Tamed by the Barbarian

by June Francis

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Can’t I go to Rowan, Mama?’ asked Gareth, his dark hair so like his father’s.

  They were standing outside in the stable yard.

  ‘Nay, love. They must make haste,’ said Kate briskly. ‘Later in spring, we will all go to Yorkshire. Will that not be a treat?’

  Gareth beamed up at Cicely. ‘Aye. When the twins are together they play japes and make me laugh.’

  ‘Then God willing we will see you soon,’ said Cicely and kissed him.

  She accepted the stable lad’s help into the saddle and watched as Jack mounted a gelding from the ap Rowans’ stable. Both beasts waited patiently for Mackillin as he came across the yard, leading his horse. He caught Cicely’s gaze, but had no smile for her; rather his expression was dour. Her spirits plummeted. Was he already regretting the compliments he had paid her last evening and the enjoyment spent with Kate and her children? Not only had they played music and sang, but Mackillin had told then such interesting tales of his travels in Egypt that he had held them spellbound. He had also been patient with Gareth when the lad had begged him to draw pictures of a camel and a pyramid. Now it seemed he had put all that aside. She wondered if he was thinking of Diccon and whether he had heard her and Kate discussing him. She watched him thank Kate for her hospitality and then he swung himself up into the saddle. She wondered if he was wishing himself already in Scotland.

  But returning to Scotland was far from Mackillin’s thoughts. His mind was concentrated on what he should do once he reached Rowan Manor. Should he speak to its master about Nat’s dying words and what he knew of Diccon’s plans? Seeing Cicely in the company of Kate and her children, he had questioned whether she could be happy living in the Scottish Border country far away from her home and family.

  They all raised a hand in farewell and Jack led the way out of the yard towards the road that would take them to Liverpool. They would have to stay the night in the port and in the morning cross the Mersey on the ferry—for which they would have to pay a toll to the priory at Birkenhead on the other side. Cicely and Mackillin were not alone in having decisions to make; Jack also was pondering on his future since hearing all the news about Diccon. He was convinced more than ever that he was not the right husband for his sister. Since hearing his father’s dying words, Jack had been convinced that his own future was linked with Mackillin’s and that of his sister. He would have to be blind not to be aware of the yearning in Cicely’s and Mackillin’s eyes when they did not realise they were being watched. If either did not speak to Owain about Nat’s dying wish, then he would do so himself. He felt that the happiness of all of them was dependant on it.

  The journey passed without aught of note happening.

  The following day when Rowan Manor came into view, the sun was reflecting off its windows and turning its sandstone walls a warm shade of dusky pink. Two men stood in conversation at the entrance to the stable yard. Thankfully, Cicely recognised Owain and his youngest brother, Hal, and called out to them. Their heads turned and, after the barest start of surprise, both men hastened towards them.

  Cicely glanced at Mackillin and murmured, ‘The dark-haired man is Owain and the younger one with flaxen hair is his brother, Hal.’

  Mackillin nodded, vaguely recognising Owain ap Rowan. He was relieved to find him at home and now made himself known. ‘I’m Lord Rory Mackillin, Master ap Rowan. I don’t know if you remember me but I, too, was a friend of Nat Milburn.’

  Owain shot him a swift estimating look before his gaze passed on to the black-clad Jack and returned to the sombrely gowned Cicely. ‘You say was—does this mean what I have feared and my dear friend is dead?’

  Cicely felt the tears prick the back of her eyes. ‘Aye. Your fears have substance. Father is dead.’

  He reached up a hand and covered the one she held out to him with his long, strong fingers. ‘I’m so sorry, Cissie. I have been uneasy since receiving no courier from Nat in the last three months. What happened to him?’

  It was Jack who replied. ‘He was murdered in Bruges by one of our northern kinsmen. If it had not been for Mackillin, I would have perished, too.’ He dismounted swiftly and added purely for Owain’s ears, ‘He saved my life and Father offered him Cicely’s hand in marriage as a reward. He has refused, but I think they have a growing attachment to each other.’

  Owain did not appear as startled as Jack might have expected, but rested a hand on the youth’s shoulder and murmured, ‘Calm yourself. I will deal with this matter.’

