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

by Rebecca Ruger

  For some time, Tess sat behind Anice, rubbing her back while Anice moaned quietly. Agnes brought rose oil into the room, which Ada rubbed all along Anice’s thighs and hips. She was fed sugared water and vinegar, but accepted this only sparingly, choosing sometimes only to suck on a linen square dipped into water.

  Torren tried twice to enter the room, but Agnes would have none of it. On the second occasion, Anice was in between contractions and managed, in a clear and seemingly strong voice, to call out to him that she was well.

  So it was, just after midnight then, on the third day of the ninth month, in the year of our Lord, 1305, that Ian Kincaid, son of Gregor, finally greeted the world. He came wailing, just as Agnes had hoped, and howled yet more when he was taken immediately to be bathed and swaddled. “Aye, but he’s a loud one, your mighty Kincaid bairn,” chortled Agnes, charged with the babe’s care as she was the only one in the room with any experience.

  Anice slumped against the pillows, her brow damp with the sweat of her labors, her face ashen, and her smile wondrous. Ada stayed with Anice, still holding her hand, exactly where she’d been when the babe had come, while Tess assisted Agnes. When finally the infant was presented to his mother, Agnes beamed a bright and red-faced smile, proudly placing the swaddled bairn into Anice’s tired arms. This enlivened her, and tears fell as she met her son, her joy overwhelming her. Tess and Ada shared a glance across the bed, their own eyes misty as well.

  An hour later, Tess and Ada had changed and bathed Anice once again. The new mother sat up against the pillows on the headboard, covered in a fresh night rail of fine linen. Her serene and pleased smile had barely left her child, even as he was now held in Torren’s arms while he sat in a chair near the bed. The babe was a “right nice size,” Agnes had said, but still looked so astonishingly tiny enveloped in the big man’s huge arms. Torren showed no embarrassment at all for his own watery gaze, as he beheld the little cherub, whilst the babe fisted one entire hand of fingers around only half of Torren’s thumb.

  THEY TEASED OFTEN OVER the next several days that if not for the fact that Anice was regularly needed to breastfeed her own child, she would be able to hold him barely at all. The bairn came into the world as so many did, with a plethora of people just waiting to love him, that Anice’s chambers rarely contained less than two or three visitors.

  After one week, Anice was thrilled to be allowed out of the bed and her rooms—Agnes and Torren had agreed—so that she rejoined the daily activities in the hall. The babe’s coming was indeed timely, and for certain had lessened the pall that had shrouded Aviemore since the news of Wallace’s execution, but the truth was, there hung still an air of dread, while Scotland’s future and the very fate of their husbands was yet unknown.

  The routine of Aviemore settled and then continued for the next few weeks. The ladies met every morning to break their fasts, always in the company of Torren and Angus and Bethany. Of late, Henry had joined them, at first in awe of Torren’s massive size, and then, slowly, beginning to warm to conversation with the big man. Ada was pleased with this occurrence, thinking Torren Beyn a fine model for whom Henry to emulate while both Callum and Jamie were absent, being both fearless and gentle and wise. Ada and Tess had traded happy smirks over the way Bethany constantly had her pretty blue eyes on the lad, stealing glances while she hovered always near Angus.

  Ada’s mornings were kept busy within the kitchen and with household duties, and she was thankful for Agnes’s continued help in this regard. While she might well manage the keep by herself, learning as she went, the advent of their welcome guests did make for more chores and labor, and Agnes’s assistance was both valued and necessary.

  Ada often came across Torren keeping company with Malcolm, who’d since recovered from his brief illness. The two men oversaw the constant training and upkeep of the mixed armies housed now at Aviemore, with Henry always underfoot. And there was hunting to be done, which often took so many units far outside the walls, with mostly successful efforts to keep the large numbers well fed.

  The afternoons usually found the three ladies in Ada’s solar, a private chamber next to her and Jamie’s, which Agnes had told her Jamie’s mother had used to entertain favored lodgers. Here, they busied themselves with needlework, making and mending, Tess having supplied so many bolts of fabric that Anice had teased they might have new kirtles, each of them, for every day of the week, if they were to employ all the yards of material. Malcolm had kindly tasked Aviemore’s carpenter with the very important job of fashioning a cradle for the babe, one he suggested, with a wink toward Ada, might see use even when Anice and her bairn were gone from Aviemore. Thus, when Torren was not present, and the beautiful babe was sleeping, he was settled quite nicely in the cradle, upon a soft coverlet of fine linen, which had been the first item Tess had made and then gifted to Anice. When Torren was present, it was a rare occasion that the babe was not found in his arms.

