Well at least the wet rush mat explained the unusual amount of smoke. It would have smoldered and smoked for quite a long time before it caught fire. It was a blessing really. They could have been engulfed in flames otherwise. He just couldn’t figure out how it had gotten wet. Perhaps Gillian had arisen at some point and spilled the water remaining in the pitcher. He would ask her in the morning.
Chapter 14
Gillian woke later than usual in the morning feeling cozy. Her back was against Fingal’s chest and he held her close. Although she didn’t want to admit it, even if only to herself, she felt safe and comfortable in his arms. She glanced around the room, confused for a moment because they weren’t in their chamber. Then the events of the night came flooding back. There had been a fire. It was all a blur. Even with his injured arm he carried her from the room and she remembered being so tired. Gillian, my love...I was afraid I had lost ye. He saved her life. He had been worried about her.
Fingal’s arms tightened around her for a moment and he kissed the top of her head, setting off the butterflies in her stomach. “Ye are awake, love?”
Love. “Aye. I didn’t dream that fire, did I?”
“I wish I could say ye did.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure. It appears that a log rolled from the hearth. It would have been much worse except that rush mat was wet and didn’t catch fire quickly. Were ye up at all after we went to bed? Could ye have spilled water from the pitcher?”
“Nay, I barely remember waking when ye carried me into the hall. Oh, but I spilled the decanter of wine before we went to bed.”
“Aye, that must have been it. We were very lucky.” He gave her another squeeze.
She turned onto her back so that she could look him in the eye. “Ye saved my life.”
“Gillian, I made a vow to ye before God. I would give my own life for ye.” He brushed the hair from her face. It was a simple gesture and yet so very intimate it touched her. She felt...cherished.
“Fingal, I-I thank ye.” That wasn’t what she wanted to say and she frowned.
Fingal chuckled. “Ye are welcome, love, but it looks as if it pains ye to say that.”
Love. “Nay, oh, I’m sorry. It’s just I-I, well...I think I may have been wrong about ye.”
He laughed outright. “I know ye were but it is nice to hear ye say that.”
“I have pushed ye away without giving ye a chance and yet ye have been...kind—and thoughtful. I’m sorry, Fingal.”
“Ye needn’t apologize, Gillian. Yer life took quite a change in direction a few weeks ago and ye had very little control over the new course. I’m sorry for that.”
“But it wasn’t yer fault any more than it was mine.”
“Nay, still I’m sorry it has been so difficult for ye.”
Jeanne had been right. It was time she tried harder. “Fingal, I think—I think I’m ready to be yer wife.”
He smiled and kissed her forehead. “Gillian, my love, I’m overjoyed to hear ye say that and I want to be yer husband in every way. However, we have just been through a terrible experience and I fear ye are just feeling vulnerable. I would be the worst kind of rogue if I took advantage of that. Sweetling, let’s wait a few more days. When the events of last night are not so fresh, if ye are still sure of yer feelings, I will make ye my wife.”
She couldn’t quite believe her ears. While there was truth in his words, she didn’t believe she had made this decision out of vulnerability. She was surprised that he hadn’t jumped at her offer but what surprised her most was the disappointment she felt.
~ * ~
It was all Fingal could do to keep himself from capturing her lips, kissing all thoughts from her head and making love to her as he longed to do. This was what he wanted—Gillian willing and pliant in his arms. However, he worried. He believed she felt gratitude and perhaps a growing respect for him but somehow that wasn’t enough. If not love, he wanted her to feel desire. Then, and only then, would she be his without reservation. He could wait a few more days.
“Gillian, I think ye should take things slow today. I am going to send someone up with breakfast and a bath.”
“That isn’t necessary, I am fine. The clan will worry if I don’t attend to things as usual. I will have a bath this evening after the day’s work is done.”
Fingal sighed. “I would prefer ye rest, but I understand yer concern. Please promise ye won’t overtax yerself.”
“I promise.”
“I’m going back to our room to get some clothes.”
“I’ll come too.”
“Nay, the shutters were open all night and I’m sure it is freezing. Stay here where it is warm and I’ll bring ye something to wear.”
