by Ashe Barker
“So, we will arrive... the day after tomorrow?”
“Aye, with luck.”
Jane anticipated their arrival at her new home with a mix of trepidation and outright terror. What would Clan McGregor make of their future laird’s determination to take as his wife a lowly English nursemaid? He seemed confident she would be accepted, his father equally so. Lady Roselyn, too. Only Jane seemed to entertain doubts, but she had allowed herself to be persuaded to at least attempt to carry this off. After all, what was the worst that could happen|?
Utter humiliation.
Or, Robbie might come to his senses at last and see how laughable this really was.
Worst of all, the rest of his clan might reject her, forcing him to choose between his bride and his duty to the McGregors.
But there was nothing to be done about any of it, not right now. She nestled into Robbie and closed her eyes. There would be time enough to confront her demons in the weeks, months, and years to come.
The next day they skirted the northern shore of Loch Alsh. The weather was kind to them, unusually mild for autumn. The waters of the loch rippled in the light breeze, glistening in the thin October sunlight. Robbie reined in his horse and gestured to Jane to do the same. He raised his hand to shield his eyes and gazed across the loch.
“See, on the opposite shore. That is Skye. We are almost home.”
Home? Jane schooled her thoughts. She must learn to think of it so, though she found herself surrounded by a landscape completely alien to her. She surveyed the mountains beyond the loch, took in the bright orange heathers, fringed in purples and green, the majestic backdrop of the glens rising high against the slate-grey skies. The Highland scenery was majestic, she supposed, and possessed a timeless grandeur all of its own. This rugged vista lacked the gentle lushness of the English hills and dales, but even so, the dramatic backdrop spoke to something within Jane’s soul. She could belong here, surely she could. She had only to let it happen.
The ferry that would allegedly carry them safe across the water turned out to be little more than a few planks of roughhewn timber lashed together to form a floating platform, onto that were herded the skittish horses, and the foot passengers.
“In rough weather it would not be possible tae cross,” Robbie explained. “This is partly why my father was so keen not tae delay our return. The winter will close in soon enough.”
Jane could not recall ever having lifted her feet from dry land before and did not relish the prospect now. The proposed means of transport appeared altogether too flimsy to her, a veritable death trap, but she had put her faith in Robbie McGregor several times already and not been disappointed. She took his hand, squeezed her eyes tight shut, and stepped on board.
The crossing took the better part of two hours, during which Jane was quite convinced she was about to cast up her innards. No matter how often Robbie assured her that the water was smooth, the craft sturdy, and the crossing perfectly safe, she insisted upon reserving judgement until they were safely on the opposite shore. And once there, she would not be keen to make the return journey, however hostile her new life might become.
“I am a nursemaid,” she snapped, when Robbie asked her yet again if she was quite all right. “Not a bloody duck. If the dear Lord intended me to float on water he would have provided me with webbed feet.”
He wrapped his arms about her and chuckled. “We made a horsewoman of ye. Perhaps, yet, we may make ye a sailor.”
She might have had more to say on the matter, but she feared she would either lose her breakfast and be utterly disgraced or be tossed into the waves if the ferry tilted ever so slightly. Jane opted to concentrate on survival. She fixed her gaze on the opposite shore and prayed for deliverance.
The Lord provided. They reached the ramshackle harbour on Skye with barely damp feet. Jane could scarcely believe it and skipped ashore with considerably more enthusiasm than she had been able to muster thus far on their journey. Soon, the entire party had remounted and embarked on the final leg of their expedition.
There was a distinct chill in the air as they made camp on Skye. This would be their final night in the open. They had been on the road for almost two weeks, and apart from one night spent at an inn close to Stirling, they had slept beneath the stars. Jane longed for a warm, soft bed and a cosy fireside, but in the absence of such luxuries was glad of Robbie’s warmth.
The next day dawned bright. Jane rose, ready to complete their journey, but paused to take in the imposing surroundings bathed in the dawn light. The Highlands truly were beautiful, spectacular even, though at the same time imposing and somewhat austere. She could see now where Robbie McGregor got his wild and demanding nature from.
