She held back, refused to give sway to the tiny flicker of excitement dancing in her belly, and answered with the barest dip of her chin. As for Ghillie, she found the glint in his eye harder to push aside as she turned her mount and followed Rory past the ones riding behind her.
“We need to talk.”
“Agreed.”
Then they did aught but talk for at least a league.
“I regret the way I acted towards ye. It was uncalled for and not the act of an … an honourable man.” Rory’s speech was stilted, forced, reluctant.
His almost-apology deserved a reply and for all the thoughts that had buzzed through her since the moment he’d said ‘We need to talk’, all she could bring to mind was, “There are faults on both sides.”
“Will ye tell me about the lad? Ye cannae know how much I wish I had paid him more heed yon few times I saw him; however, I admit it was his mother that held my gaze and, though I thought him a guid, sturdy lad. Except for when I tried to cozen ye into returning to Dun Bhuird with me, I didnae spare him any more thought than to wonder if he would be able to travel safely with us. My stomach churns when I realize I missed even yon wee moments of his life.” His head dipped as he spared her a glance out the side of his eye and waited.
She turned in the saddle to face him, though his horse was almost two hands taller than her own, and her eyes sought out the truth in his. Satisfied, she asked, “What do ye want to know?”
“Everything. What about when he was born? Did ye have a hard time? Rob’s wife, Melinda, had twin lads and almost died. They ne’er had any more.”
It would seem that it wasnae only lasses whau spoke of horrific births to frighten new mothers. “Axel’s wasnae an easy birth nor was it life-threatening. He was more long-limbed than fat: arms, legs, I wondered how he managed to fold himself up inside my womb, and even afore he was born he could kick.”
His lips twisted as if in pain. “I wish I had known, been there to see ye big with my bairn.”
“Aaah,” she sighed, remembering. “Ye see, I had a man whau thought he was the father. Proud as a wee linty he was. He even stopped hitting me for a wee while. It didnae last. Ye see, the habit was ingrained in him.” She paused a moment to gather up her words. “Since we met his true wife on Orkney, it came to me that he was the one at fault, for he never had a child with her either, though he hit me often enough when my flux arrived, said I was barren. The fault must have been his,” she smirked, “for only one night of lying with ye, Rory Farquharson and yer seed took root.”
“And so she went on, telling Rory in detail how it had been when she gave birth to Axel, because he truly wanted to know.
The sky darkened as they straggled at the end of the group. Up ahead, she could see someone had lit a fire at the place they would camp for the night and, just afore they came upon them, she finished her tale of Axel’s birth. “As soon as they lifted the bairn frae betwixt my thighs, I knew he wasnae Nils’s because his hair clung to his scalp in soft dark waves. Ye saw Nils for yerself, his hair was lint white; that’s how I knew he wasnae Nils’s, and I thanked the gods for their generous gift.” She smiled, thinking of the day Olaf saw her son. “As soon as Grandfather saw the bairn, he immediately came out with a story how he knew Nils had a cousin with dark hair. Nae one questioned his veracity, and Grandfather was smiling. It was he whau named him and discovered the birthmark on one side of Axel’s neck.”
With a lift of one hand Rory rubbed his neck, “I have a birthmark there as well, as does Gavyn. God’s teeth,” he cursed under his breath. “My mother must have seen it and known. That must be why she had nae hesitation o’er taking Axel back to Dun Bhuird with her.”
“But will she give him back?”
Chapter 32
This was their third day on the road. Wet, miserable and cauld, Ainsel and Rory still rode at the tail of the line, though everyone had sped up, knowing journey’s end was in sight. It wasnae unusual to get a cauld blast of weather frae the north, and o’ernight snow had topped the Cairngorms. Not that he had minded, having persuaded Ainsel to share his plaid, and he had wrapped them both up in it to share their warmth in the shelter of a pine forest growing around the base of the mountains.
It had been torture to lie there with her back pressed against his chest, knowing it was only her heat she was prepared to share, not her body.
Today she had been quiet, as though they had talked themselves out the past two days and had naught left to say. Nae, that was wrong. He had a lot more to say, he simply didnae believe she was ready to hear the words. Some day soon he would speak them again, speak to her frae his heart the way he had when they returned to Caithness aboard the dragon-boat.
