Bedazzled

by Bertrice Small

  The duke of Glenkirk kissed his daughter’s forehead. “I am glad ye’re being reasonable, sweeting. I know ye’ve had a terrible misadventure, but dinna fret, sweeting. Papa will make it all right for ye just as I always hae done, eh?”

  God’s boots, India thought, as he left her, does he really still think of me as a child? Certainly he saw the woman she was, or did he? James Leslie had been a wonderful father. He loved all his wife’s children. The three she had had by her second husband, Rowan Lindley; the son she had had by Prince Henry Stuart; the sons she had given him. He loved them so well that not one of them but India had left the comfort of their family.

  Since her departure, however, her brother, Henry, the marquis of Westleigh, had made the decision to live at his seat at Cadby in England, but the rest of them were still at home. Papa might complain about Fortune’s not being able to go to her estates in Ireland and seek a husband, and he might blame India’s disappearance for it, but he didn’t really seem too enthusiastic about sending Fortune off next summer. James Leslie was a patriarch, and he obviously enjoyed having his children about him.

  But he would not welcome his first grandchild, India knew. What he meant to do with her child she had no idea, but she would have time to make her escape once the baby was born. Mama would protect them, she was certain. For now she knew she needed rest, and the security of knowing that she would be safe and well cared for while she carried Caynan Reis’s son.

  Who was he? she wondered not for the first time. While she had been with him, it hadn’t mattered at all, for he was Caynan Reis, the dey of El Sinut. But he had been someone else before he had been Caynan Reis, and now she desperately wished she knew who that someone was. She wanted a name for her child who would never know his father.

  The next day dawned bright and cold, as James Leslie had predicted. The small caravan was prepared by midmorning, and ready to depart. India had decided to accept the comfort of a cart as opposed to riding her horse. A baggage wagon was ladened high, as was another wagon with enough provisions to last them the winter. Jasmine was very teary, for she didn’t approve of sending her daughter into the mountains to the family’s hunting lodge. A-Cuil was small, she knew, for she had spent time there herself, but it was far more isolated than Jasmine would have wished. What happened if India’s child decided to come in a snowstorm? How could she get to her daughter?

  “Please, Jemmie, don’t send her to A-Cuil,” she begged her husband at the last minute.

  “Mama, it’s all right,” India said. “I am quite content to go. Meggie will be with me, and Diarmid will do the heavy work, such as cutting us wood for our fire and hunting for our game. I won’t be the cause of spoiling Fortune’s chances in the marriage market. My situation is rather unique,” she finished with a wry smile.

  “The lass hae more sense than ye do, darling Jasmine,” her husband chided his weeping wife.

  “And I’m going, too,” Fortune announced suddenly.

  “You most certainly are not!” Jasmine snapped.

  “Aye, I am, Mama,” Fortune declared with a toss of her red head. “Come, Mama, we are very isolated here at Glenkirk. Who will know if I am here at Glenkirk, or in Edinburgh, or wherever? I want to be with India. I lost my sister once, and I’ll not lose her again.”

  “There!” Jasmine cried to her husband. “Are you satisfied now, Jemmie? I will lose both my girls because of your stubbornness and excessive pride.”

  He knew better than to argue with her. He knew better than to argue with Fortune. “Go along, Diarmid, and take yer party of ladies up the ben.” He looked to his second daughter. “Dinna come down the ben alone, lassie. If ye go, ye stay. Would ye miss Christmas and Twelfth Night at Glenkirk? ’Twill be yer last if I let ye go off to Ireland next year.”

  “I’ve enjoyed many a Christmas and Twelfth Night at Glenkirk, Papa,” Fortune said quietly. “Now I would be with my sister, for I believe she needs me more than you do.” Then Fortune climbed upon the large gray gelding she favored, and followed after India’s little train.

  Jasmine swallowed back her tears, saying to her husband, “Does she know what you intend doing with her child, Jemmie?”

  “Nay,” he said. “There was nae need to distress her. Ye saw. She was almost herself again. I dinna want to spoil it.”

  “Aye,” Jasmine agreed. “You were wise not to do so.” She looked after her two eldest daughters, and thought she heard India laugh as Fortune caught up with the cart.

