The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens

by Suzan Tisdale

  Blast this man! He knew just how to confuse her, to unsettle her nerves. “Stop that!” she said as she batted his hand away.

  “Stop what?” he asked, his tone low and provocative.

  “Stop tryin’ to distract me. I ken what ye’re doin’, and ’twill no’ work this day. Now move.”

  He laughed again before taking her into his arms. “Ye find me distractin’?” he asked playfully.

  Of course she found him distracting. Almost to the point of madness. And ’twas especially so whenever he had that look in his eyes. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. “Nay,” she lied. “Ye are nothin’ more than a nuisance.”

  He smiled, smug with knowing she was lying through her pretty white teeth.

  “Coward,” he whispered playfully.

  “Me? A coward?” she asked, exceedingly insulted.

  “Ye can no’ admit ye find me distractin’,” he told her with a mischievous smile.

  Offering him her most indignant expression as well as a roll of her eyes, Leona said, “Oh, I can admit to such, when ’tis the truth. And what of ye, Alec Bowie? Can ye ever admit to finding me somethin’ more than a nuisance?”

  He had the audacity to throw his head back and laugh at her. “A nuisance? Mayhap at times,” he said as he drew her into his chest and held her tightly. “But more often than not, I find ye a distraction. Such as now. All I truly wish to do,” he kissed the top of her head before bending down to whisper in her ear, all manner of wickedly sinful and delightful things he wished to do with her and to her.

  By the time he was done, she was holding her breath, her heart pounding ferociously against her breast, and her legs all a tremble.

  Then he left her there, alone in the larder, with nothing to do but think about what he had said.

  Willem came to see her just before noontime. Gylys opened the door and asked him what he needed.

  “Do no’ be ridiculous,” Leona chastised him as she scooted him out of the way. “’Tis Willem. He is a friend.”

  He looked tired and a bit worn out, as well as confused by Gylys’ brief interrogation. “Ignore Gylys,” Leona said as she drew the man inside. “He’s only doing his duty.” A strong emphasis on the word ‘duty’.

  “Mistress, I only be doin’ what Alec ordered me to do. ’Tis fer yer own safety.”

  “Willem, would ye like somethin’ to eat?” she asked as she sat him down at her table. “I have some sausage and eggs left over from breakfast.”

  “Thank ye, m’lady. That would be verra kind of ye,” he said, licking his lips. “But I did no’ come here to eat.”

  “Bah!” Leona said with a wave of her hand. “Do no’ fash yourself over it. I’ll be verra happy to feed ye today.” In truth, she was glad for the distraction. Gylys’ presence was beginning to grate on her nerves. He stood as a constant reminder of what had happened yesterday. Oh, she knew he was only following Alec’s orders. Still, it didn’t mean she had to enjoy it.

  “I would like some eggs and sausage, mistress,” Gylys said with a hopeful smile.

  With a roll of her eyes, she made a trencher for Gylys and handed it to him. Most eagerly, he took the trencher and sat down opposite Willem.

  “So, Willem, what brings ye to see me this day?”

  “I came to see how ye fared,” he told her, using a bit of bread to sop up the grease from the still warm sausage.

  “I fare verra well.” She smiled warmly. “And I hear I have ye to thank.”

  “Me?” he asked with a raised brow.

  “Aye,” she patted his hand. “Alec told me ye were the one to suggest lookin’ in the North Tower.”

  He swallowed down his bite of bread. “Well, they said they had looked everywhere,” he told her. “But I figured if they had looked everywhere, they’d have found ye.”

  “Exactly!” she exclaimed. “Fer one can no’ be nowhere, can they? Even if ye do no’ ken where ‘where’ is, it be somewhere, aye?”

  Gylys gave a great shake of his head as if it might bring some sense to what he’d just heard. Deciding it didn’t truly matter, he returned his attention to his food.

  “Well, I do thank ye, Willem. Were it no’ fer ye, I’d still be in that tower, scared half out of me mind.”