Jane gasped at her first sight of Duncleit keep. It was large, much more formidable in appearance than Mortain castle. This was, indeed, a suitable family seat for the Clan McGregor. Constructed from harsh grey granite, the walls reared high and solid, a stern, impregnable deterrent to any approaching warlord foolhardy enough to think to attack. Turrets jutted up at each corner. The flag of the Scottish crown fluttered from the most northerly one, and the McGregor colours from the one opposite. In the centre, protected by the soaring curtain walls, the keep towered over the rest of the structure, its narrow windows promising views of the surrounding countryside on all sides.
A village lay scattered about the foot of the castle walls, a handful of cottages, and Jane fancied she also made out a forge, a kirk, and a few pens for livestock. In the late afternoon sunlight Jane could just discern figures moving about in the distance, and men stationed on the turrets. She knew the precise moment their approach was sighted, the sudden tensing as the inhabitants of Duncleit prepared to defend themselves and their home. This was followed, moments later, by the joy of recognition when the familiar colours were spotted, the approaching riders identified as friends.
“We are home, sweetheart.” Robbie leaned over and planted a kiss on her lips. “Welcome tae Duncleit, Janie.”
* * *
Blair McGregor led his weary party across the drawbridge and into the courtyard beyond. Grooms flocked to grab dangling reins. Servants scurried about making preparations to greet their laird. A girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen dashed down the steps leading from the main portal leading from the castle and flung herself into The McGregor’s arms.
“Da, ye’re home. What took ye so long? We heard about the fightin’ and—”
Blair McGregor hugged the girl and kissed her soundly on the forehead. “Now, lass, ye’re tae greet your mother too, an’ your brother. An’ we have a new sister for ye tae harass also.”
“A new sister?” The girl peered at the riders, and Jane fancied she frowned at the sight of Robbie assisting her from Primrose’s back. “Who is this, then?”
“Have I failed utterly to instil in you any social graces whatsoever?” Lady Roselyn came to stand beside her husband. “Come, child, give me a hug, then I shall introduce you, and you will bid Jane welcome.”
The girl allowed herself to be drawn into her mother’s arms and suffered a kiss on each cheek. Jane got a good look at her, and decided the girl was pretty enough, with her bright auburn hair and freckled complexion, though her attire left something to be desired. The girl wore a tunic and leggings, and if Jane was not sorely mistaken she sported a sword dangling from her belt.
A warrior maiden? Jane had heard of such females but had never encountered such an individual before. She concluded that these Highlanders were indeed an odd lot. Especially as the laird seemed not in the least surprised by his daughter’s appearance.
Another young woman, this one closer to Jane’s own age, perhaps a year or two younger, appeared at the top of the steps, framed in the doorway. Tall, slender, her waist-length dark hair caught back and ornately plaited, she folded her hands in front of her and calmly observed the chaos below her in the courtyard. Her father caught sight of her and his face split in a wide grin.
“Ah, ‘tis our own wee Rose
lyn. Have ye no’ a kiss an’ a hug for your da, lass?”
The young woman, presumably named for her mother, descended the stairs gracefully and approached her father. “Ye’re somewhat dusty, Da. I expect ye might like a nice bath? Mama, too? I have instructed Annie tae see tae it.”
Blair closed the short distance between them, wrapped his arms about the girl and lifted her bodily. By the time he had swung her around him twice, she was clinging to his neck and trying hard not to giggle. Her father relented, planted her back on her feet, and kissed her soundly. “I daresay Annie will ha’ set the water to boil at the first sight of us on yonder glen. A bath will be nice, aye, but first I want tae know how my wee girls have been while we’ve been away. I missed ye, the pair o’ ye. An’ ye need tae meet Robbie’s wee Janie.”
Robbie’s wee Janie? She supposed that must be her. Jane stepped up, her hand outstretched. “I am Jane Bartle. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Roselyn. And Lady...?”
