“Whose bairn is this that ye carry?” he demanded furiously of her.
“What?” She had surely not heard him right.
“Do ye carry my bairn or the king’s, Flanna? The question is plain and requires but a plain answer,” her told her harshly.
“ ’Tis yer bairn, of course,” she promptly answered him. “Why would ye even consider that I would dishonor myself, or ye, by wanton behavior?”
“I found ye alone wi’ the king, did I nae?” he replied.
“If ye had found yer sisters alone wi’ him, would ye hae asked such a question of them, Patrick?” Her anger was becoming dangerous.
“I know my sisters,” he answered her icily.
“Get out!” she told him.
“What?”
“Get out of my bedchamber!” she shouted at him. “I dinna want ye here!” And she hit him a blow on his shoulder. “Get out!”
He caught her hands in his and held them fast. “Breeding women are nae supposed to distress themselves, Flanna,” he told her.
“Why do ye care?” she shrieked. “Ye dinna think the bairn is yers! Do ye know how much I hate ye at this verra minute, Patrick? I will nae forgie ye for this insult! How can I! Ye think me a wanton to sport wi’ another man, and ye say ye dinna know me enough to believe me when I tell ye it isna so!” She pulled herself from his grip as she leapt from her bed. “Get out!” she repeated a third time.
“Ye’re being irrational, Flanna,” he told her, rising from the tangle of the bedclothes.
“I’m irrational, naïve, and a wanton. Are there any other insults ye care to hurl at me tonight, my lord?” she queried him caustically.
“If ye endanger this bairn wi’ yer bad temper,” he began, but she stopped him, raising her hand as she did so.
“Ye doubt the bairn’s paternity, Patrick, or perhaps ye dinna now. Why? Ye dinna know me. I am but the lass ye wed to gain a piece of land. But when the bairn is born, and ye look into its wee face, and ye see yerself, will ye believe me then? But if it favors me, will ye still harbor yer wicked doubts? The king may be a seducer of naïve lasses, but he did nae seduce me. The bairn I carry is yer bairn, Patrick Leslie. This is the truth of the matter. The Brodies of Killiecairn hae nae the wealth or the prestige of the Leslies of Glenkirk, but we are honorable people. Now, please leave me.”
She drew herself up to her full height, and despite her nakedness, he was reminded of the lass he had first met that autumn day at Brae. He straightened himself up and, as naked as she, bowed formally before turning about to go through the hidden door that separated their bedchambers. As the door clicked shut behind him, Patrick Leslie knew he was a great fool. He was jealous. That was the plain truth of the matter. She spoke of King Charles as if he were her hero. Patrick Leslie was jealous to hear his wife speak of another man in such tones, but it surely did not give him the right to question her fidelity to him.
She was breeding with his child! He was suddenly very excited by the knowledge. His son! By summer’s end he would hold his heir in his arms. How pleased his mother would be. His mother! In the months since he had met and wed his wife, he hadn’t even thought to write to his mother. But even if he did, would a letter manage to get through to her in France? He wasn’t certain what he should do. He pulled a nightshirt from the chest at the foot of his bed, and drawing it over his long body, he climbed into his own bed, falling into a troubled sleep.
When he arrived in the hall the next morning, he found his brothers-in-law and his sister-in-law with Flanna. They congratulated him, clapping him on the back and raising their tankards of ale in a toast to the next heir of Glenkirk. They grinned broadly with pleasure that their sister had done her duty in so timely a manner.
“I thought ye would nae mind, my lord, if I shared our happy news wi’ my brothers,” Flanna said sweetly, but her silver eyes were cold.
“Flanna pleases me right well,” Patrick said to the Brodies. “Yer da, God rest him, did us both a good turn the day he said that I must wed yer sister to gain Brae.”
Her brothers guffawed, reassured, but Una murmured to Flanna, “What hae he done?”
“He questioned the bairn’s lineage,” Flanna murmured back softly. “He asked me if it was the king’s.”
Una paled. “How could he?” she gasped.
