“Did he force ye, lass?” Gavin shoved the words past the fury building in his chest.
Brianna sighed. “Nae. I am not sure what my intentions were. I admit his attentions to me were—well, nice. I never planned to remarry, and for a few moments I wanted to know what it was like to be attracted to a man and have him love me. To not cringe at a man’s touch. I never thought to see him again.”
She stood and stepped a few feet away, hugging her arms about her waist. “I never thought I could conceive a child. I never did in all the long months as Mungo’s wife. I dinnae think it possible.”
Gavin watched as she relaxed and slowly rubbed her palms against her skirt. “How sure are ye?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Fairly sure.”
He thought he understood her answer. Raised with four sisters, his knowledge of women’s issues had few holes. He had learned much as a lad, and he knew better than to ask her what the hell she’d been thinking. Censure was not what she needed.
“Ye will be wed next week. No one will notice.”
She faced him and he was startled to see uncertainty on her face. “I still feel the distrust from my first marriage. Conn speaks well, but I dinnae know him.”
“I dinnae think ye need worry. He seems honorable. I willnae pass judgment on the husband of yer first marriage, but the MacLaurey doesnae act like a man who is a fool.”
“He doesnae act like a fool, or would be a fool to miss the wedding?”
Gavin was pleased to see a slight smile on her face. “He would have to be either dead or a fool to miss wedding ye, and a bigger fool to hurt ye.”
“Then mayhap I worry for naught. I believe it is time to set things to rights here at Wyndham and prepare for the wedding. Will ye act as steward in my absence?”
Gavin nodded. “Aye. Ye know I will do anything ye ask. And Wyndham is my home. I will protect it for wee Jamie.”
She lifted a hand, then dropped it back to her side. “Thank ye, Gavin. Ye are a staunch friend. I couldnae ask for better.”
The swing of her skirt kicked up little puffs of dust as she walked the lane to the hall. Gavin sat on the bench a moment longer, tamping down the familiar longing to comfort the lord’s daughter with more than sympathetic words.
* * *
Brianna rested a hand gently on her da’s shoulder. He looked up from the small object he turned over in his hands.
“What is it, Da?” She pointed to his hands. “What do ye have?”
He blinked at her, then down, slowly opening his hands to reveal a small golden pendant glowing in the light of the candles. Brianna sat beside him and touched his fingers.
“Where did ye get this?”
He nodded at the pendant. “’Tis yers.”
“May I see it?”
After a moment’s hesitation, he handed her the jewel. Light warmed the mellow gold and flashed off the single diamond set in the middle. She ran a fingertip over the smoothly hammered surface.
“’Twas yer ma’s before she died.”
Brianna nearly dropped the pendant in surprise. For him to speak so calmly of her ma’s death had little precedent. He was more likely to bluster and shout and demand more whisky. Her throat tightened and she put an arm about his shoulders, shocked at how thin he felt, how frail he was beneath his robes.
He frowned. “She had many things that are yers, now.”
“Mayhap ye will help me go through them one day.”
“They are for yer wedding, lass. Ye may get them when ye are ready.”
She clasped the pendant to her breast and leaned against him, the pain of Ma’s death much less with his shoulder to lean against. She dared not wonder how long his clarity would last.
“Da, I appointed Gavin to help ye when I am gone.”
“Aye. A sotted lord and a young lad cannae govern by ourselves.”
Brianna nodded. “He is a good man. I dinnae know why I dinnae see it before.”
Chapter 21
Corfin Castle, Morven
Conn nodded his satisfaction. The people of Morven had worked hard to set the castle to rights, and as a sign of appreciation he ordered an informal gathering on the castle grounds, a taste of the festivities he planned for the day he brought his bride home. He glanced at his friends and smiled. In two days, he would ride to Wyndham amid a large party of MacLaurey soldiers and Morven representatives and marry Brianna. Despite his initial dismay at finding himself betrothed, he felt assured by the rightness of it.
