“Mama?”
“Aye, dear?” Her mother spun around. She wore her favorite gown: a dark green fabric with a golden overskirt. Bethia thought it made her look like the forest in the morning sun.
“May we talk before dinner?”
“Of course.” Her mother grabbed her hand and led her into the hall, over to a comfortable spot near the hearth. There were a dozen chairs in an arrangement around the hearth so they could all retire there after the evening meal. “Come, no one is here yet. Is aught wrong?”
“Nay. I just have a question for you.” She settled in a chair near her mother. “I visited Donnan to check on Wynda.”
“Yesterday?”
“Aye.” She played with the folds in her skirt, trying to decide on the best way to ask her mother what she needed. “Donnan told me they lost their infant son. Why do I not recall that? He said ‘twas only two and a half years ago.”
“Och, child.” She kneaded her hands in her lap. “I’m guilty of protecting you.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“Bethia, you did not know Donnan and Glenna back then, so I did not believe it was important for you to know.”
“Are you saying you protected me from a tragedy in our clan?”
Her mother squirmed in her chair. “Your heart is too soft. You would have taken this loss verra hard.”
Bethia rarely lost her temper with her mother, but she did not like being protected as a child would be. She’d been a lass of seventeen at the time, old enough to understand, and she’d believed she and her mother told each other everything. “Mama. How many other things have you held back to protect me?”
“Naught. Naught that I can think of right away.” She shook her head as if denying she’d ever do such a thing. “I didn’t see any benefit in sharing it with you.”
“The bairn just died? How did he die?”
“I know not. It happens on rare occasion. A bairn is put to sleep and never awakens. One babe I found with its face buried in the blankets. I cannot always explain the ways of our Lord. ‘Twas devastating to Donnan. ‘Tis why they call him daft. He was sickened by the loss of their son. He was a beautiful bairn.” Her mother’s eyes glistened with tears. “I do not like to see our clan bury our wee ones.”
Bethia leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her mother. “Please promise not to hide aught from me again. I am a woman fully grown.”
When Bethia sat back, her mother nodded, wiping away the last of her tears. “Are you interested in Donnan? He is a fine man, a hard worker, a verra gentle soul…”
She shook her head. “Donnan vowed to never marry again. ‘Tis good you have two lads coming this eve.” She paused, then said, “Wynda is much better. I’ll not need to visit him again.” The thought pained her more than she would like, but it was for the best. He would never take her to wife.
The door opened and her sire came into the hall, followed by Torrian. Quade sat heavily in the empty chair next to Brenna’s, and Lily came down the stairs at about the same time, one bairn on each hip. She set the lassies down near her parents and cleared a path for the two of them, laying down soft plaids to indicate where they should go. The two were now creeping and crawling and getting into everything. “Where’s Kyle, Torrian?”
“He’ll be here soon. I’ll catch one while you catch the other.” As if on cue, Lise giggled and scooted down one path while Liliana crawled in the opposite direction. Torrian scooped Lise up and tipped her upside down, causing her to giggle uncontrollably.
“Torrian, Lise is fine, but Liliana will not like that. She’d probably spit on you.”
He kissed Lise’s cheek and set her down on one of the plaids. The door opened and Kyle ran across the hall to grab Liliana, kissing the bairn’s cheeks before he kissed Lily. “Greetings, wife.”
Lily fell into a chair. “Finally, someone to help me with these two. They are verra exhausting to chase.”
Bethia waved at Lily. “I’ll watch Lise. You close your eyes for a few moments.”
After the day she’d spent yesterday with Donnan, she couldn’t help but look at Lily and wonder how she would cope if she ever lost the twins. She knew Kyle would be completely undone by the loss. After the wee lassies were born, he’d done aught he could to have a quick visit with the bairns during the day, making up excuses like the need for bandages or oatcakes or something. He had long since dropped the pretense. Everyone knew, and accepted, that he stopped back home four or five times a day to visit Lily and the lassies.
