Iain sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He was about to suggest he take her to his màthair, when a commotion outside the still open door of the hall caused them both to turn. Raibert came through the door, a boy of about ten or eleven years held firmly in his grasp. Kris wasn't sure if the kid was being dragged in or if he'd come willingly.
She heard a gasp from Iain and turned to look at him. He'd gone deathly white as he stared at Raibert and the boy with him. If Kris had to hazard a guess, she'd say he looked staggered.
"Laird," Raibert began, "this lad says he wishes to speak wi' ye. 'Tis a matter of some urgency."
Iain stared at Raibert, then at the lad. As Raibert led the boy forward, Iain felt his jaw slide southward. He wouldn't be surprised to hear it thump on his chest. He forced his mouth closed, but knew his eyes betrayed his shock. If he didn't know any better, he would swear he stared at a ghostie or the like.
"Who are ye?" He whispered, his voice barely audible. He cleared his throat and repeated the question louder.
The boy met his gaze. "My name is Devyn MacGregor, laird."
Chaos erupted from those in the hall, the ones still there as well as the many who had followed Raibert back in. Iain held up a hand to silence them. When he got it, he asked, "and why have ye come here?"
"I ha'e come to find my father, sir."
"And just who is your father, laddie?"
The boy straightened to his full height, looked Iain square in the eye and said, "Jamie MacGregor."
A collective gasp reverberated throughout the hall and a low murmuring began that grew louder as the minutes passed. Iain turned to the people in the hall and then looked at Kris as if he just remembered her presence.
"I will deal wi' this." He said to the hall in general. "E'eryone back to your business. There's still plenty of daylight left and more than enough work for the lot of ye."
As everyone slowly began to file out, giving the boy long looks, murmuring, and whispering among themselves, Iain turned to Kris. "Come, Kristianna, ye must return to your rooms. I will send Elsbeth to ye in a bit to see that ye ha'e something to occupy yourself."
Kris opened her mouth to protest, but Iain stopped her.
"Please, Kristianna, just do as I ask ye wi'out an argument. I will explain it to ye later, but for the now, I need ye to trust me and return to your chamber."
Kris was so stunned by that statement, she allowed herself to be led to the stairs. Iain dropped a quick kiss on her lips, "thank ye." He said and sent her up.
Iain watched as Kristianna climbed the stairs then turned and strode to the dais. The shock of what the lad said resounded in his head until he thought it would deafen him. He realized he needed a chair beneath his backside 'ere he fell over from the stunning news.
He sat in his chair, took a long swallow of ale, and waved Raibert and Devyn closer. "Now lad, please tell me again what ye said so I know I dinnae hear ye amiss."
"My name is Devyn MacGregor. I am the son of Jamie MacGregor, grandson of Alistair MacGregor, Laird of clan MacGregor." He did not flinch or look away as Iain's gaze bore into him trying to discern the truth of what he said.
Iain turned at the squeak of surprise from behind him. He shifted in his seat and noticed his màthair standing at the foot of the stairs. She was deathly white; her hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers.
With a leap from his seat, Iain hurried over to her. He reached her just before she fell to the floor in a swoon. "Raibert," he threw over his shoulder as he lifted his màthair in his arms.
"Aye, laird."
"Bring the lad and follow me. I would question him more." Settling his màthair more firmly in his arms, he started up the stairs. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Raibert would obey him.
He reached his màthair's' rooms and lay her gently on her chaise by the fire. Grabbing a damp cloth from the basin on the table, he bathed her face until she began to waken.
Raibert stopped at the door. "Take him to my outer chamber," Iain commanded.
"Nay, Iain," Sorcha interrupted, a hand on Iain's arm. "I wish to be present when ye question him. I must know what is going on."
"Are ye certain?"
Sorcha nodded and struggled to a more upright position. "I will be fine. I need to be here."
Iain pursed his lips, but nodded and rose from her side. "Bring him in then, Raibert." He strode to the table and poured a goblet of wine, which he handed to Sorcha. "Find Elsbeth," he commanded Raibert as he poured himself a cup of ale, drank it quickly before pouring himself another.
