ORELIA TURNED IN HER SADDLE, looking for Ceallach. He sat on his horse, there on the hill, and tears came to her eyes. He’d been a stalwart friend and she would miss him.
She would never see him again. Her home was at Radbourne, raising John’s child to one day take on his inheritance. Ceallach certainly could not come to England, not with a price on his head.
She touched her stomach. Surely the child would be a boy. God had been kind enough to grant her fervent wish and given her John’s child. Was she asking too much that the babe be a boy?
She attempted a smile—determined not to show her sadness— and waved at the warrior before facing forward for the ride south. A part of her would always remain in Scotland with the brave knight whose friendship she’d grown to cherish. She wiped away tears, unsure if they were tears of joy or pain. Her condition made every emotion sharper and she didn’t trust her heart just now.
The journey was blessedly uneventful and although the men complained about the slow pace and the need to find shelter at night, they were kind enough and watched out for her. Orelia took care to eat well and get as much sleep as possible. Nothing could be allowed to harm Radbourne’s heir. Though she was grateful for the gentle palfrey that carried her, by the final day of the journey she was more than ready to get off the horse and stay off.
But she worried about her welcome at Radbourne Hall. Alice had certainly made her dislike of Orelia clear, so clear that Orelia had followed John to Scotland. How would Alice react to the news that Orelia carried John’s heir?
Wearily she dismounted at last in the courtyard of Radbourne Hall.
“Welcome home, Orelia,” Richard said as he helped her dismount. For one brief moment, looking at the brother who favored John so closely, Orelia nearly threw herself into Richard’s arms. But since they had never been particularly warm toward each other, she merely nodded in greeting.
Composing her emotions, she responded with the dignity befitting a widow. She suspected she would need to draw heavily upon decorum and faith in the days to come. “Thank you, Richard. I am glad to be here.”
Alice stepped forward and gave her a light peck on the cheek. “Welcome, Orelia. You look tired.”
Orelia nodded. “More tired than I’ve ever been.”
“We’ll not fatigue you more by insisting on visiting with us right now.” Richard held out his hand. “Come, Alice will take you to your room. When you are rested, you may tell us everything you know about . . . John’s death. And your imprisonment.”
Richard seemed sincerely grief stricken at his brother’s death, but Orelia sensed a lack of sincerity in Alice. She gave herself a mental shake. Such foolishness. She was allowing her feelings toward the woman to overshadow all else and cloud her mind.
Gratefully she settled into her room. Alice and Richard now occupied the master chamber and Orelia was glad to be spared from sleeping there with nothing but her memories. Just seeing the house and grounds had been painful enough reminders of her loss.
For two days she stayed in her room, taking meals there, resting and restoring her strength. Not only physically, but also preparing to tell Richard and Alice about John’s death and then, the news that would change everyone’s future.
THE FIRST THING ORELIA NOTICED when she left her room and came down the stairs into Radbourne’s main hall was the smell of beeswax candles. There were few windows in the hall, and candles or torches were necessary even in daylight. But Orelia had always burned tallow candles, leaving the more expensive beeswax for special occasions and guests.
As she made her way to a table to break her fast she noted the new tablecloths of Irish linen. Again, such costly items were not unheard of at Radbourne but were not used every day. Perhaps Alice had ordered them used to celebrate Orelia’s return. She would thank the woman for such thoughtfulness.
Richard sat down beside her. “Good morning, Orelia. It is good to see that you are feeling rested enough to come down this day.”
“I’m glad to be home.”
“As we are to have you. I thought the Scottish pretender would never let you leave. I traveled to London twice to encourage Edward to have you released quickly, to no avail.”
She was grateful for such efforts on her behalf. “Thank you, Richard.”
Orelia had learned from Ceallach that it had been Edward who stalled the negotiations, but she chose not to point that out to her brother-in-law. Thinking of Ceallach made her feel almost homesick, and she stifled a smile at her fanciful thought. She was home here, at Radbourne.
Discreetly she laid her hand on her gently swelling stomach. So far, her clothing concealed her condition. Without John to protect them, she felt especially protective of his heir. She needed to be fully prepared for battle before she disclosed her news. When they had finished the meal, Richard said, “Come. Alice will meet us in the solar so you can speak of John in private.”
Orelia stopped inside the door of what had been John’s favorite room. If the changes in the hall had been subtle, those in this room were not. John’s desk, a perfectly usable piece, was replaced with an ornately carved, obviously costly one of oiled English oak. There were no longer rushes on the floor but a fine and no doubt outrageously expensive carpet.
Beautiful new tapestries lined the walls, and the glazed window had been replaced with an exquisite stained glass picture of John the Baptist baptizing Christ.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Alice stepped forward from the shadows and took a seat in one of the chairs.
“Stunning.” Orelia nearly objected to its obvious expense until she remembered that she no longer had responsibility for the treasury of Radbourne Hall. But she must object sooner or later before these two spent all of her child’s inheritance. Resolved to speak up when the time was right, she sat in the chair Richard held for her. Another extravagance—chairs with backs instead of the perfectly acceptable benches John had furnished the room with.
