Rescued by a Highlander

by Susan Payne

  All three women’s eyes focused on Jillian’s reaction unsure if she cared what the Laird’s wife should wear, but Jillian knew they were only trying to please her as well as the Laird so gave in. “What do you suggest, Lady Edith?”

  The merchant, who had braved the inclement weather and the distance to make a sale, came forward and held out the end of a bolt of turquoise blue and paired it with a silver ribbon for trim. Then he pulled forward a bolt of green that also brought out the color of her eyes.

  Jillian fingered both, liking the weight of the material and the pattern hidden in the green brocade. There was also heavier material for a velvet short gown to cover the turquoise along with braid that could be interwoven on the back to tighten it to her figure to keep her warm in the winter months.

  Finally, she sat back and allowed Lady Edith and Agatha to have their say in what materials and trims should be purchased since they both seemed to know what would go well together. After all, they would be the seamstresses on the gowns, as well.

  As the number of items piled up, Jillian said quietly to Agatha, “This seems like a great amount to spend on just cloth.”

  “This is how we have always done things. We buy now and then sew throughout the year. The Laird can easily afford what we are purchasing and I am authorized to do so,” she explained as Lady Edith added some soft muslin and simple linen possibly for sheets and other household needs.

  The merchant left the keep after staying overnight, and a frenzy of sewing began. Even Ann was brought in to do her fine hand-stitching to the many dresses that the others thought Jillian needed. Not that it changed anything much for Jillian who was only bothered by fittings. Since she never learned how to sew, she couldn’t help with the work even if she had the inclination.

  She left the others using words like ‘sacque dress’ and ‘round dress with trumpet sleeves’ as if they were in some sort of foreign land with a foreign language. At least it made no sense to her. When they began speaking of pleats and gussets and engageantes she knew she would be best in another part of the keep. Anywhere they could not trail her for another fitting.

  Jillian rode out of the keep alone once again while the gate guards watched stonily. They evidently were not told to prevent her leaving and no one mentioned her needing a guide when she had Lancelot saddled. She took only her bow and quiver and a large, empty woven sack which she hoped to have filled by the end of the day with fat fresh salmon to be salted or dried for the winter. Jillian hoped Cook knew a good fish head stew recipe, for it was a favorite of Lord Riley.

  She rode directly to the stream that eventually meandered through the woods. The salmon she noticed before hid in the shade of the stones and bank blending in with the river’s bottom. Trying to hide from the birds she knew thrived on the fish of the region.

  Standing almost knee-deep in the cold water, she knocked an arrow and sent it flying to hit its mark barely sending a ripple of warning to the other fish resting not far away. Reaching down to the shaft of her arrow, she lifted it quickly tossing the fish up onto the bank where it flopped a couple of times before laying quietly.

  She repeated the process again and again, walking stealthily through the stream, surprising the sleeping fish as she invaded their territory. Finally, out of arrows, although she could retrieve those that stayed with the salmon as she tossed their bodies, Jillian began the long trek back to where Lancelot was waiting.

  Filling the sack, she placed the arrows into her quiver without losing any. She knew not to shoot a fish that was right in front of a rock where the chance of damage to the point was certain.

  Jillian took her bag to Cook who became very excited having the fresh salmon to work with and handed the heavy sack to one of the other kitchen servants to scale and gut the treasure. On the way out, Jillian mentioned her father’s preference for fish-head stew and Cook smiled and told her it would be added to supper’s fare.

  After another two-weeks, Jillian woke to feeling not quite right. Not ill but like possibly she had eaten something that did not agree with her. She sat and read in the library area after getting dressed, but skipped breaking her fast, thinking it best not to upset her stomach more than it already was.

  She wouldn’t follow her usual daily routine either until her stomach settled. She had been going daily to the dungeon area and lifting weighted objects to keep her muscles firm. After retrieving her broadsword, she worked out in secret since she wasn’t sure how the rest of the castle’s members would accept their master’s wife as a warrior. She had been present so long it seemed as if everyone had forgotten how she came to be there. That she had challenged Gawain and tried to kill him as he defended himself.

  Lady Edith came up to the room and entered with a cup of hot tea. “This may have you feeling better, Jillian. Your father and I missed your daily visit and then Ann said you missed breaking your fast, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t think I should try anything right now. I’ll come down for supper, I promise,” she said glaring at the cup as if it were an adder.

  “I think you’ll find that this is what you need. Remember when I explained how you would know if you were with child or not? I think this is the first of many symptoms. Now try to drink this while it is still hot. It will settle your stomach but won’t make the sickness go away completely, merely make it more manageable. You must keep eating during this time because the baby is doing a lot of growing. It will be a real little person by now and you are responsible for his or her care as the case may be.”

  Lady Edith continued speaking as Jillian tried recovering from the shock of finding she was going to give birth to a baby in a few months, possibly by next summer. If Lady Edith noticed the silence of the new mother-to-be, she did not say so.

  “Does my father know?” Was the only thing that came to her mind to say.

