Bridie held her baby closer, she’d never really expected to keep her, had never really thought ahead, but all she knew now was that she could not stand to let Gracie go.
‘And how are you going to support her, Bridie?’ Mrs Moffat scolded. ‘You haven’t worked, you haven’t done anything….’
‘I will work, just as soon as she’s well. I promise you that.’ Bridie said and she looked at her bairn. ‘I could never let her go.’
‘That as maybe…’ Mrs Moffat started, but stopped when rarely Morag spoke.
‘She needs her mothers milk for thirteen full moons…’ Morag stared at Mrs Moffat till the auld woman’s cheeks were red. ‘So I’ve been told.’
‘By whom?’ Mrs Moffat huffed, for it was stuff and nonsense she was sure and yet she feared this woman who sat staring at her now and holding her pendant. Feared this wise woman who had brought Gracie back from near dead.
‘’Twas your people who begged for my knowledge. Would you be so foolish now as to question it?’
Of course Mrs Moffat daren’t, she flounced off, no doubt to pray and, as the door closed, Morag actually smiled. ‘I made up the bit about thirteen full moons.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You should feed her for as long as she wants though.’
‘I shall.’ Bridie swallowed and dared to ask her again. ‘How do you know so much?’
‘My mother passed her teachings on to me.’ Morag said. ‘We have looked after women and their infants for centuries…’ Her voice trailed off as the door knocked and Bridie flushed when she saw it was the laird.
‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘Getting better.’ Bridie said and then she remembered she was draped in his plaid, but the laird said nothing as he pulled it back and looked at Gracie and then turned to Morag, but her back was to him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, but Morag said nothing, just wrapped her purple cloak tighter around her.
The Glenbarachs took full advantage of their month of hunting rights and they emptied many traps too but, soon enough, the debt had been honoured and it was time for Callum to return Morag.
‘What about my sugar?’ Morag demanded.
‘It was part of the deal,’ Callum explained to Alasdair. ‘Not from Laird Glenbarach, he agreed to send Morag for the hunting rights but I agreed to her demand for sugar. It was the only way I could get her to come.’
‘Very well.’ The laird nodded and Mary was sent to the basement room and Morag given her sugar, which she took without a word.
‘She’s a strange one,’ the laird said, when Morag had gone and it was time for Morag and Gracie to go back down to the servant’s quarters.
‘She saved Gracie’s life,’ Bridie said to the laird. ‘And so did you.’ She could never repay him for all he had done. ‘Thank you Laird, I’ll never forget.’
And neither did Bridie forget her vow to work for her keep. She worked in the kitchen through the winter where she could feed her baby and keep her warm. Though he was told by Mrs Moffat that only rarely did she speak, a couple of times at night he heard her singing to Gracie but, apart from that, Alasdair rarely saw them.
Then, one morning, a year to the day that it happened, the laird woke with a head pounding, not from Candlemas celebrations but vile memories. As his breakfast was delivered he braced himself for annoying chatter from Mary, or the latest report on Mrs Moffat’s knees and yet it was the sing-song voice of Bridie that graced his ears this morn.
‘Good morning, Laird.’ She put down his tray and he stared at the snowdrops she had picked for him, looked at the frail, tiny blooms that somehow pushed through the icy hard ground and marvelled at their resilience - they would forever remind him of Bridie, but with kinder memories now, for he looked to where she opened the drapes and smiled out to the morn. ‘And what a bonny day it is, Laird.’
‘Bridie?’
He looked at her, a woman now, so different in appearance from before – that once skinny body had rounded out now in soft feminine curves. When she turned to him, those once innocent eyes were a touch more guarded now but her smile was bright as she greeted him.
In the days, weeks and months that followed, Bridie carried on as if the last year had never happened – just chatted as she always had, although the tales she regaled were often now about wee Gracie, but each and every morning, somehow she made a fierce laird smile.
Bridie was back.
Chapter Four
McClelland, September 1297
Thirteen Full Moons Later
‘Come to me, Gracie…’ Bridie knelt on the kitchen floor and held out her arm. ‘Come to your Ma.’