  Suppers at Aviemore, while the three lairds and their armies were still far afield, and because of the additional details that had reached this far north, specifying exactly how unspeakably Wallace had been put to death, were unsurprisingly subdued. At this time, the meal had not the usual societal agency, being neither cheery nor animated, but only a venue at which to receive sustenance.

  And at night, while Ada lie in their big bed, which sorrowfully had now seen too many nights without Jamie beside her, she thought of him, and dreamed of him, and talked to him. Somehow, despite knowing firsthand that life might not always or exactly choose the course to which you’d set all your hopes, Ada still succeeded in never once doubting that he would return to her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ada stepped into the hall, surprised to find only Angus in the room, seated near the hearth. While the old man certainly needed no regular tending, he was rarely alone, being ever in the company of either Tess or Bethany, and of late, sometimes Malcolm and Torren.

  “Where has everyone gone, Angus?” She asked.

  He cocked his head only slightly at the sound of her voice. Surely, he’d known someone came and who that person was, well before she’d spied him. His senses were a matter of wonder to Ada.

  “Gone to the loch, lass,” he said. “These bright and warm days will no be upon us for much longer.”

  “Anice and the babe, too?” Ada asked with some surprise, taking the chair next to Angus, before the low afternoon fire. She glanced up at the thick pillar candles in the hanging lanterns overhead, making a note that these all needed changing, likely before the week was out.

  “Aye, after a fair amount of wheedling and cajoling with the big man,” Angus said, a grin teasing his features. “Torren finally agreed, but only if the babe went by way of the basket, and only in his hands.”

  “That sounds fair,” Ada allowed, her own grin coming for Torren’s protective bent. “And here, Anice thought she’d have some freedom from his worry, once the babe came.”

  Angus chuckled. “Only doubled his workload, you ask me.”

  “Your hands are idle today, Angus,” Ada noted, as no leather pieces sat near, which Angus deftly worked into bridles and bits and other goods. He held only his pipe, the scent of whatever he smoked mossy and thick. “Will I send for more hides from the tanner?”

  “No today, lass.”

  “You are happy to sit here with your own thoughts?”

  “Sit with my thoughts, aye, but no so happily,” he acknowledged.

  “What brings you grief this day, Angus?”

  “Truth be known, lass, I’m thinking on the death of William Wallace, and now the broken spirit of our own people.”

  Weighty reflections, indeed. “Jamie said the spirit of Scotland was never the same after Falkirk, that it died on the field that day, with all those thousands of men.”

  “Aye, like as no. But what might Wallace’s death mean now?”

  Ada concurred, plagued by the same questions. “It seems we might only limp along, scarred and defeated, until so
mething comes along to stir our passions again.”

  Angus turned, and Ada was sure he looked directly into her eyes. “Like you, lass?”

  She gasped at this, but upon consideration, supposed she was truly not so surprised. She’d kept company with Angus now for many weeks and was continually amazed how much he actually saw. Ada abandoned the chair and knelt at Angus’s feet. She placed a hand on his knee and lifted his one hand while he moved the other, which held his pipe, out of the way. With her palm at the back of her hand, she pressed his palm to her cheek.

  With this permission, Angus leaned left and set the pipe on the ground at his side. He put this hand, too, on her face. While his fingers were spread out over her ears, he used his thumbs to find and trace over every mark on her face. His thumbs moved slowly and then back and forth several times over the larger, deeper scars.

  “Aye, I suspected as much, lass. Or something like this.”

  “But how...?”

  “It’s in your voice, lass. No your words, but in the sound.”

  Ada grimaced and took one of Angus’s hands and moved those fingers down over her neck. He nodded while he felt his way along the thick abrasion from the rope. “Aye, I ken it. But that’s no what makes the sound, lass. Sorrow is what creates the sound I hear.”

  “But I...” she stopped as Angus shook his head.

  “It’ll be fine once your chief comes home. Aye, but you remember, lass, your husband can make you feel safe, can bring you joy—but only after you find these things inside yourself. Aye?”

  Slowly Ada nodded, while the old man’s hands slipped away from her face and neck. Ada stood and found again the chair beside Angus. He was a wonderful man, was Angus, so she didn’t feel the need to tell him that, proudly, she knew these things already.

  Bethany bounded into the hall, flushed and smiling, holding what Ada was quite sure was Henry’s peaked felt hat. The lass sidled up to Angus, casually laying her arm across the old man’s thin shoulders. Angus extended his arm around her waist.

