The Shadow 0f Her Smile (Highlander Heroes Book 3)

by Rebecca Ruger

  “They come ‘round sunset often, will drink at the loch, chew the grasses and shrubs and heather near it. Every one of them has antlers,” he noted and explained, “a bachelor herd.”

  Jamie clicked his tongue and sent his steed carefully down this side of the crag. They skirted around the loch to the left, Ada noting the brown packed earth of this worn trail. From the tail of that crag where she was first shown Aviemore, until they’d ridden around half the loch to find the gate took almost twenty minutes. Ada was weary and suddenly nervous. The people of Aviemore might rejoice at the return of their chief, but would they accept his mutilated and unknown wife? Without thinking, she clasped both hands to Jamie’s forearm at her midsection when they approached the gate.

  Ada tipped her head back, into Jamie’s chest, to take in the height and breadth of the fifty foot high wall. This showed her a thick-helmed soldier glancing down at them.

  “Chief?” The man called, and without waiting a response, disappeared from view and soon a call followed, “Raise the portcullis! Open the gate!”

  The portcullis, a latticed grill of metal, began to rise, revealing it’s pointed ends as they were lifted from the earth. Even before this had been completely lifted, the wooden doors, half the height of the wall, were pulled open and Jamie dug his heels into the horse’s flanks to urge him forward.

  Ada scanned the bailey as they entered, boasting a well in the center, and several persons come to greet their laird. Ada recognized the smithy’s barn and the stables, on the ground floor of the outer wall. She supposed the free standing round building, with its pointed roof, sitting just at the end of the northeast wall, might be the dovecote.

  Jamie dismounted and grinned up at her, “Are you ready for this, lass?”

  Ada tried to smile, about to lift the hood of her cloak up onto her head, to put her cheeks into shadow.

  Jamie swept her out of the saddle, hands at her waist, before she could cover herself. He stood her on the ground, with her back against the horse, and lowered his head to her, meeting her gaze. “Remember lass, my bride is no disfigured. She is beautiful.”

  Weeks later, when she looked back upon this moment, Ada would come to believe that this was when she fell in love with Jamie MacKenna. But just now, she could only manage a tepid smile, digging deep for that bravery he’d previously claimed to have seen in her.

  Jamie turned then and met those who came, soldiers all. He took Ada’s hand and drew her toward the keep, even as he bid greetings but put off so many of their questions with a promise to tell of his travels of the past year come supper time.

  The keep itself was a wide and tall building, rectangular in shape, accessible by a set of stairs that raised a person off the ground floor and onto the first, setting them directly into the hall. And this, Ada discovered, was unlike anything she had ever seen. Possessed of the usual high vaulted ceiling, it also boasted a gallery, which circled the entire hall, two floors above it seemed, and was protected by a carved and crenellated waist high railing.

  Ada spun in a circle to take in all of it.

  Jamie explained, “That’s the third floor gallery—my grandfather was a wee bit fanciful. There are four corridors up there, which lead away from the gallery in four directions, toward the family quarters.”

  “How astonishing.”

  With no small amount of pride, Jamie admitted, “There’s really nothing like it.”

  As they had entered the south end of this long hall, the hearth stood at the opposite outer wall, with the laird’s table directly in front of it, this being a thickly carved wooden masterpiece. The chairs of the table, with their backs to the fire, were all high backed and carved as well, the center one, the laird’s chair, being easily twice the size of any other.

  When Ada had looked her fill, she wondered at the lack of greeting, as no person as of yet approached them inside the keep. Jamie, seemingly untroubled by this, turned as a soldier entered, one who had not been part of the group in the yard that had welcomed their chief.

  “Callum!” He called heartily and strode forward, clasping forearms with the man.

  Despite Jamie’s words, Ada kept her head lowered while she considered the man who Jamie was apparently pleased to see. He was as tall as her husband, but broader, and could easily claim twice as many years, she guessed. His hair was dark and long, as Jamie’s had been, brushing the MacKenna plaid angled across his shoulder. Weathered skin creased around his eyes and mouth as he greeted Jamie, and he showed a row of crooked but very white teeth when he smiled at something her husband said.

  Jamie turned then and led the man to her.