  Willem’s expression turned solemn. “We would have turned the world over lookin’ fer ye, mistress,” he told her. “Ye be one of the only truly kind people here. No one else would make me bathe or offer me a hot meal.” He cast her a warm smile.

  “Ye will always find a friend in me,” she told him as she patted his hand.

  “Did ye hear, mistress, that Effie be havin’ her bairn?” Willem said as he took the last bite of his eggs.

  “What?” she exclaimed. “Why did ye no’ tell me that sooner?” She scooted her stool away from the table and headed for the door.

  Gylys jumped to his feet as soon as she opened it. “Mistress, where be ye goin’?”

  Rolling her eyes, she answered with a good deal of irritation. “To Effie’s. She be a friend and she be havin’ her babe. She be no’ due fer another month.”

  When Gylys started to follow her, she said, “Stay, enjoy yer meal. Ye may find me at Effie’s when ye’re finished.”

  “Alec will kill me if I let ye go alone,” he told her as he grabbed a length of sausage with one hand and a hunk of bread with the other. A moment later he was racing to catch up to Leona.

  Leona was out of breath, filled with worry, by the time she reached Dougall and Effie’s cottage. Gylys was fast on her trail, eating the bread and sausage as he kept up with her.

  As far as she knew, Effie was not due for at least another month. In her experience — albeit limited — early babes rarely fared well.

  Dougall and his four sons were standing out of doors, near the woodpile. One look at his face and Leona knew he was just as worried as she. The boys, however, were oblivious. They were on the ground in a tight circle, playing some game with round stones.

  “Dougall!” Leona called to him as she raced down the path. He met her halfway.

  “Mistress,” he greeted her. “I fear Effie can no’ have cider with ye this day,” he began.

  “I ken that, Dougall,” she told him. “I have just learned her time has come. How does she fare?”

  He ran a worried hand through his hair. “I do no’ ken. The midwife be with her now, as well as Margaret and Leesa.”

  Leona was glad to know the midwife was already in attendance. “If I ken Effie at all, she will be fine. She be a stubborn, strong woman.”

  Gylys offered his own opinion then. “That be right true, mistress. Effie be too stubborn to allow anything to happen to the babe or herself.”

  Dougall chuckled and gave a nod of agreement. “Aye, that she is.”

  “I shall go and see how she fares and let ye know, aye?” she asked, placing one palm on his arm.

  “Thank ye, mistress. I would like that. I am certain Effie would as well.” Dougall offered her a weak smile as he looked back to his sons.

  She turned then, to look at her guard. “Gylys, ye are no’, under any circumstances, to follow me into Effie’s cottage.”

  His eyes grew wide with horror. “Of course no’! I would no’ think, that is to say, I mean …” he was at a loss for words.

  If her assessment of him was correct, he’d rather be gutted with a splintery board than to step one foot into a cottage where a woman was giving birth.

  “Ye can watch over Dougall,” she told him with a grin. “I shall no’ be long.”

  With that, she left the two men to do whatever it is men do whilst a woman is birthing.

  Reaching the door, she smoothed down her skirts, then swept away an errant strand of hair before gently rapping at the door. A moment later, the door opened.

  Leona recognized the woman at once from the group who had ignored her days ago. “Good day,” Leona greeted her with as warm a smile as she could manage. She tried to step into the cottage, but the woma
n stepped in front of her.

  “What do ye want?” she asked, her tone haughty and cold.

  “I wish to see my friend,” Leona told her, confused by the woman’s menacing stance.

  “She be busy. She has no time fer ye this day.”

  Her rudeness and supreme, indignant tone, was the last straw. Leona drew back her shoulders, lifted her chin and looked directly into the woman’s eyes. “Might I remind ye that I am the mistress of this keep and ye shall address me as such. Now step aside and let me pass.” She kept her tone even and smooth, belying the fact her insides were raging with anger.

  The woman looked as though she could not believe Leona had the audacity to order her to move aside.

  Ignoring her, Leona pushed past her and into the cottage. Effie was standing near the table, bent over, with one hand on her back. She was covered with sweat, holding her breath and gritting her teeth.

