Arbella swiped the back of a hand across her eyes and cheeks attempting to hide her shame. “We — we didn’t talk much. I don’t think my aunt knew what to say to me. So I don’t have the illness my aunt had? How do you know?”
Tamara studied Arbella, grasping her hands between the two of them. “I know ye don’t have her sickness because I know what is really wrong with ye.”
Arbella’s face changed to one of hopefulness. “You do?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Well Tamara don’t keep it to yourself. Tell me what ails me. Better yet, tell me how long it will take me to get over it?”
“It lasts about nine months, but judging from yer list of ailments, I would say ye have about six months left.”
“Six months!” wailed Arbella. Grabbing at the maid, she pleaded, “Please tell me there is a way to speed this up. I can’t be like this for six more months. Duncan will leave me.”
Tamara’s head shook, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. Arbella shook with fury. “How can you be happy at a time like this? I’m going to be an ogre for six more months, and you are smiling. I thought you were my friend.” Immediately, Arbella showed regret for the statement, hanging her head low.
“Oh, my lady. This is not a bad thing. It shall bring ye and Duncan much joy. This is a glorious thing. In six months or so ye will have a—”
Arbella had sunk back to the floor and buried her head in waiting hands. Sorrowful weeping occurred with the impending doom. How would the lady make it through these next six months? Tamara squatted down and attempted to pry the hands away from the lady’s face while she talked of the end of the six-month period as something glorious, something that was sure to bring long-lasting joy to Duncan and her. The words sent shockwaves through her body, as Tamara came to the end of the speech and said, “A babe.”
Chapter Forty-One
The Sinclair men had been at the Burns’s keep for too long. Grant sent word to Duncan many months ago, and yet there had been no word in return. If the men had been antsy to leave before, they were beside themselves now. To keep from fraternizing with the Burns’s women, they spent hours training. They were so bored they even helped the Burns’s men to train. Grant knew their patience would only last so long. The complaints that had been infrequent in the beginning had begun to be more consistent with the passing of time.
This morning Grant noticed a line of men outside his quarters and sighed, realizing this day was not to be any different.
“Grant, we must speak with ye.”
He tried to push past the men and through the crowded hallway, hoping to make it outside where the air wasn’t quite as stifling before the shower of complaints began. The men followed on his heels, jockeying for the closest position.
As Grant went to push open the keep doors, a familiar voice carried through the great hall, giving a list of directions.
Lyall stopped what she was doing and rushed toward the inept servant. “Nay, I told ye it goes over here.”
“But, mistress, yester eve ye said it was to go—” The servant closed his mouth. He’d obviously seen the fire lighting Lyall’s eyes too many times on others and didn’t wish to be on the receiving end this time. He changed his tone. “As ye wish, mistress.”
“Thank ye,” Lyall responded, tapping a finger upon her lips.
Grant entered the main hall, doing a double take. Wisteria vines hung from floor to ceiling. Tables were lined with jasmine flower arrangements. Lyall was moving her arms around like a general commanding an army. An intense frown rested upon her face until she spotted Grant in the entryway. “Oh, do come in, Grant dear.”
Grant arched his brow. Now she acted friendly? Instantaneous suspicion filled him. Lyall never did anything kind without an ulterior motive. Grant marched toward her, searching for the dagger that must’ve been ready to stab him in the back.
When he reached her waiting form, Lyall didn’t wait for him to speak but began talking on her own. “I assume ye have noticed our celebration preparations.”
“Aye, I have.”
A huge, knowing grin spread across her face, her hands clasped gleefully in front of her. A hand was placed upon Grant’s forearm, doe-shaped eyes stared at him. “Don’t be worried.”
“Worried about what?”
“That ye are not invited, of course! I assure ye this celebration will be one the Sinclair men will recall for years to come.”
“Humph,” said Grant, body tense. He had no intention of allowing the men to attend the festivities.