“He asked it because he is a jealous fool,” Flanna told her sister-in-law. “I was wi’ the king, alone, when he arrived in Perth. I hae now learned the folly of keeping secrets, Una. If I hae told him when I first considered myself wi’ bairn, this would nae hae happened. But I really wasna sure myself, and I dinna want to disappoint him.” She sighed. “Dinna tell my brothers. They will be furious, and I want nae feuding between the Leslies and the Brodies. Patrick knows now he was wrong, but I will punish him so he never mistrusts me again.”
“What do ye mean to do?” Una asked, her look a worried one.
“I’ll nae tell ye. Yer heart is too soft, Una, and if I am to teach my husband a lesson, then what I do must be between us.” She chuckled. “I’m taking a path set out by another duchess. Nay, I am in error. She was a Countess of Glenkirk, and her man was just as difficult. She brought him to heel just as I will bring my Patrick to heel.”
“Ye’re sure ye will nae drive a wedge between ye and yer husband?” Una fretted.
“Nay, I willna. Promise ye will keep my secret, Una?” Flanna’s silvery eyes were dancing with such sudden amusement that Una was reassured.
“Verra well, lassie, but dinna break the man’s spirit,” she chuckled. “I like him, Flanna. He’s a good man.”
“I love him, and aye, he is a good man,” Flanna agreed.
The Brodies departed Glenkirk Castle at midday for Killiecairn. The duke had asked them to remain longer, but Aulay believed, with his father dead, the new laird would be needed to restore clan confidence.
Patrick reluctantly agreed. “Tell yer people that I will finance their venture in exchange for certain considerations. Hae the leader of the group come to see me as soon as he can. If they are going to go this year, they must depart soon. They’ll hae to find land and build themselves shelter before the winter comes. ’Twill take them several weeks to cross the sea to the New World. As ye know, my second sister lives in Mary’s Land wi’ her husband. I hear, however, that the lands to the south of them are ripe for settling.”
“Thank ye!” Aulay Brodie said, clasping his brother-in-law’s hand in friendship. “I appreciate yer help, my lord.”
Patrick nodded, then stood with his wife at his side as the Brodies of Killiecairn departed the courtyard at Glenkirk Castle. When they had disappeared across the drawbridge, Flanna shook his arm from about her shoulders and walked away from him back into the castle. That night he found the door between them locked. Gritting his teeth, he climbed into his empty bed. He would let her sulk for a time. She would surely come to her senses shortly.
What she needed to do, she knew she couldn’t do without help. But who would she trust with her plan? Angus? Or would he think her silly and refuse to help her. Aggie? Or perhaps Ian More, who had shown an interest in Aggie of late? Flanna knew she must consider very carefully before revealing her plan, and then the solution came to her. She would not hide from Patrick at all as his grandmother had hidden from his grandfather long ago in some equally ridiculous dispute. But, instead, she would leave Glenkirk Castle with his permission. He could not refuse her, for he had given her his word in the matter. Flanna called for her horse, but the servant returned saying Angus had forbidden it.
Flanna sought out her uncle. “Why hae ye told the servants that I canna hae my horse?” she asked him irritably.
“The duke, yer husband, doesna wish for ye to ride now that ye are wi’ bairn,” Angus answered her. His blue eyes were dancing with his amusement, for he knew this order would not sit well with his niece. To his great surprise, however, Flanna didn’t burst into a tirade. Instead, she smiled and sighed deeply.
“How verra like a ma
n, uncle. Was my father as overprotective of my mam when she carried me in her belly?”
“Nay, he wasna but then he hae already fathered six sons,” Angus answered her. “Yer husband is naturally fearful that ye will miscarry of the bairn.”
“Then, we must convince him otherwise, uncle,” Flanna told him. “Patrick hae promised me that I may restore Brae, and this is the perfect time for such an enterprise. I am nae a woman to sit by her fire, or her loom, as ye know. My activities must, by the very nature of my growing belly, be restricted, but if the duke wishes me to hae more than one bairn, then he must allow me to find less dangerous pursuits than those I usually follow. There is naught for me to do here at Glenkirk. Ye and Mary keep the household in order. I must be allowed to choose my own amusement, and I choose to go to Brae.”
“What mischief are ye up to?” Angus asked astutely.
“I would remove myself from Patrick Leslie’s company for a time, uncle. If I dinna, I may kill him,” Flanna answered him candidly.
