“I love the sound of the water. It is soothing, somehow,” Clare said.
“It is indeed.”
“Tristan, I want to thank you.”
He marveled when she said his name. It sounded almost musical and it was as though he had never heard it spoken before. “Thank me for what?”
“For letting me talk about Alcott. I did not think I could or ever would be able to, but you listened and I am comforted.”
“In that case, perhaps you will allow me one question?”
“What?”
“What could have been more important to him than taking you to wife?”
She glanced back at Tristan and smiled slightly “I was not so pleased with that myself. However, his explanation had merit and I could not blame him for it. His father would not have approved of the marriage and without an inheritance, he had no way to provide for me.”
Tristan was not impressed. A man who truly loves a woman finds a way. “I suppose we are different from the English in that regard. A clan works together to provide for the lass and children, and no lad must await an inheritance to provide for them.”
Clare turned completely around to face him, “Why Tristan MacGreagor, you do not approve. I can hear it in your voice.”
“I did not mean...”
“Of course you meant it.” She lowered her head and lightly bit her lip, “If you promise not to tell, I will share a secret with you. I did not approve either.”
“But he was your only hope of escaping the monastery.”
“Precisely.” She turned back around and listened to the sound of the falling water for a while longer. “It was not as though I were in any danger or would not be fed if he left me where I was. It only meant we could not be together until after his father died.”
Tristan was not sure he wanted to hear any more of this. Having lost his own beloved father, he could not understand a man wishing his father would die so he could take the wife he wanted. It riled Tristan to the bone and he did not trust himself to speak. Fortunately for Alcott, he was already dead.
“There is another thing that bothered me, however,” Clare said at length.
“Which was?”
“Alcott said he lived in Wickerly Castle and was a wealthy man. If that were so, I wonder why did he not board me in a place where we could be together occasionally. But I suppose his father would have found out.”
“Aye, the English are quite the gossips.”
Clare rolled her eyes. It was MacGreagor gossips who told Tristan about her Alcott’s death, and the word spread much more quickly than she expected.
“Have you thought there might be another reason he did not rescue you?”
“Such as?”
“You are quite becoming. A lad might want you kept out of sight so no other lad could tempt you away.” She didn’t say a word and when she didn’t he wondered if she had already guessed that was Alcott’s purpose.
“I do not want to believe that of him. How very cruel to have left me in a place he knew I sorely hated, simply to keep me all to himself.”
Tristan could hardly blame the man for thinking that way. The more he spent time with Clare, the more he learned to appreciate her. “Perhaps he did not realize you were suffering.”
“I said as much in my letters, so I doubt he could have misunderstood. Oh well, it is of no importance now.”
“I suppose not.”
She smiled and turned around to face him again, “There is that word again—suppose. Promise you will never change. I am fond of people who do not positively know the answer to every question. It is a welcome change.” Tristan had not meant to, she realized, but he had given her a great deal to think about.
He offered his hand to help her climb down off the rock. “Your sister and Brendan have been discussing something serious, or so it seems.”
“I noticed that too. Shall we find out what it is or do you advise we stay clear of it?”
Tristan was honored she would ask him. “I fear it has to do with a disagreement. I say we wait.”
They did not have to wait long. Once Greer noticed them watching her, she motioned for Tristan and her sister to join them. Soon, all four were seated on the rocks farther away from the waterfall where it was a bit more quiet.
“Sister, you do not look pleased. What is it?” asked Clare.
Greer took her hand. “I have been approached by some of the other lasses.”
“About what?”
“About you.”
Clare drew in a breath. “Go on.”
“They believe the lads will not choose a wife until you are either married or...”
“Or gone?” When her sister nodded, Clare could not help but slump. “They do not believe I am in mourning?”
“They have not seen you cry. It is a bit unnatural, you are aware. It was a lie anyway, so it is of little matter.”
Tristan started to say something but before he could, Clare lightly touched his hand. “I am a little cold. May I borrow your extra plaid?” He nodded, went to his horse and got it for her.
“When must I leave?” Clare asked as soon a Tristan wrapped the cloth around her shoulders and sat back down.
Greer burst into tears. “I am going with you.”
“The hell you are!” Brendan got up and began to pace beside the pond.
Greer managed to pull herself together long enough to blurt out, “Brendan, I left her once and I will not forsake her again.”
Brendan quickly disagreed. “The lasses have no say in who stays and who goes. Only Neil can banish someone and he would not do it without just cause. Jealous lasses are not just cause!”
“Do calm yourself, Brendan,” Clare said. “I do not want to stay where I am not wanted, just cause or not. I can live in England as easily as I can live here.”
Greer shook her head. “How? Are you to become servant to some idle lord and lady, who cannot so much as wash their own hair? I will not hear of it.”
“Perhaps I could take a position in an orphanage.”
The more Brendan thought of losing Greer the more enraged he became. “Perhaps you could stay here too! If it is children you are wanting to take care of, we are about to have a glut of them with all these new brides.”
Clare covered her face with her hands. “How am I to walk among them now? It was hard enough before I knew they wanted me gone.”
