by Deb Kemper
The Mackintosh growled. “Bah!” He dropped back in the chair with a scowl.
Amalie laughed, the light chime that broke through his moodiness. “Garth, I’m not being hateful. I’m doing what’s best for our son. You do want him to live don’t you?”
“What kind of question is that, Amalie? Ye ken I want only the best fer him but he needs to be seen by the clan. Is there no compromise in ye?”
Her countenance sobered. “That’s all you get, sir. I’ve always offered you my best, never sought to barter with you one way or another.”
He rubbed his forehead and sighed. “That ye have, lass.” He conceded. “Who do ye choose to raise our son, should we die before he’s grown?”
“Who agreed to rear our daughters?”
“The Macgillivrays see to the title, land, and care of the children, until they’re of the age to fend fer themselves. Mallow inherits the Mackintosh title until our son’s old enough to rule. Then she may cede, if she wishes.”
“Then Daniel and Larena shall be his guardians also.” Amalie smiled and pressed her hand over her husband’s. “You’ve chosen well.”
Chapter 21
“I don’t care to stay.” Amalie informed Garth of her displeasure. She disliked the idea of spending more than a day on the Cameron estate.
“My heart, John MacGregor is my taxman. We have to pay our respects. He’s organized a hunting party day after tomorrow. I’m looking forward to killin’ a wild boar.”
Amalie glanced up. “I don’t hunt, sir. You may stay, if you feel inclined, but the children and I shall return home, after the wedding.” She held her head high and stared straight ahead.
Garth laid his arm over the back of her seat and leaned close to her ear. “Amalie, I forbid ye to go home without me. Ye must, as Lady Mackintosh, participate in the festivities.”
She glanced at him. “Mallow and I shall hate every moment. Why did we have to accept?”
“We must honor John. He’s an old friend and a close ally. I wanna keep it that way.” Garth stroked her fine jawline and smiled. “I’ll make it up to ye if ye’ll do this one thing fer me. We’ll take the children and go see yer family in Dublin.”
Amalie met his eyes. “I’ll consider it, then.” She glanced out the window of the coach.
The rolling hills greened with the kiss of spring. Sun blazed brilliantly in the azure sky. Fluffy white puffs floated high above, slowly shifting shapes buffeted by upper winds.
She sighed and adjusted her bonnet, sweeping her hand over the sapphire blue silk dress she wore, trimmed with ecru and navy lace.
All three children slept. Jessica leaned against the nurse, who held Ewan close. Mallow propped in the corner dozing.
Garth slipped his hand to her shoulder and slowly massaged the knotted muscles. He whispered in her ear. “I look forward to gettin’ ye alone this evenin’. There’s a dance tonight. May I have all yer dances, madam?”
She shivered and felt herself succumb to her husband’s charm. She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. “That you may, sir.”
****
Amalie and Garth waited in a cavernous stone hallway, lined with pictures of the Cameron ancestry. Loud laughter erupted from the bride-to-be as she took her place in the procession behind visiting dignitaries. Amalie kept her gaze straight ahead.
Garth bent to her ear. “You look stunning. Have I told ye tha’ yet?”
“This is only your fourth time, sire.” She glanced up into his eyes. “I never tire of hearin’ your voice though it appears that you’re as nervous as I.”
He smiled. “I’m a bit out of my depth here. A lot of the chiefs find amusement in London these days in comp’ny of idle wealthy English society. They’re more accustomed to small talk and pretense. I’d rather be doing what I do.” He nodded toward an approaching chief. “Campbell.”
The Campbell stopped his progress to the front of the queue, his wife on his arm. “Mackintosh, I heard ye married. So this is yer lovely wife.” He bowed his tall thin frame Amalie’s direction.
“Aye, this is Amalie. My heart, this is The Campbell, chief of the Lowlanders. He’s here to court our taxman’s favor as well.”
Amalie met The Campbell’s amused eyes. She tilted her head a few inches and dropped a short curtsy. “Sir.”
“And this is my oldest daughter, Mallow.” Garth laid his hand on her shoulder.
Mallow dropped her chin and curtsied.
“Delighted, Mallow. My son, Arthur, is here somewhere. May I tell him ye’ll hold a dance fer him?” The Campbell motioned beyond them, to someone at the rear of the line.
