A Highlander's Home

by Laura Hathaway

  “Ye’re with child!” Her eyes narrowed. “And ye have not told the Laird.”

  Raine turned as white as her silk night gown. She shook her head.

  “No, that’s impossible.” She felt better saying that. “You gave me those herbs. I drank the tea every day, just like you said. You gave me the herbs so I couldn’t get pregnant.”

  The midwife smiled. “I gave you no such herbs, lass.”

  The old woman reached under Raine’s skirts again, poking and prodding her way up, feeling Raine’s tender breasts, plucking the nipple which caused a yelp of pain.

  Leith banged on the door again. “What’s going on in there? I want to come in. Is my wife ill, lady? Can ye heal her?”

  The midwife yelled her reply of, “Aye, my laird, she can be healed.” Turning to Raine she said with a laugh, “In about six or seven months.”

  Raine smacked her hands away and jumped up. “You gave me those herbs. You know you did!”

  The old lady smiled. “I gave ye herbs, that be right as rain, lass. But I never told ye what they were for.”

  “What were they for then?” Raine asked, not knowing if she wanted to know the answer.

  The woman’s grin went ear to ear, revealing her rotting teeth. “They were mint leaves, for relief of poor breath.”

  Raine stared at her. She envisioned grabbing the old woman by the neck and throwing her frail little body out the window.

  Through gritted teeth, she ground out, “I specifically told you that we wanted to wait until the new year to start a family. We did not want to have any children right now.” To ease the old woman, Raine added, “I told you that we wanted to enjoy our honeymoon first.”

  The midwife waved her hand in the air. “Posh! Rubbish! The whole lot of it! I will not be answering to him –“ she pointed her thumb towards the door “– that I had a hand in preventing his seed from taken root and providing this Godforsaken patch of dirt with an heir!”

  The door was starting to shudder from the pounding. “I’m going to break the door down, my ladies, if someone does not open it this minute.” The calmness in his voice belied the anger that Raine knew lurked beneath. He had taken that tone with her many times.

  The midwife moved to open the door. Raine lurched at her and pinned her down on the floor.

  “Wife of the Laird or not, I will throw ye out the window if ye do not get off of me!” she yelled.

  “What’s in bloody hell is going on in there!”

  Raine was frantic. “Please don’t tell him.”

  The sunken faded eyes of the midwife bulged out of their sockets. “Ye want me to lie to the Laird? He could have me whipped and hanged!!

  Raine raised her up and grabbed her hands. “No. I don’t want to get his hopes up. It’s too early to tell isn’t it? You barely looked at me!”

  “Then let me examine you fully,” came the retort.

  A slight pause and Raine huffed, “Fine. But no matter the results, I will be the one to tell him. Agreed?” She held out her hand.

  The midwife narrowed her eyes. The Laird might enjoy being told of his upcoming fatherhood from his own wife. She agreed. The two shook hands.

  The weathered face of the midwife peeked through the door and the angry brooding face of the Laird. “We’ll be done shortly, my lord.” She gave her best smile of crooked, decaying teeth.

  A few minutes later, Raine lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, feeling doomed. She was pregnant.

  “You lied to me. I asked you for birth control and you gave me breath mints!” she accused the old woman.

  “Och, now, lass. Ye’venothing to fret about. The Laird, he’s a good mon, and he’ll be a good father to the twins,” she replied, gathering up her bags of strange herbs and medieval tools.

  “Twins? What?”

  She turned to Raine and took a deep breath. “Lass, ye must understand. The purpose of marrying is to produce sons and secure ye’re place in ye’re husbands house.” She motioned to Raine’s belly. “And that ye have! Be happy about it instead of as glum as a starving kitchen mouse.”

  Smoothing down her skirts, she took Raine’s face in between her thumb and forefinger, turning her face this way and that. “Hmmm. I did right. I gave ye herbs, but not what ye asked for, true enough. I couldn’t appease ye for not wanting a child as well as appease him in helping ye get with child. Nature has taken its course, and ye seem none the worse for wear.”