The final realization that John was truly gone, that her life had changed irrevocably, came when she happened to glance at Richard’s hand and saw that he wore the ring that signified he was the Earl of Radbourne. She stared at the ring. “You had a new ring made?”
“But of course. King Edward has named me earl. I am John’s heir, Orelia. There was no reason to wait for your return.”
“Perhaps not.” Richard’s decision not to join the army had certainly worked in his favor. “But you might have waited to ascertain whether or not I was with child,” she said, trying to keep the reproof from her voice.
“Come now, Orelia,” Alice said. “Be reasonable. There was no reason to think such a thing. After all, you failed to conceive for seven years. Why would we think that might change?”
Richard and Alice’s shallow faith had always been a source of concern for John. With as much wisdom and grace as she could muster, Orelia said, “Perhaps if you believed in a faithful God you would not have been so quick to dismiss the possibility.”
Richard stepped into the fray, attempting to soothe any ruffled female feathers. “I’m sorry if your sensibilities are hurt, Orelia. I meant to keep you from having to deal with all manner of legalities. All is settled and you may now get on with your life.”
“Unfortunately, Richard, there is one small problem with your plan. I am, indeed, carrying John’s child.”
Richard and Alice looked at her in shock, and Orelia shivered as if a cold wind had blown through the room.
Richard recovered first. He looked at Alice before saying, “That’s not possible.”
Orelia sat up straighter in her chair. “Of course it is. Your brother and I were man and wife and acted accordingly.”
“Are you certain of your condition? Sometimes when one wishes for something hard enough, the body is convinced it’s so,” Alice said in a sweet voice that barely hid the daggers in the words.
The two days of rest had given Orelia the strength she needed to deflect Alice’s accusation that Orelia was losing her mind. “Yes,
quite sure.”
“Well, this is good news, isn’t it dear?” Alice said with not the least bit of sincerity.
But from the look on the man’s face it was anything but good news.
Hoping to lessen the blow and yet determined to set the situation to rights, Orelia said, “King Edward will no doubt make you the child’s guardian, Richard, and give you control of the estates until John’s child reaches its majority. We will all live here and nothing will change.”
But from their distressed faces—and the changes at Radbourne Hall—it was obvious that Richard and Alice had quickly gotten used to their new rank. And to their belief that their child, not John’s, would one day inherit the earldom.
ALICE AND RICHARD SAT in the beautifully appointed solar of Radbourne Hall. Orelia’s news was only minutes old but Alice was determined that her child would one day be the Earl of Radbourne.
Alice had no intention of giving up what she’d gained. “The child is not John’s,” she asserted.
Richard jumped up and paced the room. “You are accusing Orelia of being unfaithful to my brother. I find it hard to believe of her.”
“Why, Richard? You know how desperately she wanted a child.” Inspiration struck. “For that matter, so did John. They may well have agreed to an indiscretion so that she could get with child. With John to claim it as his own, no one could or would dispute the child’s legitimacy.”
“No one should dispute it now.”
Determined to manipulate her husband to her will, she tried another tack. “You are very loyal to your sister-in-law, Richard.” She tapped two fingers against her cheek. “Perhaps the child is yours.”
Richard strode to her and raised his hand to strike her. But he let his hand fall as he said, “That’s a ridiculous accusation and you know it. If you count the months, it is plain that the child could very well be John’s. You go too far, Alice, with your accusations. My brother was a man of honor, and so am I.”
“Yes, and what will you get for it? The opportunity to guard a property that will be given to some other man’s child. Not your own kin, but a stranger’s seed.”
She could see from his expression that her seed of doubt had taken root. She would feed it until he believed her, believed that Radbourne was in danger of being inherited by a child of outside blood.
She softened her voice. “Richard, we may yet have a son. We mustn’t take the chance of denying a true Radbourne of the title.” He started to protest and she interrupted him. “It is easy to step aside for Orelia’s child when we have only a daughter. But, I, too, am expecting, and this time it may be a boy.”
It was a lie; she wasn’t pregnant. But she must get him to see this her way. She could entice him into her chamber and get with child again. Indeed, she would do so. She must bear him a son or all was lost. She must ensure that a Radbourne—her son—would carry on the name.
He came to her and held her hands. “Are you feeling well this time?”
“Yes, quite well. Are you happy, Richard?”
He gazed at her with obvious concern and yet, a tug of doubt lingered. “Of course. I simply worry that this is too soon after losing the last babe.”
“I will be fine, Richard.” She placed her hand over her empty womb. “I will do my best to produce a son this time.”
He hung his head and she smiled in victory.
“What shall we do about Orelia, then?” he asked.
She sensed that he now harbored the hope of his own son becoming earl one day. Still, Alice knew of his respect for Orelia. She would tread carefully. “I know that it is difficult for you to believe badly of Orelia. I myself prefer to think that she and John agreed to this deceit. But it is possible that she was mistreated in Scotland and would rather believe the child is John’s than face revealing her ordeal.”
John stared at her. “I never considered such a thing, but it is possible. Poor Orelia.”
Alice wanted to shout in victory. The seeds of doubt were in full bloom now. “When the child is born we will put it about that both died in childbirth. Tragic, but these things do happen.”