“All the villagers, servants, Burns’s men, Sinclair’s men — oh, and let’s not forget the Camerons — are invited to attend.”
Vast curiosity assailed him. “The servants, huh?”
“Aye, the keep has been so gloomy of late.”
Grant would have loved to interject that of course it was gloomy, her father had not been long in the grave, but Lyall was in full swing, describing all the merits of her plan and how everyone needed time for merriment.
“And of course there will be tons of food. The cook is hard at work preparing a veritable feast. There will be so much food we may have to send some home with the villagers.”
Grant sensed an apprehensive tone in Lyall’s voice. Her hands twisted about in agitation. The poor lass knew she was disliked by everyone within a fortnight’s journey. She was probably afraid no one would attend her little soirée. Grant didn’t want to give in. Then he saw his “friend” in the corner arranging a bouquet of flowers. Eyelashes were batted while attempting to garner his attention. The more he thought, the more he felt attending the party might not be such a bad thing after all. It might even pacify the men for the remainder of time they had at the Burns’s keep.
“Aye, I will tell the men to be prepared and to be on their best behavior.”
“Truly? Ye will allow them to attend?” Lyall asked, surprised.
“Aye, why not? The men have been hounding me to go to Aberdeen for a brief respite from…” Grant caught himself before saying, “The drudgery of remaining here in the Burns’s keep.” Because of her congenial attitude, he’d almost forgotten with whom he spoke.
Shoulders shrugged. “I understand the Burns’s home is quite boring. The surrounding clans are none too friendly. This keeps down on the usual activities to entertain. And, of course, the Burns’s men are too young and inexperienced to be a real challenge to Cainneach’s mighty warriors.” As Lyall attempted to compliment him, she snuggled closer to his side.
He frowned at Lyall’s encroaching proximity. It was clear the Sinclair mistress was up to something and bore watching, but at the moment, Grant had other concerns. The men had followed him through the keep doors and were looking for him in the crowd. The temptation to call out and reveal his location just to escape Lyall’s clutches fell across his lips, but he was saved from doing so by the sound of a hair-raising scream.
Chapter Forty-Two
Duncan left Boyd to find Arbella. The determination to get answers was evident in the clenching of his jaw and the closed fists swinging at his side. He was still laird of this keep, and Arbella needed to treat him as such. He would demand the weeping and the mood swings cease.
Eerie silence permeated the main hall. The servants were outside enjoying the sunny weather they’d been graced with. Two at a time, he bounded up the stairs. As soon as he entered the quarters, he noticed Arbella’s distinct absence. With pause, he considered other places the lady might be.
Maybe she was in her old rooms that were inhabited by her friend and maid, Tamara. Heading there now, Duncan tried to decide how he could get Arbella to leave Tamara without upsetting her.
As he strode down the hall, his hand raked through his hair. Who would have thought marrying Arbella would be such an emotional event? Like Boyd had reminded him earlier, this was not her normal behavior. His wife was happy and cheerful with an easy-going manner. The lass never let anything bother her. Often she was heard quoting scriptures that told of God’s c
ontrol in their lives, and how no matter what happened, it was all up to Him.
But now everything was bothering the lass; everything made her unhappy. As Duncan grabbed the door to jerk it open, a sudden disturbing thought entered his mind. Could she be ill? What would he do if something happened to her? Her mother and father both died young. What did this mean for her? Would he be like Cainneach? After losing his love, would he put himself into seclusion, forcing another to pick him a wife? Perhaps a wife who would give him nothing but heartache and misery? Would he even care?
Regardless of what was to come, he had to know what was going on. He pushed Tamara’s door open, in his haste forgetting to knock, but it didn’t matter, the room was empty. Hands placed upon hips, he stood in the middle of the room wondering where Arbella might be.
****
Arbella caught her breath, “A babe?”
Tamara smiled with gladness. “Aye, my lady, a babe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Aye, it seems to be so. I have seen it plenty with my mother and a few times with my sisters. Ye have all the signs. The main one is missing yer courses.”