  “Is Mama still weeping?” the younger asked her elder sibling as the gelding danced dangerously near the wheels of the vehicle.

  “No, she stopped,” India replied. “What made you come with me?” she asked Fortune. “Have you ever been to A-Cuil? It’s tiny, old-fashioned, and dull, not to mention very small. We’ll probably end up killing each other.”

  “I’d rather be with you than stuck at Glenkirk all winter,” Fortune responded. “You can tell me all about your adventures, and what it’s like to be loved by a man. I have that ahead of me next summer.”

  “If Papa lets you go,” India said.

  “Mama won’t let him stop us this time,” Fortune replied. “So you noticed it, too; how suddenly he does not want to let his lasses go away.” She laughed. “Poor Papa. He really does love us all, doesn’t he? But by this time next year, you and I will have husbands. Henry is already settled at Cadby, and the king has written to Papa that after this winter, Charlie must become part of the court and take his rightful place at Queen’s Malvern as the duke of Lundy should. He’ll just have to be content with Patrick, Adam and Duncan.

  India laughed in response to her sister’s question. “I don’t know, but I think it will be up to us to help her escape, Fortune.”

  “It’s so good to hear you laugh again,” Fortune said.

  “There hasn’t been a great deal to laugh about lately,” India answered. “But soon I will have my son, and then I will be happy.”

  “Beware,” Fortune warned India. “Papa means to take the bairn from you. Mama is trying to change his mind in the matter.”

  “Mama will succeed, but in the event she does not,” India said, “Papa will find a deadly enemy in me, for I shall not allow my child to be taken from me, Fortune. This is Caynan Reis’s son, and I will protect him, as will the spirit of his father. We will let nothing happen to our son, and James Leslie be damned if he should attempt to harm my child!” India said fiercely.

  “You have changed,” Fortune said softly.

  “Aye,” India agreed. “I have become a hard enemy to any who would threaten me or mine.”

  Chapter 17

  A-Cuil had come into the possession of the Leslies of Glenkirk Athrough the current duke’s mother, Lady Stewart-Hepburn. It had belonged to Cat’s paternal grandmother, Jean Gordon Hay, who had given it to Cat. Its value was in its isolated beauty, and the mountain forest that belonged to it. It had been used as a hunting lodge by several generations of Gordons, Hays, and Leslies, and always kept ready for visitors. Once in the not-too-distant past, Jemmie and Jasmine had hidden themselves there to escape a rival for Jasmine’s affections.

  The small lodge itself was set upon a cliff that commanded a spectacular view of Glenkirk Castle, Sithean Castle, and Greyhaven, Cat’s girlhood home, as well as several small lochs far below. The forest surrounded the lodge and its stables. It was beautiful, wild, and totally isolated. Built of stone with a slate roof, it was virtually undetectable nestled on its cliff, the endless sky spread out above it.

  While knowing of its existence, neither India nor Fortune had ever been to A-Cuil. The well-marked trail from Glenkirk Castle grew fainter and fainter as they climbed into the hills, and finally up the steep ben. Several times the cart tilted so precariously that India thought it would tip over, casting her down onto the gorse and rocks. At one point, the forest was so deep that the sun scarcely penetrated to the forest floor. Up and up their little train climbed until finally they entered out into a sunny clearing w
here the lodge and its stables were set neatly awaiting them.

  “God’s boots!” Fortune swore. “It is small, isn’t it?”

  “You can go back with the provisions cart,” India said.

  Fortune shook her head. “Nay. ’Twill be an adventure, and, besides, the forest looks like good hunting. I’ve hunted with Diarmid More-Leslie before. Between us we’ll keep in fresh meat.”

  India’s cart came to a halt, and she exited the vehicle as Fortune slid from her horse’s back. “Let’s go inside,” India said. “I want to see the living quarters.”

  Within the lodge was charming, but, as they had been warned, of insignificant proportions. On the main floor there were but two rooms. The smaller of the two served as a kitchen area with its tiny pantry. The larger room with its big fireplace and wall oven would be where they spent most of their time, and where they would cook their food, for the little kitchen had no hearth. The furnishings were simple, although over the years, a few more comfortable pieces had been added than were originally there. There was a small trestle and two chairs in the kitchen.

