by Sandy Blair
Genny, heaving an equally contented sigh, rested her head on Britt’s chest, deciding this coming together was even better than their first. “Oh my. If this is to be expected with every joining, I might not survive to see my next birthday.”
Britt, his eyes closed and breath slowing, stroked her back. “When is it?”
“The first day of June. And unlike last year, I shall celebrate with Greer.” At which point she would apologize to her sister. If Greer felt like this—after being loved and held by the king—then she understood how her sister had come to be with child. “Do you think word of the king’s death has reached Ireland yet?”
“I’d be surprised if it hasn’t, given the amount of trade conducted betwixt our countries.”
“Might Greer have already heard?”
“That will depend on how close she is to a port and how politically connected your aunt is.”
“I’ve no idea about either.” Lord, don’t let me have to be the bearer of such sad tidings.
With the crook of his finger, Britt lifted her chin from his chest to better look into her eyes. Sounding aghast, he asked, “Are you saying you had no idea where you were bound when you boarded that cog?”
“Well, I, uhmm…knew the name of her estate.”
“Good God almighty.”
Hoping to distract, she said, “Kenning we’d be wed in just weeks, why did you handfast with me?” Did he fear she’d renege on her promise?
He huffed and settled back against the pillow. “We ken not what the morrow may bring, a ghraidh. War could erupt, taking me from you. The cog could flounder, and I could be lost. I thought it imperative you have my name so if need be, you could seek refuge with my family.”
“Stop.” She shuddered. “I refuse to give a moment’s thought to losing you.”
“Thank you, but denial provides no protection. We may have just made a bairn.”
A bairn. Not wishing to cause him worry but deciding she had to be prepared for the worst, she asked, “You said Ian would never have walked. What precisely was wrong?”
“He was perfect…except for his lower limbs. They were of normal size but shaped like…” Britt bowed his arms in a circle, flexing his wrist inward at an awkward angle.
“You mean clubbed?”
He shrugged. “We had no word for it, since none within our sept had seen such before.”
“Really? Do you recall the lad with the crutch at the party?”
“Aye, the one who walked on tiptoes. I believe his name is Johnnie.”
She nodded. “He was born with legs and feet such as you describe.”
“But he could walk, albeit awkwardly.”
“Aye, thanks to Auld Maude. Having attended his birthing, she took the lad in hand immediately. She showed his mother how to pad his wee legs and feet with fleece, then how to tie them to greenwood strips she had the carpenter make at her direction. The first looked like ladders. As he grew, the wood grew longer and straighter, and so too, slowly but surely did the laddie’s legs and feet to what they are now. Not perfect but close. Took years and not a few bruises—the babe was stout and could fling those wood-clad legs like battering rams, but as you saw, he can now get about easily enough.”
Britt was now sitting. “You’re quite sure his deformity was as I described?”
“Most certain. Maude believes his condition was due to his not having enough room in the womb.”
Britt pulled Genny to him and wrapped his arms about her. “Woman, you have no idea how much this eases my mind.”
Oh, but she could, having imagined all manner of deformities including the possibility of her having a child with flippers like a seal—for anyone who kenned anything kenned many an Isles man had selkie blood in him.
To learn wee Ian simply had clubbed feet was such a relief, she could have wept. Now she just had to learn all she could from Maude about the use of wood bracing in the event she needed the knowledge. Britt, being so huge, was likely to sire another large bairn.
Britt settled back and pulled her down with him. “What do you think your sister will say when she learns that we’re handfast and soon to officially marry?”
She ran her fingers through the dark silky hair on his chest. “Why, she’ll be most pleased for us.”
“I wish I was so certain.”
Genny rose onto her elbows and found Britt frowning. “My love, why do you fash? Greer and I may have had our disagreements—particularly over her relationship with the king—but we’re twins. We love each other and have always wanted only happiness for the other. You’ll see. She’ll be most pleased.”