This was serious. Angus Gordon took his niece’s hand and said, “What hae he done, lass, that ye are so angered wi’ him?”
“He asked me if the king was my bairn’s sire,” Flanna replied in low tones.
“Jesu!” The word exploded from the older man’s mouth.
“He is a jealous fool,” Flanna said.
“Why would he ask ye such a thing?” her uncle demanded to know.
“When he arrived in Perth, I was alone wi’ the king. He was verra angry, uncle, but there was naught to it. Then, I kept the secret of this bairn from him. I wanted to keep my word to the king to raise a levy for him, but Una hae shown me that my first loyalty lies wi’ my husband. I understand that now. While I am saddened that I canna help the king, my child is more important. However, I dinna tell my husband of our child until I returned home from Killiecairn. And then he insulted me wi’ his question. He knows better, of course, but I am nae ready quite yet to forget his slander.”
Angus nodded slowly. He understood completely. His niece was a proud young woman. “So ye wish to punish him by removing yerself from his presence for a time, eh?”
“Precisely, uncle. This is a lesson that Patrick Leslie must learn well, lest he be foolish enough to repeat the error. If I canna convince my husband that I am a loyal and faithful wife to him, there is little hope of our haeing a happy union. I canna think of anything worse than spending the rest of our lives suspicious of each other. And, Patrick’s grandmother hae an equally thorny problem she solved in as strong a fashion.”
“How?” Angus asked.
“Her da made the error of turning over a piece of property belonging to her alone to her betrothed husband. She would nae wed her Glenkirk until he returned the property to her keeping. He thought to force her to the altar by gieing her a bairn in her belly. He thought she would weaken, but she ran away from him. The earl realized that his heir was in danger of being born on the wrong side of the blanket. But their differences were solved only when he returned her property. They were wed as she labored to bring forth her bairn. I canna do that, for I am already wed to my husband, but I know, uncle, that he has come to love me. He will suffer the loss of my company, and that is just what I want him to do.
“I will go to Brae on the pretext of restoring it, but I will find excuses to remain there. I will nae return until he apologizes to me for his terrible words. I canna hae him looking sideways at his firstborn, that nasty suspicion still lingering wi’in his heart and mind. Only when he is ready to tell me he is sorry for mistrusting me will I know my bairn is safe, that Patrick and I may live together in peace. I might hae run off, uncle, as my husband’s grandmam did once, but Patrick will know where I am. He will just nae be able to leave Glenkirk and be wi’ me. Only when he comes to me and apologizes will I come home,” Flanna finished.
“Ye’ll take Aggie, of course,” Angus answered her.
“And Ian More, too. He’s young, but there should be a man in charge to speak for me to the workers,” Flanna said.
“And if yer husband comes to drag ye back to Glenkirk?” Angus asked her. “He hae the right, ye know.”
“There are hidey holes at Brae that even ye dinna know about, uncle,” Flanna said with a wicked smile. “ ’Tis better that way,” she chuckled. “Ye canna get into difficulties wi’ my lord, or wi me.”
“When will ye go?” he queried her.
“I must choose my time carefully,” Flanna said.
“Aye,” he agreed, “and I will hae to play the innocent after ye hae gone. Why, my lord, did ye nae promise her ladyship that she might renovate and refurbish Brae? Why, everyone at Glenkirk knew of it, for yer generosity hae made her so happy. And ye do want her happy now that she carries the heir to Glenkirk, do ye nae?” Angus chortled.
“Verra good, uncle,” Flanna said, laughing. Then she grew serious again. “Ye hae nae asked me the question my husband did.”
“I dinna hae to, lass. I know ye, and ye’re an honorable woman,” Angus Gordon said.
Flanna hugged the big man, feeling wonderfully safe as he wrapped his arms about her and hugged back. It had always been that way since her childhood. Angus Gordon had always been a tower of strength, first for his beloved younger sister and, after her death, for his niece. “I love ye, uncle,” she told him.
He kissed the top of her head and replied, “Now, dinna get all soft on me, lass. Why, yer mam was the same when she carried ye.” But he was smiling, pleased, as he said the words.
“Now, may I hae my horse?” Flanna demanded.