Young Lady Roselyn took her hand first. “Miss Bartle. Welcome tae Duncleit.” It would seem her mother’s efforts had not been wasted on this graceful young lady.
“Thank you. I—”
“What does Da mean? How can ye be our Robbie’s Janie?” The younger of the sisters came straight to the point, a trait seemingly deplored by her mother who rolled her sightless eyes. “Our Robbie doesnae have a Janie.”
“I... I am—”
“Now, Fee, Jane is tae be my wife.” Robbie put an abrupt stop to Jane’s spluttering. He tossed the reins of his horse to a passing groom and slung his arm about her shoulders. “Jane, may I introduce my sisters? This is Roselyn, an’ this wee harridan is Fiona.”
Jane did not recall any mention of younger sisters up to now, and clearly the young McGregor ladies were equally surprised by her presence in their home. She resolved to take up the matter with Robbie, later. For now, she had to settle for smiling at each and hoping they would not take against her too soon.
Robbie continued, still addressing his sisters. “We’ve had a long journey an’ we are all tired an’ more than a bit sweaty. Since Jane will be sharing my chamber, I should be obliged, Rosie, if ye would show her the way. You too, Fee. Ye can all get tae know one another. An’ perhaps Annie can be prevailed upon tae warm up a bit more water since Janie would likely appreciate a bath as well. Oh, an’ some food wouldnae go amiss either.”
“Aye, we shall eat.” Blair McGregor took his wife’s hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “All of us. Let’s be gettin’ inside, out o’ this wind.”
Jane expected to ascend the steps beside Robbie, but this was not to be. The ‘wee harridan’ shouldered her brother out of the way and linked her arm with Jane’s. The other McGregor girl, Roselyn, took Jane’s other elbow and she was marched up the steps and into the keep.
“Ye can have that bath if ye like, but it might be better tae eat first?” Fiona suggested, steering Jane toward the high table at the far end of the spacious Duncleit great hall. “We have venison stew, wi’ turnips an’ leeks. It doesnae do tae let this lot eat first.”
“I am sure that I shall—”
“No, Fee is right,” Roselyn offered her opinion. “If ye waste time splashin’ about in the tub ye’ll be left wi’ the scraggiest bits o’ meat. Ye can have a bath later. First, ye should sit here, wi’ us, an’ we’ll be hearin’ all about you an’ our Robbie.”
“Oh, I see, well, then...”
Moments later Jane found herself seated somewhere close to the centre of the long table, Fiona and Roselyn flanking her on both sides. The laird himself took the main seat right in the middle, and Lady Roselyn settled in beside him. Robbie winked at Jane as he took a seat several feet away. It seemed he meant to leave her at the mercy of his sisters.
Chapter Twenty-Three
His instincts had been right. With Janie, it was best to toss her right into the deepest water and she would sink or swim. Invariably, in Robbie’s experience with her thus far, she would swim. Despite her baffling ramblings about not being equal to the task before her, in truth, not much bested Jane Bartle. Why, when he had such faith in her, did she continue to doubt herself?
There was no better introduction to life at Duncleit than could be provided by his gregarious younger sisters. As different from each other as night from day, they nevertheless got on famously together and always presented a united front. Provided Janie did not manage to upset either one, they would welcome her warmly enough.
Fiona, the youngest in his family, known as Fee, rejected all things feminine and insisted she would be a mighty warrior when she was grown. Her doting father had indulged her whims, even letting his daughter train with the young men of the clan. In truth, Fee was a better than decent swordswoman, and she could sit a horse as well as any man. Robbie would not wager against her achieving her ambitions and meant to speak with his father regarding her role at Duncleit. Perhaps, provided she could win the respect of the men, she might command his guards. She could do worse than learn from Archie, and he would have a captain of his garrison whose loyalty would never waver.