The bairns were so sweet, so innocent, so lovable, how would anyone in the clan adjust to their loss? She said a quick prayer that her sister and her husband would never know such pain. Her sire leaned over and scooped Lise up as she did her best to creep past him. Her burst of laughter carried all the way to the rafters. Her father beamed with joy, even when the wee one drooled all over his hand.
Someday she hoped to see the same joy on her sire’s face for her bairn. Sadness filled her. She’d let herself hope that she might have a real relationship with Donnan, but those hopes had all been dashed. It was foolish, but her heart still reached toward him.
The twins enjoyed their family’s full attention for a while until the door opened and Bothan and Henson stepped inside together.
Quade bellowed, “Come in, lads. We’re about to eat. Brenna, you remember Bothan and Henson.”
Heather came down the stairs with Lachlan and Nellie, greeting her husband fondly before joining the group.
Quade’s voice carried over the din. “We can eat. Find a seat at the trestle tables.” The warriors would not gather inside the keep tonight. They usually did, but Quade preferred to occasionally have a couple of quiet nights.
Bothan approached Bethia immediately, and said, “Greetings, Bethia.” Henson followed directly behind him, echoing his exact words. He was a nice-looking lad, his hair a light brown, almost yellow. It was almost as if the sun tipped the ends every summer. Taller than Bothan, he also had much more confidence than him. Sometimes he was over confident.
“Good eve to you both.” Her mother took over and settled everyone. She seated the lads across from Bethia, placing Torrian between them. Lily sat on one side of her and Heather on the other.
For some reason, she could think of naught to say to either of her suitors. She thought to talk with Heather, but her brother’s wife was having a conversation with her mother.
Lily stepped in to help. “Do either of you have any pets at home? You know how wonderful Bethia is with animals.”
Bothan shook his head, casting an apologetic glance at Bethia.
Henson replied, “Nay, my mama says animals are too dirty.”
“Hmmm…” Lily said. “Yet you’re interested in someone who deals with animals every day.” Lily was never aught but direct, and Bethia loved her for it. “‘Tis a wee bit odd.”
“Papa said she’d not be dealing with animals once we marry,” Henson said. “A woman’s job is to take care of her husband and have bairns.” He lifted his chin a notch, as if daring Lily to disagree with him.
Lily peered at Kyle and said, “Husband, when our daughters are of age, please do remind me that their purpose is solely to take care of their husband and have babies. I must remind my mother to stop taking care of the sick in our clan.”
Kyle grinned and his eyes danced with merriment when he looked from Henson to Bothan. “Do you not agree, Bothan?”
Bothan cleared his throat and said, “Och, I know naught. She can do whatever she likes as long as she’s a good cook.”
Torrian rolled his eyes at Bethia, and all she wished to do was laugh. How she loved her brothers and sisters. She decided to come to the two lads’ rescue before Lily chewed them up and spat them out with her playful teasing. She had a way about her that tended to catch people unaware until it was too late.
“Bothan, how does your younger sister fare? Did I not hear that my mother treated her for a broken bone? Is she on the mend now?”
The rest of the meal was uneventful, and she’d decided that if she had a preference, it would be for Bothan. The lads had similar coloring, and Henson was arguably handsomer, but Bothan had kinder eyes. He also spoke of his family with love, something she admired.
To her surprise, Henson was the one who strode over to her sire at the end of the meal, requesting that he be allowed to escort Bethia on a stroll out to the gates. Her sire peered at her mother first, then at her, to see if either would object, but he finally nodded. Henson gave a haughty glance to Bothan before moving to her side and holding his arm out for her.
They strolled down the well-lit path toward the gates, but she found her mind wandering to a more mature man with hair everywhere and a big, tender heart. Donnan reminded her of a giant bear at times, but a warm, cuddly bear—one who would protect and cherish anyone lucky enough to find a place in his heart. Henson chattered on about how hard he fought in the lists, not pausing to ask her any questions, so her mind was free to wander.
