Leslie shrugged. “We can request more grain from the farmers, but until the harvest comes in, there’s not much to be done. I’ll make a note to inquire of the livestock births this year around the village. Monies might be paid to those willing to sell anything above and beyond what they can use or afford to feed themselves.”
Tess nodded and thanked him for his time and went in search of Serena. They were working on two tapestries for the main hall. Serena had actually been working on them for almost a year and was glad for Tess’s offer of help. When finished, each would stand more than twice the height of Conall but offer so much throughout the winter toward keeping the warmth within the hall and the drafts without. Tess had suggested that they make smaller ones for the chambers, and Serena happily agreed.
CHAPTER 25
A week later, Serena and Tess sat once again in the hall, the growing tapestry spread across the two rollers of the loom. Last winter, the machine had been disassembled as there had been none to help Serena. At Tess’s insistence, the loom once again took up a generous portion of the hall, which saw little use these days. Daily, Serena taught Tess the intricacies of weaving a large tapestry.
Bethany was under the table closest to Tess, having found again a hound as a pillow. Bog child and dog enjoyed a morning nap.
“How long, actually, do you think they might be gone?” Tess asked. She’d asked this also of Leslie MacDonnell and Angus and even of Eagan, who’d given her only a blank look and a noncommittal shrug.
“Conall was gone for almost six months last year,” Serena said, keeping her pretty green eyes upon her work, as she carefully wove the weft over one of the initial vertical threads and under the next. Occasionally, she would pause to beat down the emerging web to ensure that the load bearing threads, or warps, were completely covered by the weft threads.
“Were you afraid then?” Tess asked, taking the drawstring from Serena as it reached the middle of the loom, she now weaving as Serena had instructed, first over then under, bringing it ever closer to her side.
Serena splayed her hands upon the finished parts while Tess worked her side. “My father had so often been gone to fight, that it affected me to lesser degrees with each subsequent departure.”
“My mother and I lived with nuns for nigh on seven years,” Tess confided. “I’ve never known this, someone going off to war, with no assurances of their return.”
Serena offered a sympathetic smile, but Tess didn’t see, her eyes steady upon the weaving. “Sadly, ‘tis just normal life here. Why did you live in a cloister?”
Tess shrugged. “My mother could bear no more children, so my father set her aside. He was granted a divorce eventually.”
Serena’s thin brown brows lowered. “How unchivalrous.”
“When I think back on it, I believe it was for the best. What little I know of my father, having only lived with him this past year, I don’t think I’d have liked to have grown up in his presence.”
“He is a hard man?” Serena guessed.
“Very,” Tess answered. “I enjoyed the cloister very much. It was peaceful, and because my mother was a lady we had our own suite of rooms and were not expressly governed by the rules to which the nuns were subject.” Tess smirked, “Which was fine by me, as they were forced to rise at all hours of the night and morning to pray.” She turned at the edge, and began weaving, over and under, aiming the drawstring back toward Serena.
“And your mother died?”
Tess nodded. “She was ever a sickly person, both physically and otherwise,” this, rather matter-of-factly, though it still hurt to think about the loss of her dear, sweet mama. “When did you lose your mother?” She asked Serena.
Serena stared off, over Tess’s head, pondering. “I was about eight or nine, I guess. She died in childbirth. My new brother died a few days after. I remember, at the time, being more upset about the loss of my brother. Not that I didn’t mourn my mother, of course, but I had been so excited to have a sibling.”
“Your father never remarried,” Tess guessed.
“None would have him,” Serena said with a small chuckle, then covered her mouth at her own impertinence. She explained, “My father was the kindest man, he truly was. But he wasn’t at all...he was...well, he was ugly.”
“Serena!” Tess’s eyes widened, so surprised by this admission.
Serena shrugged while she laughed. “’Tis true! His face was just so...I don’t know, he was just not attractive.”
“Oh, my.”
“He really was wonderful, and I loved him dearly but faith, he was a sight.” Serena clapped her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I just said that. How awful am I?”