Nothing could mar his happiness. Even the somewhat stilted letter he’d received from her several days earlier showed she tried to overcome her reluctance to wed. She hadn’t quite mustered the courage to address him with endearing terms, but she had at least admitted she would be his wife soon. Oh, so very soon.
Servants busily supplied the tables with food and drink. With no possible way to seat everyone, all who came were invited to browse the offerings, and the area was thick with well-fed guests. Conn at last stopped his stroll through the crowd and filled a platter. He collapsed into the chair set aside for his use and motioned for a servant to fill his glass.
A haggard man hurried over with a flagon of wine and leaned over the edge of the table to pour. He lurched forward, spilling the wine and knocking Conn’s cup to the ground. He caught himself and tried to grasp the cup, but it rolled across the mud-churned ground. Conn rose to his feet and peered over the table.
“A moment, m’laird. I will fetch a clean one.” The man hurried away, clutching the dirtied cup to his chest.
“I fear you flustered the man,” Bray murmured, lifting his own mug to his lips. He grimaced. “Though the wine is not fit to be served in a dirty goblet, much less a clean one.”
“Ye would have me serve the best wine to the untutored crowds?”
The servant scurried back to the table, placing a new goblet brimming with wine carefully before Conn.
“The better wine is still in the castle, Laird,” the man murmured as he bowed and slipped away.
With a grin, Conn took a sip. “I certainly hope we aren’t pouring this down the throats of thirsty villagers.” He handed the cup to Bray. “Here. This will appease yer palate.”
He looked for the man who’d brought the wine, half-rising from his chair as he spied him several feet away.
“Hey!”
The man flinched and partly turned his head.
“Bring the wine to the table.”
The servant nodded and shuffled away, returning several moments later with the flagon. Conn thanked him absently and poured himself another draught.
“A toast to friendship and good wine.” The men clinked their goblets together and took a sip.
Bray rolled the wine across his tongue, eyes partly closed as he separated the flavors. “A nice fruity flavor with a hint of smokiness. Not bad at all.”
“I shall appoint ye in charge of the wine cellar.”
Bray nodded agreement, eyeing the rather dusty young man who approached their table. Stopping directly before Conn, the lad pulled a folded letter from his sporran. Conn bolted upright in his chair.
“Ye are from Wyndham?”
The young man nodded. “Aye. I am to give ye this.” He handed Conn the missive.
With eyes only for the letter, he quickly broke the seal and scanned the contents.
Bray laughed. “Walk the tables and refresh yourself, garçon. The laird thanks you for your service.”
Conn waved a hand vaguely in agreement, his attention on the words before him.
Conn,
Having only ever received letters from a man in the form of bills—and these were addressed to Da, though I dealt with them—I can say yers refresh my heart. They are a gentle encouragement for our life together, and I am ever hopeful it will be thus.
Thank ye for making this time of adjustment a bit easier. I can truly say I at last (I am certain ye would say at long last) have decided our marriage has much potential and, as ye pointed out, much to recommen
d it. In all seriousness, ye have warmed my heart.
Please send word on the number in yer wedding party. I will see to their comfort.
Yours,
Brianna.
“She said ‘yours’!” he shouted, waving the parchment in the air. His face heated as heads swiveled in his direction, aware he acted like a heartsick lad. In truth, he had been wary of Brianna’s response to his letters—the previous one scarcely more than an acknowledgement of receipt of his. While this one would hardly fall in the category of a love letter, he relished the subtle humor and looked forward to teaching her the ways of love.
Gillis grunted as he flopped into a chair opposite him at the table. Conn took a deep sip of wine, his mood expansive.
“Shall we share?” Conn asked Bray, nodding to the lad.
Quirking one eye in appraisal of the youth, Bray nodded. “Let the lad tutor his palate with the wine. Once he is tipsy, he will not notice when we change it for the common stuff.” He poured a measure of wine into Gillis’s cup.
“I am hungry, not thirsty,” Gillis protested.
Conn laughed. “Let the lad eat. Ye have worked him entirely too hard to deny him sustenance.”