Gracie had turned one and Bridie was worried that she wasn’t yet walking.
‘She’ll walk when she’s ready,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘She should be asleep, come on now Bridie, take her to her crib, she needs--’ but she halted talking then, a smile splitting her wrinkled face as Gracie took her first faltering steps to her Ma.
‘Come on, Gracie,’ Bridie was ecstatic, watching as Gracie’s wee fat legs toddled towards her, buckling at the knees and then, just short of Bridie, she started to tip forwards but Bridie caught her and scooped her up, kissing her red face and curls over and over and making little Gracie squeal and giggle in delight.
‘Did you see….’ Bridie turned, but her voice trailed of, because Mrs Moffat had stopped smiling. ‘Put her to bed Bridie,’ Mrs Moffat said, ‘and then you’re to come back down here. I need to speak with you.’
‘I’ll just feed her.’
Bridie took Gracie over to the sleeping area, held her to her breast and cuddled Gracie in. Once asleep she placed Gracie in her crib and wrapped her warm under the blanket and popped her thumb in her mouth and as she gazed on her daughter, Bridie thought her heart might burst.
Not once did she think badly of that time when she gazed on Gracie.
It had happened.
Without Gracie, she would still be sitting mute staring at the loch.
Or floating face down upon it.
So dark had been that place and it was Gracie who had brought her back and now, she knew, Mrs Moffat wanted to talk about sending her away.
Bridie had resisted even thinking about it, ignored it really, but she couldn’t any more.
‘I’ll not lose you Gracie.’ Bridie vowed. ‘I’ll not. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you with me.’
She wrapped a shawl around her and headed back down to the kitchen, Mrs Moffat was busy kneading bread for the morning and did not look at her as she spoke.
‘I spoke with the priest yesterday.’
Bridie just sat.
‘The Campbell’s are ready for Gracie.’
‘No.’ Bridie said but one word.
‘You’ve had your thirteen full moons.’
‘I’m still feeding her at night.’
‘It’s time for Gracie to go to her new family, They’re good people,’ Mrs Moffat said and Bridie closed her eyes, for Lara Campbell was a sister to the priest and everything they wanted was taken as already theirs.
‘I’m Gracie’s mother,’ Bridie reared. ‘I’ll not let them take her.’
‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ Mrs Moffat warned, and the bread would be well risen tomorrow for her hands were extra busy as they worked the dough and she looked over to where Bridie sat defiant. Och, she would not hand that bairn over without a fight Mrs Moffat knew. She was like a wee vixen defending her cubs and she’d spoken to the priest about the trouble Bridie might cause.
‘The priest says that it’s shameful of you to be raising her out of wedlock…’ Bridie just shrugged, she’d take the shame rather than part with Gracie. ‘And he says it shames the laird too, to be housing an illegit.’ She saw Bridie blink.
‘I’m not letting her go.’ Bridie said.
‘Well, if you insist on keeping her, then you’re to wed,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘There’s no other way around it.’
‘No one will have me,’ Bridie said. ‘You told me that, you sa
id that I’m damaged goods and that no man with sense will take on another mouth--’
‘Aye, well the priest thought of that.’ Mrs Moffat interrupted. ‘And he says if you’ll not hand Gracie over to God loving people who will raise her well, then you’re to marry Dougal Blaine.’ She watched the colour flood from Bridie’s cheeks. ‘He’s a gentle soul and he hasnae a wife.’
‘The laird said I could stay here…’ Bridie’s breath was coming out of her nostrils as panic started to build.
‘The laird is to marry soon, he’ll be choosing his bride at the ball in a few weeks,’ Mrs Moffat said. ‘Maybe the new lady won’t want the shame.’ She knew she was being harsh, but Mrs Moffat was worried, there was much trouble - any time now the men would be heading into battle. Bridie had grown too used to the laird’s generosity and it feared her what might happen if the English hold took. ‘The Campbells will take good care of Gracie…’
‘No!’ Bridie took a deep breath, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, for she could think of only one thing worse than being wed to Dougal Blaine and that was losing Gracie.
‘I’m not giving my baby away,’ Bridie said and revealed a little of the pain she kept so deeply locked in. ‘I’m not doing to Gracie what my own mother did to me.’
