the MacKenzies were enjoying the desserts Lucia had made. Gabhran sat next to Cadha, looking as besotted by her as she was by him. They made an adorable couple.
“Milady, ’tis wondrous!”
“Better than mead!”
“So delicious!”
“I need more!”
The compliments kept flowing until it was Lucia who was blushing. Cainnech must have noticed.
“They are correct, wife,” he confirmed, eating her pecan pie sans the pecans. “’Tis bliss, this.”
For some reason his praise affected Lucia more than all the other compliments combined. “Thank you, husband,” she murmured.
Calling him husband in earshot of others must have surprised him, albeit in a good way. Cainnech stared at her overly long, an emotion she couldn’t name in his gaze. “Ye are welcome, wife.”
“Afore we begin mass,” Father Ewen boomed out, walking toward the tree, “I’ve been informed by Sir Cawley that his betrothed has something tae say.”
Lucia watched Iona walk to where the priest stood. She looked quite nervous, which she supposed was normal for a woman used to blending into the shadows rather than standing out in the sunlight.
“Forgive me,” Iona demurely apologized to the quieted crowd. She took a deep breath. “I will keep this speech fair short so the good Father can do his godly duty the soonest.”
Lucia blinked, confused. Iona hadn’t mentioned any speeches to her.
“On behalf of the whole of the MacKenzie clan, I have been given the honor tae thank Laird MacKenzie for taking us in as his own. We mayhap canna repay ye for causing our island tae become the most revered of the Hebrides, yet will we try tae.”
Lucia smiled. She placed her hand on Cainnech’s and patted it, letting him know how proud of him she was. He grunted in reply, pleased.
“And tae Lady MacKenzie,” Iona continued, “ye have me and Leith’s thanks and humble gratitude. Ye saw in us a worthiness none else did.”
Lucia swallowed past the lump of emotion in her throat. She hadn’t been expecting this.
“Because of ye, I met me Cawley. Because of ye, Leith and I have friendships we dinna have afore with so many generous MacKenzies who now see us as ye do. The old priest had them all a’feared of us so I canna thank ye enough for sendin’ him away and bringin’ the new Father tae us.”
The great hall resonated with cheers and applause. Cainnech squeezed Lucia’s hand, letting her know how proud he was of her. She took a steadying breath as her pulse climbed.
Brae stood up and walked to where Iona stood. She hugged her new friend before speaking.
“Our Great and Powerful Viking of Oz is now our Great and Powerful Viking of Eilean Donnain.” Brae grinned as the MacKenzies laughed. “We wish we had kenned yer Christmas traditions sooner tae make ye feel more at home.”
Lucia could feel tears welling up in her eyes. They had no idea how much they were affecting her.
“Next year, milady, ’twill be plenty of time for making gifts of thanks tae exchange amongst us. This year we had time tae craft naught but a single gift. ’Tis no’ just from the women of the island, but from all of us. Even that surly Kinnon helped!” After the crowd calmed from laughing and teasing Kinnon, Brae continued. “The gift is for ye, milady.”
Lucia’s eyes widened. Her heartbeat raced.
“We ken ye are accustomed tae finery so please forgive us that we h
aven’t the cloth for a lady,” Brae said, her tone uncharacteristically shy and unsure. “Yet if ye would mayhap do us the honor of coming tae stand aside us, me Cadha would like tae give ye the first Christmas gift our clan has ever made.”
Lucia looked to Cainnech. His steel-gray gaze had softened and seemed to be urging her to stand. Despite her shaky legs, she managed to slowly rise to her feet and walk to where Iona, Brae and Father Ewen stood in front of the beautiful, lit Christmas tree.
Cadha and Gabhran appeared from the sea of faces, Cadha carrying something in her hands. Lucia’s breath hitched as it dawned on her just what that something was. Tears spilled down her cheeks despite her effort to keep them from falling.
They had crafted her a cloak—a heavy cloak that could withstand the wintry elements outside.
The multitude of fabrics lovingly stitched together to create this cloak of many colors might have been snubbed by a true lady from this world, but it was the single most beautiful gift Lucia had ever received. It had come from the clan’s collective heart. It was more than she deserved.
The tears continued to streak down her cheeks—a fact Lucia no longer cared about concealing. When Cainnech walked to where she stood and took the garment from Cadha’s hands, he gently placed the cloak around Lucia’s shoulders. Her body trembled.
The great hall fell completely silent as the MacKenzies waited to find out what her tears signified. Iona and Brae appeared a bit worried, obviously thinking she didn’t like it.
Lucia absorbed the magnitude of the hopeful looks on everyone’s faces. She glanced at the Christmas tree shining with breathtaking beauty before asking everyone to take their seats save Father Ewen.
The great hall was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Every face in the enormous room appeared anxious. Even Cainnech seemed uncertain of himself. Given that they could never know just how she’d come to be here, Lucia didn’t fully comprehend how to best express to the clan that they had just completely and irrevocably sealed her fate. She had made her choice—one hundred percent—and there was no going back.
“I just want to say,” Lucia began. She took another steadying breath and forced her tears to calm. “I just want to say that I have been given many gifts in my life—gifts that cost so much more than this cloak.”