Wee Roselyn, Rosie, was altogether different. She longed for marriage and her own keep. At eighteen, most would consider her old enough, though Robbie knew his father did not favour early marriages. And The McGregor was extremely selective when it came to potential husbands for his girls, especially since Joan had married and not found happiness in the state. Blair McGregor could not be accused of not learning from his mistakes, so Rosie would have to wait until her father could be persuaded the time was right, and the man in question truly worthy of her.
As the household feasted to welcome back their laird and his heir, Blair McGregor received the reports of those left to manage the household in his absence. Robbie paid attention as the tenants, the steward, and the captain of the Duncleit garrison filed in front of the high table to give their accounts to their laird. This concerned him also.
It seemed their crops had done well enough. The harvest was all gathered in without mishap or loss. Their home was sufficiently remote not to be bothered unduly by reivers or bandits, though the captain of his father’s guard was well aware that vigilance was always called for. Repairs to the southern turret were underway following damage caused by a heavy rainstorm a few weeks previously. His father’s steward had consulted with Rosie in the laird’s absence and they had agreed to proceed with the repairs because they were anxious to complete the work before the bad weather set in.
That was a good decision. A sensible lass, Rosie was reliable, a tad overconfident on occasions, but she would doubtless manage her own home well enough when the time came. Robbie hoped she might help Janie, too. The combination of Rosie’s determined self-assurance and Annie Drummond’s solid housekeeping experience would be all the preparation required to fit Janie for her role, could the stubborn wench but see it.
Laughter from along the table caught his attention. He leaned forward, saw Janie stifling her giggles at something Fee must have said. Rosie wagged her finger at her younger sister in mock admonition. It seemed the young women were doing well enough.
* * *
“Thank ye, Agnes. I shall provide any assistance required from here.” Robbie dismissed the maidservant who had been attending Jane’s bath, and softly closed the door behind her. He pulled up a stool and settled himself behind Jane. “Shall I help ye tae rinse your hair?”
“Must you scandalise the servants so? It is bad enough that you insist we must share a chamber...”
Robbie glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. “She did not appear even slightly scandalised tae me. All here ken well enough what our arrangement is.”
“Even so, I do not think—”
“Janie, this is the Highlands, not an English country house. We deal with such matters in a more... direct manner here an’ no one will turn a hair that ye share my bed. We are tae be wed, are we no’?”
Strictly speaking, she had not yet agreed, but in consenting to this trial
arrangement, Robbie considered the matter all but settled. “So, your hair?”
“Well, you have had practice, I suppose.” It was true, he had, though the Swan Inn in Stratford seemed a lifetime ago now. He pulled the spare pail of heated water closer to him and gently guided Jane’s head back until the long tresses floated in the bucket. He worked the soap out, taking his time to admire the generous swell of her breasts where they emerged from the bubbles.
“You should have told me about your younger sisters,” Jane chided. “I was taken by surprise. I had no idea...”
“I thought ye were gettin’ on well enough.”
“Yes, but still.”
He shrugged. “This is a large household, ye knew that. There are many for ye still tae meet.”
“I know that. But, sisters...”
“Ye have sisters too. Is that right?” He picked up a wooden cup and gently poured water over her head.
“Yes, I do. Nine of them. Six older than me, and three younger. I have five brothers, too. Roselyn reminded me a bit of our Nancy, in fact. She is my eldest sister and she is quite serious, too, very conscientious.”
“Ah, yes, I suppose ye could describe Rosie like that,” he murmured.
“I do not believe I have ever met anyone quite like Fiona, though.”
Robbie was not inclined to argue.
“She seemed ferocious initially, but she is very nice really. Quite outrageous, but such fun.”
“Aye. She leads my mother a pretty dance.”
“I expect so. She... she invited me to go with her to the village tomorrow. She will show me around, she says.”
“I see. That will be helpful, I daresay.”
Jane sat up and turned to regard him. “You do not mind?”
“Of course not, though if she tries tae convince ye tae try a wee drop o’ whisky round the back o’ the forge I would recommend ye decline.”