Gillis ignored the ribbing and set to his dinner with gusto. Conn and Bray dug in to their own food and emptied the bottle of wine between them. Bray lingered over his last glass as the evening deepened and the villagers began to make their way to their homes. Servants cleared the debris.
“This was a good célébration,” Bray remarked, slouched deep in his chair.
Conn grunted. “Merely a prelude to the one next week when I bring home my bride.”
“A month ago I would not have said you would have been so eager to wed.”
“I wasnae,” Conn admitted ruefully. “I dinnae know her then. I know her scarcely better now, but I definitely like her spirit.”
Bray roared. “You like her form and the way she fits in your arms. Mon ami, you are smitten.”
Conn’s face heated, but he could not deny Bray’s words.
* * *
The night was dark and still. Too still. Conn lay in his bed, unsure what had roused him. A sudden, sharp pain tore through his abdomen and he rolled onto his side, drawing his knees to his chest against the agony. Scarcely able to breathe, he waited for the pain to pass. Slowly it eased, and he carefully straightened his body.
His stomach revolted and he jerked upright. Flinging the bedclothes aside, he lurched across the room for the chamber pot. He managed but two steps before he collapsed to his knees, vomiting onto the cold, hard floor. His head spun and his stomach heaved. He was cold and hot at the same time. Unable to summon the strength to rise, he slumped unconscious to the floor.
Voices rose and fell in the hall outside his door, but Conn couldn’t be bothered to care. Heavy pounding on his door jolted him to partial wakefulness, but he ignored it, resentful at being forced to move. The door burst open and Seumas and Gillis bolted into the room, sliding to a stop at his side.
“Get him up.” Seumas knelt and rolled Conn to his back, placing his hands beneath his shoulders. Together, he and Gillis lifted Conn and bore him to the bed. Conn groaned as the movements caused his world to shift dangerously. Seumas quickly brought the chamber pot to the bedside.
“Here ye go, lad.” He wiped Conn’s face with a damp cloth. Conn lay back on his pillows, exhausted, the room swimming about him.
“Ye have that out of yer system good and proper. Ye need yer rest now. Young Gillis and I will take turns watching over ye.”
“Has anyone else been affected?” Conn whispered hoarsely, glancing anxiously at the pair. Seumas shot Gillis a quelling look, then answered.
“Mayhap one or two, but dinnae fash yerself over it. They are being seen to.”
Conn tried to sit up, but only made it to his elbows. “Something we ate?”
Seumas pushed him back onto the bed. “Lay yerself back, there’s a good lad.”
Too weak to protest, Conn collapsed on the pillows, his breaths coming in short, rapid succession. Seumas wrung out a wet cloth and placed it on Conn’s brow. With a sigh, Conn closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted sleep.
* * *
Wyndham
Wedding preparations at Wyndham soon grew out of hand. Villagers and hall residents alike vied with each other with greenery and flowers for decorations, and their promises of food and pastries to feed hungry guests. Brianna surveyed the festive room with a critical eye. A serving girl approached her.
“Milady, how many rooms do ye wish us to prepare?”
“I dinnae know, but I will find out.”
With a brief nod, the lass hurried away. Glancing to the doorway, Brianna called to the man entering the hall. “Rabbie?”
He turned at the sound of his name, his good-natured face beaming at her. He hurried to her side. “What is wrong?”
Brianna pinned a half-smile on her face, determined to keep her frustration from showing. “Could you find how many are coming from Morven and when? The wedding is in two days and I havenae heard word from his lairdship.”
Rabbie waved her concern aside and reached for a hunk of bread from the basket on the table. “Och, dinnae fash. Put the women in the rooms upstairs and the men on the floor here. Like as not they will just come for the day, one night at the most. Morven is only a few hours’ ride from here.”
And like as not the men will be fair puggled and not care where they sleep. Brianna gave an exasperated sigh. No one seemed to be concerned the groom hadn’t put in an appearance yet or even bothered to inform them of the wedding party arriving with him as she’d asked. Was she the only one who worried about this?