  “Effie?” Leona whispered as she stepped toward her.

  The strangest expression came to Effie’s face when she lifted her head. Leona could not have described it if someone had a dirk to her throat. The other two women were looking at Leona as if she were an apparition. The tension and unease was palpable. It filled the room as heavy as smoke from an open fire.

  At once, she knew her presence was neither needed nor wanted. Effie, she could forgive, for she was in a good deal of pain. Nothing a woman said or did during this time could ever be held against her. She had learned that only recently, when she had helped Rose Mackintosh birth her son.

  “Dougall is quite worried,” she told Effie. “I promised him I would see how ye fared.”

  The pain passed, as did the odd expression. Effie let out a deep breath as she gave a quick nod. “Thank ye, Leona,” she said. “I fear ’twill be some time before this babe arrives.” She took another deep breath and tried to right herself, but was unable. “Could ye please take them away from here? Mayhap to the keep? Watch over them until the babe arrives?”

  Relief washed over her. She might not be needed here, during the birthing, but she was needed. “Of course,” she said happily. “’Twill be an honor to do so.”

  Thus far, the other women in the room had remained rooted and mute. Leona gave each one a curt nod before quitting the cottage.

  Out of doors, she let out the breath she’d been holding. Forcing another smile to her face, she sought out Dougall and his sons.

  It took a good deal of cajoling on her part before Leona could convince Dugall that Effie was doing well and wanted him to take their children and go with Leona to the keep. Finally, he relented, but only after she and Gylys promised to send messengers back and forth with hourly updates.

  The boys were all too happy to leave. “We have no’ been to the keep in forever,” the youngest lad, Thomas, exclaimed as they raced down the path.

  “’T’as only been a few months,” James, only a year older, corrected. “Ye eejit.”

  Dougall rolled his eyes and called out to his sons, “Lads, ye shall be on yer best behavior when we get to the keep. And James, do no’ call yer brother an eejit. Thomas! Get out of the mud! Yer mum will skin us both alive!”

  Amused, Leona could not help but smile. This could be Alec and yer sons some day, she thought. The vision of Alec walking along with a passel of their children made her heart all but sing with joy. Alec will be a good da. Of this she had no doubt at all.

  She watched as Dougall scooped up James, lifted him high and then settled him on his shoulders. The little boy, no more than five summers, squealed with delight.

  Thomas looked wounded. “I want a turn!”

  “I just got my turn,” James told him right before sticking his tongue out at his older brother.

  “That’s not fair,” Thomas groused as he kicked at a pebble with his toe. His two older brothers, older and wiser of course, shook their heads in dismay.

  Without warning, Gylys scooped the lad up and set him on his shoulders. Thomas beamed with delight, looked at his younger brother and stuck his tongue out at him.

  “Lads, I do believe I have a few sweet cakes at the keep,” Leona told them.

  All at once, they were discussing how much they loved sweet cakes, then began to argue over who could eat the most without throwing up.

  The hours passed by at an agonizingly slow pace. Leona did her best to keep the boys entertained, though in truth, they did not require much supervision., Leona took great delight in watching the energetic little boys race through the keep, pretending to be warriors protecting their lands.

  With Dougall there to watch over her, Gylys left them alone to tend to what he called matters of a personal nature. At which the boys giggled and rolled around on the floor in a heap of laughter.

  For a late afternoon respite, she fed them bread with butter and honey, apples, cheese, and dried meats. They wolfed down their food and guzzled their cider like true Highland warriors. Instead of calming them down, as had been her intent, it only seemed to rejuvenate them.

  While the boys laughed and played, Dougall paced and fidgeted. Occasionally, he would absentmindedly reprimand them for screaming too loudly or running too fast. ’Twas Leona who politely told them her table was not the wall and they shouldn’t traipse upon it.

  When it came time to prepare the evening meal, she corralled the boys and told them to follow her. “Where are we goin’?” James asked as he skipped beside her. “Are ye goin’ to show us the tower room ye were locked in?”