  As the midwife walked to the door, Raine said glumly, “You should not have lied to me. I didn’t want to become pregnant. Yet, anyway.”

  A tornado of wrinkles and gray hair whirled upon her as she cackled with a grin, “Then ye should have kept ye’re bloody legs closed!!”

  And with that, she yanked open the door and stomped past a frowning Leith.

  He called to her departing back, “Will all be right, old woman?”

  She half turned and gave a sloppy curtsey, cackling, “She will be fine, my lord! Keep doing what ye’ve been and she will be right as rain! Ha!”

  Chapter 22

  Later that evening, Leith was giving the last of his orders to the castle guards as he ascended the steps to his wife’s rooms. When the midwife had left, Raine had pleaded yet another headache and this time she looked like she actually had one.

  He would look in on her, see if she needed anything, and then depart for his rooms where he would spend the night alone.

  The knock on the door was soft, but she had been unable to sleep so she was still awake when he arrived. She knew it was him. She knew the sound of his footsteps.

  “Come in,” she called.

  A tousle of black hair peaked through a slight opening. “I just wanted to see if ye needed anything before I seek my own rooms.” He sounded dejected and tired.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, she played with the ruffle of her night dress. “Would you like to come in and talk for a while? I can’t seem to sleep,” she offered nervously.

  Stepping into the room, he closed the door but remained where he was.

  This was dreadful. A few weeks ago he was claiming every inch of her body as his own and now he felt like a schoolboy who was waiting for a whipping from the headmaster.

  “What’s wrong with ye?” he asked bluntly.

  She frowned at him.

  He walked towards her. “I mean, what ails ye so? One day ye’re fine, rolling around under the sheets with me laughing like a lil’ girl, and now ye’ve been stuck up in these rooms for weeks, seeing no one but ye’re ladies. Not even my mother.”

  Raking his hand through his hair, he muttered more to himself than her, “Och, I will never understand women.”

  She reached out, laying her hand on his broad shoulder. She could feel the tenseness of the muscles underneath. Bringing her forehead to rest on him, she whispered, “I’m sorry. So sorry, for everything. I never meant for any of this to happen.”

  He was on his knees in front of her, between her legs, and grasped her small hands in his larger ones.

  “For what, lass?” he said, almost urgently, the anger bubbling to the surface. “For driving me insane? For making me wonder over and over what I did to offend ye? Not that I haven’t done many things to offend ye, but ye always fought back, except this time. Ye lock yerself up in this blasted room and refuse to see me, claiming ye’ve a headache coming yet again. How many headaches can one woman have at a time? Is it ye’re time? Is ye’re cycle upon ye? If ye’re embarrassed to tell me, do not be. I’m a grown man, lass, and I know enough to stay as far away from ye as possible during that time, but this is ridiculous!”

  Raine had not the faintest clue what to do or say. Never in all of her life had a man ever shown her such caring. She had tried to distance herself to make their separation easier when the time came, but it seems that all she had accomplished was making everyone miserable. Including herself.

  “I am so sorry, Leith. Really I am.” She lifted his face to hers, placing a feather light kiss on his lips. How s
he had missed those lips.

  “What on earth is the matter with ye then, lass?” He looked so confused and pathetic. He buried his face in her skirts.

  She ran her fingers through his jet black curls. “I thought it would be easier for us to part when we go to the stones if we started getting used to it now. I thought that if we just stayed away from each other until then that it wouldn’t hurt so much to leave. I’m so sorry.”

  He wiped the tear that rolled down her cheek and ran his finger along the outside of her bottom lip. He shook his head at her. “Ye’re daft.”

  She laughed, releasing another tear.

  “Ye thought to ease our parting next month by starting it now? What idiocy.”

  Smiling up at her, he thought she never looked more beautiful. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, her skin was fairly glowing even though she hadn’t been outside in days, and her eyes were the greenest he had ever seen them.

  “Will you stay with me tonight?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  He stood, taking her hands in his with a little more force than he intended. “No,” he replied, “because ye’re staying with me.”