“No hold can be got of water, or of fire.” ~ An Old Scottish Proverb
Chapter Nineteen
Riding through dense wood, Britt couldn’t believe Genny had even contemplated traveling through this wilderness alone, much less set out to do so.
Since arriving in Waterford three days past, they’d encountered no fewer than five roving warrior bands. Worse, these Celtic cousins of theirs were well armed and excellent horsemen. No way could Genny have outrun them on her little palfrey. Being fair and fulsome, she’d have found herself caught, enslaved or wed to one of the many warring principals before she’d had chance to scream. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl.
“Are we almost there?” she asked.
They’d been heading north, following the Nore River and a line of tower fortresses in search of Benbirk, the Macintyre’s keep, meaning there was something to be said for the Sassenach’s obsession with castle building. Made hunting easier. “Aye, the keep should be coming into view shortly.”
“I can’t wait to see Greer again. By now, she must be glowing, ripe with babe.”
He couldn’t picture it.
“Look! There it is.”
Joy.
He would have cut off his sword arm to avoid this reunion, save for the fact that Genny so wanted it.
They emerged from beneath the shaded canopy, and a bugle sounded. Men, bows at the ready, made their presence known along the parapets. Fearing someone might let loose an arrow, he said, “I’ll ride ahead. Stay here.”
“But—”
“Genny, for once, please do as I say.”
She huffed but reined in, and Britt went on ahead. When he came within hailing distance, he shouted, “Britt MacKinnon and the Lady Geneen Armstrong of Buddle, niece of Lady Margret Macintyre and sister of Lady Greer, seeking entrance.”
The men conferred, a moment passed, then a guard shouted, “Enter.”
The portcullis ground up, then a massive oak door opened, exposing a small bailey. As Genny came abreast of him, she muttered, “You really need to consider being a bit less suspicious, husband.”
He rolled his eyes.
They were greeted at the door by a spritely lass who led them into a modestly furnished but comfortable hall. Genny’s Aunt Margaret, a frail, petite blonde of perhaps four score, greeted Genny with great enthusiasm. Upon learning who Britt was and that he and Genny were engaged, she beamed, her eyes filling with tears of joy.
After asking after their comfort and ordering ale, Lady Margaret said, “We’ve a surprise of our own. Your sister has given birth.”
Genny sputtered, “But…but she’s not due for months yet.”
“Appearances can be deceiving, dear. I’m sure you wish to see her. She’s on the third floor.”
Genny, her excitement evident, hiked up her skirts and all but flew up the stairs. Over her shoulder, she said, “I can’t believe she’s already birthed.”
Following at a slower pace, Britt mustered a smile as he did some fast calculations. Greer Armstrong had to have already been with child when Alexander took Yolande to wife. Not that her having Alexander’s bastard would matter…unless the child was male and the queen gave birth to a weak female…or lost her babe.
At the third floor landing, Genny found her sister’s bedchamber door ajar. Peering in, she whispered, “Greetings, sister.”
Fro
m several steps below, he heard Greer gasp. “Genny! Come in, come in. I’ve someone to show you.”
Genny rushed inside. “Oh, I’ve missed you so!”
From the doorway, he watched the sisters embrace. Knowing they were twins hadn’t really prepared him for seeing them together for the first time. Unease skittered down his spine. Two beautiful women so alike on the surface, yet so different beneath the skin. Was Genny aware of just how different? He doubted she was, having heard her self-deprecating tales of their childhood. Now to learn who, in truth, held sway in this unique relationship.
Greer, propped up in bed and looking a bit tired but happy, pointed to the cradle at her side. “I had a laddie, Genny.”
Peering into the cradle, Genny cooed, “Oh, he’s darling, and look, he’s got red curls.”
“Like his father.”
Not until Genny bent closer did Greer notice that he stood in the doorway. Turning ashen, she looked at her sister. “Genny, what is the meaning of this?”
Genny scooped up the swaddled babe. “No need to fash, Greer. All’s well. I have news of my own. Sir Britt and I are handfast.”