Raibert gave him a short bow, and then left on the run to find his màthair.
Iain turned to Devyn, noting his feet shift nervously.
"Sit ye down, Devyn MacGregor. I would hear more of your tale."
Devyn sat on the edge of one of the chairs closest to the door. He looked ready to bolt at any sudden movement from either Iain or Sorcha.
Iain busied himself for a moment seeing to his màthair's' comfort before he turned his full attention back to Devyn.
"Would ye care for some ale, lad?"
The boy hesitated before he nodded, his knee bouncing in nervousness.
Iain poured the watered wine into a goblet for the boy then poured himself another cup of ale.
"Now," Iain began, resettling himself in a chair facing Devyn. "Tell me why ye believe Jamie MacGregor is your sire."
Devyn took a large swallow of wine before he answered. "'Twas my màthair who told me so."
"And who is your màthair, lad?"
"Emilee Grant."
"Where is your màthair now? Did she come wi' ye?"
"Nay," he shook his head sadly, "my màthair died my laird. Near to six years ago now."
Iain sighed and looked at his màthair. Her eyes shone with tears at that news. He'd known Emilee Grant as a child. She was older than he by a few years, but she'd always been kind to him. The Grants were long standing allies of the MacGregors', though not so vocal as they had been in the past, not since the King's edict. If what the lad said was true, and Jamie was his sire, there would be much to discuss.
But first, "how old are ye?"
"I've just passed my fourteenth summer, laird."
Iain nodded thoughtfully. "And do ye ha'e any proof that what ye say is in truth? Nay that I disbelieve you, ye understand, but I must be careful just now."
Devyn nodded and dug in his shirt. He pulled forth several documents and handed them to Iain.
Iain glanced at his màthair, rose from his chair, and spread the documents on the table where the light was better.
"Did your màthair and our Jamie wed, Devyn?" Sorcha asked.
Iain ignored their quiet conversation and focused on the parchments in front of him. One was from the local cleric. It stated that Jamie MacGregor had handfasted Emilee Grant in the year of our Lord 1588. Its date was a few months before Jamie had gone off to fight another battle against the Campbells'.
The next document was a record of birth. It was dated almost a year after the first. The last was a letter addressed to the MacGregor Laird.
Iain unrolled it and read it carefully—twice. He sighed, ran his fingers through his hair, and rolled the document back up. He handed it to his màthair along with the other papers then resumed his seat.
"Twould seem, Devyn, my lad, that ye are who ye claim ye are." Iain ran his hand through his hair again. "Ye know about and understand all the troubles my clan has had, dinnae ye?"
"Aye, my laird. But that doesnae change my mind. 'Tis a MacGregor I was born and a MacGregor I am proud to be. My màthair, God bless her sweet soul, was proud to be wed to Jamie. She insisted and taught me that I should be proud of my sire as well as my name and my clan. He was a good mon she said and he ne'er would ha'e left us if he'd had a choice or if he'd known she was wi' child."
"Jamie was nay just the eldest MacGregor lad, he was the heir. He was next in line to be laird after my sire. He'd been trained for it and he was ready for it.
"
Devyn went pale with the implication. He nodded slowly, looking too bemused to speak.
"Aye lad. That means that ye are the eldest son of the laird and as such ha'e a great responsibility to fulfill if ye wish to be part of this clan." Iain watched him carefully for his reaction.
Devyn met his gaze boldly, refusing to flinch or look away.
Iain nodded to himself and glanced at his màthair, who smiled at him and nodded. It was a good sign. The lad was nay afraid of responsibility, even though there was shock and nervousness lingering in his deep blue eyes.
"Ha'e ye had any training, Devyn?" Iain asked after several long moments of silence.
"Nay much to speak of. When my màthair died, I was still a small lad of barely eight summers. My màthair was nay of any importance, being the bastard girl child of the laird's stepbrother. As a companion to the lairds' daughter since they were wee bairns though, and because she was such a sweet and loving person, she was well thought of and loved by all."
