Seducing His Sassenach

by Ashe Barker

  “Whisky?”

  “Aye. Auld Dougall, the smithy, has a wee still there. ‘Tis a powerful brew, an’ not for the unwary.” He was thinking of her reaction to wine and could see no good coming of a flirtation with Auld Dougall’s heady concoction, delicious though it was.

  Mercifully, Jane agreed. “Thank you. I shall remember that. Please, could you pass me a towel?”

  * * *

  Despite her promise not to indulge in further experimentation with alcohol, Robbie was relieved to see Jane and Fee return from their excursion the following morning none the worse for drink. Jane was beaming as the pair trotted across the drawbridge, clearly enjoying herself, making friends, and becoming accepted among her new people. He strolled across the courtyard to meet them.

  “A pleasant excursion?” He dropped a kiss on Jane’s mouth.

  “It was delightful. Such nice people. We met a woman who makes potions...”

  “Ah, that would be Euna.”

  Jane nodded. “Yes, that was it. And there was a man, Rodric, who was fixing a fishing net. There are trout in the loch...”

  “Aye, there are. Fine, fat trout. Would ye like tae go fishing, Janie?”

  “Rodric said he would take me.”

  “I expect he did. Rodric always did have an eye for a pretty woman.”

  “Robbie!” She punched his arm. “He was very sweet and must be at least a hundred years old!”

  A slight exaggeration, though perhaps not too far wide of the mark. Rodric Randall had taught his father to fish, as well as both Robbie and Jamie. Clearly, the man had lost none of his charm with his advancing years. Robbie decided to change the subject slightly.

  “Have ye met Annie Drummond properly yet?”

  Jane shook her head. “She was too busy last night, what with our arrival, getting the food ready and everything. And I have been out today. Your mother promised to take me down to the kitchens later.”

  “I can take ye now,” Fee announced. “There may be gingerbread, or perhaps a warm scone.”

  “Oh, I could not trouble you...”

  Robbie opted to head off any further arguments. “We shall all go. Scones, d’ye say?”

  * * *

  As a small boy Robbie had loved to venture down the back stairs into the cavernous kitchens presided over by Elspeth, his father’s housekeeper. She had always welcomed the children of the household and could be relied upon to provide sweet treats, often in return for a spot of labour. Robbie had stirred puddings and turned spits in his time, fascinated by the heat and clamour of this underground world. He remembered those times now as they descended the steep spiral staircase.

  The huge kitchen was dominated by the enormous hearth in which a huge fire crackled. A spit was suspended above the flames, upon which a whole hog was impaled. A lad of about twelve years old turned the handle under the watchful eye of the housekeeper and chief cook.

  “Wee Fergus, ye’re too close tae the fire now. D’ye think the laird wants tae be eatin’ roast boy for ‘is supper? Move yer stool back, see?” Annie edged the boy a little further from the roaring fire, then put a biscuit in his grimy hand. “If I have tae tell ye again, ye’ll be cleanin’ out the privies.”

  The boy muttered something, which earned him a gentle tap on his upper arm. “Mind yer manners, lad, or your mam’ll be hearin’ all about it, ye mind my words.”

  “Ruling with a rod of iron, I see, Annie,” Robbie called to the housekeeper from the foot of the stairs. “Is it safe tae come in?”

  Annie swung around, her ruddy face beaming. “Ah, there ye be. An’ is that wee Fiona with ye? I was wonderin’ how long it’d take ye tae come an’ seek me out. I have some apple pudding just coolin’ down, if ye’re interested?”

  Robbie slung his arm around Jane. “Aye, ‘tis Fee. An’ I have brought Jane tae meet ye as well. We are tae be wed, just as soon as I can convince her she need not worry about the runnin’ o’ Duncleit as long as ye’re here.”

  “Jane? Jane, is it? I had ‘eard that we were tae be havin’ a new lady o’ this keep. I’m right glad tae make your acquaintance, my lady.”

  “Oh, no, I am just Jane. Jane Bartle.”

  “Well, ye will be Lady Jane soon enough,” Robbie corrected. “Ye may as well try it on for size.”

  “I really do not think—”

  “What are the three o’ ye doin’ clutterin’ up my stairway? Come in, come in, let’s be gettin ye all sat down.” Annie marched across the kitchen to usher them forward.