  And he led her to his rooms and straight to his bed.

  Raine walked through the keep, wandering with no particular place to go, just watching the excitement as the people prepared for St. Andrews day. It was a holiday feast similar to Thanksgiving from what she gathered. The Pilgrims wouldn’t land in America until 1620, so there would be no celebration of Thanksgiving here.

  But the cold wind whistled outside, stirring up the leaves in little whirlwinds and carrying them off while the inhabitants of the house were warm with roaring fires and so much to do in preparation of the feast.

  “Good morn, m’lady,” came a greeting from a servant girl as she carried a basket that was larger than herself towards the kitchen.

  “Oh, good morning,” she returned, smiling.

  She should probably go in the kitchen and help, or find Lady MacGregor and offer her assistance, but she didn’t feel like concentrating on any task in particular. Her mind was wandering, and she was having trouble focusing.

  Her hand went instinctively to her belly and cupped it. Is that contented, dazed feeling due to the pregnancy? She wondered what it would feel like when the baby started kicking.

  She stopped in midstride, thinking. Hmmm. The baby. Babies. Before now, she hadn’t really thought about it being another person, just a hindrance in her plan to get home. Looking down at her stomach, there was really nothing to see. Her skirts still fit, if slightly tighter around her breasts, and she had no bump to speak of that would give away her condition.

  “What are you staring at, my dear?” Lady MacGregor looked down at the ground in front of Raine and frowned. “I don’t see anything.”

  Raine dropped her hands from her belly, and stuttered, “Oh, nothing. I thought I saw a stain on my dress.”

  She hurriedly brushed the front of her skirts. “I guess I was wrong,” she said with a short laugh.

  Lady MacGregor watched her for a moment and said, “Are you feeling alright? You have a strange look upon your face.”

  Raine laughed again. “Yes,” she assured her, “I’m fine. Just glad to be outside.”

  “But, dear, you’re inside the keep.”

  Recovering quickly, she responded, “Oh, I meant outside of my rooms. That kind of outside.” She smiled for good measure.

  Patting her on the shoulder, she said, “I am glad too. I had missed you while you were locked away up there. But now you’re feeling better, I can see, and you can help with the preparations. It will be so much fun!”

  Raine groaned inwardly. She didn’t really want to do anything but mull around and watch the activity instead of taking charge of it. But she was Lady of the keep and couldn’t shirk her duties forever.

  “That will be lovely,” she answered. “I can’t wait.”

  They walked towards the kitchen, weaving around the servants scurrying about. Lady MacGregor sighed. “We shall enjoy this time to our utmost ability. It will be difficult when you are all gone. Perhaps I shall return to my own house.”

  “Where is everyone going?”

  Lady MacGregor gave a sad laugh and replied, “Well, my dear, you’re going ‘home’ as you put it. And my sons will go off to war. They will take the men with them, and all that will remain are the women and children and old ones.”

  She motioned for Raine to sit in the chair by the fireplace and begin grinding some strange shaped roots into a fine powder. Raine fiddled with it, not really doing anything though.

  She asked anxiously, “War? Who’s going to war? Why? When?”

  Lady MacGregor was fiddling with pots and spoons and shooing the servants from this task to that task effortlessly, not noticing Raine’s trepidation.

  “Since the Queen refuses to settle things between Leith and his uncle, then Leith must do it himself. He will take all of his soldiers and go fight.” She was still for a moment, the continued in a soft voice, “I can only pray that my sons will return home, safely to me.”

  She wiped her eye and sniffed. “Och, I hate these onions!”

  Raine stood, hands on belly. “He can’t go to war!”

  Lady MacGregor cocked her head to the side. “He has to. We have no choice. There is no other solution.”

  “No, there has to be some way out of this.”

  “This is the way of things here. There is no more negotiating, no more waiting. Our people will be dead by spring if something is not done to stop my brother-in-law from invading our lands again. He will do much worse than Alisdair ever could.”

