Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Why do ye always argue with me, lass?”

  Peg laughed. “Don’t all lasses argue with their mothers? I know I do. But Gillie, if the herbs she gave ye are her ‘special tonic’ it really does work.”

  “Peg, ye will address Gillian as ‘Lady MacLennan’ or ‘my lady’ now,” Lana said sharply. “It isn’t appropriate for a servant to call her ‘Gillie’ any longer. She will not be respected if everyone treats her so casually.”

  “Oh mother, please,” Gillian snapped, “Peg has been my friend since we were little. I don’t want her to address me so formally.”

  Her mother looked ready to spout fire and Maeve, an older woman who worked with them, intervened. “My lady, yer mother is right to remind us to remember yer station now but Lana, old habits die hard. Give us all a bit of time.”

  Gillian smiled at her. “Thank ye, Maeve. I still feel much more like ‘Gillie’ than ‘Lady MacLennan’.”

  The older woman laughed. “Well all right then Gillie, listen to yer mum. After ye take those clothes down to be laundered, stop in the kitchen and make yerself a mug of Rhiannon’s tisane. It will do ye a world of good.”

  Her mother glared at Maeve, but Gillian laughed, taking the packet of herbs from the chest where she had put it, then grabbing an armful of smoky clothes. “I think I will. Fallon, will ye help me?”

  Looking as thrilled to leave the room as Gillian felt, Fallon grabbed up the remaining cloths and grinning said, “Oh, aye, Lady MacLennan, I will.”

  Their mother shouted, “I didn’t mean ye Fallon!” as they left the room.

  By the time they had taken everything to the wash house and made their way to the kitchen, the noon meal was nearly ready to be served. “Get out from under my feet now lassies and I’ll bring ye a mug of my own tonic to have with yer meal in a few minutes,” Jeanne said as she chivvied them out of the kitchen.

  Being out of the smoky room and walking through the fresh cold air to the wash house and kitchens had done wonders for Gillian’s headache anyway. When they reached the great hall people were gathering for the meal and Fingal was just coming through the front door of the keep. She smiled. He seemed light-hearted and happy. This was the charming, handsome young man she remembered from years ago and her heart leapt. Fallon nudged her. “Ye look happy sister. Is he winning yer heart?”

  Just last week a comment like that would have made her angry. Today the butterflies in her stomach suggested that he might be winning her heart. She wasn’t quite ready to admit it so she just rolled her eyes. “Fallon, that is a silly, romantic notion. I barely know him. Don’t let mother hear ye even suggest it.”

  The knowing smile on Fallon’s face indicated that her sister didn’t believe her. To make matters worse, Fingal crossed the hall, wrapped her in his arms, spun her around, and kissed her soundly. There was simply no part of her that could muster anything but delight at his greeting. Perhaps he had been right that morning when he said she was feeling vulnerable. However, she knew she was feeling something else too. It was just as Jeanne had suggested. When she allowed herself to accept and enjoy his attention, she felt valued and cherished. She felt loved.

  Fingal took her hand and walked with her to the head of the table, Fallon following behind them. “Are ye feeling quite well this afternoon, Gillian?”

  “Aye, I am.”

  “No she isn’t,” announced Fallon, “she has a headache.”

  Fingal looked concerned. “Gillian, last night was terribly distressing. Please rest this afternoon.”

  Gillian glared at her sister. “Fallon exaggerates. I had a slight headache, but I think it was the smell of the smoke from cleaning our chamber. I was just outside in the fresh air and feel much better.”

  “Perhaps so, but ye were nearly overcome by the smoke last night. Leave the cleaning of our chamber to others.”

  His concern touched her and frankly, she had had enough of the smell of smoke. “I will. It is almost done anyway. All of the fabric has been removed for cleaning and the smoke stains washed from the walls. We should be able to move back into it soon enough.”