  Just as Ada was sure there was something familiar about him, just as his aged face seemed to show a similar reaction, Jamie said, “Callum, you remember the lass from Dornoch?”

  The man’s bottom lip fell open, but Jamie’s words also proved to Ada that she did indeed know him. He was one of the persons she’d released from the dungeon.

  Jamie said, “This is Ada Moncriefe—MacKenna,” he corrected quickly. “We were wed only yesterday. Ada, meet Callum Penry, captain of the MacKenna army.”

  She smiled shyly, extending her hand. “How do you do?”

  To his credit, his initial reaction to her scars, before Jamie had mentioned Dornoch, had been polite, almost sympathetic as he’d grazed the entirety of her face right quickly. Once Dornoch had been revealed, he studied her keenly, making a careful examination of each mark on her face and neck. His expression never changed, save for a cord bulging in his neck, hinting at clenched teeth.

  Callum Penry amazed her by taking her hand and dropping to one knee. Much as a faithful subject might pay homage to their king, Callum bent his head over her slim hand and closed his eyes. He did not kiss her hand, seemed only to embrace it, almost reverently, holding it firmly with both of his and pressing it against his face.

  Thoroughly ill at ease by this display, Ada jerked her gaze to Jamie, who only nodded, seeming to say it was her due.

  Callum stood then, and still holding her hands, stared directly and intentionally into her eyes. His were kindly and green, as green as the north sea when the sky was gray.

  “I—I dinna ken even where to begin,” he said, stammering a bit, as staggered by her presence as she was by his response. His voice was thick, rumbling low, and so heavy with a northern dialect, Ada struggled at first to comprehend. “But married now to the lad? ‘Tis perfect.”

  She smiled at this, certainly at Jamie being referred to as the lad.

  Vaguely, as explanation for this, Jamie informed her, “Callum was also my sire’s captain.”

  Ada nodded and said to Callum, “Jamie tells me his father was a great man. Seems you might be the perfect person from whom to beg tales, as I mean to learn all I can about my husband’s family.”

  The captain nodded, and was still holding Ada’s hand, one large paw underneath, the other patting the top of hers. “Aye, and we’ll get to that, lass. But I’ll be saying now—that the shock has waned—that I owe you my life and I will lay down my own for yours. I vow to protect you, Ada MacKenna, first and foremost, all my days.”

  In no way did she want to diminish the significance of his pledge, or the very seriousness in which it was issued, but she undeniably wanted him to understand he owed her nothing, in regard to Dornoch. Tilting her head, she wondered, with only a whisper of a grin, “Would you not have that obligation, sir, merely by means of my status as the MacKenna’s wife?”

  He stared at her. Thick dark brows, sprinkled a bit with gray as was his mane, furrowed over the green eyes, until he comprehended. Then he threw back his head and howled with laughter, and shouted out, quite merrily, “Aye, lass, but now I’ll do it smiling, you ken?” And he turned his head to Jamie, “Aye, now, lad—I like this one!”

  “As do I,” said Jamie, with his own grin. “But you can release her hand now, aye? That’s enough of that.” The words were meant to be lighthearted, Ada thought, but in fact Jamie stepped closer
and actually removed Ada’s hand from his captain’s, holding it in his own.

  “Jamie MacKenna!” Called another voice.

  The three turned toward the hearth wall, where a doorway suggested a corridor began. A woman stood there, hands on her ample hips, an apron covering most of her brown kirtle and her head covered in a cream colored wimple.

  “Agnes,” Jamie greeted, and the woman moved, almost running across the hall and enveloping Jamie in a great hug. She then took his face in her hands and spent some moments looking him over. “Oh, your uncle will be pleased to see you, lad.” And then, to Ada’s delight she turned her head back toward the corridor from which she’d come and startled a bird from the rafters with her strident call of, “Malcolm! Show yourself, you daft man! Jamie’s home!”

  The woman talked quietly then to Jamie, which showed him tipping his head down at her and nodding at whatever she said.