  The Lady turned her back to Raine and stirred the strange but wonderfully smelling contents of a huge black pot that resembled something out of a witch’s kitchen in a haunted house. “But do not concern yourself with this matter. You will not be here anyway.”

  “That’s not fair!” Raine hiccupped, the tears coming from nowhere and streamed down her face.

  Just then Leith and Robbie shoved their way through the kitchen door. Robbie went straight for the black kettle, flinching when his mother whacked his hand with her large wooden spoon and told him to wash up.

  Raine’s gaze flew to Leith. He was so large, he dwarfed the room. His hair was dark and gleaming in the firelight, softly brushing his shoulders. His eyes, those wonderfully blue eyes, looked at her quizzically. And those lips with that crooked little grin that made people think he had a secret. This was the father of her child – children - and he was going to war. He might not come back.

  She ran and flung herself against him, wrapping her legs around his waist, not caring that her thighs were bared or that the servants had stopped to stare and gasp at such improper behavior.

  “Don’t go. You can’t go! You can’t. You need to stay here. I can’t bear it if you were killed.” She buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed.

  Leith shot his mother a look, but she shrugged and turned back to the fire. “She was going to find out sooner or later.”

  “SSShhhh, now. Everything will be fine,” he soothed. He carried her like a child, one hand under her bottom and the other rubbing her back.

  She hiccupped and blathered, “No, it won’t. You’re leaving and you’re going to get killed. Then what? What will I – er, the people do? They need you. Your place is here. Not off at war!”

  He smiled sadly at her and wiped her cheeks with the back of his hand. “This is the way of things here. It is my responsibility to protect my land, my people. My uncle will not reason. As we speak, he is readying for battle against me. He is fortifying his walls and stocking his cellars. There is no other choice. And I have the Queen’s permission for this battle.”

  She jumped up and stomped her foot, imitating a spoiled child. “No! I said no! I don’t want you going to war!”

  He loomed over her but she did not waver. He tried to reason with her. Quietly, he reminded her, “Ye will be leaving in just a few more weeks to return
to your home. Ye will not be here to see us off to war. Ye will not have to bear it.”

  Standing in the middle of kitchen, tears and mucus mixing, her vision blurred, she saw his reasoning. This was his time and way of life. Not hers. He was waiting until she was gone before he marched on his uncle so she would not have to be witness to the outcome should it be for the worse. He was thinking of her. Her heart swelled in her chest so much that it took her breath away. How much trouble had she been to him and yet he put her welfare before his own.

  She said through gritted teeth, “I do not want you to go.”

  He replied softly, “I have to.”

  Robbie and Lady MacGregor stood to the side, watching them, neither saying a word. Neither offering her help or standing in her way.

  An idea struck her. “If I stayed, would you still go? To war?”

  His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. “Do not do that, lass. Whether ye were here or five hundred years from here, I would still go.”

  Tears came as if the floodgates had opened. She tried to think of something to say, to persuade him, to reason with him, but nothing entered her thoughts except the vision of him lying dead on a battlefield.

  She turned and ran sobbing to her room. He did not follow for a long time.

  “Mother, did ye really have to tell her? Now?”

  “She was going to learn of it sooner or later, and better it be sooner than later,” came her swift retort.

  Turning, she waved the large wooden spoon in his direction. “Are ye daft, boy?” Her accent always became thicker when she was angry. “That lass is in love wi’ ye! Bloody hell! Can ye not see it?”

  Leith looked at her, his mouth open. She reached over and snapped it shut with her spoon. “Close ye’re gap, ye’ll catch a fly.”

  Frowning, he turned and took a step towards Robbie who put his palms towards him. “I’m not involved in this. Talk to ye’re mother.”

  “In love with me?” he asked incredulously.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Ye are daft, just like ye’re father, bless his soul. Yes! Can ye not see it? Her face lights up when she see ye. She never stops smiling! She peeks out of the nearest window and watches ye practice with the men when ye’re not wearing yer shirt. She fairly drools after the evening meal in anticipation of sharing yer bed. And ye never noticed any of this, ha’ ye?”