“Courses?”
“Arbella, did yer aunt tell ye nothing?” Tamara sighed and proceeded to explain, “The bleeding ye do each month is called yer courses, and when ye are expecting a babe, they don’t flow.”
Arbella was silent so long Tamara was afraid she was going to ask how the babe had gotten there, and she wasn’t able to answer such a question. Her own mother assured her she would explain it when she needed to know, which wasn’t now.
Arbella sat speechless. Her green eyes shifted and gazed at Tamara, a pleading tone ensued from her voice, “Do you think Duncan will be happy?”
“Aye, my lady, I know he will.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, every man wants to be a father and sow his seed. My ma says it has something to do with proving they are a man. Although I can’t figure out how.”
“Have you asked Filib?”
“Asked Filib what?”
“He is your brother and a man. Maybe he knows the answer.”
Tamara chuckled. “Aye, he is my brother, but I wouldn’t dream of askin’ him such a question. Maybe one day I’ll ask me own husband.” She stared off into space with a dreamy expression at the thought of having her own family.
Arbella was quiet before blurting, “I wish Jamus were here.”
“Why?” questioned Tamara.
“I don’t know. It just seems right to share the news with family.” Her mouth formed an “O” as she jumped to her feet before shouting, “Duncan! I need to find him.”
She ran from the stables backward, waving and yelling, “Thank you. It is so good to know I’m still me.”
Tamara cringed as Arbella almost tripped over her own feet. At this rate the lass would be lucky to survive to speak with Duncan. At this moment she spotted the Sinclair laird coming out of the keep and heading toward the lists. The clipped pace sent him right past Arbella. With the lady’s direction, she was missing him entirely as well. Tamara followed Arbella, raising her hand to inform her of Duncan’s presence, but the lady misinterpreted. Tamara gave up, knowing that the two would find each other in the end.
****
Arbella went to the keep in search of Duncan. Finding the keep silent and empty, she was on the verge of becoming upset. Secure in the knowledge that she was fine, that she was still herself, and that she was going to be a mother, she had the intense desire to share. Yet there was not another living soul around to share the good news with! The temptation to run outside, grab the first person she saw and tell them her good news fleeted across her mind, but she didn’t think Duncan would appreciate the act.
Now she had two choices: stay put and wait for Duncan, or go out and search for him. Of the mind to act, sitting still didn’t bode well. After a brief search through the inside of the keep, she went back outside. Feet planted on the steps, she tried to decide where to look first. Damon was still in the stables, so Duncan was within the keep walls.
Her husband had been in the lists earlier; perhaps he was there now. Heading in that direction, she ran through different ways to tell Duncan the news. She supposed she could blurt out, “We are going to have a babe.” Or she could start with, “Would you like to have children?”
Admittedly, it was a little late for the latter question. Maybe the cook could prepare a special dinner, and then she could make a pair of booties and place them on the plate in front of him. Did she even know how to make booties?
The feeling of gross inadequacy to this task filled her. If she had a girl babe, she wouldn’t know the first thing to tell her. Tamara would have to tell the lass everything.
All these thoughts caused her to wallow in despair. Her body slowed down. A bench sitting under a tree was nearby, and she went there and sat down. A glazed look covered her face.
Thoughts absorbed her. How was she to be a decent mother? If she survived the birth, that is. Her mother died during her birth. Then Rose, Duncan’s mother, raised her for five years, of which Arbella had little memory. Then her father came for her. After which she had no mother figure at all until she was nigh onto fourteen and went to live with Aunt Martha and Uncle Jonas.
Since Aunt Martha had been the youngest of the three sisters and never had any children of her own, she avoided Arbella in the raising department. In Martha’s opinion, Arbella was old enough to get married and be on her own, and she didn’t need to be butting in on her and Jonas’s relationship. Martha accepted Arbella’s presence in the household, but there was always resentment there. So being honest, Arbella had to admit she’d never had a mother, which made her wonder what kind of mother she would be.