  “Jesu,” India grumbled, “ ’tis colder than a witch’s tit in January in here. Diarmid,” she shouted, “bring some wood! We’re freezing to death in here! Meggie, go and help him.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Meggie said, running outside where she would have sworn it was far warmer than inside the damp lodge.

  “Let’s see what’s upstairs,” Fortune said, and began to climb the narrow flight of stairs followed by her elder sister.

  At the top of the stairs they found a single bedchamber, and entered it. On the door wall was a fireplace. To the left was a bank of casement windows overlooking part of the valley view, and the forest. To the right was a single round window. It was not a large room, but it comfortably held several pieces of furniture. Opposite the door was a good-sized canopied and curtained bed. At its foot was a carved clothes chest. There was a little table beneath the round window, and a tapestried chair by the fireplace. There was a pier glass on the bit of wall to the left of the door. On the floor were several thick sheepskins.

  “Everything is clean, even the windows,” India noted. “Papa must have been planning this since I returned to Glenkirk.” She turned and slowly descended into the main room of the lodge. “Even here, everything is dusted and swept. But it really is small. When I think of my palace in El Sinut . . . why, my personal apartments were larger than this by far, weren’t they, Meggie?”

  “Your day room was bigger than this,” Meggie said frankly. “This is nae more than a wee mousie’s hold, my lady, but more folk hae lived in smaller places, I can tell you. We’ll manage.”

  Diarmid had brought the wood, and there was already a fire started in the large fireplace. “I’ll begin a fire in the bedchamber, my lady,” he told India.

  “Put enough wood in there for the night,” she told him. “I don’t want to be frozen in the morning.”

  The carters from Glenkirk unloaded the provisions, and, directed by Meggie, brought them into the lodge where the serving woman put them away. There was flour for baking, salt, and spices. Bundles of herbs were hung from the kitchen’s rafters. Several barrels of wine, ale, and apples were stored in the larder along with a large wheel of cheese and two whole hams. Two milk cows had climbed the ben tied to the back of the cart. They were now led into their barn. A coop holding half a dozen chickens and a rooster were uncrated in the yard. A haunch of beef and one of venison were hung in the larder next to the ham. There was even a block of sugar, and a small barrel filled with honeycombs. There was a large fat tomcat to keep the rodent population down, a small collie, and a deer hound for company, protection, and hunting.

  “Last chance to go back to Glenkirk,” India said to Fortune as the carts began their return journey. It was past the noon hour, and the sun would set in another two hours.

  “I’m starving,” Fortune said, ignoring the invitation. “What’s for dinner?”

  “I’ll see what’s in the basket,” Meggie said. “Cook was kind enough to send something along so we would nae hae to fuss today.” She bustled into the kitchen.

  “What a treasure,” Fortune noted to her sister. “You were fortunate to find each other. She isn’t any older than we are, is she? What luck she didn’t decide to return to Ayr, India.”

  “I don’t think she would have left my service,” India replied, “but when Papa inquired discreetly for her, we found her mother had died suddenly, even before Meggie was captured, and her father killed. Her betrothed, of course, had done exactly as she had anticipated, and wed with his second choice, Meggie’s rival. There was nothing for her to go back to, Fortune.”

  Supper was a roasted capon, a rabbit pie reheated in the brick fireplace oven, bread, cheese, and apples. India insisted that Diarmid eat with them at the trestle, dragging two more little chairs from the common room so they might all sit.

  “You must go back down to Glenkirk tomorrow,” she told him, “and tell Papa we need carrots, onions, and leeks. We cannot live the winter on just meat, bread, and cheese.”

  “Aye, m’lady, but I dinna know why not. ’Tis good food,” the clansman said. “Still, the duke hae told me to humor ye, and so I’ll go for ye. As long as the weather is good, I can fetch up whatever takes yer fancy. Will there be anything else while I’m about it?”

  “Pears. They’ll keep in the cold,” India said.

  “And conserves,” Fortune added. “And perhaps some jam. I like jam on my bread.”

  “Check in the kitchen, Meggie,” India told her servant, “and see if there is anything else you’ll need.”

  The clansman nodded, and, having finished his meal, took his leave of the women, saying, “I’ll leave the collie wi ye. Bar the doors both front and back, m’lady. I’ll be sleeping in the stable loft. There’s a wee room there.”