  Owain’s expression was grave as he looked up at Mackillin. ‘I recall seeing you in Nat’s company in Calais when we were both much younger. You were no lord then.’

  ‘That is true.’ Mackillin dismounted and held out a hand to Owain. ‘These are sad times, Master ap Rowan. We are all in need of your counsel.’

  A flicker of surprise passed over Owain’s face. ‘I will do all that is in my power to help you.’

  He turned to his brother, who was assisting Cicely to dismount. ‘Hal, if you and Jack could see to the horses? But first make your bow to Lord Mackillin.’

  Hal nodded, inclined his head in his lordship’s direction and then, with a wink at Cicely, excused himself.

  She turned to Owain, wondering what Jack had said to him, but was too polite to ask. Instead she enquired after his housekeeper. ‘Is Mistress Carver within?’

  He smiled warmly at her. ‘Aye. You go on ahead and inform her that we have company. She is to prepare bedchambers for the three of you. Hal and Jack can bring the baggage in later. I must just have a word with Lord Mackillin.’

  She thanked him, thinking that no doubt Owain would want more details of her father’s death. She climbed the steps into the hall. Inside all was hustle and bustle. Obviously preparations were being made for the evening meal. Cicely’s eyes scanned the hall and she saw a veiled grey-haired woman bending down and scolding an auburn-haired girl of some eight summers. Instantly she recognised the housekeeper and Owain’s half-sister, Anna, and hurried over to them. ‘Mrs Carver!’ she called.

  The woman turned and stared at her in amazement. ‘Mistress Cicely, I did not look to see you here until later in the year.’

  Cicely returned the regard of the woman who had served the ap Rowans since Owain was a small boy. ‘I know you weren’t expecting us but I am here with sad news. My father is dead.’

  The housekeeper looked dismayed. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. He was such a kind and generous man and will be sadly missed by the master and mistress.’

  ‘It is, indeed, a grave loss for us all. Fortunately, we have good friends. One such is Lord Mackillin, who is with us and is to stay the night. The master said you are to prepare a suitable bedchamber for his lordship. I presume I will stay in the usual guest chamber I have when here?’

  ‘Aye, mistress. A lord, you say?’ She pursed her lips. ‘I know the very chamber for him. Sir Thomas Stanley slept there when last he visited with us.’

  Cicely smiled. ‘Of course, you aren’t the least put out at entertaining a lord. Owain has done business with lords and earls for many a year, due to his belonging to one of the most successful horse-breeding families in the country.’

  ‘That is true. I will see to it immediately.’

  Cicely thanked her. Noticing that Anna had gone over to the fireplace, she followed her over. The girl gave her a penetrating stare from vivid green eyes. ‘I remember you. Are you not Kate’s stepsister?’

  ‘I am.’ Cicely held out her hands to the fire and smiled down at her.

  ‘You have twin brothers.’

  Cicely agreed that was indeed true. ‘Jack is with me.’

  Anna’s dimpled face lit up. ‘I would not know which one is Jack because your brothers are alike as peas in a pod. If only one of them had an interesting scar on his face or a strawberry mark on the back of a hand, then I could tell the difference between them.’

  ‘That would be helpful,’ said Cicely. ‘I remember thinking when they were
born that Mother should tie different-coloured ribands about their ankle or wrist.’

  ‘Not in their hair, though.’ Anna’s eyes danced. ‘At least I know that the one I speak to today is Jack. Where is he?’

  ‘Helping Hal stable the horses.’

  Anna’s smile faded. ‘Hal makes me cross. He speaks of my mother in a way that is not proper, saying that she was a witch.’

  Cicely recalled snatches of conversation that she had overheard between her stepmother and Kate. ‘That is, indeed, wrong of him. Have you spoken to Owain about this?’

  ‘Aye, and he tells Hal that he should not speak ill of the dead and that there are no such persons as witches.’

  ‘Then you must take notice of what Owain says.’

  Anna pulled a droll face. ‘I do. Yet a part of me wishes there were witches and I was one so I could cast a spell on Hal and turn him into a toad.’