Saddened by these realizations, she decided there was nothing she could not overcome. Maybe the child wouldn’t mind overly much if they were used for practice. Her father taught her she could do anything she put her mind to as long as she looked to the Lord for assistance. She wouldn’t let him down. With a straight spine and a breath of refreshing air, she noticed she was no longer alone.
****
Boyd found the lady sitting on a bench. When he sat beside her, she didn’t move a muscle in acknowledgement. Looking at her, Boyd believed her in shock.
He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. Arbella was clearly fretting. Women were always fretting about one thing or another. Boyd wouldn’t care if he didn’t like Arbella. Since the first night he had met her at the dinner table, he had felt a certain fondness for the lass. In a way, Duncan was correct. Boyd did have feelings for his wife, but he would never harm Duncan or Arbella to express them. It was clear the two of them were meant for one another. He should probably find Duncan and tell him he had found Arbella, for if Duncan had found Arbella in this state or caused this state in her, he would never have left her side.
“Oh, Boyd, how long have you been sitting here?”
“Not overly long, my lady.” The lie caused Boyd to fidget. But he had no desire to cause embarrassment.
“I don’t know that I believe you, Boyd Sinclair,” she added, with a smile.
He didn’t want to pry but he couldn’t help himself. “Arbella, are ye all right?”
A slow grin split the beautiful face. “Aye, I’m going to be just fine.”
Boyd blew out a loud puff of air, not realizing he’d been holding his breath. “I am glad to hear it.”
A small, timid hand lay across his forearm as she asked in an imploring manner, “Boyd, have you seen Duncan? I must speak with him.”
Boyd glanced at the graceful hand that touched him. He shouldn’t feel this way about his laird’s wife. She didn’t understand her beauty or her charm, which only made her that much more appealing. Half the unattached males in the keep would face a hundred armed men for one of her smiles. Maybe it was time he found him a good woman and settled down on his own in a nice little hut in the village and started a family.
“Boyd?” s
aid Arbella, still waiting for an answer.
But the answer wasn’t necessary. Duncan was standing in front of what appeared to be a cozy looking couple. Eyes blazed. Arbella smiled and started to push away from the bench, but Boyd held her down.
Duncan’s voice was laced with hatred and contempt. “Now I see what is going on. Ye knew the whole time what was wrong with Arbella. She was just getting tired of hiding yer relationship.”
Sudden tears streamed down Arbella’s distraught face. “What — what are you talking about?”
Duncan’s twisted face emitted a sinister laugh. “It’s all right. Ye don’t need the tears now because ye don’t have to hide yer feelings for him any longer.”
Arbella looked to Boyd, realizing suddenly how she was leaned against him. She jumped back as if she had been scolded by hot water. Appealing to Boyd, she said, “Tell him he is mistaken.”
“Won’t do any good, lass. We have already been condemned.”
“Don’t ye talk about me like I’m not even here!”
Arbella tried to leave the bench again, but Boyd restrained her. “Boyd, let me go.”
“Nay. Ye mustna go to him. He is too angry, and he might hurt ye.”
Duncan gritted his teeth. “I would never hurt Arbella, but ye are a different matter. Ye have been after her from the beginning. Ye know how naïve and innocent she is. I know ye took advantage of her somehow.”
“Nay, Duncan, ye should know I would never do that to ye.” Boyd decided to attempt an explanation. “The lass was sitting here with a forlorn expression, and I sat beside her. She just stared into space for the longest, then she leaned over and asked me if I knew where ye were. That is all that transpired.”
“I don’t care what ye have done with her or to her, but ye will never have her.” He slapped his head as if something had just become clear. “Ye knew she was going to tell me about her love for ye, so ye sent me to find her so ye could warn her I was coming.”
By God's Grace Page 21