Looking incredulous, Greer looked from him to her sister. “You’re what?”
“Sir Britt asked for my hand, but I insisted we wait to officially wed until you could be at my side, and did the next best thing until such time as we could find you.” She held the babe up for Britt’s perusal. “Isn’t he just the most splendid wee thing you’ve ever seen, Britt?”
Nodding, Britt mustered a smile and stroked the babe’s cheek. For the wee one’s ears alone, he whispered, “Long live the king.”
“Sir Britt,” Greer said, “I lust to be alone with my sister.”
Bristling at Greer’s imperious tone, Britt, ignoring her, turned to his wife. “What do you lust, Genny?”
Babe in arms, she murmured, “’Twill be all right. She’s just been through an arduous ordeal, and now we’ve taken her by surprise.” She then rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be down in just a few moments.”
“I’ll be in the hall.”
Genny closed the door and frowned at her sister. “Dismissing Britt in such fashion was unaccountably rude.”
“What was rude was you bringing him here in the first place, putting my and Alexander’s lives in danger.”
“Me? You named him after his father, and after all we’ve gone through.”
“Nay, I named him after our beloved dead king.”
The comment took the wind out of Gen’s ire. She placed the sleeping babe in his cradle and sat on the bed. Taking her sister’s hand in hers, she murmured, “My deepest condolences, Greer. How are you faring?”
Greer shrugged. “As well as can be expected having lost Alexander, my home, and having gone through a harrowing birthing among strangers in this godforsaken place.”
“Poor dautie.” Genny patted her hand. “I can well imagine your pain.” She’d keened herself ill just thinking she’d lost Britt.
Greer snatched her hand away. “You’ve no idea the pain I’ve been through.”
“Not all but some.” Not thrilled to relive their time apart but knowing Greer needed to know what transpired, Genny related all she’d endured at the queen’s hand in her sister’s stead.
By the end, her palms were sweaty and her heart again raced. Greer, apparently unfazed, said, “I still don’t understand why you brought him here.”
“There’s no need for alarm, Greer. Britt has promised to keep your secret.”
“How can you be so sure that he will?”
“First, because ’tis best for Scotland. Second, because he knows I couldn’t bear the pain if something ill was to befall you or the wee one, and third, because he loves me.”
Greer snorted. “Oh, and pray tell how did that come to pass?”
“That he loves me?” When her sister nodded, Genny couldn’t help but grin. “I know this will sound preposterous, but somewhere betwixt my leaving Buddle with him and my being imprisoned, we simply fell in love.”
“Genny, he’s married! And what makes you so certain he fell in love with you and not with me? After all, we do look alike, and I often found him watching me whilst I was in Edinburgh.”
Since Genny had wondered the same, her sister’s question shouldn’t have hurt, yet it did. “Greer, he realized I was an imposter almost immediately, and he was married, but is now a widower.” Genny blew through her teeth, deciding to credit her sister’s comment to her being under a dreadful amount of stress. Hoping to alleviate Greer’s concerns and her own guilt over their painful parting in Annan, she told Greer about the night she and Britt first made love, how she’d bared her soul to Britt, and then, not a day later, thought she’d lost him forever.
“Greer, I’m so sorry for the accusations I hurled at you before we parted. I’d never been in love, so had no means of understanding what you were going through. Now I do.” She took her sister’s hand and smiled. “That’s why when Britt wanted to marry immediately, I said nay. I wanted to wait until you and I reunited and our troubles were put to rest.”
Instead of pulling her into a warm embrace as Genny fully expected, Greer, looking none too pleased, shot out of bed, wrapped a robe about her and started pacing the room.
“All right,” she said, “matters could be worse. At least you’re only bound for a year and a day. Before you end up with child, we’ll make arrangements for you to sleep with me. I’m sure there’s a bigger spare chamber somewhere in this keep.”
What was her sister going on about? “Greer, I prefer to sleep with my husband, thank you, and besides, I could already be with bairn.”