  Their conversation moved on to other things during the meal. Now that she had stopped trying to despise him, she didn’t feel as flustered by his attention. Of course any time he touched her, it still set off the butterflies in her stomach, and as predicted she was beginning to like it. Get a hold of yerself, Gillian, ye have only known this man for a little over a month. Nay, that wasn’t true. She had known him for many years and had liked him for most of them. It was only in the last year that she had felt differently and as he pointed out the night he arrived, he himself had done nothing to earn her hatred. It was time to move forward. He had rapidly earned her respect; maybe love wasn’t out of the question.

  Fingal interrupted her musings by laying a hand on her arm. “Gillian, I have something for ye. I know the last few weeks have been difficult. I wanted to give ye something that might bring ye some joy. I have it on very good authority that ye are fond of dogs.”

  At that statement, Ailsa, who had been chatting away with Fallon, stopped mid-sentence to stare at him in awe. “Laird, ye didn’t. Did ye?”

  Fingal grinned and motioned to Hearn who stood just inside the front door of the hall. One of the stable boys entered carrying a large, wiggling, brindle puppy. Gillian was too shocked to say anything. The boy brought the puppy to her and deposited it on her lap. She put her arms around him, rubbing his velvety fur. “Oh, Fingal. I love dogs. I have always wanted one of my own.”

  Ailsa was out of her seat and at Gillian’s side instantly petting the puppy who started licking her face. “I told him, Gillian. Ye are so lucky. Hearn calls this one Bodie.” There was an unmistakably wistful note in her voice.

  To Gillian’s surprise, Fingal motioned to Hearn again. “Ailsa did tell me ye have always wanted a pet, but it was clear she wanted one too. As it happens, Hearn tells me Bodie has a little brother that Ailsa is rather fond of.”

  Realizing what was happening, Ailsa looked up and squealed with glee, running to meet the stable boy who carried a large black puppy with white feet. She gathered her puppy in her arms and carried him to show Gillian. “It’s my wee Duff. Is he for me, Laird? Really?”

  “Aye, Ailsa. He is for ye. Take good care of him. Hearn will help ye if ye have any questions.”

  “I will take good care of him, Liard. Thank ye.” With the puppy still in her arms she hugged him.

  Her mother cleared her throat. “Ye should have asked me before giving my daughters animals, Laird. I don’t approve of keeping animals inside.”

  Stricken, Ailsa looked at Fingal, silently pleading for his help. Fingal rested a hand on Ailsa’s shoulder. “I understand that Lana, but I am the laird of this keep, and I do approve of keeping animals as pets. In fact, I think animals can be a great comfort to wee lassies who have suffered significant losses. Ye are certainly free to ban them from yer private chamber, but they are welcome everywhere else.”

  Gillian’s mother didn’t relent. “Ailsa is too young.”

  “I disagree, Lana. She needs him and she will care for him. Ye needn’t worry. I will make sure of it.”

  Her mother looked angry but didn’t argue further. Ailsa let out a huge sigh of relief and turned her attention back to her puppy. Gillian tore her gaze from the soft puppy who seemed to be all legs. She glanced quickly around the hall. She saw more looks of approval than she would have imagined.

  Fallon reached to pet Bodie. “Gillian, he is lovely.”

  Ailsa looked momentarily concerned. “I’ll share Duff with ye if ye wish, Fallon.”

  Fingal grinned, motioning to Hearn who crossed the hall to the table. “That is awfully nice of ye Ailsa, but Hearn mentioned that Fallon wasn’t quite as fond of dogs and ye and Gillian are. He thought she might like this wee beastie for her own.”

  Fallon’s mouth fell open and she gasped as Hearn pulled the young tri-color cat from under his plaid. She gathered the cat in her arms and nuz
zled her face. “Maggie.” After cuddling her for a few moments, she looked up. “Laird, thank ye. I love her.”

  “Hearn thought ye might.”

  Gillian looked at their mother. Her mouth was pressed to a thin line and she glared at the cat. Gillian was about to say something to try and cool her mother’s anger when Fallon spoke up. “Mama, I know ye have never wanted pets but truly, I have wanted a cat for as long as I can remember. Please don’t say I can’t have her.” Gillian was in awe. Fallon was brilliant. Even though Fingal had just said that allowing animals in the keep was his decision, Fallon had practically forced their mother to agree. There is no way mama would deny her this in front of the clan. And once she agreed to accept Fallon’s cat, she would say no more about the dogs either.