“Rabbie, I havenae heard from him in the past few days. The wedding is the day after tomorrow and I find this verra troublesome.”
“He has likely had much to occupy him—rousting Malcolm and getting Corfin Castle ready for his new bride.” Rabbie grinned. “He is a lucky man, the laird is, and he wouldnae be so foolish as to muck this up.”
With that heartfelt piece of wisdom, Rabbie strode away, popping the bread in his mouth before reaching for a mug of ale. Brianna scrubbed her hands over her face, damping down her inner turmoil. Damned inconsiderate if ye ask me. Leaves me to do all the work for the wedding and thinks all involved is a ‘come hither’ look from him on the wedding night.
Well, he can show up when he likes. If he cares so little, he can sleep on the floor with the guests. She started to call Rabbie back and instruct him to ride to Morven anyway, but hesitated. Even if I send Rabbie to Morven for information, he will scarcely get back before Conn arrives. I am too worried about such a thing. I willnae think on it again.
* * *
“Ye look beautiful, lass,” Una said as she brushed Brianna’s hair to a lustrous shine. “And ye will look like a faerie princess in yer finery.”
Brianna sat before the low table in her robe, unwilling to put on her new wedding dress until just before the ceremony for fear of wrinkling or staining it. Una had stayed up far into the wee hours for several nights putting the finishing touches on the teal velvet gown, edged in silver satin.
She shifted on the hard chair.
“Quit yer fidgeting.” Una pulled the brush through Brianna’s curls. “He will be here soon enough. Ye are acting like a new bride, not one who knows what to expect from her groom.”
Amazingly, Brianna felt heat steal up her neck. The reminder this was her second wedding also brought to mind what she’d worked herself to exhaustion these last few nights to forget. She was also a pregnant bride. Certainly not a rarity, but it pained her personal sense of rightness. She swept from the chair and crossed to the window on the far side of the room to peer outside, seeing the milling crowd at the front of the hall. To her consternation, there still was no word from Morven.
“Anna! Anna!” Jamie bounded into the room, Tam on his heels. “Look at my new shirt!” He leapt onto the bed, bouncing high on the plump mattress, spinning around as h
e showed off the garment. Tam barked happily, dancing about on his hind legs, mimicking Jamie’s moves.
“Jamie!” Both Una and Brianna cried together as the lad’s feet nearly trod on Brianna’s new gown. She snatched Jamie from the bed as Una swept her hard work into her arms, smoothing the gown over a nearby chair. With a frown, both inspected their charges, finding neither the child nor the gown the worse for the near disaster.
“Ye nearly ruined the dress Una made for me,” Brianna scolded as she placed Jamie on the floor. Tam nosed him as though checking him for harm, then sat his furry rump on the floor, his tail swishing softly against the worn wood. Brianna propped her fists on her hips and tried to look stern.
“Now, show me how nice ye look in yer new shirt—with yer feet on the ground!”
Jamie pouted at the scolding, but instantly brightened as he whirled about, arms spread, showing her the shirt she’d finished for him only yesterday. It was her gift to him to make him feel included in the wedding preparations.
Her heart ached to think she’d be leaving him in a little more than a day, and though her da was showing surprising interest in his son, Jamie hardly knew him, and she knew it would be difficult for Jamie to adjust to her being gone—really gone this time. It was time she considered leaving Tam for the lad to play with. Perhaps the dog’s ready friendship would help ease the pangs of parting.
“Ye look fine, Young Jamie,” she told him proudly.
“I am not Jamie!” he announced with a glare, hands on his hips, mimicking her emphatic stance. “My name is James. Jamie is for bairns!”
Brianna reached and tweaked his nose. “Och, James, ye will always be Jamie to yer big sister.”
“James! Call me James!” he shouted as he ran from the room. Tam lurched after him. Brianna looked to Una, who shook her head.
“Are ye sure ye can handle him?”
Una smoothed the fabric of Brianna’s gown one more time. “Wee Jamie had best learn to behave himself with ye not here. ’Tis unlikely the laird will be letting ye bring him along after the wedding.”
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