“Tomorrow,” he promised her. “I’ll want to go to Brae myself this morning and make certain ’tis habitable for ye, Flanna. And I’ll see what needs doing so I can send the right men and supplies.”
“Verra well, uncle,” she agreed. “Today I’ll sit by the fire, but only today.”
He chuckled as he departed the hall and went to the stables. There had been a time when his niece would have followed that earlier Glenkirk lady’s path. Flaming Flanna would not have hesitated for a moment to cause her husband distress. This Flanna was different. She was more thoughtful. Clever. Willing to bide her time. He was grateful for it. Under normal circumstances, he would not have helped her in such a scheme, but he was outraged that Patrick Leslie had asked her if the child she carried was his or the king’s. True, they had not been married for very long, but surely the duke had learned by now that his wife was a woman of honor. By inferring she was not, he had insulted not just the Brodies of Killiecairn, but the Gordons of Brae as well.
Taking his horse, Angus Gordon rode out of the courtyard at Glenkirk, across the drawbridge, and into the forest beyond. The day was clear, and the air had a distinct spring warmth to it after the long winter. Finally reaching Loch Brae, he stopped his mount and stood gazing out across the waters at the old castle which had been built during the reign of John Balliol in the year 1295. Brae Castle was set upon an island within the small loch, connected to the shore by a wooden bridge. The bridge had a legend. The Gordon laird who had constructed Brae had also planned to build a fine stone bridge that would join the island with the mainland. His wife, however, had pointed out that a stone bridge would allow their enemies to march right up to the castle door. A wooden bridge could be burned in the event of an impending attack and restored afterward. So the then Gordon laird of Brae had taken his wife’s counsel and built his bridge of wood.
Originally the area between the bridge and the castle had been kept in field so intruders could be easily spotted. But it had been well over twenty years since the castle had been inhabited. In what had long ago been an open terrain, dark green pines and graceful aspens now grew. The rocky shoreline of the island had once had a landing on its south side, but it was gone. But for an accident of birth, Brae would have been his, and he, its earl, Angus Gordon thought. But it was not, and he was not. Some men might have been bitter about such a twist of fate, but he was not. He had a good life and always had.
Riding
around the loch, he finally stopped and, dismounting, tied his horse to a tree. Then he carefully picked his way across the rotting timbers of the span to the island. He considered whether the trees now dotting the field should be removed. Perhaps some of them, not all, but he would suggest to Flanna that she have four separate structures built, one at each corner of the island, to serve as watch towers. Angus walked through the great, open, ironbound oak doors into the castle courtyard. He peered at the hinges on the doors. They were still sound, but perhaps could use resetting.
The wooden stables had collapsed into a heap of rotting timbers. They would have to be rebuilt first. Angus climbed up the stone steps into the castle itself. Reaching behind a small stone cornice above the door he pulled down the iron key and, fitting it into the entry lock, turned it to open the door. Stepping inside, he stood for a moment remembering his childhood in the house. All was silence, but he could swear that he felt the shades of his ancestors wafting about Brae. He laughed to himself and then began his inspection. It was as he had suspected. Brae, built of stone, standing alone for over twenty years, had survived amazingly well. It was dusty and full of cobwebs, but it was intact.
Examining the structure to its attics, he found damage to the slate roof that would need to be repaired. The cellars were filthy and filled with all manner of stuff. They would have to be cleaned out. The hangings were salvageable, but would require beating to be free of dust. The furniture wanted polish. The floors needed to be washed and swept. The windows were black with grime, and the wooden shutters belonging to them, hanging in many cases.
He moved on to the kitchens. Bending down, he looked up the chimney. It, along with every chimney in the house, was going to need sweeping. Generations of birds and rodents had made their nests within those chimneys. He wondered if perhaps it was not too much work for Flanna to take on, but then, his niece was a strong girl. Having Brae to concern her would help to take away the sting of Patrick Leslie’s ill-advised suspicions. A span of days away from his wife would undoubtedly give the Duke of Glenkirk time to consider his poorly chosen words. Angus Gordon returned to Glenkirk Castle to report to his niece on what he had found.
Just Beyond Tomorrow Page 26