Tess, of course, did not reproach her, or otherwise add to her embarrassment, but enjoyed a good giggle over Serena’s honesty.
Their laughter was interrupted by a MacGregor soldier entering the hall, escorting a stranger toward the two women. The guards who were never far from Tess rose from the table they’d been sitting at and came to her side just as the stranger neared.
Serena and Tess raised their gazes to watch the men approach. The stranger was at least twice the age of Tess herself, she guessed, and stood rather straight and tall, and sported a lean figure. His hair was the color of sand, and his eyes a pleasing and soft brown. He was dressed only slightly finer than the peasants, his wool and linen garments simple, but clean and not at all threadbare.
“The Ladies Serena MacDonnell and Tess Munro,” the soldier said, by way of introduction. Tess tilted her head, having found something very familiar about the man, though she did not believe she had ever met him before.
He smiled handsomely, his eyes settling appreciatively upon Serena. “I’d have come sooner if I’d known the ladies of Inesfree were so comely.” He cast a glance at Tess but only briefly before returning his gaze to Serena.
The soldiers remained, hands on their sword hilts, eyes fixed on the man.
Tess watched, her eyes darting from Serena to the man and back again, sighting the prettiest blush staining Serena’s cheeks. They seemed happy only to ogle one another. With a fine grin over this lengthy but silent exchange, Tess cleared her throat and asked, “And who might you be?”
Serena caught herself and averted her eyes, running a hand over her thick mane of dark hair.
“Aye, I’m called Fynn,” he said, addressing Serena, “and I’d be searching for me da.”
“Angus!” Tess cried happily. She jumped up from her stool, leaving the drawstring upon the finished part of the tapestry. “I’ll fetch him straightaway. He’ll be so happy to see you!” And she dashed out of the hall, her guards in tow, still smiling inside at this man’s coming, and at the eyes he and Serena were making at each other. She discovered Angus sitting with several other elderly men around the smithy’s open barn, his pipe clenched between his teeth, listening to whatever stories the smith shared to hold keep these old men amused.
“Angus,” she called. “Fynn has come!”
His head turned at her voice, his brows lifting. A complete happiness enlivened his features. He made to stand just as Tess reached him, offering her arm. She guided him as he shuffled along, with greater speed than she’d ever seen, into the hall.
Upon returning, Tess put her gaze immediately upon the pair she’d left behind, seeing still a blush about Serena’s pretty cheeks while Fynn stood before her, arms crossed over his chest, a grin accompanying whatever words he was giving her now. But he turned soon, following Serena’ eyes as she noticed Tess and Angus.
“There he is!” Fynn called and it was evident, from the expressions on both men’s faces, that theirs was a very sturdy and favorable relationship.
Tess delivered Angus to his son, who gave his father a rather sweet and gentle hug. “I’ve missed you, da.”
Angus’s sightless eyes had never shone so bright. “Aye, been too long, Fynn.”
Tess supplied a stool, onto which Fynn settled his father. He rested his han
d on Angus’s shoulder and proclaimed, “You keep good company, da.”
Angus nodded, his grin wide. “Aye, the lasses. Good they are to this old man, and aren’t I blessed?”
“When I received the message,” Fynn said, “I shook my head, wondering what to make of it, and however did they finally get you out of that old shack. ‘Course, now I see ‘twas no hardship, coming here.”
Angus chuckled, holding his pipe upon his knee, which sat upon the other.
“Have you traveled far?” Tess thought to ask. “Should we send to the kitchen—”
Tess noted that Serena made a face, suggesting that she chastised herself for presently forgetting her duty as lady of the castle. Tess sent her a reassuring glance while Fynn politely refused, said he had to settle his horses and cart, but that he wouldn’t mind being received for supper.
“Of course,” Serena said, finding her voice again.
Fynn excused himself, taking a happy Angus with him to keep him company and catch up on each other. The soldier followed the pair out of the castle.
When the three men had cleared the doorway completely, Tess turned wide eyes upon Serena.