Fingal wrapped a blanket around his waist and made his way to their bedroom. It was cold and there were black smoke stains on the walls, but otherwise all was well. He dressed quickly and gathered clothes for Gillian as well. Their clothes had been in the wardrobe but they smelled of smoke. Everything would have to be scrubbed down and laundered.
Diarmad entered the room. “I saw the door open. Are ye and Gillian both well this morning?”
“Aye. There was very little damage really. Diarmad, some things aren’t quite adding up.” Fingal proceeded to tell him about the events of the evening leading up to the fire. “I know I banked the fire and I know there was a half jug of water left on the stand.”
“Could Gillian have accidently knocked it over in the night?”
“Nay, she was sleeping so soundly I could hardly wake her during the fire.”
“Does she always sleep that soundly?”
“We have both been working hard and are tired at the end of the day.” Diarmad grinned, but Fingal ignored the innuendo inherent in it. “She blamed it on the wine she drank. She says she usually drinks it watered. Still, the night of our wedding I poured wine for her that wasn’t watered. She didn’t seem overly affected by it then.”
“Laird, it was her wedding night, if a lass can’t stay awake for that, I would worry.”
Fingal chuckled at his jest. “I guess ye are right.” He would tell no one that he had yet to consummate his marriage, not even Diarmad.
“Do ye think this fire was more than a simple accident?”
Although Fingal was concerned about circumstances surrounding the fire, he had no evidence to confirm that it was anything other than an accident. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions that might ultimately worry Gillian. “Nay, I am probably overreacting. I will take a few extra precautions in the future, but I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.”
“Well then, I’ll go break my fast and then I’ll arrange to send a messenger to Niall as we agreed.”
“Very well, I’ll join ye in a moment. I just need to gather a few more things for Gillian.”
When Diarmad had left, Fingal went to the table where the empty decanter stood. There was a small amount of wine, a few drops, left in the bottom. He upended the decanter and let the drops spill on his tongue. They had the same slightly bitter aftertaste that he had noted the previous evening. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Maybe it was just from a bad cask, but it worried him. Had someone put something in the wine and then set the fire? Were there MacLennans who hated him sufficiently to risk killing Gillian too? If he had consumed drugged wine and slept as soundly as Gillian had, they both surely would have died. As it was, he had only swallowed a mouthful before Gillian spilled it. That couldn’t have been enough to seriously affect him.
Perhaps he was overreacting as he had told Diarmad and he was seeing a conspiracy where none existed. He truly didn’t believe he could he have slept through someone entering their room. Maybe the wine was just bitter and the log had simply rolled from the hearth. Nevertheless, he would take no chances. He didn’t want to worry her, and she wasn’t used to barring the door at night, but he would have to figure out a way to do so without raising her concern.
There might also be an
other way to help protect them both. He remembered what Ailsa had said the day after the wedding. Give her a puppy. She loves dogs. I do too. We have always wanted a pet and Mama wouldn’t let us have one. He chuckled. A dog would serve several purposes. Not only would it please his wife and needle his mother-in-law, a dog could help alert them to unwanted nocturnal intruders.
~ * ~
Within the hour, Fingal had sent messengers to Niall as well as Lairds MacKenzie, MacBain, and MacKay with the requests for assistance. When they were gone, he left the keep in search of Hearn, the MacLennan stable master. Hearn also raised and handled Brathanead’s hunting dogs. Fingal had known him for years and knew he treated the animals entrusted to him with care. They responded to him without hesitation as only loyal gently-handled beasts do. Perhaps this was why Fingal liked and trusted him. However, before he reached the stables, Eadoin approached him, clearly angry.
“Laird, the night ye arrived ye told me that if I ever thought ye were in danger of failing to love, honor, keep, and guard Gillian, ye gave me leave to address it with ye. Does that still hold true?”
Fingal sighed. “Aye Eadoin, it does.”
“Then how could ye have failed to do something as simple as bank the cursed fire?”
“Eadoin, I believe I did bank the fire. I remember doing it.”