‘Bridie, you don’t know what happened to your Ma, you don’t know why she did what she did--’
‘Exactly,’ Bridie fiercely interrupted. ‘But I know the little I do – that I was found at the burn, but do you think the Campbells will be filling wee Gracie’s ears with tales of me? No, she’ll grow up never knowing that I’m her mother. I’ll have to stand in church and watch my daughter and she won’t even know that it’s me.’ Bridie took a deep breath. ‘You can tell the priest I’ll be marrying Dougal…’
‘Bridie!’ The auld woman was shocked, she’d never expected Bridie to agree, but there were few choices.
‘I’m away to my bed.’ Bridie called over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.
‘You get back here lassie.’
But Bridie ignored her, worried to speak in case she break down. She checked the blanket around Gracie, and simply refused to cry, for Gracie was worth it.
Bridie slid into bed beside Mary and closed her eyes, desperate to sleep, but the face before here was Dougal’s and in the end, she woke up a sleeping Mary. ‘I’m to be married,’ Bridie whispered.
‘When?’ Mary’s eyes lit up with glee.
‘The banns will start to be read soon.’ Bridie said.
‘Who are you to marry?’
Bridie did her best to keep her voice even. ‘Dougal Blaine.’ The smile was wiped from Mary’s face and it was Bridie who did her best to reassure her friend. ‘Mrs Moffat says that he’s the only one who will have me.’ Bridie said. ‘Because…’ she would not blame it on Gracie. ‘Because of what happened.’
‘But, Dougal Blaine?’ Mary said. ‘He’s a simpleton.’
‘He’s kind.’ Bridie tried to be practical. ‘And I’ll have my own home and maybe some day sisters and brothers for Gracie…’ but then her voice wavered, for she had to speak to a friend. ‘I’m fine being wed and everything, but I’m scared of the nights, Mary. I’m starting to remember what happened…. ’ She saw her friends frown of confusion, did not want to scare her with details. ‘I’m not scared to be Dougal’s wife; I’m scared to be any man’s wife. I’m scared how much it’s going to hurt.’
‘It might not be so bad,’ Mary attempted. ‘Kissing is nice.’
‘What would you know?’
‘Oh I know!’ Mary smiled a secret smile.
‘You’re telling tales.’
‘But I’m not.’ Mary insisted. ‘The last time Angus left for battle…’ Bridie’s eyes widened in shock. ‘He said he didn’t know if he’d be seeing me again and he kissed me. Oh, Bridie, it was the nicest thing ever, honestly when he kissed me I felt all warm and not just on my lips…’
‘Mary!’
‘But I did.’ She insisted. ‘Maybe you could pretend you were kissing the laird when you kiss Dougal.’
‘Och, why would I want to pretend I was kissing the laird?’ Bridie scolded, but she was glad it was dark for she was burning just at the thought.
‘Because you like him,’ Mary said.
‘I like him because he saved Gracie. I like him because he has always been kind to me, but I don’t think of him in that way.’
Except lately she had been starting to.
‘Well, if you don’t want to pretend it’s the Laird, maybe you could take some whisky,’ Mary suggested. ‘I heard Mrs Moffat say that that was what she did on her wedding night. You might be lucky and not even remember it.’ She tried to cheer her friend. ‘You’ll be okay, Bridie. Dougal’s no beauty, but at least he’ll take care of you and Gracie.’
And yes, she should be thankful for that.
She was thankful for that, Bridie insisted, as she said her prayers.
And then lay feeling guilty for she had just lied to the Lord.
Chapter Five
‘Let it steep for a few more minutes,’ Bridie said as she checked the laird’s brew before taking it up to him. While she waited, Bridie fed Gracie her porridge as Mrs Moffat served some ham and haddie onto a plate along with fresh warm oatcakes for the laird.
‘It’s ready now Bridie.’
She kissed Gracie and told her that she’d be back soon, and though nothing bought her more joy than her daughter, this morning Bridie’s heart was heavy as she took up the tray to Laird Alasdair.