"Aye, Devyn," Sorcha interjected, "we know well her tale, for she visited often wi' the laird and his family.
Devyn smiled a bit sadly and looked down at his hands clenched around his mug of ale. "After she died, I was well cared for, although I was pretty much left to my own wanderings. Nay much thought was gi'en to any training for me until some of the laird's men at arms saw me watching them. I paid attention and learned whate'er they were willing to teach me. After a time I got it into my head that I should search for my sire's family. My màthair always said my sire would return for us," he looked up, "but he ne'er did." He looked at Iain and gave him a small smile, "yer clan is verra difficult to find, sir."
Iain returned his smile, "aye, lad, I imagine we are."
"Oh, there are rumors aplenty as to where ye ha'e hidden yerselves. But most arenae true, as I discovered for myself in my searching."
"Oh?"
"Aye. 'Tis said by most that the MacGregor's nay longer exist, that there isnae a clan wi' that name anymore. S'truth, 'tis a verra dangerous time to be admitting ye are a MacGregor or e'en that ye know anything of them."
"'Tis that indeed, laddie." Iain ran a hand through his hair. "We shall ha'e quite a bit of hard work ahead of us, Devyn." Iain glanced up as Elsbeth came into the room. "This is Elsie. She will show ye to a room ye may use as your own and find ye some clean clothing." Iain rose and clasped him on the shoulder, "I welcome ye to the clan Devyn MacGregor."
Devyn stood, "thank ye, my laird." He bowed to Iain and then Sorcha before he followed Elsbeth to the door, where he turned and looked at Iain again, "may I ask ye a question, laird?"
"Ye may."
"Why did my father ne'er return for us?"
Sorcha inhaled sharply.
"I wish there was an easy answer to that question, Devyn, but there isnae." He met the boys gaze unflinchingly, "we will discuss that after ye ha'e rested, aye?"
Devyn nodded slowly, then turned and followed Elsbeth out of the room.
Chapter Sixteen
Iain watched Devyn leave with Elsie then turned back to his màthair.
"Ye dinnae ha'e verra much to say."
"I think I'm still in shock. Iain, he looks just like Jamie. 'Tis as if my eldest son has returned to me." She smiled through her tears.
"Aye, he does look a great deal like Jamie, but he has the look of his màthair as well. His eyes are more from Emilee."
Sorcha nodded. "'Tis a shame to know that Emilee died. She was such a sweet girl, always ready to lend a hand or help out if necessary."
"Did ye ha'e any notion that Jamie had handfasted wi' her?"
"Nay. I knew he was interested in a Grant girl, but I could get nothing else from him. You know he always held things close, never really opened up until he was ready. Then the battles began in earnest with the Campbells' again and I didn't think too much on it."
"'Twould be just like Jamie to be overly optimistic in such a thing. To handfast Emilee, then head out to battle without telling anyone, thinking the battle would be over quickly. Then he would ha'e brought her home and informed the rest of us about her, thinking it a great surprise."
"Aye, Jamie was always one to do a deed and worry over the consequences later. He had a big heart, but did not always think things through carefully enough." Sorcha chuckled, "he would have made a good laird, eventually. He needed more maturity first, however. He needed to learn to think things through more cautiously, look at every eventual outcome, before he made a decision."
"He'd ha'e been a better laird than I. At least he was more prepared than I was."
Sorcha rose from her seat and kissed Iain's cheek. "Nay, Iain. You have done what you had to do for the safety and security of this clan. You brought us into these hills and mountains of Rannoch. You protected us and cared for us, as a Laird should. You are a wonderful laird and everyone respects you and the decisions you've made. The good Lord knew what He was about when He made you Laird of this clan."
Iain felt a warmth creep into his cheeks at her praise. "Thank ye for your trust and confidence in me, màthair." He retrieved the documents Devyn had given him. "I shall see these put in a safe place."
At the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Will I see ye at the evening meal?"
"Aye, I shall be there. We must have a celebration of sorts. I shall speak with the cook immediately and see what can be planned and how soon."