  “I heard ’twas a brownie that locked her in,” Wills told his brothers.

  Leona came to an abrupt stop and turned to listen.

  “’Twere no brownie,” he told him. “’Twas the ghost.”

  “What ghost?” James and Thomas asked, all wide-eyed.

  Leona watched as Wills and Aric exchanged a knowing glance. She knew they were up to no good, but decided to see where they went with this story.

  “Ye do no’ ken about the ghost of the keep?” Aric asked with a quirked brow.

  Both boys shook their heads and begged to be told.

  “Ye think they be old enough, Wills?”

  Wills studied them closely, with an index finger to his cheek. After a long moment, he nodded. “Aye, I think so.”

  “Well then,” Aric said, “ye should tell them about the ghosts who inhabit this keep.”

  “All of them?” Wills asked with a quirked brow and feigned expression of astonishment. “I do no’ think they be old enough to hear about the gray lady.”

  “What gray lady?” James asked, his eyes nearly as wide as trenchers now.

  “Och! The gray lady who haunts this keep. They say she was killed here, by her husband’s own hands. They say he killed her near samhain time, more than a hundred years ago, ye ken? He found she was bein’ unfaithful to him.”

  “What does that mean?” James asked. “Unfaithful?”

  Wills and Aric exchanged a knowing glance before Wills answered. “It means she had made a babe with a man who was no’ her husband.”

  James and Thomas did not quite understand what their older brother meant. They looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders, and begged him to go on.

  “Well, the laird, her husband, when he found out about her betrayal, they say he went mad with jealousy and hanged her. Right here in this verra room. Right next to her lover. On the eve of samhain. They also say, she haunts the keep to this verra day. They both do, the gray lady and her lover. They wander the keep at all hours of the day and night, tryin’ to find one another. But the laird, he had a curse put on their souls right before he hanged them. Now, they can no’ find one another.”

  “That be right,” Aric agreed with a nod of his head.

  What the two young men did not know, for they were too engrossed in their own story to notice, was that Kyth and Gylys had come to stand behind them. Leona remained quiet, wondering where on earth Wills and Aric would take their story.

  “The gray lady,” Aric began. “She be all covered in blood.
It drips from her eyeless sockets, from her fingertips—”

  Before he could terrify his younger brothers any further, Gylys and Kyth reached out and grabbed Wills and Aric without warning.

  The two young men nearly leapt out of their own skins. Each lad gave a mighty scream, with eyes wide and arms all akimbo.

  ’Twas all Leona could do not to fall to the floor in a fit of laughter.

  James and Tomas looked mighty confused, for they’d apparently never witnessed their brothers so terrified before.

  “That, lads, is what ye get when ye try to terrify yer younger brothers,” Gylys chastised the pair, as he tried not to laugh.

  “Aye, they be far too young for such a story!” Kyth added as he set Aric down on his shaking legs.

  “That was no’ fair!” the older boys argued.

  “No’ fair?” Gylys asked. “Aye, I do believe it was. And I believe yer da will agree. Shall we ask him?”

  The boys looked more terrified of their father finding out than they had moments ago when Gylys and Kyth had grabbed them. “Nay!” they protested.

  Supressing a smile, Kyth looked to Leona. “How do ye think we should punish these heathens?”

  Punish? Leona cried inwardly. Her first thought was of belts, floggers, and dark places. ’Twas only when she saw the mischievous grin on Kyth and Gylys’ faces that she realized they were not speaking of beatings. “I say they should wash the dishes after dinner this night,” she offered. “And give their younger brothers the sweet cakes I had set aside for them.”

  The boys began to protest until Kyth pointed out they could take the matter to their father to settle.

  Once it was settled that as long as they apologized to their brothers — and accepted Leona’s proffered ‘punishment’ — then no one would bring up the matter with either their father or, worse still, their mother.

  Leona had as much experience with children as she did with newly born bairns. That is to say, none at all.

  So when it came time for the evening meal, she was astonished at the amount of food four little boys could eat. The older two ate almost as much as the men, and just as vigorously.