Still the laird did not need to be burdened with her problems, he had enough on his mind, Bridie knew, so she forced a smile as she knocked on his door and walked in.
‘Good morning, Laird.’
‘I hear congratulations are in order, Bridie.’ Alasdair sat up as Bridie put down the tray on the table while she opened the curtains, but even the sight of the Loch gleaming in the morning sun and the heather softly swaying could not lighten her mood but she kept her voice light as she answered the Laird.
‘So they are.’ Bridie said and Alasdair’s heart sank as he saw her force a smile. ‘I’m to be married soon, the banns will start to be read next month.’
‘And can I ask who the lucky fellow is?’ the laird said, as if he didn’t know, as if it was normal congratulations he was about to offer.
‘Dougal Blaine.’
He looked to Bridie, saw her busy blowing the kindle but he saw too that she wiped her cheek with the back of her hands and the laird could not say the words he perhaps should, could not offer his congratulations, so instead he asked a question.
‘Is this what you want Bridie?’
‘Of course it is.’ Bridie’s voice was firm. ‘Dougal’s kind and there’s not many who would take me on, what with Gracie and me being damaged goods and all.’ Alasdair sat silent, anger still churned unspent inside him, for all she had endured, and there was fresh anger there too now - that someone as bright and as stunning as Bridie could be married off to someone like Dougal. ‘Mrs Moffat wants to know that I’m taken care of, she’s not getting any younger…’ She repeated the arguments that had been thrust upon her then stood and warmed her hands a moment on the fire that was starting to take and then turned to him and smiled. ‘You’ll be a married man yourself soon.’
‘I shall.’ Alasdair could not keep the dark note from his voice, he had no wish to marry but, like Bridie, had no real choice in the matter, he was to marry a lady, one that would be suitable, and prosper his land.
It had nothing to do with heart.
‘I’ll miss this Bridie…’ Alasdair gruffly admitted, for the laird rarely spoke as to how he was feeling, he was always sullen and silent with his emotions, and anger he saved for battle. ‘Our morning chats.’
‘Aye, well I doubt her ladyship will want me standing around chatting as I serve you your breakfast.’
Alasdair doubted it too, for Bridie’s beauty was becoming more potent. Her hair gleamed in the morning sun and the
smile on her lips drew his eye these days – was it that she moistened her lips that made her mouth seem to plump? She had her tunic on over her kirtle, but he could see as she bent now to stoke the fire the curve of her bottom and she was a woman now, Alasdair was well aware of that from the response of his own body. She stood then, stretched her back and as she did he saw the swell of her bosom and Alasdair looked down to the breakfast rather than her, for he was starting to think of Bridie in ways he never had.
‘Can I still take my meals here, I mean, me and Gracie ?’ Bridie asked. ‘I’ll work twice as hard.’
‘Of course you can.’ The Laird said.
‘To tell the truth,’ Bridie admitted. ‘I’ll be glad to come to the Castle during the day, though I can’t imagine not living here anymore. I don’t think Dougal will be great at conversation…’
She stood with her hands behind her back.
‘Would you like breakfast, Dougal?’ Bridie teased.
‘Aye,’ she said, mimicking his simple voice.
‘It’s a fine morning, is it not Dougal?’
‘Aye.’
Yes, every morning she made Alasdair smile, but he struggled this morning, was pensive as he lay back on his pillow and he watched as the tears shining in her green eyes started to tumble down.
‘Bridie?’ She was shaking in terror he could see it.
‘I’m petrified laird…’ She sobbed.
‘You don’t have to marry him, then.’
‘Oh, I don’t mind being wed.’ Bridie begged, for she would do anything to keep Gracie. ‘I’m just scared of my wifely duties.’
Alasdair knew what she meant, knew the terrible injuries that had been inflicted that awful night, knew how badly she had been abused. Thankfully her memory of that time was dim, little could she remember, Bridie admitted through her tears, but the rest of her sexual knowledge was based on watching animals mating.
‘Bridie…’ He didn’t know how to comfort her. ‘It will be nothing like that. You’ve had a terrible experience.’
‘I watch the beasties out in the fields and I hear them bay and scream.’
Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) Page 3