  A man came then from the same doorway from whence had come the woman, Agnes. He might have been Jamie’s own sire, the resemblance being so striking. Tall and broad shouldered, with hair that likely was once a burnished blond, and eyes as blue as the evening sky, gave any onlooker an idea how Jamie himself might age. One significant difference was his very pronounced limp, the cause of which was the wooden leg he thumped into the timber floor as he strode toward his nephew with a pleased and welcoming grin.

  “Aye, and aren’t you a sight for these ancient eyes!” He grabbed at Jamie’s tunic when he’d reached him, drawing him into a big bear hug. Jamie returned it with equal fervor, patting his uncle on his wide back. Over Jamie’s shoulder, Malcolm’s gaze fell and stayed on Ada. A frown lowered his brows onto his eyes. “What’s this you’ve brought us?”

  Jamie turned, showing the barest hint of a suggestion that he might have, momentarily, forgotten about his wife.

  “Ach, but what have I done?” He returned to her, where she stood still with Callum, and collected her to present to his uncle and the woman, Agnes.

  “Uncle Malcolm, Aunt Agnes, this is Ada—formerly Moncriefe, now a MacKenna.”

  Two sets of crinkled, confused eyes stared at her. His aunt recovered first.

  “What you’ve done? Taken a bride?” Agnes gave no effort to hide her thoughts on this, beaming a smile back and forth between Jamie and Ada.

  “I did,” Jamie said. Ada could not tell if his own answering smile accompanied his response or was only a reaction to his aunt’s delight.

  Agnes settled her merry gaze on Ada. “Well, come on, then, give us a hug. You’re family now.”

  There was no way Ada would, or could, refuse this. She accepted the older woman’s welcome, and her very warm embrace.

  “It’ll be a feast, then, aye?” Suggested Malcolm. “Now, dinna be stingy, lass. A hug for Uncle Malcolm, too.” Ada had barely found release from Agnes when she was taken up in Malcolm’s sturdy arms.

  “No feast, Uncle,” said Jamie. “We had our bride meal, and in fine company, aye, lass?”

  No one waited for Ada’s response, but reacted forcefully to Jamie’s words.

  “Ach, you gonna have a feast, lad,” argued Malcolm. “Brings good tidings.”

  Agnes piped in. “And maybe we’ll be asking your pretty bride what her choice would be?”

  “Oh, but I don’t really think—” Ada started.

  “Nonsense,” Agnes overruled these words as well, in such a jolly manner, Ada could not be upset. “Every bride needs a feast,” she said and enunciated the next words with a dip of her head with each syllable, “with her own family.”

  Ada looked to Jamie. It was his decision to make. She, herself, needed no other banquet by which to celebrate. Holding her gaze, he shook his head, suddenly without his recent good humor.

  Because he said nothing aloud, Ada assumed it was left to her to deny this very dear and very excited couple.

  “Truly, it is not necessary. We are road weary, Jamie more so than I, I’m sure. Mayhap an announcement at supper this evening would suffice?”

  She immediately felt awful, and as if she were solely the cause of their crestfallen expressions.

  Callum, bless him, spoke up as Jamie seemed disinclined to do so.

  “Agnes, there’ll be plenty of time for feasting and plenty to celebrate in the future. The lass is right. She’s probably now even dreaming of a good hot bath with that sweet heather soap you ladies are so fond of.”

  Ada turned a thankful glance to the captain. He winked at her just as Agnes took up with this cause. “Ach, but where are me manners! Aye, aye, come along then, lass. We’ll get you settled.” She tugged at Ada’s hand and called over her shoulder as she led her away. “Malcolm, set the pots to boiling for her bath.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Thirty minutes Later, Ada was seated inside a huge wooden barrel tub, not complaining at all that the water was a tad too hot. It felt luxurious, she decided, sliding down so that she rested her head against the lip of the tub, and the as-promised perfumed water settled over her breasts.

  Idly, she let her eyes wander around the room that was to be hers. Hers and Jamie’s. It was sparsely furnished, offering only the very wide bed; one aged and weathered trunk, the carvings long worn by now; and a cupboard against the wall behind the door, in which Agnes now hung Ada’s very meager belongings. Ada would consider this bed the first they would share, having no exact recollection of the bed, or sharing it, on their wedding night. Happily, she did recall the ‘lovemaking’.