Some of Eadoin’s anger dissolved. “If ye banked the fire, how did a flaming log roll from it?”
“I don’t know. I can’t explain what happened. I assure ye, I don’t take Gillian’s safety so lightly.” Fingal was not sure yet whether he trusted Eadoin completely. He wasn’t comfortable saying more.
Eadoin frowned. “Laird, I swore fealty to ye and I will believe ye this time. Please don’t make me regret that. Gillian is too important to this clan.”
“I won’t, Eadoin.”
Eadoin nodded and having said his piece, walked away.
No, Fingal couldn’t explain what had happened and that was why he needed to speak with Hearn. As expected, he found Hearn in the stables overseeing the work of the day. Although he had a stocky build, Hearn wasn’t a very large man. Fingal stood a head taller but he knew Hearn was as strong as an ox. Even at well over two score and ten, he was stronger than many men half his age. “Hearn, do ye have a few minutes? I would like to discuss something with ye.”
“Of course, Laird. The tack room is empty, we won’t be interrupted there.” Fingal nodded and followed him into the tack room, closing the door behind him. Not one to waste time, Hearn asked bluntly, “does this have something to do with the fire last night?”
“Aye, in a way it does.”
Hearn crossed his arms over his chest. “As I hear it, a log rolled from the hearth. That rarely happens if a fire is banked properly.”
“I agree.” Fingal prepared to be castigated by yet another MacLennan for failing to keep Gillian safe.
“So Laird, either ye are careless, extremely unlucky, or ye think it wasn’t an accident. Given how narrowly ye missed having an arrow pierce yer heart, I would say luck smiles on ye. I also wouldn’t have thought ye were that careless even if distracted by a lovely bride.”
Fingal smiled. Perhaps Hearn was not willing to blame him immediately. “Nay, I’m not a careless man. I banked the fire before retiring. Being born to Eithne MacIan is perhaps evidence enough to suggest I am unlucky in spite of what recent events indicate. This could have been the accident it appears to be. But, if it isn’t, the only explanation is that someone slipped into our chamber.”
“That’s hard to believe, Laird.”
“Aye, it is. For that reason, I am inclined to believe the fire was caused by pure misfortune. However, I am unwilling to risk a recurrence if it wasn’t.”
“And what do ye think I can do to prevent it?”
“Ailsa told me several weeks ago that Gillian has always wanted a pet, a dog, but their mother refused to allow it. While I understand our king’s desire to ensure the welfare of Clan MacLennan, his edict has been extremely difficult on Lady Gillian. If a pet would add a small bright spot to the whole situation, I want her to have one. Furthermore, if we did truly sleep through someone entering our chamber, another set of sharp ears might prevent that happening in the future. I thought maybe ye could help me there.”
Hearn grinned and chuckled. “Ailsa is a minx. She knows one of my sight hounds whelped an unusually large litter in early December. She comes to the kennels nearly every day. There are two pups that she has practically ruined.”
“Two?”
“Aye, it’s odd really. There was one huge male pup in the litter, and one scrawny one. Those two seemed to have an odd bond. Often larger pups in a litter will push a weak one around, so much so that a runt sometimes doesn’t survive. But in this case, the big one seemed to look out for his wee brother. He didn’t let the others edge him out at feeding time. Now, with four months growth, there is much less of a difference in size. They both look to be fine strong animals. Still, Ailsa calls the little one her ‘wee Duff’.”
“Are ye willing to part with one of them?”
“Aye, but Laird, would ye consider taking them both?”
“Has Ailsa truly ruined them as hunters?”
Hearn laughed. “Nay, Laird, I don’t believe affection can ruin an animal. I just have a soft spot for Ailsa. She is a sweet lass and losing her da broke her heart as ye can imagine. I believe a wee beastie of her own would help ease that pain. I thought maybe ye would give Duff to her and take the other one for Lady Gillian.”
Fingal grinned. “Hearn, would ye be trying to get me in trouble with my new mother by marriage?”