Which was the reason she responded so slowly when Henson maneuvered her down a dark path. She was caught completely by surprise when he stopped and forced a kiss on her, his hands falling to her bottom and handling her in a way that was most unappealing. She pushed him away and said, “Henson, please take me back.”
Henson glared at her and said, “Please, Bethia? Let me feel your breasts first. You know you’ll not have many suitors. I’m just here to see what I can…”
“You taste like a frog. You’re no catch either, Henson.” She shoved at him with all her might and ran down the path leading back toward the keep. He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, one hand grabbing for her breast, so she did the only thing she could think of at the moment. She made a fist and punched him square in his nose, something she’d never, ever done.
“Ow, you foolish bitch.” His hand went to his nose and came away covered with blood. “Look what you did to me.” His face lit with a fury that almost frightened her, but she stood her ground, somehow fueled with the fact that she had been kissed by someone who respected her—Donnan. Donnan, who had reminded her that there were plenty of people who valued her, just as she was.
“Tell my sire and my brother, your laird, why you have a bloody nose. See what they think of you then. Go home, Henson, and don’t come back.”
“I’ll tell everyone the truth. You’re not agreeable at all.”
“Go ahead. I’ll tell them the truth. Stay away from me.” She twirled her skirts around and ran toward the keep. Bothan was walking down the path in the opposite direction, and she practically bumped into him.
“Bethia? What’s wrong? Where is Henson?” The concerned expression on his face did make her feel better, so she took a chance and stopped to speak with him.
“I sent him home. He’ll not be seeing me again.” She was panting from the exertion of pushing Henson and from being so upset.
Bothan ushered her over to a bench in the courtyard. “Sit, my lady. Henson is an inappropriate lout. I’ll go after him if you would like, but I hate to leave you alone.”
She willed her breathing to slow down, closing her eyes to calm herself before she spoke. Once she had regained control of herself, she opened her eyes and said, “Many thanks to you, Bothan. I am fine. I’d like to return to the hall.” The expression on his face was full of kindness, candor and openness. This wasn’t the type of lad who’d insist on getting his own way, no matter whom it hurt.
“Of course.” They moved back to the hall in silence, and he held the door for her.
Inside, her family sat gathered around the hearth, and they all turned in unison to greet her.
She announced, “I sent Henson home.” She turned back to Bothan and said, “My thanks for your escort, Bothan, but I’m a little tired from the events of the day. I’ll see you another day.”
He nodded and left.
As soon as the door closed behind him, her shoulders slumped. Her dear sister Lily ran over to her and said in a voice she likely thought no one could overhear, “Henson tasted like boar meat, did he not?”
She burst into gales of laughter and replied, “I thought more like a frog.”
Kyle said, “Lily…?”
“Oh, Kyle. ‘Twas long before I fell in love with you. You are the only one for me.” She grinned and tugged Bethia over to the hearth. Wee Lise sat on the floor clapping her hands with a grin on her face.
The morrow would probably bring another suitor, but Bethia’s mind kept returning to one man who was much more mature than the others. To a man who stood out. She vowed to speak to Lily about Donnan.
She’d know exactly what to do.
Chapter Eight
Donnan spoke to each of his dear pets before they departed for a hunting expedition. It had been three days since he’d last seen Bethia, and the lass still occupied his mind all day and half the night. He slept terribly, but he refused to talk to Quade Ramsay about his daughter. She was such a warm, giving soul that she deserved to have bairns of her own. He could not go through such torment again, therefore he needed to stay away from her.
He’d finally made his mind up to do something about his obsession. The lass had a genuine fear of Bearchun, so he’d vowed to find him. As the lass had told him, the Ramsays were sending out near constant patrols, but naught had become of it yet. Mayhap it was time for him to take action, allow his dogs to locate the lout’s foul scent.