Rory pulled closer to Ainsel’s mount as they topped the last rise. There, halfway down the brae, was the castle his father had built at King Malcolm Canmore’s request to help protect the east coast and centre of Scotland frae the clans whau didnae see eye to eye with Queen Margaret’s Christian notions. They were both long gone, but Dun Bhuird stood strong and invincible at the base of Bienne á Bhuird. “There it is. Dun Bhuird. Home.”
She turned her head to look at him. “It’s so big. The place doesnae look very homelike to me. I liked living in my broch.”
“Yer seeing only the outside. Once we arrive, ye will see how confortable it is. Once, years ago, afore my parents were wed, it was a longhouse just like that at Caithness, but the longhouse and wooden palisades were too difficult to defend. That’s why Father went to France and fought as a mercenary, to earn the enough gold and silver to build this.” He saw her eyes widen and grinned, saying, “Dinnae ye worry. He didnae spent it all. Lucky for my cousin Rob McArthur, riding at the front beside him, for my father was able to pay his ransom to a Norman Baron of Wolfsdale. The only part of it my father grudged was giving some of his treasure to the man who ruled o’er Wolfsdale, since by rights the barony should have been his. Both my father and his sister Morag—the McArthur’s wife—were born there, as was Rob McArthur.”
Ainsel didnae say aught in reply, but when he lifted his gaze frae Dun Bhuird he saw how pale, almost green her face had become. “Are ye feeling all right lass?”
“Nae, I feel all the blood has left my head. It’s spinning, I feel ill.”
He reached out for her hand and when he grasped it her fingers were cauld as ice and her breathing shallow. She seemed to sway in the saddle, as if she could fall frae her horse. “Hold onto the pommel lass, dinnae swoon. I’ll dismount and get ye down.” Nae sooner said than done. Rory lifted her out of the saddle and, leaving the reins touching the trail so their mounts wouldnae stray, he held her with her head pressed against his shoulder.
A water bottle hung frae his saddle and, one-handed, he pulled out the stopper with his teeth, still holding her close, and as her breathing quieted he offered her a sip of water. “Here, Ainsel lass, have a drink, It will help ye feel better.”
She took one sip, then another, and after barely enough to wet her mouth, she sank against him, her shoulder resting on his chest, fingers curled in a half-open fist as she tilted her neck and told him a husky, “Thanks.”
“Nae need for thanks; that’s for strangers, not a man whau knows how it feels to hold ye in his arms and would do so much more for ye if only ye would let him.” He fell silent. They both did. Yet even as he indulged in the well remembered impression of her body against his, he made an effort not to remember. Instead he looked past her, down towards the head of the glen where Dun Bhuird sat, grey and threatening, and wondered if that was what had made her feel faint, threatened. She had come with them of her own free will—yet not. Her son, their son, was in Dun Bhuird. Half Norse, half Scot, and Rory’s mother had carried him off. Did Ainsel fear for his safety?
What if she believed Scots were an aggressive race, as they did of the Norse? Every Scot had heard how the Vikings had poured into Scotland and Ireland. They had fought them off as they now fought the English, and Scots had the name for diving into
any guid fight that came their way. Aye, they had a fearsome reputation, yet they loved their bairns. Ye only had to go to a family gathering at Cragenlaw to see them all running wild around the Great Hall—indulged and then trained to become the kind of men whau would fight to keep Scotland free.
That’s what he had to teach Ainsel, show her how they lived and how they loved.
Ainsel appeared to have settled comfortably against him, almost asleep, but with the cauld wind coming off the mountain, to stop moving could let ice into yer veins. “Come lass, we must start moving,” he whispered against her cheek. “I’ll lift ye up in my saddle. That way we can complete the rest of the journey together, in case ye feel faint again. Trust me, I willnae let ye fall. Soon we will be in the Great Hall, the fire will be roaring to ward of the cauld, and Axel will be waiting for ye. How would it look if ye were the last to arrive.”