“Laird, do ye honestly care what Lana thinks? Ye are the laird and if ye want dogs in the keep, ye can have them. A truly loving mother would have done something to help the lass bear up before now. I tried last year. One of the MacLennan crofters had a herder with a spring litter of pups. Knowing how much Ailsa was hurting, I thought she might like to have a pet, so I got a wee female pup off him and approached Lana. She flatly refused to let her have it. I ended up keeping her as a pet myself. I named her Lulu and I can’t imagine life without her. My wife passed a few years ago. I can tell ye for certain, a dog helps ease that loss like nothing else.”
“Ye are right, Hearn. Ailsa needs a pup as much as Gillian does. If ye are willing to give up both of them, ye have my gratitude.”
“It is my pleasure. Come with me, I’ll show them to ye.” Hearn led him to the kennels which were just as clean and well cared for as the stables. Dogs surrounded Hearn, vying for his attention. “I keep the puppies in a separate pen until they are big enough to hold their own in the pack.” Hearn let Fingal through the gate into a smaller pen where ten sleek coated puppies with small floppy ears wiggled excitedly. He scooped a large puppy up under each arm, handing the dark brindle colored one to Fingal. The other pup was only slightly smaller and was mostly black with a small patch of white on each paw. “This one is Ailsa’s ‘wee Duff’ and the brindle is Duff’s protector. I call him Bodie. It means ‘shelter’ in the old Norse language. Given his protective nature, it seemed appropriate.”
Fingal smiled. “Aye, it seems so.” While sometimes the men who trained hunting hounds didn’t bother to give them names, naming them wasn’t uncommon either. What surprised Fingal was the thought Hearn put into naming his animals.
“I’d give them to ye now laird, but if we want to tamp down a little of Lana’s ire, bathing them first might be a good idea. I will have one of the lads take care of it and I’ll bring them up to the keep after the noon meal.”
“That would be perfect.” Then Fingal frowned. The thought occurred to him that perhaps Fallon would feel left out. “Hearn, ye know Gillian’s family better than I do. Will Fallon be hurt if I give a pet to Ailsa?”
“It’s good of ye to think of her, Laird. Fallon is a sweet lass and she has always been fond of animals, mayhap not as much as Ailsa and Gillian but she has a soft spot for cats. However, she would be less likely t
o cross her mother than the other two. She would never ask for a pet, but if ye gave her one, I expect she would be thrilled. There is a mouser in the stable who had a litter of kittens at the end of the summer. Some of them are a bit on the wild side, but there is one tricolor female that is very affectionate. Honestly, I hate to let her go because, like her mother, she is an excellent mouser. But that could work to yer favor with Lana. She hates vermin.”
“Does the cat have a name?” Fingal asked casually but he would have been willing to bet money on the answer.
Hearn looked a little embarrassed. “Well, aye, Laird, I’ve been calling her Maggie.”
Fingal laughed and Bodie wiggled happily in his arms, straining to lick Fingal’s face. “Ye’re a good man Hearn. Bring her up after the noon meal with these two fierce beasts. If I’m going to irritate Lana anyway, I may as well do it with three pets as one.”
Chapter 15
In spite of Gillian’s desire to attend to things as she usually did, she had trouble focusing on her work. Her mother, Fallon, and two other women were helping to clean up the damage from the fire. The draperies, bed linens, and bed hangings had been carried to the wash house to be cleaned. Even the mattress would be replaced. The feathers were being salvaged. Several women were stuffing them into fresh ticking. The other women were washing down the smoke stained walls while Gillian emptied the clothing from the wardrobe. It all reeked of smoke and needed to be laundered. While she had slept soundly the night before, she still felt tired. Maybe it was caused by the overwhelming smell of smoke but she also had a slight headache. She stopped what she was doing and pressed two fingers into her forehead between her eyebrows, trying to relieve the pain.
“Gillian, are ye all right?” Fallon asked, concerned.
“Aye. I just have a touch of a headache.”
Her mother glanced at her from where she stood on a stool. “Do ye have the packet of herbs Rhiannon gave ye? Rhiannon swears by it for a headache.”
“Aye, mother, but—”
Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 Page 60