“What?” Asked her friend, her fresh blush challenging her pretense of innocence.
Tess burst out laughing. Serena soon joined, her hand finding and settling on her chest, as if to slow her heartbeat.
FYNN WAS CONTENT TO enjoy the hospitality of Inesfree for several days. Being a man of trade, he offered precious salt for Inesfree’s cellars and several bottles of wine, which Leslie MacDonnell gratefully accepted, knowing that wine had to be imported, usually from France, and could be quite costly. Serena was effusive in her appreciation—her pink cheeks having become a fixture as long as Fynn was around—and even more so when he produced several large bolts of beautiful silks, in gorgeous shades of soft blue and saffron yellow and one, the softest shade of pink Tess was sure she had ever seen.
As lovely as they were, as adoringly as both Serena and Tess gaped at the silks, both women were quick to refuse such a precious and lavish gift. Fynn was very serious when he insisted, “’Tis more I owe you! Giving me father hearth and home, and me not having to fret on him. Now you’ll be accepting all this, or I’ll be taking the old dog away with me.”
Tess and Serena quieted instantly, fearful that he might carry out his threat.
“Ach, now, I only goad you,” Fynn had said, with a robust chuckle which brought great relief to the ladies.
He’d made himself quite comfortable during his stay, which seemed to please everyone. Tess even saw him in some discussion with Leslie about what Inesfree had need of, which he might supply upon his return. He was ever of a good nature, which surprised Tess not at all, as his father was the most affable and even-tempered person. He joined their family at supper each evening, though they still eschewed the larger table upon the dais in favor of the cozier trestle table lined up with the others on the floor. Fynn entertained them with stories of his travels and it was apparent that he had the perfect, pleasing personality for his chosen profession as a trader. “Could’ve talked Christ off the cross, his mam would say,” Angus told them, his smile proud.
But he departed too soon, they all agreed, though Tess confided in Angus that she believed he’d be seeing his son quite regularly. “Not that I think you’d missed it, Angus, but your son was definitely quite taken with dear Serena.”
“Aye,” Angus acknowledged, nodding approvingly, “he always had an eye for the brunettes.”
Tess punched her hands onto her hips. “Angus, how do you know that Serena has brown hair?”
“Aw, now, lass, can you no hear it in her voice?”
No, she most certainly could not. But this amused Tess and she had to ask, “So what color is my hair?”
“Now there’s a riddle, to be sure.” He was filling his pipe, dashing it against the palm of his hand. “You sound blonde, I ofttimes think. But every once in a while, I canna deny I hear red.”
Tess laughed at the fanciful man, pulling a long tress in front of her. He wasn’t exactly wrong, she decided.
SOME DAYS, TESS MANAGED to get through almost the whole morning without thinking of Conall. Some days.
While she’d known, before his departure, that she would fret over his safety, she hadn’t actually given thought to exactly how much she might yearn for him.
But as the weeks went on, she agonized over things she couldn’t remember Exact conversations evaded her and sometimes entire scenes were too foggy to be of any use. Tess ached to recall every minute detail about him and cried for that which she did remember as it was maddening in its deficiency, leaving her only to crave more.
She begged for dreams. Safe in her chamber at night, she made deals with God to deliver Conall unto her in her dreams, to give her new memories, to help recall the old. If she closed her eyes, she might see Conall coming to her. Atop his steed, his eyes—oh, God, would she ever be able to clearly recall such a blue? —fixed on her. He might smile at her. He would speak, his voice would wash over her, just as it had in reality. She could hear the sound of his voice, could almost invoke the feeling it roused in her, even now.
He might touch her in these dreams and Tess would yearn for a body she could press herself against. She’d close her eyes and pretend that just for a moment Conall was there. Conall was real. His arms were around her.
She missed him.