“Certainly, sir.” Mallow glanced away.
“We’ll be lookin’ fer ye after the ceremony, then.” He slapped Garth’s upper arm. “Our children could do worse than marry, Mackintosh. Hah! Tha’ would be quite a feat, a union between our clans.”
“Mmm….” Garth grunted noncommittally with a smile.
The Campbell and his smugly silent lady turned to the head of the line and took their places.
Mallow tapped Garth’s arm, leaning over her fluffy crinolined skirt with an alarmed whisper. “Ye wouldn’t make me marry a Campbell, wou’ ye, Da?”
He shook his head. “Hell’ll freeze over first, lass.”
A footman cleared his throat and announced “Lord and Lady Campbell, the Duke and Duchess of Argyll.”
The footman, donning a red, black, and white uniform bowed and escorted the Mackintoshes forward. He raised his voice. “Lord and Lady Mackintosh, and daughter, Mallow of The Clan Chattan.”
“Sounds impressive, eh?” Garth grinned at Amalie.
Her gloved hand rested on his extended arm. She made as little eye contact as possible, but smiled sweetly. She stole a glance at Mallow who handled her role with such grace.
Garth checked her with a sideways glance and mumbled. “Verra well done, milady.”
“Thank you, sir.” Amalie nodded acknowledgement to acquaintances. She reached for Mallow’s arm as a footman showed them to their seats in a place of honor.
Mallow quickly grasped Amalie’s hand but continued to act her part as the heir of The Mackintosh.
Amalie considered their eldest, with pleasure. Every inch a princess, this one.
****
Garth quietly dressed in the early darkness, so as not to wake Amalie. He left the room for a hallway lined with glowing oil lamps. Other gentlemen stirred and together they took the wide stairs to the lower level of Cameron’s castle. Pages and maids shuffled about getting food and weapons ready for guests to leave on the hunt.
Campbell approached Garth wearing his hunting colors and a matching boineid, the Scottish bonnet, ribbons dangling. “I hope yer family had a lovely evenin’ last. My son is thoroughly entranced with yer daughter.”
Garth received the compliment well. “I can understand why, I’m rather fond of her myself.” He took his weapons from the page before him, tucking a pistol on each side of his belt, laying his rifle in the bend of his arm. He already wore his claymore, sghian dubh, and dirk.
Campbell received his weapons in turn. “Perhaps they could sit together at the dance this evening, if you’ll not think me too impertinent.”
Garth glanced up, his lips pursed. “Mallow does as she pleases. Arthur has permission to ask, but don’t lead ’im to expect she’ll comply. She’s a bit headstrong.”
“Women can be verra passionate who start out with strong minds.” The Campbell chuckled and elbowed Garth as though caught in a private joke.
“Aye, sir, that they can. Even more so when they’re allowed the freedom of their own thoughts. I prefer my woman unbroken and raise my daughters to be as determined as the good God o’ heaven made ’em. If ye’re shopping fer a wife fer yer lad, ye’d be more welcome elsewhere.” Garth nodded once and left The Campbell searching for his powder horn.
****
Amalie, Mallow, and Larena Macgillivray dawdled the day away in the Mackintosh chamber together. The
y discussed the dance of the night before. Gerty came along to attend them. She loitered in the master’s rooms primping the ladies’ hair.
When Garth arrived from the hunt filthy, in need of a bath, Amalie, Larena, and Mallow left for Mallow’s room, with Gerty in tow.
As they opened the door, the aroma of freshly cut roses permeated the air in Mallow’s small guest room. The narrow mahogany canopied bed occupied most of the floor space. Mallow circled the bed to discover the large vase of roses sitting on the credenza beneath the window.
“Why’re there flowers in here?” She saw a calling card propped against the vase. “Huh! Arthur Campbell. Reckon he’s been in Lady Cameron’s greenhouse collectin’ roses rather than face the boar hunt.”
“I imagine he’s trying to court you, sweetheart.” Amalie gently suggested.
Mallow cut her hazel gaze toward her stepmother. “Whatever gave ’im the idea his overtures wou’ be well received?”
