The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens

by Suzan Tisdale

  Stopping abruptly, towering over her, he glared angrily. “No’ lookin’ fer yerself?” he asked incredulously. “Mayhap ye were lookin’ fer bracelets fer Dougall? Or Kyth? Or me bandogge?”

  She gave him a roll of her eyes. “Of course no’. Do no’ be ridiculous.”

  “Then what, pray tell, were ye doin’?”

  Truly, she wished he’d stop glaring at her. She did not want to sound like a besotted bride — even if that were the truth. “I was merely lookin’. I was no’ preparin’ to spend our hard earned coin on anything impractical.” ’Twas not a lie, but neither was it the entire truth.

  “But ye were lookin’, aye? And how much, pray tell, would ye have spent had I no’ come along when I did?”

  Just why he was so confoundedly angry, she didn’t know. Nor did she care. To stand in the crowded street and shout at her as if he’d caught her stealing, why, ’twas just insulting. She had been looking for a gift for him, the ungrateful cur. It rankled, it truly did.

  “Will ye please stop shoutin’ at me?” she asked as politely as she could, considering how angry she was with him.

  “I am no’ yellin’!” he seethed as he continued to glower at her.

  Leona quirked a brow. “Then why be everyone starin’ at ye?”

  Her question stopped him at once. Glancing around, he saw that people were in fact staring at them. It made him all the more angry.

  Leaning down, he whispered. “Ye will no’ be spendin’ me coin on frivolous things.”

  “I did no’ intend to,” she told him through gritted teeth. “And I shan’t ever spend yer coin on anythin’ of which ye do no’ approve.” But I shall spend mine on whatever I wish. If I had any.

  “Good,” he said with a curt nod. “As long as we understand one another.”

  Oh, she understood him all right. He was a thick-headed, stubborn man who easily jumped to conclusions. She decided then and there not to speak to him again for the remainder of the day. Better silence, than to tell him what she was truly thinking.

  Though they hadn’t actually settled their argument, they had at least come to a momentary peace accord. Newly married, the last thing Leona wanted was for her husband to think she was greedy, or worse yet, not frugal with a coin.

  For a long while, they walked together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns. Soon, Alec’s stomach began to growl quite loudly.

  “Are ye hungry, lass?” he asked. His tone was calm, not nearly as venomous as it had been earlier.

  She offered him an indifferent shrug. “I could eat a bit, I suppose.” In truth, she was quite hungry, but she wasn’t about to let him know.

  With his hand on the small of her back, he led the way through the crowds until they found someone selling meat pies.

  Of course there were only two left, such was his luck. He purchased both, giving one to her, keeping the other for himself.

  Leading them away from the merchants, he found a grassy spot in which to eat their pies. He gave his to Leona while he removed his plaid and spread it on the ground. As he was settling in beside her, he realized she was staring at something.

  He followed her gaze. It was locked on a woman holding a bairn. Next to her stood a lad of mayhap six. Urchins. Beggars. The woman looked gaunt, tired. The lad was no better, with dark circles under his eyes. The lad was staring at them, or more specifically, at their meat pies.

  Absentmindedly, she gave Alec his food as she stood.

  “What are ye doin’?” he asked.

  Leona waved away his question as she headed toward the woman and her son.

  “Good day to ye.” Leona addressed her greeting to the woman, but her eyes were on the lad. Alec sat in dumbfounded silence and listened.

  “We have an extra meat pie, if ye’d like it,” she told the lad. Holding out the offered meal, she smiled brightly at him. “Mayhap ye could share this with yer mum?”

  The boy knotted his brow, his eyes expressing a weariness that should never be seen in eyes so young.

  “Thank ye, kindly, mistress,” the woman said. Even her voice sounded tired.

  The boy looked first to his mother before reticently taking Leona’s offering.

  Leona uttered not a word as she patted the boy’s head and returned to sit next to her stunned husband.

  “Why on earth did ye do that?” Alec asked.

  “Can ye no’ see they be starvin’?”