Today he’d begin a search of the land around him for any sign of a reiver or lone guard in the woods. He agreed with Logan Ramsay—the bastard was around somewhere. The wolf had stopped by more often, as if something disturbing was out there.
He’d find the bastard and kill him for his sweet Bethia. He reached into his sporran and pulled out the linen square she’d left behind one day. He hadn’t noticed it at the time, but Wynda had brought it to him. He knew it was hers because it carried her sweet scent.
Mayhap it had been foolish of him to save it, but it served as a reminder that there were still good things in life. He tugged it out and brought it to his nose, inhaling lightly. Hellfire, but her scent was sweet. She smelled of pine and flowers.
He reached out to pat Wynda’s head. “I know you miss her, Wynda. So do I. But ‘twas wrong of me to take advantage of such an innocent lass. The only way I can think to right my wrong is to find the bastard who frightens her.”
Her muzzle nudged his hand, as if she was trying to tell him something. “Och, you wish to help me find the bastard? All right, I’ll take you along. We’ll not go far our first day. You know whom we search for, aye? The man who put that dagger in your belly. We need to find him.”
He mounted up and whistled for his dogs to follow him. The deerhounds would not fail him. He hadn’t gone far when he noticed Shewolf off to his side, her dark coat glistening under the rare sunshine. The beast appeared to be intent on keeping an eye on them. “You’re welcome to assist us, Shewolf. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
They traveled from ravine to ravine, following paths through the forest, but he found nothing. Late in the afternoon, he caught sight of something in front of a nearby outcropping—a piece of material left behind. It was a small piece of plaid.
Dismounting, he checked the area carefully for any other signs, unsheathing his sword as soon as his boots landed in the dirt. Wika and Morda both sniffed around, finding castoff rabbit bones nearby, but it was Wynda’s reaction to the piece of fabric that told him he’d found something. As soon as she caught the scent, she whined and ran in a circle, yipping. He had to sit on a boulder and settle her down before he could do anything else.
Once she was calm, he tucked the scrap of fabric into his sporran and rode hard toward Ramsay land. He knew what he had to do.
&nb
sp; As soon as he approached the gates, Kyle Maule called out to him. “Donnan. Problem?”
“I need to see Logan Ramsay and your laird. ‘Tis important.”
“Bearchun?” Kyle asked immediately, his face tightening.
“I believe so.”
Kyle opened the gates for him, ushering him inside, and then disappeared into the keep. A few moments later, he reappeared with Logan Ramsay. “You found him?”
“Nay, but I found a scrap of his clothing. From the way Wynda reacted, I could tell it has his scent on it. Now that I have a way of tracking him, my dogs will find the bastard.”
Torrian came up behind Logan and Kyle. “How far out?”
“Southeast of your land. Mayhap he came from Edinburgh. I’m going after him. Came to see if you’d free a couple of guards to travel with me.”
Logan’s gaze narrowed. “Why you? What is he to you?”
A small frame exited the stables and walked directly toward them. He nodded toward Bethia. “Repayment for saving my dog. I owe Bethia. I don’t like what he did to your lasses, and I can see the fear in her eyes every time she hears his name. He also injured Wynda. I have plenty of reasons to seek out the bastard.”
Logan took his measure, then turned to Kyle. “Tell the stable lads to saddle my horse. I’m going with him, and we’re taking five guards.”
Torrian said, “I’m coming, too. Saddle another,” he said to his second, the man who would take care of the Ramsay Castle in his absence. His sire would also stay behind.
Bethia continued on toward Donnan, not saying a word even though she was now close enough, carrying herself as regally as any queen. “You’re going after Bearchun?” she finally said.
“Aye,” Donnan replied. “Might I leave Wynda with you? I think ‘twould be too much for her. Morda and Wika will pick up his scent from a piece of cloth I found. Shewolf wishes to travel with us.”
The stable boy had emerged with two horses saddled for the ride. The five guards rode up after him. “Shewolf? One of my niece’s wolves?”
Bethia Page 6