  Just as Gillian expected, her mother relented. “If ye want her so badly, I won’t refuse ye, Fallon.”

  “Thank ye, Mama.” Fallon walked to her and kissed her cheek. “Ye know...I hear she is quite a good mouser.”

  “Is she? Well at least there’s that.” Gillian was shocked to see her mother reach to scratch behind the cat’s ears.

  That seemed to be the cue the assembly had been waiting for. The animals were petted and admired by everyone in the hall. Ailsa told Gillian the story of how Bodie protected Duff when they were very little. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, Gillian didn’t spend the afternoon working. She and her sisters...played.

  ~ * ~

  As Gillian and her sisters became engrossed in getting to know their new pets, Fingal silently left the hall to join his men on the training fields.

  “Laird, wait,” Eadoin called from behind him, running to catch up.

  “Is there something ye need Eadoin?”

  “Nay, Laird. I just wanted to say, what ye did in there was—well ye couldn’t have given those lasses anything they needed more.”

  “Eadoin, I meant what I said. This last year and especially the last few weeks have been exceedingly hard for them all. I cannot bring their father back. I can never make up for what my mother did. The love of a wee beast is a very small thing but perhaps it will give them some comfort.”

  ~ * ~

  Gillian and Bodie developed an instant bond. It was as if he knew she belonged to him. He stayed with her wherever she went as close as a shadow. That alone thrilled her.

  Late that afternoon, she still had the remnants of a headache. At her sisters’ urgings she went to the room she and Fingal had moved to after the fire, and laid down. Bodie settled on the bed next her. His warm, solid presence was oddly comforting.

  Comforting. I think animals can be a great comfort to wee lassies who have suffered significant losses, Fingal had told her mother. He was right. She had to admit, the pure, unrestrained affection Bodie showed her was like a balm to her very soul. She didn’t know how it was possible to need something so desperately and yet not realize it until it was in her arms but she had needed this warm, affectionate beast more than her next breath.

  Fingal had done this. She remembered her ugly words when he had first arrived at Brathanead. I hate the very sight of ye. I cannot begin to imagine what kind of hell being married to ye would be. Hell? He started their marriage reinforcing her position as Lady MacLennan through heritage by insisting that the clan declare fealty to them both, not simply to him. He showed her nothing but respect and kindness. He had worked tirelessly for the last weeks, trying to find ways to fix problems that had been developing within her clan over years, not merely since Malcolm died. He would have forsworn his mother’s estate if Gillian had asked. By all that’s holy he had been injured chasing off her clan’s enemies and had saved her life last night. Now he had given her the one thing on earth that she wanted, nay needed, more than anything else.

  And yet, the only thing she had given him was a promise to try not to hate him.

  Jeanne was right; she needed to thaw her heart. He had treated her so gently in the night. He had called her “love” and his “precious lass”, and yet when she offered to be his wife in every way, he had believed it was only the vulnerability she felt that led her to it. What must he think of her to believe she wasn’t sincere?

  Bodie’s ears perked a moment before she heard the sound of the chamber door opening. Fingal stepped in quietly. She sat up and pulled Bodie onto her lap. “Nay, lass, stay resting. I didn’t mean to wake ye. I heard ye still weren’t feeling well and I just wanted to check on ye.”

  “Ye didn’t wake me. I’m fine.”

  Fingal crossed the room and sat on the bed beside her. “Does yer head still ache?”

  “Ever so slightly, but it is much better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. I was worried.”

  “I almost never get headaches. I’m sure it was just from the smoke last night.”

  “Aye, probably.”

  His expression held nothing but genuine concern for her and once again she was struck by how kind and considerate he was to her, even in the face of her obstinacy. She also allowed herself to enjoy how very handsome he was. She reached out to caress the strong line of his jaw, the shadow of his beard coarse against her fingers. Before she knew what she was doing she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t a long kiss, but she poured her heart into it. When she pulled away he looked befuddled by her boldness. Perhaps this is what she looked like to him when he kissed her, and all conscious thought fled. She felt a little surge of feminine power and grinned. Apparently two could play this game.