  As if that were something one did not see every day. Of course they were starving. They were poor. “So ye thought it a good idea to give yer food to them?”

  Finally, she looked up at him. Tears dampened her lashes. “Aye, I thought it be a verra good idea.”

  What she did not tell him was that she knew what it was like to be poor and hungry. There had been a stretch of time in her young life, after the death of her mother, when she had been both things. ’Twas sometimes difficult to bury those memories.

  “Did ye ever stop to ask yerself why they be poor? Mayhap she be a whore and her children are a result?”

  “Or mayhap she be a widow with no way to earn a livin’?” she whispered. “And even if she is a whore, that be no reason to make her children suffer.”

  His face softened, as did his tone. “Nay lass, her children should not suffer.”

  She had taken his bewilderment as anger. In truth, he was anything but angry. Surprised, aye, but also proud. He was learning much about his wife this day. A haggler when it came to dealing with merchants. But a soft-spot in her heart for those who were far less fortunate than they.

  With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. Without uttering a word, he walked toward the little family. “Here,” he said, as he handed his own pie to the woman. As yet, she hadn’t taken a bite of the pie Leona had given her. He’d watched as she tore off little bits to feed to the bairn in her arms as she encouraged her son to take his fill.

  Surprise lit the woman’s face; her eyes grew misty with thanks. “Thank ye kindly, m’laird,” she whispered as she took the offering. “God bless ye and yer wife.”

  Silently, he turned away to head back to Leona. She was on her feet, tears streaming down her face. When he reached her, she flung herself into his arms. “Och, Alec!” she exclaimed.

  “Do no’ make my gesture more than ’twas,” he told her.

  “’Twas a verra kind thing ye did, Alec,” she murmured against his chest. “Verra kind.”

  Still, she did seem exceedingly happy and quite pleased with him. Why her opinion of him mattered, he could not rightly say, and that irked him. ’Twas nearly as irksome as giving away their midday meal to a bunch of urchins when he was so bloody hungry. Aye, it had been the right thing to do.

  Patting her back, he said, “Come, let us away this place before ye decide to give away our wagon of goods to them.”

  She giggled then. ’Twas a sweet, melodious sound that tickled at his heart. “I’d no’ give away our wagon of goods, ye daft man.”

  He was not so certain she wouldn’t.

  Still hungry, they returned to the merchant stalls and settled on bread, cheese and apples. Though he would not have been upset had she given the poor woman and her children this meal as well, he needed to eat.

  Instead of returning to the clearing, he guided her toward the beach. Holding their meal in one hand, he helped her over the uneven terrain – through the grassy knoll and over large rocks – until finally they reached their destination. Not once did she let go of his hand, nor did she take her wide-open eyes off the sea.

  Breathlessly, she held tight as she exclaimed, “Och! ’Tis beautiful!”

  So they stood along the rocky coast. While Leona took in the sight before her, Alec took in the sight of her. She was in awe of the ocean, the gently lapping waves, the seagulls as they dove into the sea for their own meal. He was in awe of her.

  She very much resembled Rose Mackintosh, who none would ever deny was a beautiful woman. But there was something more about Leona. Aye, she h
ad odd colored eyes that did not match. Hair the color of honey kissed by the sun. And a bosom to shame Aphrodite and Venus. But she was so much more than that. Intriguing, delightfully honest when it came to their loving. Yet, there was more. Just what that more was, he could not as yet identify or put to words. She simply was.

  Kindhearted to a fault — especially when it came to the poor, as he’d only just recently discovered. She was also kind to his men. Seemed to care about them really, which was an oddity in and of itself. For no one, save for another Bowie, actually cared for a Bowie.

  Leona was a giving soul, as he was quickly learning. Giving of her food as well as her kindheartedness. As yet, he was not certain if this was a fault he should correct or something to be cherished. Odd, he found it, yet charming.

  He sat on the sandy beach and began to eat his meal. “Sit, Leona,” he said. “Ye should eat.”

  Instead of sitting next to him, she handed him her bread and cheese, but kept the apple. Quietly, she took a few steps toward the water, while eating her apple.