Rory slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her up atop his mount. Swiftly throwing his leg o’er the saddle and fitting himself around her to keep her warm, he gathered up the reins of her horse as he rode by and set off down the brae at a guid clip to catch up with the others, as eager as Ainsel to get home and see their son.
Almost there, she thought as they rode up level with Calder and Gilda, whau raised her pale gold brows above eyes that twinkled in Ainsel’s direction, full of surprise. And nae wonder since when they left Caithness she could hardly bear to say Rory’s name.
Rory spoke for her, “Ainsel was feeling faint, so I thought she would be safer riding here where she wouldnae fall.” All he got for his effort was a roar of laughter frae Calder.
Once she might have joined in, but there were nae facts in the notion he had latched onto. Rory had been naught but a gentleman. She had ridden afore him, his thighs tight along hers and nae sign of the hard ridge against her behind that she would have expected. Mayhap she nae longer heated his blood, a shield-maiden unable to ride a horse for three days without collapsing. When Ainsel spoke it was to Gilda, “I’ve hardly eaten since Olaf died. It’s stupid. I knew he was auld, but I ne’er thought his day would arrive.”
The excuse had barely left her lips when the hooves of Rory’s horse clopped across cobblestones. “This is the lower bailey. We’ll leave the horses at the stables and walk up to the Keep. Do ye think ye can manage, or should I carry ye?”
She spoke quickly, lied about how she felt, “Nae, Rory, I’m feeling a lot better. I’ll walk there.” How would it look to Kathryn if the mother of her grandson was carried into the Great Hall, as if she were laying claim to Kathryn’s son? If the walk felt o’er long, it was because she couldnae stand being without her bairn any longer.
She let Rory put his arm around her. She could soon shift that once they reached the Great Hall. He spoke to her all the while, but she couldnae truly be said to take much in; there was so much to look at. She had ne’er seen so many differences frae the wee brochs surrounding three sides of the longhouse at Caithness. The place was so grand. She had ne’er imagined a castle, but this felt like more than that as Gavyn strode ahead with clansfolk ducking and diving to welcome him home with a tug on their bonnet or a bobbed curtsy frae the lasses. And the way the lasses eyes followed Rory with sly smiles, raising the hem of their kirtle as he passed showing a fine ankle, one would think he was a prince. More surprising was the flood of pipe music in a cheerful lilting tune frae the battlement as first Gavyn then Rory and the others climbed the shallow steps.
A tune that appeared to call out ‘welcome home’.
Set at the back of the inner bailey, as Rory called the second cobbled yard, the bulk of the castle and keep was built into the mountain, with huge metal-banded wooden doors, flung wide open to allow entry.
If, as she had imagined, the Great Hall had been on the lower floor, she soon discovered her mistake. Following the Comlyn Chieftain, they let Gavyn get ahead as they all trooped up stairs winding up to the next level, which was almost her undoing. She felt as if her life-spark suddenly dimmed as she looked at how far they had to climb. Her vision closed in as if looking through a tunnel with dark blurred edges. On the next step, her knees gave way. She clung to Rory, terrified she might topple down the wealth of granite stairs behind her—so far down.
“I’ve got ye, lass,” Rory murmured sweeping her up into his arms. “Yer exhausted,” he told her as they reached the top. “What ye need is food and sleep.”
She lifted her head frae his chest, hoping he wasnae going to have to carry her up the next lot of stairs rising frae the hall. It took but a glimpse of Axel lifted by Gavyn, out of the arms of a woman she presumed to be Rory’s mother. “And my bairn. First I need my bairn.”
“We both do,” he replied in a tone that said he wasnae going to take any nonsense frae her or his parents, and with that he strode up to Kathryn and Gavyn, Ainsel still in his arms and said, “I see ye have met our son. What do ye think of him?”
As if with one voice his parents responded, their feelings echoing through their words, “He’s a grand lad. I think the both of ye have done us proud.”
Chapter 33
Observing folk was a part of being a seer that Ghillie liked best, and a guid chance to really get to the heart of folk’s words—most oft not by what they said but by what they didnae say. The hands, the eyes, the briefest smile or shrug all told their own story.