  The massive oak table in the centre of her domain was clearly their destination, and Robbie gestured to Jane to be seated on one of the benches running the length of it. He and Fiona sat opposite.

  Annie was still issuing instructions to her minions. “Wee Fergus, ye can stop yer gawpin’ an’ bring some ale. You, Tilly, ye can fetch the apple puddin’. If there’s talkin’ tae be done we may as well fill our bellies while we’re at it.”

  “Ah, yes. Elspeth taught ye well, Annie.” Robbie nodded his thanks at the lad who slopped a jug of ale on the table. “Janie was hopin’ ye might be able tae give her a few pointers in the runnin’ of the household.”

  “Ee, lass, I’d be right glad tae. An’ o’ course there’s Lady Roselyn an’ young Rosie too.”

  “I know that, and they have both been most kind,” Jane replied. “But, I have never had to run a house like this before. It is all very... daunting.”

  “Then I shall help ye, just while ye’re gettin’ used tae the way o’ things. Ye will want tae keep me on, I hope.”

  “Keep you on?” Jane looked horrified. “Of course. How would we ever manage without you? I have no idea where to start.”

  “Well, I’ll no’ tell ye it’s easy, lass. It took me years tae learn, an’ I grew up ‘ere. But ye will have years, I daresay, and ye’ll get the hang of it. If ye want tae cook, then I shall teach ye. If ye want tae supervise the cleanin’ an’ the laundry an’ such like, then I can teach ye that, as well. We shall manage, between us. Or if ye prefer tae concentrate on the wee ones, when they arrive, o’ course, that will be grand. Lady Roselyn allus preferred tae be wi’ her bairns an’ she raised ‘em well enough.” Annie dumped a large earthenware bowl in the middle of the table along with three wooden spoons. “Go on, ‘elp yourselves. I recall as how this was allus one o’ your favourites, Robbie, lad.”

  * * *

  Back in the chamber they shared, Jane sank onto the end of the bed. “Things are certainly different here.” She muttered the thought to herself. “I had no idea...”

  “Did I no’ tell ye? Ye’re no’ in a Dorset manor house now.”

  “I had not expected such... informality. Annie actually called you ‘Robbie lad.’”

  “Aye. She always did. When Jamie and I were very little, Annie did your old job. She was our nurse, or something along those lines. My mother looked after us, but as she has no sight, Annie was always there, helping out. I seem tae recall Elspeth spoke tae my father in much the same way, though Annie always calls him ‘laird.’ I daresay ye would be the same, wi’ wee Cecily.”

  “I... I have never thought about it.”

  “Aye, well, ye see now how it is here. Ye can rely on Annie, an’ Rosie, too, at least until she is wed an’ moves away. Ye’ll no’ be alone, an’ no one is judging. All pull their weight here at Duncleit, and ye will be no different. Just how ye do that, though, is up tae ye.”

  Jane lay back, but her eyes remained open. She gazed up at the canopy of the bed, obviously deep in thought.

  Robbie settled himself on the window seat and surveyed the courtyard below. Fiona was down there, conversing with two of his father’s soldiers. The McGregor himself joined them. From this distance, his father’s limp was clear to see, his injuries sustained at Flodden obviously still bothering him. For the first time that he could ever recall, Robbie thought his father looked less than immortal. As heir, he needed to pull his own weight more, relieve his father of some of the burden of leading thei
r clan. It was right that he had come home. He had responsibilities and he would not be shirking them. All he required was the right bride, and she was even now lying on his bed, doubtless thinking up more daft reasons why she was somehow not good enough to be the next Lady McGregor.

  He had done all he could. His family had done their part. His household, too. He had been patient and persistent. It was up to her now.

  “I promised my da that I would go wi’ him tae deal wi’ some quarrel that has sprung up. It seems a couple o’ the villagers cannae agree on who should be plantin’ turnips i’ the northeast meadow next spring.” He perched on the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss her. “I shall see ye at the evenin’ meal, if no’ before.”

  “Very well. I agree.”

  He had reached the door when her quiet words halted him. He turned to regard her. “Janie?”

  She pushed herself up onto her elbows. “I said, I agree.”