  Alec watched her closely while he ate his own meager meal.

  He knew she had secrets, secrets she did not wish to share with him. Suddenly, he found himself wanting to know what those secrets were. He had an inkling they were not the kind of secrets or memories anyone would want to share. Dark, deeply dark and closely held secrets that he knew, instinctively, brought her a good measure of pain. But she kept the pain hidden, deep in a place she’d not allow him to see.

  Did he truly wish to know them? Did he truly desire discovery? And what could he, of all people, do to help ease those painful memories away?

  He began to feel silly for allowing himself to wonder, to feel anything more than friendly compassion toward her. ’Tis a dangerous, treacherous road, ye fool. Was that his own voice he heard in the recesses of his mind, or his father’s? Either way, he would heed its warning.

  Having lost track of the time to those treacherous thoughts, he also lost track of his wife. While his mind had meandered, so had she. No longer at his side, she was now heading barefoot into the waves.

  “Leona! Take care!” he shouted. “It be awfully—”

  His words were cut off by her delightful scream. “Cold!”

  He knew the water would be frigid, but apparently his wife did not care.

  “I be in the ocean, Alec!” she called out to him as the waves washed over her feet and ankles. “’Tis cold, but I care no’!”

  Like a child discovering something for the first time. Gleeful, happy, and excited, much like he had been the first time he had joined with her. Odd that he should compare the two things.

  A large wave rolled in, crashing over her legs, her knees, which he could easily see, for she had lifted her skirts to mid thigh. Damnation, if his loins did not begin to ache at the sight of her!

  “Mayhap—” his voice caught on a lump in his throat. Clearing it away, he tried again. “Mayhap ye should get out now, before ye soak yerself clear through to yer bones.” He went to her then, with his hand held out.

  “’Twould be worth the soakin’,” she said with that bright, beautiful smile that somehow managed to slice through his protective wall.

  Deep down, he wanted nothing more than to relish the moment, to make it stretch for an eternity. Then he heard that word of warning, admonishing him for such tender-hearted thoughts. Pushing them aside, he said, “Come, lass, ’tis time to leave.”

  She let out a heavy sigh. “Only if ye promise to bring me here again?”

  ’Twas a request, not a demand. One he found, no matter how much his logical mind wanted to deny it, his heart could not.

  “Aye, I shall bring ye here again.”

  Traitorous heart.

  With the wagon loaded, and the promise of more deliveries to come on the morrow, Alec helped his wife into her seat, climbed up, and grabbed the reins. He was angry with himself for making a promise to bring her back to the ocean again. Nay, not that specifically. Nay, he was angry for the softening of his heart. Angry with himself for behaving like a lad who had just discovered lasses weren’t nearly as irritating as previously believed.

  Leona, as happy as a lamb frolicking in the spring grass, grabbed his arm and hugged it. “Och, Alec!” she said happily. “’Twas a grand day, was it no’? No’ one person remarked on me eyes!”

  Guilt fell over him for being so gruff with her. “I told ye none would, did I no’?” he replied.

  “Aye, ye did,” she said as she squeezed his arm more tightly. “I thank ye, Alec.”

  “Fer what?”

  Taking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly, as if she could never be more content. “Fer such a grand day. Fer bein’ so kind, fer yer generosity, and fer lettin’ me dip my feet into the ocean. Fer everythin’.”

  The words, spoken from her heart, took the wind out of his sails. Bloody hell if he didn’t want to say thank you for a good day as well.

  “Remember, a Bowie is never kind nor generous,” he said in an amused tone.

  Leona laughed at his jest. “Then I thank ye fer being the meanest, most terrifyin’ bloody bastard I have ever laid eyes to.”

  Why that warmed his heart, he was uncertain, but it had. It had also made his groin ache with desire. The desire to toss her into the back of the wagon and have his way with her then and there.

  Instead, he snapped the reins and clicked his tongue at the horses.