Amalie bit back a smile. “Some men need little encouragement. You did dance with him last night.”
“Mam, I’d’ve danced with a stableman if he’d asked. The minstrels were verra good.”
Gerty shifted the vase, smiling and humming one of the songs played the night before. “He kens a beauty when he sees one. The Campbell heir’s no’ one to take lightly, milady.” She hurried to where Mallow’s pale green dress hung and proceeded to brush out imaginary wrinkles.
Mallow looked at Amalie. “Is this what comin’ of age is like, Mam? Do I have to worry over every lad who asks fer a dance?”
Amalie’s tone softened so much Mallow had to stop fussing over the flowers, to hear her. “Mallow, Gerty’s right, you are a beautiful young woman. Men may view you like a mountain to be conquered. At this time in your life, you must use caution. There’ll be temptations, flirtations, and maybe even love. Choose carefully, you’re no longer free to play at bein’ a lass. You’re almost a woman.”
Mallow huffed and collapsed on the narrow bed. “Why do the lads have to be so serious? Can’t they just have fun?”
“They have a lot to prove, darlin’, that they’re men, in their own right. Sometimes, the task includes makin’ time with ladies. I’ve only heard this, mind you, never had the problem myself, but I hear there are men who want to make you love them so they can leave you for another.” Amalie sat back and fanned her reddening face.
Larena chuckled. “Aye, tha’s so. I was thrown over by a young man I just knew I loved, before meeting Daniel.” She looked dreamily out the window. “It was just as well it happened. He was not fer me. I saw him later, after abou’ ten years. He was bald as a gourd and had a huge pot belly!”
They laughed together.
Mallow gasped. “No, really? Someone would be so cruel to make ye love them and then…. I never! Well, one thing’s fer certain. Arthur Campbell’s not steppin’ on my toes tonight.”
****
Waiting for his wife and daughter to appear at the top of the stairs, Garth visited with The Macgillivray, in the lower gallery.
Daniel Macgillivray lowered his voice. “Garth, have ye any idea about what The Campbell’s offering John to switch to his camp?”
Garth shook his head and scanned the upper gallery. “Nay, if he goes, he goes. I don’t ken what’s got into him, though. He’s been an asset to The Chattan all the years he’s served as taxman. Why change direction at his time in life?”
The Macgillivray glanced round them for prying ears. “Perhaps it has somethin’ to do with his bride?”
Garth met his friend’s eyes. “Mayhap. She’s a vixen, that one.”
Amalie and Mallow appeared with Larena Macgillivray in tow. The three ladies walked side by side down the curved staircase, arms linked. Garth and Daniel met them at the bottom.
“Ladies, never lovelier!” Daniel bent to kiss his wife’s gloved hand.
“Ta, sire.” Larena curtsied for her husband, encouraging a smile. “I hope there’s palatable food this evening. I’m starved. Luncheon was inedible.”
Mallow loosed a giggle. “It was atrocious, made me wish to be in the nursery.” She hooked her hand through Garth’s right arm after he tucked Amalie away on his left.
“And ye, Amalie?” Himself queried his bride. His gaze raked over her pearl beaded coral gown and up to her hair, piled high with a strand of pearls woven through the curls.
“I’m anxious for a glass of wine, sir. How was the boar hunt, other than dirty?” She kept her chin high as they followed the Macgillivrays toward the parlor for their aperitifs.
“Successful, though once wounded, the beast must be followed through briars and thickets, muddy pools and bogs. All in all, a merry chase through hell fer a beast not fit to eat.” He grinned down at her. “Did ye ladies have a fair day?”
“Tolerable. Jessica and Ewan enjoy the nursery. They found picture books and a toy soldier set. Of course, there were dolls to be cared for, as well. They’re happy, for the moment. Our daughter is being wooed by Arthur Campbell.”
“So I hear from his da. She needn’t feel obliged to encourage him.” They joined a queue in the hall outside the parlor.
A screech of angst frayed the jolly atmosphere of expectant guests. Silence followed as glances dropped to the floor. Amalie and Larena whispered a declaration in unison. “Odious woman!” They traded a look and smiled.
Their hostess raged behind the closed door. It flew open and servants mumbled apologies, as they scurried past, the visitors in the hallway, escaping the temper of their mistress.