Tonight as most sat at the high board and Ghillie watched frae down on the floor with the riff-raff, he could see the pride shining out of Gavyn and Kathryn. The top board was filled tonight. Men sat at the ends of the board looking up its length, splashed in colour frae the glass window that Kathryn had insisted they get made. Thankfully, the weather had become soft, and as the evening sunlight skimmed through the Comlyn coat of arms set into the western wall catching the sunset, everyone appeared dipped in some of the gold folks said Gavyn kept in tunnels dug deep through the mountainside. Frae what Ghillie’s father had told him, it had been a sight to behold, as he had taken part in the journey when Gavyn and his regiment of mercenaries returned to Dun Bhuird, laden with gold and silver and Ghillie’s Aunt Kathryn had shot an arrow at him in welcome.
Life felt tamer now at Dun Bhuird—safer. Yet as all whau had returned frae Caithness knew, that wasnae always so, outside of the purview of the Comlyn clan’s castle.
There were still two empty places at the high board, and it didnae take a seer to predict they were for Rory and Ainsel. What an afternoon they had experienced. In his lifetime, he couldnae remember one like it, but then he was still young. His father could probably tell him the rights of that. There had been chieftains, sons of chieftains, their wives and bairns and dogs running about the Great Hall, while Ainsel had been given a place of honour close to the fire. The warmth soon brought a splash of colour to her face as had the welcome given her by Kathryn. The four sat close and yon bairn passed frae knee to knee, pelted with kisses and tickled under its fat wee chins. Aye, it was a grand sight. Ghillie could tell folk were expecting some sort of an announcement, but he couldnae see it happening yet awhile.
Sometimes it did folk naught but guid to wait.
Chapter 34
It felt strange to wake in a huge bed surrounded by granite walls—not that it lacked colour; opposite the bed hung a beautiful tapestry—a hunting scene with touches of the dark-red the curtains had been dyed, and Ainsel had but a moment to wonder which of the two came first.
“How are ye feeling?” Rory’s voice came out of greyness in a corner of the room.”
Ainsel pushed up, sitting, her weight supported by her hands, and only a shift lay betwixt her breasts and his gaze, but then he had seen her without aught covering them, if not that first night then the second and third. “I feel much better. I think that holding Axel again helped.”
“That and some decent food inside ye.”
“Aye, that and yer family. I felt nervous that yer family might want to keep my son.”
“Our son,” he muttered and Ainsel nodded in agreement, su
rprised when he continued with, “What made ye pick me—last year during the Gathering?”
She studied him. The setting sun had limned him in gold frae the dying light outside the narrow window, the way the bonfire had done when she saw him alone, isolated frae the revelry. Had it been his aloneness that attracted her? She had known he was at Caithness, known but hadnae seen, since Nils had denied her any part of the celebration of solstice, including meeting her grandfather’s visitors. “I told ye, at the time, I saw ye standing on yer lonesome and thought ye were a god come down frae Walhalla. Because of that, I decided I would make a sacrifice to ye and hoped the gods would reward me for it.”
“A sacrifice,” he smirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I didnae think I was that bad.”
“We both know ye were more than good.”
He moved closer, stood looking down at her frae the end of the bed, which made his reply easy to hear. “I just wanted to hear ye say it. Apart frae that, what reward had ye looked for?”
Ainsel sat forward and dipped her chin. She wasnae ashamed of how she felt, but saying it to the man she still loved was difficult. Aye, she had realised she still loved Rory when they were in the Great Hall and she had watched him with Axel, that and the way his youngest brother and sister, along with the swarm of wee lads and lasses reacted to him. “I wanted them to hurt Nils, the way he was always hurting me.”
“I’m sorry I frightened ye that day. I regret grabbing ye more than I’ve ever regretted aught and, at the same time, ye gave me such a shock—to know that the lass I’d been looking for and the one I’d fallen in love with were one and the same. It felt as if ye had taken my sgian duhb and twisted it in my heart. I would ne’er do it again. I do still love ye.”
“Enough to give me a second chance?” The words came out of her mouth with nae planning or forethought, but when they were out she found she didnae want to take them back.
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