“You . . . you mean to harm them?”
Clearly Alice’s husband wasn’t made of stiff cloth. She would have to be the strong one. “No, of course not. We can keep them imprisoned here at Radbourne—no one need ever know of their continued existence.” Alice doubted they could actually do this, but insisting on killing the pair at this moment would only make Richard resist her. Best to reveal that part of her plan at a later date.
“All right, I’ll agree to this unless the child favors John. If so, we will accept his parentage and I will acknowledge him as heir.”
“By all means, Richard.” But Alice had no intention of accepting Orelia’s child, whether or not he favored John. All Alice need do was produce a son for Richard, and the poor sot would do whatever she asked of him. Their son would be the next earl.
CEALLACH RETURNED TO DUNSTRUAN a few days after seeing Orelia safely to the English border. For several days Ceallach busied himself with overseeing preparations for winter, although in truth the steward and his wife could handle such details perfectly well without him.
When staying busy didn’t remove his melancholy, he went one afternoon to the weaver’s hut. The brecan cloth that he and Orelia had designed awaited finishing. As he sat at the loom, sliding the shuttle back and forth and working the pedals in the proper sequence, Ceallach’s thoughts drifted. The light in the hut seemed dim and he stopped weaving to go outside and see if the autumn sun had gone behind a cloud.
It had not. He returned to the loom and his thoughts went back to Orelia and her sunny hair and smile. A wave of longing now shadowed him, and he realized that he missed her. They had shared a comfortable companionship here in this small hut not unlike what he and Peter had once shared.
But of course, his feelings for Orelia ran in a much different direction than what he’d felt for Peter. Aye, his emotional tie to the woman combined with a physical yearning scared him almost as much as the thought of lighting a fire.
He reached to tamp down the row of yarn and nearly cursed. He’d pressed the fourth pedal when he should have pressed the second, and the last half dozen rows of the design were wrong. He would have to tear out the work and start again. Disgusted with his inattention and certainly not at all soothed by it, he dropped his shuttle into the tool tray and stared into the unlit fire.
A scratching sound pulled Ceallach from his reverie and he turned to find Keifer standing in the doorway. “May I come in?”
The boy’s quiet entry let Ceallach know that Keifer felt as lost as he looked. “Of course. You don’t look too pleased with yourself today.”
Keifer stood next to Ceallach and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Morrigan says I must go to Moy in the spring.”
“Aye. We talked about this before. Adam Mackintosh will foster you.”
“But I want to stay here with you.”
Ceallach wanted to hug the boy for saying so. But Keifer stood ready to take another step toward the man he would become and Ceallach resisted the urge to give comfort. “I would like that, too, Keifer. But you must do what your sister thinks best.”
Ceallach suspected that much of the boy’s reluctance came from a fear of the unknown. “When it’s time, I’ll go with you and stay at Moy until you are settled.”
Keifer’s eyes shone. “Really?”
“Aye. Rest your mind.” Ceallach found it easy to make such a promise—there was nothing holding him at Dunstruan. Indeed, maybe he’d just keep heading north when he left Moy.
Keifer walked over to the loom and ran his hands across the cloth. “Are you going to finish this?”
Ceallach looked at the wrongly woven section. “Aye. I promised Lady Radbourne.”
“I liked her.”
Ceallach swallowed. “I liked her too.”
Keifer said, “This last part isn’t right.”
Ceallach began to remove the threads. “I know. Will
you help me fix it?”
“Sure.” Deftly Keifer pulled the weft threads back through the warp. “Before she left I helped the lady finish the belt she was working on. She told me our hearts are like this cloth.”
Intrigued, Ceallach asked, “What did she mean?”
Keifer shrugged a shoulder. “She said if you make the weave tight enough, water can’t get through to get you wet. But when it’s that tight the light can’t get through either. She made it sound like that wasn’t good.”
Ceallach smiled as he pictured Orelia making such an analogy for the boy. No doubt, knowing Keifer, she had felt sure the boy would share that bit of wisdom for Ceallach’s benefit. “Lady Radbourne is a very wise woman.”
“And pretty too.”
“Aye, and pretty too.”
They worked together on the cloth for three days until it was finished. Ceallach and Keifer removed the material from the loom. With Suisan’s help they fashioned it into plaids for each of them. A smaller piece became a woman’s shawl. This Ceallach tucked away in his saddlebag, taking comfort in the thought of riding to England and giving it to Orelia. Yet fully aware that he could not.
Weeks passed and Ceallach could not find peace anywhere at Dunstruan because the vision of a blond-haired Englishwoman followed him everywhere.
Finally, he told Fergus and Morrigan he had to go to Dun-fermline to serve the king. They assured him that Innishewan would not be finished before next fall and they would gladly remain at Dunstruan. After promising Keifer he would return in the spring to take him to Moy, Ceallach rode in the direction of his king.
The decision gave him peace of mind. When he arrived at the abbey, Bruce was glad to see him and found work for him to do. For the first time since the prisoner exchange, Ceallach slept well.
But he dreamed of Dunstruan.
The Mark of Salvation Page 16