Garth and Daniel took their ladies in hand and returned to the lower gallery to await an end to Lady Cameron-MacGregor’s anxieties.
****
“See, ye survived.” Garth rested his arm behind his wife, who laid her head back on it and studied him through drowsy eyes.
“Aye, twas an unpleasant weekend overall, but I did enjoy the time with Larena.” She watched her children, in various stages of sleep on the opposite bench with nurse crammed in the middle. “Mallow is growing up so fast, milord. She needs understanding of the snares of men and I canna help her. You’re my one weakness and I’ve allowed you to exploit me shamelessly.”
He grinned and kissed her pouty lips. “And I’ve enjoyed every moment of it, my heart. I’ll talk to her about the traps we set in order to conquer the desired female’s resilient spirit. Mostly, she needs to ken we’re basically a wicked lot, after one thing.”
Amalie lifted her head and murmured, “What is the one thing, sire?”
He smiled and leaned to her ear to whisper the answer. He grinned when she blushed, snapping open her fan and sitting straighter as the air around them stirred.
“I suppose I played right into your hands, then?” She graced him with a haughty smile.
“There was nothing easy about yer conquest, Amalie. I’ve never exerted or enjoyed myself more, than with you.” He plucked a curl and studied her. “We need to take a coach trip alone, my heart. All the motion’s giving me ideas.”
She blushed again, but smiled. “Aye, you’re not alone with those ideas.”
Chapter 22
Badenoch, Highlands 1717
Amalie dashed into the great hall, in search of Garth. The Mackintosh was not in the judgment seat or even in sight. She hurried across the room to the council’s chamber. Raised voices rumbled through the thick door. She rapped and waited.
John MacGregor flung the door open, scowled down at her, and demanded, “What?”
She jumped back.
He shook his head. “I beg pardon, milady.”
Garth left his chair.
Amalie’s response was icy. “My husband needs to come at once.”
MacGregor stepped out of the doorway.
Himself met her on the threshold. “Amalie, what’s wrong?”
“Jessie’s very ill with a high fever. I can’t go in to her. Please, hurry. She needs you. She’s cryin’ her little heart out.” She swiped at tears escaping her own eyes.
He grasped her arm. “Let’s go.”
Inside the castle, Garth ran ahead of his wife, taking stairs two at a time. He burst through the door of the nursery to find his youngest daughter in the midst of a seizure.
“God in heaven, what’s happenin’ to her?” He bellowed as he tried to hold Jessica’s stiff body.
The nurse stood nearby weeping. “I dunno, sir. I sent fer Granny Mae.”
Amalie lingered near the door speaking loudly. “Garth, we must break her fever. Carry her to the tub. I’ve ordered cool water brought up.”
Two pages came up the back stairs at a fair clip with copper pots of water. Amalie directed them into the nursery. “To the tub, lads.”
They returned with empty pots. “Shall we bring more, ma’am?” The oldest lad, no more than twelve, asked Amalie.
She nodded. “We may need it. Run down to the brook…burn…for the next batch. When you’re in the room, don’t linger. Come out straight away.”
She heard her husband roar at the terrified nurse. “Fetch Gerty and Millie, NOW!”
In tears, the young woman scurried past Amalie and took the back stairs to the kitchen.
“Amalie?” He yelled.
“I’m here.” She responded in similar fashion.
“What do I do? She’s stiff and shakin’.”
“Keep her submerged in the water. Rub her body to circulate the cold. Talk to her, Garth. Tell her you’re holdin’ her, that you love her.” She swiped her face and mumbled a prayer. “Adonai, please don’t take Jessie from us.”
Amalie listened closely as a retching noise came through. “Is that her or you?”
“Her, what do I do?” He yelled back.
“Sit her up so she doesn’t choke. Hold her head forward.” She can’t even keep water down!
She heard her son fussing in her room. “I’m going to tend Ewan. I’ll be back in a flash.” She trotted to her room, flung a shawl around her shoulders, scooped up the eighteen-month old to bounce him on her hip. “There, there, now, little one. You mustn’t fret.” She hurried back to the hall by the nursery. “I’m back, Garth, what’s happenin’?”