Tristan had not said a word, but about this, he could no longer be quiet. “I am fascinated by this event. Not long ago the whole clan was chastised for looking down on Kadick’s mark, and so soon they have done it again—only this time because of beauty. It seems we never learn.”
Still greatly annoyed, Brendan glared at his longtime friend. “I am happy you are fascinated, but it hardly solves the problem.”
Tristan smiled anyway. “It might when Neil gets wind of this. At times, I think he regrets bringing so many English to us all at once. Now he will be sure he made a mistake.”
Despite her tears, Greer started to laugh. “He had no choice. The wagons at the Abbey were full of lasses and one mention of husbands was all the temptation they needed.”
On the way back, Tristan waited until the still arguing Greer and Brendan had fallen behind and were paying little attention. “Why did you not tell your sister about Alcott?”
Clare shrugged. “I got word of his death just the day before she came for me and she was so happy, I did not want to spoil it for her.”
“Why not tell her now?”
“I have been asking myself the same question. I wanted the lads to stay away and when I gave that excuse, Greer just assumed it was a lie. Tristan, I do not even remember half the journey here. In fact, I do not remember climbing that hill with you this morning. My mind is addled half the time and the other half, I cannot bring myself to speak his name. Have I gone daft, do you think?”
“You are not daft, just diverted. When my father died, it was the same for me. This evening I will come and take you for a wal
k. If the lasses think you prefer me, perhaps they will drop their demand for you to leave.”
“And the lads will stay away also?”
“That, I cannot promise.” He smiled and she smiled in return.
CHAPTER VII
TRISTAN TOOK HER RIDING as a favor to Brendan and although he did not regret taking the time, he had not intended to see Clare again. Then she needed him and it was natural to offer to help. He would do the same for any woman, he reminded himself. He took his soap, his clean clothing, walked out the door of his cottage and headed to the loch to bathe.
The water was warmer than usual and Tristan could not help but linger—and think about Clare. She was a sensible woman, but very vulnerable by virtue of her sheltered upbringing. A man need only set wealth and a castle in front of a woman like Clare and she would follow him anywhere...and perhaps do anything to hold his favor. Fortunately, Alcott died before he could harm her further, and it was a good thing too, because the thought of what might have happened was starting to get under Tristan’s skin.
THEY DID NOT WALK ALONE that evening. Not only did Greer and Brendan walk with them but also Donnahail and Kadick. Somehow a rumor began that the women wanted Clare gone, and some felt the need to show their allegiance to Clare. Then Gill and a very pregnant Ralin joined. Walrick was busy so Steppen and Jonrose came without husbands and by the time Neil and Glenna looked out the third story window of the Keep, there were thirty people walking with Clare down the glen.
Neil put his arm around Glenna’s shoulders. “Is there something I should know about?”
“Nay...unless you have a desire to get between squabbling lasses.”
Neil’s eyes shot wide open and he pretended great fear, “Please, any punishment but squabbling lasses.”
“That is what I thought.” Glenna leaned her head against his shoulder. “Let us see if they can work this one out on their own.”
ALL THE WAY FROM ENGLAND, Alcott tried to remember why the name MacGreagor sounded so familiar. He could remember his father having no dealings with them, nor a war in which they were defeated. But the name...where had he heard the name? Finally, he remembered. It was with the MacGreagors the old king hid his niece, Charlet. He guessed he was only one of a few people who knew that and he told no one. He might need that information to save his life someday, if he ever fell out of favor with the king.
Alcott’s plot to make the Highlanders think he carried a message for the king of Scotland worked. The clans they encountered dared not stop him and fortunately he was going in the right direction to make it believable. The King of Scotland, or so everyone believed, was as far north as a Scot could get.
The Clan Swinton warned of a marked woman, the MacPhearsons were not happy to see them and the Englishmen were certain they would not survive crossing Haldane property. The Haldane, though they did not approach the English, watched them from the top of every hill until they were off Haldane land.
At last, Alcott and his men turned into the glen of the MacGreagors. They wore red English tunics, black stockings and a terrified Stuart held up a flag exhibiting the Crest of the Lord of Wickerly. Almost immediately, a man in the forest somewhere nearby let loose a shrill whistle. Soon other whistles could be heard farther away until the last one sounded at a village they could barely see in the distance.
“How clever of them,” Alcott breathed. “They can see us but we cannot see them.”
In the great hall, Neil, Walrick and Gelson raced up the two flights of stairs and then to the bedchamber window that faced south.
“They are very brave to come into Scotland with only four lads,” said Gelson.
Walrick ran his fingers through his hair. “Very brave or very stupid.” The three of them watched for a while longer before he spoke again. “Shall I welcome them or kill them?”
Neil grinned. “Are you not curious? I will hear what drives a lad to do something this ill-advised.”
Gelson chuckled. “The only thing I know of is a...”
“A lass,” all three said at the same time.”
Neil laughed and slapped Walrick on the back. “Which one? I say it is Carol, the milk maid.”
“Nay,” Gelson argued, “there is another who has a faraway look in her eye. What is her name? I...”