  “Thank ye, Fingal.”

  He continued to look confused. “For what?”

  She laughed. “Do I need to list everything? For being so very considerate of me, for working so hard to care for this clan, for saving my life, but most of all for this wee beast.” She scratched behind Bodie’s ears.

  “I’m glad ye like him.”

  “I adore him.” She leaned forward and kissed her husband again. Before he recovered from his surprise she climbed off the bed and smiled sweetly. “It is probably time for the evening meal. Shall we go down?”

  Chapter 16

  Gillian decided she would proceed cautiously. The Easter Triduum was upon them so she focused on the reverent holy days. Besides, she had been so rigid and unyielding that she wanted him to know it was not vulnerability she felt, but rather rising affection. After the feast of Easter, she put her whole heart into convincing Fingal of this. Although she wasn’t quite sure how to do this, over the next few days she tried the same things on him which had left her feeling so unbalanced. She focused her attention on him, touched him casually, inclined her head and spoke softly to him during meals—forcing him to lean close and listen. Although initially her changed attitude seemed to confuse him, he recovered quickly and restarted his own efforts to charm her in return.

  She was stunned to realize they were actively wooing each other. For several days the friendly banter and casual show of affection continued, culminating each evening in a chaste good-night kiss before they slept. Each morning they woke in each other’s arms but started their day as they had for weeks now, with nothing more than a friendly “Good morning.”

  Initially Gillian found this more than pleasant. She began to welcome the fluttering in her stomach that these interactions stirred. However, after a few days, the fluttering became more of a gnawing need. She wanted more from him; she needed something more, but didn’t quite know what it was. Their bedchamber had finally been completely put to rights and they were going to sleep in it again that night. In a way it was a new beginning, so she promised herself she would become his wife in every way.

  She wasn’t quite sure what she should do. The whole clan thought they were fully married well over a month ago. She had even suggested to her mother that she might already be carrying a child so she couldn’t very well ask her. Well, Jeanne had guessed the truth but she had also already told Gillian: It is the simplest thing in the world; just let it happen.

  When they retired to their chamber that evening, Fingal started
to remove his belt and plaid as he usually did. Bodie had already curled up to sleep by the hearth as had become his habit.

  Gillian unfastened her brooch and belt, removing her plaid. “Do ye mind if we don’t play chess tonight?”

  “Nay, of course not. I am a bit tired myself.”

  She pulled the kertch from her head, releasing the thick silky mass of hair over her shoulders. “Fingal, could ye help me a moment. I am having trouble untying the ribbons of my léine.” She turned her back and lifted her hair out of the way.

  “Certainly, my love.” She felt his long warm fingers on the back of her neck as he worked to untie the fastenings. “There ye are.”

  Before he removed his hands from her, she turned and slipped her arms around his neck. “Thank ye,” she whispered. Heat smoldered in his eyes. She gave him a quick kiss. With her hands still around his neck she grinned slyly. “I’ll untie yers for ye.”

  He grinned back. “Will ye now?” He stroked her back gently as she released the laces of his léine. When she was finished he leaned down and kissed her. His kiss was slower and deeper than hers had been. She was breathless by the time he broke the kiss. “Thank ye,” he whispered, just as she had.

  She looked into his beautiful green eyes and was lost. “Fingal, I...”

  “Gillian, I won’t push ye. I made ye a promise. I said I would wait until ye were ready—until ye asked me to be yer husband.”

  Dear God, Gillian wanted this kind, beautiful man to love her. “I know ye did, and now I’m ready. I’m asking. Fingal, please, make me yer wife.”

  Chapter 17

  Fingal woke the next morning blanketed by Gillian. Her head rested on his chest, her silky hair spread over them both. Her long slender legs were entwined with his, one thigh nestled snuggly against his groin. He chuckled, remembering the first morning they had awoken together, when thinking he was asleep she tried unsuccessfully to extricate herself. She opened her eyes at the sound. Still half asleep, she looked so young and untroubled this morning. He needed to see her like this more often. “Good morning, my love.”