  “Will you be warm enough?” India fretted.

  “Aye, the room is tight, and I hae the dog for warmth,” he told her with a small smile. Then he was gone out the door, which Meggie shut, and firmly barred.

  The three young women slept in the upstairs bedchamber, India and Fortune sharing the big bed, Meggie on the trundle pulled from beneath the bed. The collie lay down at the head of the stairs, as if guarding them until sleep finally claimed her, too.

  The following day dawned clear. After a meal of oat cakes and ale, Diarmid More-Leslie went down the ben to Glenkirk to fetch the required items. Meggie began to put her kitchen in order while India and Fortune explored the nooks and crannies of the lodge, discovering an old oak tub in a kitchen recess, and some woman’s clothing in a small trunk in the upstairs hall.

  “Do you think they were Mama’s?” India wondered aloud.

  “Nay,” Fortune said, admiring the doeskin jerkin with the silver-and-horn buttons she had just pulled out. “Mama wasn’t as long-waisted, and the style is old-fashioned. Besides, Mama never wore such a garment in her entire life. She is far more elegant.” Fortune tried on the jerkin. “I think it may have belonged to Papa’s mother. They say she hid herself up here to avoid marrying her first husband. I think I’ll keep it. I like hunting clothes.”

  “It suits you,” India said, smiling at her younger sister. Then she caught her breath suddenly.

  “What is it?” Fortune said, seeing a strange look come over her sister’s beautiful face.

  “He moved!” India half whispered. “The baby moved within me, Fortune!” Then she burst into tears as she sat down upon the top step of the staircase. “Damn! Damn! Damn!” she swore softly. “My bairn is alive within me, and his father will never know him. It isn’t fair, Fortune! It just isn’t fair!”

  “You have hardly spoken of him since you came home,” Fortune said, sitting down next to her older sister and putting an arm about her. “Did you love him very much, India? What was he like? Was he handsome?”

  India sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Aye, he was handsome. He was tall, and had hair like a raven’s wi
ng, and the bluest eyes you have ever seen. His nose was straight, and his jaw firm, and his mouth . . .” She paused a moment, then continued. “His mouth was the most deliciously kissable mouth in all the world.”

  “What’s it like being kissed?” Fortune asked.

  “Wonderful,” India replied. “I cannot explain it. Someday you will kiss the man you love, and you will understand, Fortune.”

  “I suppose so,” Fortune replied matter-of-factly.

  Their days took on a comfortable cadence. By virtue of their social status, India and Fortune had never really done a great deal for themselves. Now, however, they arose each morning, and, after dressing, Fortune went down to the barn to gather eggs from their hens and drive the cows into the small pasture on sunny days. Until it snowed, the cows could forage, but once the winter set in, they would be confined to the barn. It became India’s task to set the table for meals and gather up the clothing that would need laundering, but neither of the other two girls wanted India overtaxed for the sake of her child.

  Some days Fortune rode off into the forest with Diarmid to hunt for small game. India and Meggie walked in the forest and high meadows most early afternoons. And Meggie cooked and cleaned and did the laundry. The sisters, however, kept the bedchamber neat and dusted. Each morning they shook out their featherbed as Meggie taught them, and then drew the bed clothes back over it smoothly and neatly. Neither had ever done such simple tasks, but it helped to fill the lonely hours. Fortune had requested her lute be sent up from Glenkirk, and on many evenings she played for them, and they sang the old songs of unrequited love, great battles, heroes, and kings. Diarmid had his pipes, and was easily encouraged to play.

  Like his brother, Red Hugh, he was a big man of few words, but practical and kindly. His hair was a nut brown, and his eyes an amber hue. He wore a short beard with his hair drawn back, secured by a leather thong. He was popular with the ladies, the sisters knew, but he had never married. The winter would be lonelier for him than for his three female charges, who at least had each other. While deferential to the duke’s two daughters, Diarmid had struck up a budding friendship with Meggie. Up before the first light each dawn, he had the fireplaces blazing and water brought into the kitchen even before Meggie came down to put the bread dough that had been rising all night in the oven to bake. While he spoke little to India and Fortune, Meggie could get him talking, and even bring a rosy flush to the big man’s cheeks.