  “You agree? Is this about turnips?”

  “No, it is about us. You and I. I will marry you.”

  He stood, rooted to the spot. Robbie had waited so long to hear these words and now he could come up with no ready answer suited to the occasion. He settled for the first thing to enter his head. “Thank fuck for that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Duncleit Castle, Isle of Skye, May 1514

  “Has Robbie mentioned anything to you, Lady Roselyn? About our wedding?”

  Jane hesitated to raise such a delicate subject with her future mother-by-marriage, but matters were coming to a head. She needed to seek counsel from someone, and Lady Roselyn could be trusted to be discreet.

  Lady Roselyn set aside the length of plaited wool she had been working on. She was fashioning a belt for her husband, one that would go nicely with his McGregor tartan. Jane had helped her to select just the right shades of dyed wool, but the laird’s wife’s had deft fingers and required no further assistance. She did, though, welcome the company. Jane often sat with her and the pair had grown as close as Jane had been to her own mother.

  “Your wedding, Jane?” Lady Roselyn furrowed her brow. “No, he has not. I was not aware that arrangements had been made yet.”

  “That is the difficulty. You see, we have been at Duncleit for over six months now and living as though we were married.” She flushed slightly, though of course Lady Roselyn was not to know that. Jane continued. “Robbie appeared quite keen that I should agree to wed him...”

  “Yes, he did. That I do recall most clearly.”

  “And I have agreed to be his wife. I know I was tardy in arriving at my decision, but since then, every time I have raised the matter of agreeing a date and making the arrangements, he changes the subject.”

  “I imagine it is merely that he would have wished to delay until the end of the winter. It is difficult to travel when the weather closes in and I know he would want all his family here for such an important occasion.”

  “I do appreciate that. I really do. But it has been two months since the last snow. The ground is clear, the weather quite mild, in fact. He could send for Sir James and Lady Eleanor at any time, yet he makes excuses not to do so.”

  “Excuses? Whatever do you mean, Jane?” Lady Roselyn appeared perplexed.

  “He will say that the time is not quite right. Or that he has pressing matters to deal with. You took a chill last month, if you remember, and he used that as a reason.”

  “Oh.”

  “I... I wonder if, perhaps, he is no longer quite so convinced that I am the right bride for him.” There, she had said it. Her worst fears had been put into words. They were out there. Jane could almost imagine them, wriggling on the table between them, like nasty little worms.

  Roselyn reached for Jane’s hands. “No. Do not even think that. My son adores you, on that I am perfectly certain.”

  “Then, why will he not make me his wife? Maybe it is because I share his bed already, and he does not need to.”

  “Jane, you cannot believe such a thing.”

  Jane shook her head, ashamed that she had voiced such an ungenerous thought aloud. “No, of course I do not. Forgive me. I just... it is just that I was so worried, before, so sure things would go wrong. Now that the matter has been decided, I want to get on with it. I do not understand the delay.”

  “Have you asked Robbie? Have you explained to him how you feel?”

  “I have asked him, yes. He simply tells me to be patient, that we shall be wed soon enough. But, you see, we should not delay much longer.”

  Lady Roselyn smiled. “But, my dear, you have your whole lives before you. I am sure a month or two will make no difference.”

  “I fear that it might. It will. You see, I... I am to have a baby...”

  “Oh! Oh, my darling girl. I am so pleased. How long have you known?” Roselyn flung her arms about Jane and hugged her close. “Another grandchild here at Duncleit. How wonderful...”

  Jane hugged her back, though tears pricked at her eyes. “I know. It is what I always wanted, a child of my own.”

  “Well, of course. You are so good with the little ones. You will be a wonderful mother. And Robbie will be a doting father. When will you tell him?”

  Jane extricated herself from Roselyn’s embrace. “That is the problem. You see, I have told him, yet still he refuses to even start preparing for our wedding. That is why I am so worried now, and why I have troubled you with this. If he does not wish to marry, I would prefer he tell me so. If we are not wed by the time our child is born, all will arrive at the same conclusion I have, that he has changed his mind.”

  “He has not changed his mind. I am sure of it.” Roselyn’s usually gentle tone firmed. “My son will not abandon you or his child. You must have patience and faith. It will be all right, I know it.”