"Verra well. Kristianna will be at the meal as well."
Sorcha followed him out the door, "have you made a decision yet as to what ye intend to do about her? Have ye thought over my suggestion?"
"Ye know verra well I ha'e."
"And?"
"I think ye know the decision I came too, but I will tell ye anyway. I will speak to Kristianna about it as soon as possible. I believe ye are right in saying 'twill be the best way to protect her. I'm not certain I like it, but I can see nay other way right now."
"Good. Then we shall have all the more reason to celebrate." Sorcha smiled at him, "perhaps I shall put off the celebration until after you have had a chance to speak with Kris. Then we can have a betrothal dinner as well. I must speak wi' Elsie."
Before Iain could say aye or nay, she turned and practically ran down the hall in her excitement.
Iain chuckled. He hadn't found his sister yet, but his màthair now had a grandson she could fawn over for a time. As well as a betrothal to plan for.
He had much to think about and do before the meal. And he still wished to spend some time with Kristianna, mayhap broach the subject of a betrothal with her. He only wished he knew what her reaction might be to his suggestion. He wanted her to say aye, but chose not to examine the why of that too closely.
He grinned to himself as her smiling face came to his mind. She had wit and a fiery spirit. She stood her ground with him and argued with him more than any other lass he'd known besides his màthair and sister and of course Elsie. But even they knew when to back down, when he would brooch no arguments. He found Kris intriguing, beguiling and a complete mystery to him.
But, he concluded, she was a mystery he thought he just might enjoy solving.
* * *
Kris reached her room and closed the door behind then leaned against it for a moment or two. She was really beginning to hate this room, she decided with a sigh. Pushing herself away from the door, she wandered to the small window and opened the shutters. Elbows propped on the sill, she rested her chin on her fists and looked out over the countryside.
In the far distance, she could see the snowcapped mountains, while closer, in the field a short distance away, the heather began to bloom. The smell of animals and the sounds of the clan at their work drifted up to her. Everyone seemed to be busy with something to do or accomplish. All except her, that is.
With another long-suffering, discontented sigh, Kris closed the shutters with a bang. She had no idea where Sorcha was or when Iain would come for her. She had nothing to do except think and she was getting heartily sick of it
. There had to be a project or something to occupy her until she figured out what she was going to do, or until she could speak to Iain or Sorcha.
It looked as if she'd be stuck here for quite a while. Maybe she could continue with her plan to do some exploring. That might take up a bit of time and help to occupy her mind with something besides the dark thoughts that persisted in trying to push themselves forward. What other art-history major could say they had first-hand knowledge about the seventeenth century? She would bet not one.
Her decision made, she left the room and stood in the long hallway a moment, trying to decide which way to go first. She'd explored quite a bit of the castle in the twenty-first century, but things looked a bit different now. Maybe that was because Mr. MacGregor had done quite a lot of renovating before he opened the castle to the public. Things like bathrooms with hot and cold running water, and showers, as well as heat and electricity.
Whichever way she went, she decided, she could go the other way later. And if she got lost, she was sure she'd run into someone eventually who could point her in the proper direction to get her back to her chambers. She turned right and headed down the dimly lit corridor. The torches didn't give much light, but it was enough that she could see the tapestries that hung on the wall if she stood close enough to them. A couple of them she even thought she recognized, having seen them on the tour of the castle when she had first arrived.
Kris continued leisurely down the hall, stopping now and then to examine a picture or tapestry more closely before moving on. When she reached the end of the hall, she turned and was about to start back when she noticed a door partially hidden behind one of the tapestries. The lighting was so poor she'd almost missed it.
Curious, she moved the wall hanging aside and turned the knob, surprised when the door opened with a squeak. She peered inside thinking it might be a room used for storage or something. Instead of a room or a closet, a steep flight of stairs led up. Kris looked over her shoulder and then back to the hidden staircase she'd just discovered. Where did it lead? And why was it hidden but not locked?
Timeless Mist Page 20