“He’s not truly your husband yet, and we won’t ken if you are or aren’t with bairn until the next full moon, now will we?” She stopped before Genny. “Dearest, I’ve had naught to do since arriving on these godforsaken shores but think, and have come to the conclusion we must return to Buddle before the fall tithes are due and the earl discovers he needs a new trackman. The howdie-wife said the babe and I should be able to travel after a month. Once home, you can collect the wool and whatnot and send them on as you always do, then resume your gardening and husbandry, which will be enough to keep us from starving.”
How presumptuous! “And what shall you be doing whilst I do as all you suggest?”
“Why, I’ll be tending my babe, of course, until such time as I get my figure back and can return to Edinburgh.”
Genny shook her head, not believing her ears. “And what would you do there?”
“Find a husband, of course.”
“How can you even think such when you’re in mourning?”
Hands on her hips, Greer shook her head at Genny as if she were the village dolt, too thickheaded to understand even the simplest of things. “Genny, I grieved, but now I must move beyond it. I’m a mother now and need to provide for my child. Besides, only you—and MacKinnon—ken the truth about Alexander.”
Lady Campbell knew the truth as well, but Genny wasn’t about to inform her sister. Greer was agitated enough and, more alarming, showing a side Genny didn’t understand.
Her sister walked to the window and peered out. “My remaining here, in the middle of nowhere, is not the least acceptable. Not only will my staying in Ireland prove a waste of my God-given talents, but truly, this place is so isolated and dull it’s beyond bearing.”
“Greer, you’re not listening. You cannot return to court. To garner my release, Britt promised the queen that she’d never set eyes upon me—meaning you—again. If she does, she’ll imprison you or worse. More importantly, people will talk the moment you arrive in Edinburgh with your ginger-headed child.”
Tipping her head, Greer frowned in apparent confusion. “But I shan’t return with him. I’m leaving him with you. And court isn’t the only place in Edinburgh where eligible men of means and title gather.” Greer sighed. “Genny, we have no choice but to do this. We’re one and the same, you and I. We must stick together no matter w
hat.”
Genny gaped at her sister. Had her twin always been this self-absorbed and she’d simply been too busy to notice? Or had she been so fearful of being left alone that she chose not to notice? She suspected the latter, but whichever was true, it mattered naught at this point. Greer was what she was, and no amount of wishful thinking would change the painful truth.
Genny stood and, reaching into the cradle, stroked wee Alexander’s velvet cheek as he slumbered. She then straightened and squared her shoulders. “Greer, do as you lust as you always have, but I shan’t raise your child for you. He needs his mother’s love and attention, not his aunt’s. Furthermore, I will not sleep apart from my husband and thereby deprive us of the bairns we so dearly want so you might tup your way through a court that has no respect for you. I’m wedding Britt on the morrow and then going with him to Skye.”
Greer blinked in apparent surprise before turning scarlet. “How dare you—”
“I’ll tell you how I dare. I nearly died protecting you. Were it not for Britt, I surely would have. And you’ve yet had the decency to offer a word of commiseration, much less say thank you upon learning of it. Instead, all you can think about is what you want and what you need.” Heading for the door, Genny muttered, “I simply can’t believe you. You’d give up your child and expect me to abandon the man I love so you might resume a life that was never meant to be yours in the first place.”
“’Twas too! Alexander loved me.”
Genny stopped. Ah, there the truth was. Not “I loved Alexander,” but “Alexander loved me.”
Middle roiling with pent-up fury and disappointment, Genny sorely wanted to tell Greer she was greatly mistaken, that she’d never been more than one of Alexander’s many mistresses, but instead said, “If you say so.”
“What? Why do you say that? What do you ken that you haven’t told me?” Her sister, now pale, began twisting her broad silver ring, never a good sign.
The tears that had been burning at the back of Genny’s throat took shape as she shook her head. “Good-bye, Greer. I wish you and wee Alexander well.”