  Chapter 9

  For the remainder of their trek back to the keep, Alec sat in amused silence, while listening to his wife chatter on. “I can no’ ever remember a day such as this, where no one teased or taunted me. ’Twas quite remarkable,” she told him. “Quite remarkable indeed. Do ye like rabbit stew, Alec? I make a verra fine rabbit stew. I doubt I will have time to make it today, fer the day will be nearly over by the time we get back to the keep. But on the morrow? On the morrow I shall make ye a fine rabbit stew.”

  He was growing used to her asking a question and not waiting for an answer. How odd he found the fact that he liked the sound of her voice. Odder still that it did not grate on his nerves. ’Twas unsettling when he realized he found her charming. He wondered if the rest of his clan would deem her charming as well.

  “Leona, on the morrow, I should like to introduce ye to our clan.”

  “On the morrow?” she exclaimed. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was terrified by the prospect. “But I have no gifts fer them.”

  Instinct told him not to ask to what she was referring, but he felt compelled to do it anyway. “Gifts?”

  “Aye,” she replied, sounding quite distressed. “As their new mistress, I should present them with gifts. Such as a jar of jam or cheese or bread or the like.”

  Alec could not quite understand her distress. “Lass, where do ye get these notions?”

  She cast him a look that said she questioned his level of intelligence. “’Tis the way it be done, Alec. Before I came to live with the McLarens, Da worked fer the McCalpins. When their son wed and brought his wife back to their lands, she presented each of the clanspeople with a gift. Each family was given a basket with bread, jam, and honey. ’Tis how it be done.”

  He too had witnessed a similar situation years ago, but never gave it much thought. He had assumed the laird’s new wife was simply trying to buy the affection of her new clan. He had also been witness to the clansmen giving their mistress gifts. “But we be Bowies, lass. We do no’ necessarily follow such traditions.”

  Her mouth curved into that delicious ‘o’ as she thought on it for a moment. Damn, but it made his groin ache with desire whenever she did that.

  “But Alec, I thought ye wanted to change from yer old ways?”

  He did not want to admit she had a point. “Aye, but we needn’t change everythin’ all at once. ’Tis enough fer me that my men have laid down their weapons and picked up plows.”

  She looked deflated. “But I want to make a good impression when I meet them fer the first time.”

/>   He could not contain his chuckle. “Ye will make a good impression, lass. Fer ye were brave enough to marry me.”

  He should have known she would not leave the matter alone. As soon as they returned to the keep, she was in the kitchens. Alec grabbed a few men from the armory to help offload the goods from the wagon. With a good deal of pride, his wife politely directed the men to where the items should be placed.

  Remembering Bowie men were not keen on compliments, Alec could see her doing her best to hold back any thanks or kind words. More than once she began to say “thank ye,” but stopped herself. His men neither noticed nor cared.

  As soon as everything was where she wanted it, she pulled two large bowls from under the table.

  The hour was growing late and he hoped she was preparing a fine meal for them. “What be ye preparin’?” he asked hopefully.

  “Bread,” she replied as she took one of the bowls to the larder.

  “But we bought bread,” he said. As if needing evidence, he held up a loaf of dark bread. “See?”

  “Och!” she said with a smile. “I ken we bought bread. But I also need to get some goin’, so ’twill rise proper. Do no fash yerself over it, Alec. I shall also fix ye somethin’ to eat. Just give me a little while to do so.”

  His stomach was growling. “But I’ve no’ had anything today but a few hard boiled eggs, a hunk of bread and cheese.”

  “And an apple. Do no’ ferget the apple.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Same as I,” she reminded him as she set the bowl of flour on the table. “Mayhap ye could help me?” she asked. “Can ye grab the wheel of cheese from the larder?”

  Without realizing what was happening, Alec was preparing his own meal while his wife kneaded bread.

  Though she’d been up half the night preparing loaf after loaf of bread, Leona still arose before dawn. Leaving Alec to sleep, she quietly slipped out of their bedchamber, and once again dressed in the dimly lit corridor.

  The sun was just beginning to kiss the morning sky as she made her way out of the keep and into the kitchens. She reckoned she was the only one awake at this early hour and remained as quiet as possible.