She was, then, grateful for exactly how busy she was during the day. She and Serena had committed themselves to much more work, mostly in an effort to keep their minds busy, which meant they rarely sat idle while the sun was up. The tapestry was nearly half complete when a month had passed since the army’s departure. They joked that they might see grandchildren aiding them with this very project, it was so large. They also knew that their attention to the tapestry was certainly distracted by Fynn’s gifted silks.
They’d decided they’d treat themselves to one gown apiece, and one for Bethany, with Serena choosing the yellow fabric and Tess the pink. Bethany’s gown would be fashioned from the blue silk. This would still leave much of the fabrics for more designs, should they choose.
“But we must agree,” Serena challenged, “that we are not permitted to work on our gowns unless we’ve given a fair amount of time to the tapestry.”
Tess agreed, as the gowns would be a frivolous extravagance, and they would need to earn them. She had Bethany near, trying to get the child to hold still long enough to perceive some measurements. Bethany was intrigued by the blue silk, her little hands smoothing over the fabric, but impatient with Tess’s turning her this way and that.
“You might just find one of her other little gowns,” Serena suggested, smiling at Bethany’s efforts to be away, “and surmise a pattern and size from that.”
Tess sighed and agreed. She kissed Bethany’s pretty blonde head and playfully swatted her bum, to send her on her way.
Bethany laughed and skipped away.
Tess’s mouth fell open. Serena’s eyes lifted from the pattern she was cutting.
Bethany laughed.
They gaped at Bethany, and then at each other.
“What’s that I hear?” Angus called from beside the hearth, across the room.
With her hand to her chest, almost in disbelief, Tess answered, “That’s Bethany. Laughing.” She cried almost and looked again to Serena, whose expression still displayed her own shock.
“Oh, my,” Serena breathed.
Angus uncrossed his legs and turned to face the women, his face hopeful, waiting.
But Bethany made not another sound and didn’t seem to have any idea what she had just done. She plopped down beside her favorite hound and lifted his ear, turning her head to peer inside.
They hovered over Bethany and kept her close the rest of the day, waiting for another sound to come. But it did not.
“It’s all right,” Tess insisted while they supped later that evening, after Bethany had finished eating and stolen away from the ta
ble. “It’s a start, right?”
“I still can’t believe it,” Serena said. “Did we imagine it?”
“We most certainly did not,” confirmed Tess. “But what can we do? How can we help her to get the sounds out?”
Serena had no answer, sadly shaking her head, but Angus suggested, “Maybe that’s how,” he said thoughtfully. “Sounds, no words.”
“What do you mean?” Serena asked.
“Well, I’m no rightly sure, lass,” he admitted, “but I’ll be giving it some thought tonight.”
The next morning, Tess entered the hall to find Angus sitting once again by the hearth with Bethany at his feet. She sat with her legs crossed under her, one hand upon the hound—Jakke, Tess thought his name—while she stared with a scrunched up face at Angus.
“Oo, oo,” Angus was saying, slowly and carefully. “Aa, aa.”
Serena came to stand beside Tess, still quite a distance from the pair, watching Angus raise his brows and point to Bethany, indicating she should make those sounds now. But while Bethany’s mouth opened, nothing emerged, and her expression hinted only at confusion rather than interest.
“Oo, oo,” Angus persisted.
Tess grabbed Serena’s hand and marched them over to Angus and Bethany, an idea moving her. She sat on the floor next to Bethany, upon the rushes, and pulled Serena down beside her. “Oo,” she joined in.
Serena likewise did the same, understanding what Tess might be thinking. “Oo.”
“Oo,” Angus said again, his tone encouraging.
Bethany looked from one to the next, her little face letting them know that she understood they expected something from her. Her mouth opened again and all three held their breath while her lips appeared to move, almost as if she were trying to let the sound come out but didn’t quite yet know how to make that happen.
Angus leaned further forward from his chair, reaching for Bethany’s hand. He found the one in her lap and brought it up to his throat, placing her little fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Oo,” he said again several times, putting enough space between each sound that she could feel them separately and comprehend that it came from his throat.
The Touch 0f Her Hand (Highlander Heroes Book 1) Page 24