Neil started back down the stairs. “It is a good thing you already have a wife. You cannot even remember their names.”
THE ROOM WAS DEATHLY quiet when the four Englishmen entered the Scottish great hall to stand a respectable distance from Laird Neil MacGreagor. The MacGreagor was so big, he was an impressive figure and Alcott of Cumberland tried not to let himself be intimidated. Beside the giant was another man of equal size and a third who, thank goodness, was more of a normal size. But then, Alcott reminded himself that he was not there to fight. All three MacGreagors wore green kilts, white shirts and leather shoes that laced up to their knees.
Behind them stood three women, each looking at the English men as though they had never seen one before. One woman giggled and pointed at Alcott’s short tunic, with a flounced skirt that ended just above his knees. Evidentially she thought his clothing were humorous and that made him glower at her. Unfortunately, he did not know he was glowering at Neil‘s wife.
Soon tired of the wordless face-off, Alcott turned to Stuart. “Tell them we have come for Clare.”
Before Stuart could put the words into Gaelic, all three Highlanders looked incredulous. “Clare?” they all asked at once.
Neil rolled his eyes, Walrick laughed and Gelson was amazed. In Gaelic Gelson said, “Not Clare, she has been in a convent. How does a lad fall in love with a lass in a convent?”
“You have to pay the priest.” Neil answered.
“Oh.”
Of the four Englishmen, Stuart was the only one who understood Gaelic and he liked these men right off. They were good-natured and after spending days with no relief from Alcott’s exalted stupidity, the MacGreagors were refreshing.
To get even with his superior for the promised land he was sure by now he would never get, Stuart did not repeat Alcott’s words correctly. Instead, he said in Gaelic, “Do not let this lad leave with Clare.” Stuart kept his face expressionless, but he saw in the MacGreagor’s eyes a flicker of understanding.
It was quiet again and Alcott started to get unnerved. Why no answer? At least the highlanders recognized her name, they laughed when he brought it up. He leaned closer to Stuart, “Ask if they have her.” He paused while Stuart asked, then waited for him to interpret the answer. “Aye, they have a woman named Clare.”
“For pity sakes, Stuart, tell them I have come to fetch her.”
Neil patiently listened to the man change the English into Gaelic. He was enjoying the spectacle, first of the arrogant lord completely out of his element in Scotland, and the poor interpreter who seemed to hate his employer. Finally, he said, “Nay.”
“Nay what?” asked Alcott. He realized he was clenching his fists and made himself calm down. “Stuart, ask him to please explain what he means.”
Stuart bowed his compliance and turned to Neil, “The idiot does not understand the word nay, apparently.”
It was more than Neil could do to keep a straight face and as soon as some of the others began, he could not help but join in the laugher.
A stricken Stuart quickly turned to Alcott, “My lord, do forgive me. My Gaelic is...I must have gotten a word or two confused.”
“I see.” Alcott tightly closed his eyes and slowly opened them again. “Tell him I do not want to harm Clare, I want to marry her, if she will have me. She believes I am dead.”
Neil only half heard what Stuart was saying. He did not like Alcott and he especially did not like the way he glared at Glenna, but he brought up a good point. Clare had the right to reject him herself. At last, he nodded for Luag to go get her.
LUAG KNEW EXACTLY WHICH cottage was hers as did all the other unmarried men. And when he got there, he found Clare, Tristan, Greer and Brendan si
tting outside talking. He was not happy to see Tristan, but he set that aside for now. “Clare, there is an Englishman here asking for you.”
Clare quickly stood up. “Is it a cleric? I’ll not go back to the Abbey, not ever!”
“Nay, he is not a priest.”
Suddenly upset, Clare reached for Tristan’s hand. “Who can it be? Will you come with me?”
He was surprised, but as soon as she collected her sister and Brendan for fortification too, he understood she had a foreboding and only wanted to feel safe.
A few moments later, they were standing in the great hall and Tristan was behind her holding a stunned Clare up from behind.
CHAPTER VIII
CLARE’S EYES WERE WIDE, her mouth agape and all she could do was stare at him. She did not run to him as a woman in love would have but at length, she did stand up a little straighter not needing Tristan’s physical support quite so much. “They said you were dead.”
Alcott went to her and took her limp hand. “I know, but as you can see, I am not dead. I have come to take you home finally.”
Greer suddenly realized. “Do you mean you truly were in mourning? Oh sister, I am so sorry. I thought...”
But Clare ignored her and spoke to Alcott, “Your father has...”
“Passed,” he answered. Alcott looked down to show the proper amount of respect for his departed father.
But when he raised his head he looked as though he was going to kiss her forehead. The thought of it made her stiffen. He looked so unimpressive compared to the Highlanders, and he was not nearly as handsome as she remembered. His hair was dark and so were his eyes, but this time his eyes were not soft. Instead, there was a hint of fury in them, a fury she did not want to see.
He wanted to get Clare away from these people in all possible haste, but Alcott had to know and was looking at Tristan when he asked, “Clare, has he spoiled you?”
Marti Talbott's Highlander Series, Volume 5 Page 4