  Agnes, Ada was not surprised, who’d seemed completely immune to the scars she surely must have seen on her face while down in the hall, fussed over Ada’s naked body.

  “Who made sport on you like that, lass? Why, they’re everywhere!”

  Ada pulled a face, not sure how much to reveal. Best to begin as you mean to proceed, she thought a wise choice. “Actually, ‘twas a man I was betrothed to.” She sighed then, awaiting the expected questions that surely must follow.

  But Agnes only tsk-ed and said, “Aye, and likely our Jamie got to you just in time.”

  Ada hadn’t the heart to correct her.

  “He’s always been like that, but you probably ken that by now. Running half-cocked, rescuing this one, and saving that one. Seems the lad canna sleep unless he’s done some good that day.”

  Hoping to steer the subject away from herself and Jamie, Ada asked, “How long have you been at Aviemore, Agnes?”

  “Aye, let me see.” She’d laid one kirtle on the bed, flattening the folds of the skirt, picking away grass and whatever else had attached itself in their travels. “More than twenty years, to be sure. Maybe closer to twenty-five?” This last, with a shrug, before she lifted her friendly gaze to Ada. “You ken I’m no really his aunt, aye, lass?”

  Ada nodded, and grinned to show her she was bothered by this not at all. Who was she to judge?

  “I didn’t always look like this, lass. Used to be a pretty young thing, like yourself.”

  “But do you mind me asking, why did you never marry Malcolm?”

  “Aye, it’s a sin, and dinna I ken it, but he was already married, lass. But she’d gone back to London, from whence all devils come,” she said, and crossed herself. “Couldn’t stand the cold and rain, said Scotland was ‘fit for neither man nor beast’. But aye, how we celebrated when she’d gone.” And she giggled—cackled, really—and used her apron to cover her cheeks at such impertinence. “Aye, and wasn’t it the same twenty years later when Jamie took his first wife? She come from the south. Just the same as England, you ask me. Too drafty, she thought, and too wild, she said, always looking down her nose at us. Ran the poor lad in circles, she did, and all the complaining, still had no problem spreading her legs for whatever walked by, pardon and all, my lady.”

  Ada could only stare, now at Agnes’s back as she attended again shaking out the wrinkles in the two spare kirtles, shocked as she was by this carelessly given news. Jamie had been married once before? She supposed first, that it made sense—he was laird of
a large number of people and a great house in the highlands, and he was almost thirty, she had assumed. But...he should have told her, shouldn’t he have?

  Agnes turned, caught the look of astonishment that had drained all the color from her face.

  “Ach, you dinna ken, did you?” And she grimaced, her usually cheery mouth widening as it was pulled. “Now, dinna fash, lass. She’s gone and away for good and ain’t nobody missing her.”

  Not even Jamie? Ada wondered.

  “Gone where?”

  “Dead, and with her babe,” came the answer, which made Ada gasp and brought her hand over her mouth, with this distress, that Jamie had lost a child. She was quickly corrected, “Wasn’t the lad’s bairn—he hadn’t been home in more than a year at the time. Likely, she could no even name the sire. Never did, at any rate, expecting us all to believe we’re waiting on a wee MacKenna to come.”

  “She was not a nice person,” Ada concluded.

  Agnes harrumphed loudly, and with raised brows and puckered lips. “Aye, she was no. Never met a more unsuitable bride. Not like you, lass. You’re just what Jamie needs, aye, and dinna I ken it?”

  Ada tried to smile with this validation, but really could not, not having just learned what she had. She could not help but wonder if this was sometimes, or part of, what often stained his gaze with sorrow.

  AVIEMORE, THOUGH GRANDER by far than Stonehaven, didn’t house even half as many people, but mayhap just as many soldiers. But Ada was still surprised when she entered the hall for dinner, to find it moderately crowded.

  Thankfully, Jamie might have been waiting for her. As she waited, upon the last step at the end of the hall, nervous as ever about meeting new people who would not all be able to stifle their shock or dismay or upset at the sight of her face, Jamie came to collect her. This put her only somewhat at ease. They whispered still. Perhaps word had traveled that they were married. This had Ada imagining they only wondered why this so remarkably handsome man would have taken a bride so horribly disfigured as she.