  Cicely laughed. ‘That is not kind.’

  ‘What is this about witches and toads?’ asked a voice behind them.

  Cicely whirled round and saw Mackillin and Owain standing there. She smiled. ‘If you heard enough to mention witches and toads, then I think you know. I suggest that Anna goes in search of Jack. He will have more interesting tales to tell her so that she will forget witches and toads. He has visited many interesting places since last he was here.’

  Anna’s eyes lit up. ‘I will go immediately in search of him. It can be so dull here during the winter, especially when the children are at Merebury.’ With a wave of her hand, she skipped from the hall.

  ‘An interesting girl,’ said Cicely, gazing at the two men as they drew closer to the fire. She doubted that they would have had any time yet to discuss her father’s death and its consequences at any length.

  Owain grimaced. ‘She’s a handful, just like her mother. Do you have any sisters, Mackillin?’

  ‘No. And I felt the lack when Jack rebuked me for scolding him for following after Mistress Cicely a few days ago,’ he said ruefully. ‘He has courage, but a streak of recklessness when it comes to feeling the need to save his sister from her own folly.’

  Cicely said indignantly, ‘I think I’ve admitted already that I was foolish in setting out alone—you don’t have to remind me of it again, my lord.’

  ‘That wasn’t my intention.’ He smiled warmly down at her. ‘I was just confessing my own lack of a brother’s need to protect a sister.’

  ‘I, too, never had a sister, but Anna’s mother was for a while as one to me and my brothers and I felt that need,’ said Owain.

  ‘So Anna’s mother was…your…’

  ‘Stepmother.’ Owain’s voice was terse. ‘Her parents died when she was only young and when she was old enough to realise that there was no relationship between us at all, she decided to marry my father.’

  Mackillin apologised for being so inquisitive. ‘I did not mean…’

  Owain forced a smile. ‘It is of no matter. But I’m sure you found out for yourself that when a parent marries more than once and there are children from two different mothers or fathers involved it can cause problems.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Mackillin heavily.

  The two men moved away so that Cicely could hear only the murmur of their voices. She so wanted it to be true that it was as Kate had said and Mackillin was fighting his feelings for her. But there was no chance of her discovering if that was true and he was speaking of it to Owain. She drew closer to the fire and as the heat from the burning logs penetrated her clothing and warmed her chilled body, she mulled over the events of the last few days. She realised that, despite the discomfort of travel, she had gained so much from spending time in Mackillin’s company. If sadly naught else came from their relationship, she knew that she would always be glad that she had met him.

  It was at that point in her deliberations she became aware of a pungent odour and realised with horror that the smell was coming from her black gown. A smouldering brand had dropped from the fire and set her skirt alight. Swiftly she patted it out with her gloved hands and then stared in dismay at the ruined fabric. It was easy for her to imagine what the men would say if they knew how careless she had been for her safety by standing too close to the fire. Without delay she must go in search of Mistress Carver to borrow another gown. She hurried from the hall, scarcely aware of the two men’s eyes upon her. She found the housekeeper in one of the bedchambers and told her what had happened. ‘Is there a dark-coloured gown anywhere that I could borrow?’

  The housekeeper looked pensive and then gave a sharp nod. ‘Right at the end of the passage where your bedchamber is, there’s a small room that seldom gets used. Inside there’s a chest full of clothes that have been discarded. I’m certain that the gown worn by Mistress Anna’s mother after the old master died is still in there.’

  Cicely thanked her. Then, following the housekeeper’s instructions, she found both the room and the chest. When she lifted the lid a strong smell of lavender assailed her nostrils and she saw that the chest was brimming with clothes. She put down the candleholder and began to drag them out so she could have a proper look at them. As she did so, lavender bags scattered on to the floor. Amongst the essentially feminine garments, there were also hose, breeches, leather jerkins, shirts, surcoat and hats. All too small now, she deemed, for the ap Rowan brothers, of which there were three. She wondered why they had not given them away. Maybe it was simply because the clothes had been forgotten about. At last she found what she was looking for and held the black gown against her; the length was perfect. She fingered the fabric and decided that Anna’s mother must have had expensive tastes. It was normally only the nobility that wore velvet.