  “No, I think you should tell, Gawain, first and then announce it to the clan in a few days or weeks as you decide. You are so thin you will begin to show in another month so I wouldn’t attempt to keep it quiet for too long. Besides, if I know, Gawain, he will want to crow like the proudest of roosters about his upcoming heir.”

  “Is there some way to know that it will be a son?”

  “No, only a strong tradition in our family. The first is always a boy. And the percentage of males to females is skewed to the males by three to one,” Lady Edith confided.

  Jillian appealed to the woman who seemed more and more like a mother to her and asked worriedly, “How do I tell, Gawain? I don’t know how he is going to take the news.”

  “You’ll know when the time is right but I think he will be overjoyed. You should not worry about how he will take the news. But beware, he will wrap you in fleece, trying to protect you and his child.” The other woman stood and left Jillian to think about what the news meant to her and her plans to return home to force Dennis out of her father’s house.

  Gawain had a surprise for Jillian that evening when he returned from his visit to a neighboring clan. He brought a priest back with him who was to perform the wedding ceremony, making everything official. Jillian wanted to put off the ceremony until spring as they had discussed when they became handfasted. Now she knew she carried his child she could not in good conscience deny his wish to marry. His child needed the protection of his name and the clan, especially if Dennis felt the child endangered his hold over the title and land that still belonged to her father.

  That evening there was a celebration even though the wedding wouldn’t be held until the next morning. Jillian was too nervous to eat much. Besides her stomach was acting strangely once again. She would need to get some of that tea from Lady Edith but she didn’t wish to do so in the middle of the celebration. She did not usually drink tea and the change in her behavior could become fodder for the gossip mill that any castle can become when someone thinks they know something no one else does.

  The priest sat next to her on the dais and was very pleasant and pleased to be able to do this favor for th
e Laird. Evidently the priest travelled in this area often and would make the keep one of his resting places if he would be welcomed. Jillian told the man that, of course, he would be and glanced over to her husband to see if he had over-heard and he had.

  She slept alone for the first night since her handfasting, which made her a little uneasy. She was used to hearing Gawain’s breathing next to her, his arm or leg thrown over her body to make sure she was where he left her. She found she missed his warmth as early morning brought the coldest air.

  Ann came in early with the tub for Jillian’s weekly bath and buckets of water followed. Jillian remained in bed until everything was made ready and then got out hopping into the tub before she became too chilled. She bathed and Ann came in with a dress the women had hurried to finish. Green brocade trimmed with gold and accompanied with a sheer veil held in place by a ring of gold chain. There were slippers to match, trimmed with gold colored buttons and beads.

  Lord Riley came to accompany his daughter to the great hall where an altar had been improvised. She walked toward the priest and her husband, his blue eyes clear and bright with appreciation of her appearance. She left her hair down as usual but she thought it was how he liked it as well. She couldn’t smile but Gawain couldn’t stop so between the two the clan was happy with their performance. She said her part as Gawain said his and then they were man and wife. Never to be put asunder.

  Jillian felt as if she were going through a type of dream, but answered when spoken to and must have answered appropriately because no one seemed to question her or look at her strangely.

  The day was to be treated as a holiday. No one was to work except those who cared for the animals and those who worked in the kitchen. Everyone was in a joyous mood. Some bemoaned that there was no roasted boar. They had eaten the one Jillian killed the day after she came back in that bloody state. At least the pup survived and his mother was to give birth to another litter in a few weeks.

  But the kitchens did well in the short time to prepare and no one was disappointed with the feast as it arrived platter by platter and bowl by bowl.

  Jillian didn’t dare eat much and drank not at all. The smell of wine or cider almost turning her stomach. As she remembered the day, she was locked into the dungeon drinking so much wine, she felt she turned the same green as her dress. Soon the festivities were well on their way. She thought to escape, return to the room, and get out of her finery before she was sick all over it.

  Gawain seemed worried, but she smiled and explained she had not slept the night before due to excitement. He nodded and then his attention was occupied by the musician who began playing a Scottish ballad while many joined in singing the familiar words.

  Jillian just made it to her room running to the chamber pot before laying down on the bed waiting for her stomach to remain at the correct end of her throat.

  Gawain found her when he came in for bed. He woke her up and then questioned why she hadn’t even undressed before laying down.

  “I guess I only thought I’d rest a moment and the next thing you woke me. I’ll get out of this dress now, though. It really is too lovely to wrinkle.” She began to untie the lacings to remove the dress. Gawain came over to help her, kissing her shoulder as it became bare to his sight.

  He was removing the last piece of clothing when Jillian smelled the sickly-sweet odor of wine on his breath. Looking wide-eyed at him, she covered her mouth with one hand and ran to the chamber pot once again. She dry-heaved into the container beginning to wish she had asked for the damnable tea in front of everyone.

  Gawain watched in astonishment and then demanded, “Jillian, what’s wrong? You’re ill and you haven’t touched any food to speak of today.” At her inability to answer him he continued, “I’m going to call Lady Edith to help you.”

  Jillian waved her hand, but he was already on his way towards the door when she called out, “Stop, she already knows.”

  He did stop and turned asking, “She knows what? That you’re ill?”

  Jillian was shaking her head but wasn’t sure if he was watching her way so said out loud, “That I am with child. I will be sick for the next six weeks or so.”