  “But—”

  “I will speak with Robbie, if that would make you feel better.”

  “Would you?”

  “Yes, but only to allay your fears. I am convinced you are worrying needlessly.”

  Jane desperately wanted to agree but could not find it within herself to do so. Something was wrong, she just knew it. What was Robbie not telling her?

  * * *

  A week had passed since her awkward conversation with Lady Roselyn. Jane was sure that his mother had spoken to him, as she had promised, because Robbie went out of his way to be loving and considerate, even more so than he had when she first agreed to marry him. He had even dumped a squirming puppy in her lap the day before, announcing that the sleek little spaniel would make a fine playmate for their child. He appeared as delighted as she with the news that they were to be parents, was looking forward to meeting his son. He insisted the little one would be a boy, but still he made no mention of a wedding.

  Jane sighed as she made her way down into the kitchens to spend an hour or two with Annie. The puppy trotted at her heels, then spent the next little while scuttling about the kitchens in search of scraps of food, or perhaps unwary rodents. Jane busied herself peeling carrots for the broth Annie intended to serve that evening but was forced to abandon her efforts when she was seized by a wave of nausea. She had been quite all right at first, but this last week or so, the sickness had made itself known. Her condition was obvious to all, now.

  Annie fussed over her, discreetly removing the bucket Jane had used and replacing it with a clean one. She plied Jane with buttermilk, which she insisted would calm her stomach, and be good for the unborn babe too.

  “Ye need tae keep your strength up, lassie,” she insisted. “Shall I send out tae Euna for one o’ her herbal remedies? She’s well known for such things and most o’ the women hereabouts swear by ‘er treatments.”

  “No, thank you. I shall be fine. Maybe I could just sit here a while...” Jane was exhausted. She tired so easily these days and it seemed that today she was to be defeated by nothing more taxing than a handful of carrots.

  “Aye, lass. Ye make yourself comfortable, then.” Annie shoved a stool close to her fe
et and Jane was glad enough to rest her heels on it. Maybe she would close her eyes, just for a few minutes...

  She was woken by Annie shaking her shoulder. “Lass, ye’re needed upstairs. In the hall. There’s visitors, an’ Robbie has asked that ye join him.”

  “Visitors? Who...?” Jane shook her head in an attempt to clear it.

  “I dinnae ken, lass. All I know is that we suddenly have a houseful o’ guests all wantin’ feedin’ nae doubt, an’ Robbie is askin’ for ye tae go up tae the hall. I gather he’s had servants lookin’ all over for ye.”

  “Oh, dear, I should have told him where I was going.” Jane got to her feet. “Thank you, for everything.”

  “Ah, be off wi’ ye, lass. Ye just had a wee nap, ‘tis all. Now, I best be gettin’ on. If there are visitors then there’ll nae doubt be feastin’ later. I think there’s still a haunch o’ venison i’ the larder an’ it willnae cook itself.”

  Jane supposed not. She left the cook to her work and ascended the winding staircase that led to a small anteroom off the great hall. She heard the hum of voices before she even reached halfway. It sounded as though quite a crowd had descended upon them.

  She was obliged to step smartly to one side when a small figure came barrelling down the steps toward her. Young Duncan, Lady Joan’s boy, scuttled past on his way to beg a treat from Annie. It would seem nothing much altered across the generations here.

  Duncan? Then if he is here, perhaps...

  Jane hurried up the remaining stairs and into the anteroom. She paused at the door to the hall to take in the scene of rowdy chaos before her. Sir James and Lady Eleanor were here, as she had suspected, and Lady Joan, of course. The earl and countess were already embracing the laird and his wife. She spotted Archie, too. And could that be Betsy and Aiden? It appeared that the entire household at Mortain, servants as well as family, had arrived at Duncleit without warning. There had to be at least two dozen souls crowded into their hall.

  Or, was it without warning? The welcome was genuine enough, but it did not appear to Jane, watching from the outside, that any of the McGregors seemed especially surprised to see one another. She watched, curious, as Robbie crossed the hall to greet Archie Montgomery, slapping his friend on the back and grinning like a fool. She was too far away to hear what was said, but it was clear that Robbie was well pleased with Archie.