  Placing the gown on a chair, she piled all the other garments back inside the chest. Then, picking up the garment and the candle, she left the room.

  Mackillin was wondering why Cicely had hurried from the hall. Was she annoyed with him for what he had said earlier? At least he knew she was not being ogled by that bold-eyed brother of his host. He scowled at the memory.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me the details of Nat’s murder whilst your bedchamber is being prepared, your lordship,’ said Owain, interrupting his guest’s reverie.

  ‘Call me Mackillin,’ he said, following his host over to the fireplace where a covered pan now stood on the hearth.

  Owain wasted no time filling two tankards from the pan. He handed one to Mackillin and waved him to a carved oak chair with a seat cushion that stood close to the fire. He waited until he was seated before sitting down opposite him. ‘Your good health, Mackillin.’

  The spicy smell of nutmeg and cinnamon filled his lordship’s nostrils. ‘And yours, ap Rowan.’ Mackillin took a deep draught of the mulled ale. It was a good brew and he decided he was not going to drink it in haste, but savour the flavour. Cradling the tankard in his strong hands, he began his tale.

  ‘As Jack said, it happened in Bruges. Nat was unaware that I had recently learnt that my father and half-brothers had been killed, that I had inherited the title and my mother wanted me home. She’s English, a Percy, and it was to her family I was sent after one of my half-brothers tried to kill me in my youth. For this reason alone I knew my inheriting the title would not be popular with some of my Scottish neighbours. Raids over the border are still common despite England and Scotland supposedly living in peace, but raids between neighbours also can be frequent at times.’ He paused to quaff a mouthful of ale. ‘I need allies and I decided to marry a Mistress Mary Armstrong, a biddable maid, whom I have known a long time.’

  Owain’s expression was thoughtful. ‘I presume you have a good reason for telling me all of this?’

  Mackillin nodded. ‘I’m so eager to explain to you the reasoning behind my thinking that perhaps I have started on the wrong foot.’

  Owain said, ‘Tell me now about Nat’s murder.’

  Mackillin nodded and began the story with when he had heard the cry for help and how he had found Nat fatally wounded on the ground whilst
Jack was hard pressed trying to defend himself from the attack of two assassins, whilst a third seemed bent on robbing the dying man. He spoke of Nat offering him Cicely as a reward for his accompanying Jack home.

  Owain’s blue eyes were intent on Mackillin’s frowning face. ‘And what was your answer?’

  ‘I refused. I did not need a reward for helping a dying friend.’ His brows knitted and he tapped a fingernail against the tankard. ‘But I had not seen Cicely then and now…’

  ‘You have changed your mind?’

  Mackillin nodded.

  Owain was quiet a moment, but then said, ‘Tell me the rest.’

  So Mackillin brought Owain completely up to date with all that had happened to the twins and Cicely since the time he had arrived at Milburn Manor. There was a pause after he had finished and then Owain leaned forward and said in a low voice, aware of the servants bustling around them. ‘Do you believe she has formed an attachment to you? If so, then you must speak to Cissie of your change of heart.’

  ‘No. Not yet,’ Mackillin said firmly. ‘I do believe she is not indifferent to me, but I cannot risk her life by taking her to Scotland with me. I must make Killin as safe as I can before I speak of my feelings.’

  Owain frowned. ‘I understand your reasoning. But what if she believes you do not care enough for her? Does she already know of your intention to take a Scottish bride?’

  ‘Jack knows and—I might have mentioned it to her,’ he said with a grimace.

  ‘Then you can only blame yourself if, believing you do not want her and Diccon survives the battle that lies ahead then, she does something foolish out of desperation and runs away with him.’

  ‘I have thought of that, but I consider Cissie a lass of good sense—most of the time.’ He smiled faintly.

  Owain raised an eyebrow, but did not ask Mackillin to elucidate further. ‘I can tell you that Nat spoke of the pair of you to me. He wanted to help you some more after you repaid the loan he forwarded to you to buy your ship and the house in Kirkcudbright.’