  Gawain appeared as if he were poleaxed and went to her aid holding her shoulders and said, “Why didn’t you tell me. I would have made this day less strenuous for you. Why didn’t Lady Edith tell me?”

  “She…” Then Jillian tried again. “She wanted me to do so at a good time. I only found out yesterday when I first began getting ill. This is not fun, Gawain. No one tells you how awful you feel carrying a baby. I simply wish to curl up and sleep,” she said not caring it was, in fact, his wedding night once again. It was her wedding night too, and she wanted to sleep.

  “Is there anything I can do?” When he saw the jaundiced-eye she gave him, he couldn’t help a smile slipping out as he finished, “I mean other than what I’ve already done?”

  Jillian almost crawled to the bed “Lady Edith said you would be crowing like a cockerel over this. I just did not realize how angry that would make me.”

  “I’m sorry, Wife. I’ll try not to ‘crow’ too loudly and wake you. I’ll join you as soon as I get my clothes off.” He covered her gently so she wasn’t disturbed.

  With one last warning, she said, “If you think to celebrate with me this night, beware or you may get a great deal more than you expect.”

  He smiled at his wife as he said a forlorn goodbye to the night of lovemaking he had planned. He undressed, blew out the candle and gently slid in next to his wife who was quietly snoring contentedly. He lay in bed listening to her breathing and marveled at how much of a change his life had made since meeting this woman and now how much it will change again when the baby came.

  That thought reminded him he would need to speak with Lady Edith to ensure he did not endanger either Jillian or their unborn child with anything he did. His heart swelled imagining what it would feel like to hold a son or daughter in his arms. If reality was only a tenth of that, he would be breathless with the beauty of it.

  In the morning, Jillian remained as quietly in the bed as she could. Not because she was afraid Gawain would insist on his husbandly rights, but because she didn’t wish to spend time with her head over the chamber pot again.

  Gawain was dressed when he came over and asked if she needed anything before he left. At her whispered denial for anything, he leaned over and kissed her forehead then ran into Ann as soon as he opened the door. The girl was standing there with a steaming cup of tea and Gawain sent her in to Jillian saying he hoped the tisane would aid Jillian’s illness.

  As the next few days passed, so did the worse of the sickness plaguing Jillian. She learned to drink the tea each morning and stick to porridge and bannocks for the morning meal, and simple broiled or roasted game birds and chicken for supper. Most root vegetables seemed to be acceptable to her stomach, but the odor of wine and hard cider still made her glance toward any nearby bucket.

  Jillian checked with Lady Edith and found out Gawain had been there before her but the kind lady explained the same answers to the couple’s worries.

  “Lovemaking will not harm the baby and you can continue right up to the confinement or until it becomes uncomfortable.”

  The mother-to-be left thinking that although that was what she was most concerned about, how did she get over the fact they had been making love only to conceive. Now that the goal was met, how did they continue for new reasons?

  Gawain was the first to break down nuzzling his wife’s neck as he curled around her one morning. “You’re going to think me a selfish pig, but I miss you.”

  When Jillian didn’t say anything, he continued, “I miss our bodies being together, your little pants of breath just before you shatter around me, the way you make me feel when I’ve pleasured you and you pull me into you.”

  Jillian heard him sigh and then she felt him begin to leave the bed when she said quickly, “I miss that, too.” This confession had him stopped in midmoti
on. She felt the cover return over him and he slid closer, letting his erection bump into her backside.

  “I made sure it was safe, you know, for the baby and for you,” he offered in case she was worried about the same things.

  “I did too and I think I feel much better now. And I miss you, too,” she confided as she turned towards him which encouraged him to initiate his lovemaking as he had done prior to her announcement she was carrying his child.

  “Let me know if I’m too, too aggressive or anything,” he told her but finally she took over the lead when his extra care of her was frustrating more than relieving her mind. She took the upper position which left her husband to pleasure her as she knew he had wanted to do for the past three days. They were both gentler with one another and reached the pinnacle together causing Jillian to sleep afterward more soundly than she had in a week.

  Life going back to normal, with Gawain leaving her each morning and returning in the evening just before supper, left Jillian feeling more restless then before. She had read several of the books already, but needed more exercise than reading and lovemaking provided.

  She continued lifting kegs in the dungeon and practicing with her blade, but it wasn’t the same as having an opponent. She knew better than to approach any of Gawain’s men. One day as she was visiting, Lancelot, in the stables, she noticed a lad and how he was mimicking the motions of the swordsmen practicing in the outer bailey.

  She cleared her throat and brought the boy’s attention to her, evidently unaware of her presence. “You are interested in learning to be a warrior? Mayhap a knight?” she asked.

  The lad named, Leo, looked right at her and said plainly, “Yes, Madam. It has been my dream but everyone tells me I’m too small. That I will always be too small to fight properly.” His jaw jutted out in defiance of the agreement he thought she would add to the other’s view.

  Instead she said, “They told me that, too. I had to work very hard to get enough strength to lift and swing a broadsword in combat. If you have the determination, then you can do it. How old are you?”