  “You’re causing trouble, lass, I can smell it.” His tone now was light and happy.

  Bethany, standing just about the same height as Angus’s seated form, leaned close and whispered something in his ear. Chuckling, Angus patted her back and said, “Aye, I ken you do. But you leave off bothering that poor lad. He’s got his work, and his training, and he’ll no want this distraction.” And then, with another chortle, “No for another ten years, at least.”

  Henry himself bounded into the hall, his hand on the door frame as he came to a quick stop and scanned the room. Spying Bethany, he made straight for her, only showing slight frustration. Truly, he seemed enlivened by the play. Bethany squeaked, and with a quick peck to Angus’s cheek, she was off, around the table as Henry gave chase, and back out the door.

  Ada and Angus laughed at this. Not two seconds later, Tess showed herself in the same doorway, just as breathless and as flushed as the children.

  “They’ve come!” She called, her excitement a living thing, breathing around her. “Ada, they’re returned!”

  Ada jumped from the bench, darting toward Tess, before thinking of Angus. She turned and offered to bring him outside to await the armies. “Come, Angus.”

  “Go on, Ada dear, see your man. I’ll sit right here in the quiet and listen to the happy reunions.”

  Tess was waving her on from the doorway.

  “Where’s Anice?” Ada wondered as she met Tess and they left the hall, stepping out into the quiet, mournful air of the bailey. The sentries on the wall, under different circumstances, might have whooped and hollered, raising swords and MacKenna banners in salute. This homecoming, while thankful, was somber. To celebrate their return with glad hearts, with any exhilaration, seemed false. They could not rejoice, not when William Wallace had been so tragically, so mercilessly, and so traitorously, cut down.

  The gates were swung wide and the portcullis creaked and groaned as it was lifted.

  Tess pointed to Anice, holding her bairn, her smile the most gorgeous thing as she glanced teary-eyed up at Torren next to her. Torren carefully took the beautiful babe from Anice, cradling him snugly in his big arms and hands. “You’ll want to throw yourself at him, I’m guessing,” he said to Anice.

  The ladies stepped forward, poised still just inside the yard, holding hands.

  They came as one, Conall and Gregor and Jamie, riding side by side through the gates of Aviemore. Their faces were grim, even as their eyes lightened upon seeing the lasses waiting for them.

  Ada kept her gaze on Jamie, his tight and grief-stricken countenance drawing forth a whimpered cry from her lips. Her eyes scanned every inch of him as he dismounted, finding him whole in body, if not in mind. As Gregor and Conall had also dismounted, the three women released each other’s hands and rushed to the men.

  Ada ran to Jamie, throwing herself at him. There were no words, none that needed to be said now. She was in his arms, he was holding her tight, his face buried in her neck.

  Jamie was home.

  True, she would have liked immediately to have taken him to their chambers, to have stripped him of his clothes and his sorrow, and to have been loved by him as she’d dreamed for so long. But they had guests yet, friends all, and they would grieve together now.

  Jamie lifted his head and stared over Ada’s shoulder, turning her around. They watched as Gregor loosened his hold on Anice while Torren walked closer, with Gregor’s son in his arms. Gregor moved as well, closer to Torren, tugging Anice along by her hand. He met the proud and happy gaze of his old friend. Before Gregor glanced down at his son, he wrapped a hand around Torren’s neck and drew their foreheads together, the babe between them. “Thank you, my friend.” No one who heard had any doubt about what he so much appreciated, keeping his Anice safe.

  Torren inclined his head, and Gregor released him to look down upon his child. His very handsome face softened with awe while his son stared back at him with the amazing blue eyes of his mother. Gregor took the child from Torren, showing none of a new father’s uneasiness at holding something so small and fragile. Anice stood at his side and moved a bit of the swaddling out of the way, to show all of his angelic face and some of the spiky blond hair.

  Ada teared up, seeing Gregor’s silent joy at beholding his son, noticing his watery gaze.

  “He’s just a miniature Anice, swathed in a blanket,” Gregor breathed, mesmerized, while those around laughed at this silly though perfectly apt statement.

  MUCH LATER, WHEN THE supper was done, when the sad tale of how they’d arrived too late in London had been given in low and weary voices, when a haunting and mournful song in the delicate, innocent voice of Fiona had been sung to Wallace’s memory, when the new babe had been fussed over by all those gone for so many weeks, they finally retired, finding quiet and peace in their chambers.

  Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, having removed his sword and belt, about to remove his boots. Ada pushed the door closed and leaned against it.

  He was home.

  Setting his boots aside, Jamie lifted his gaze and his hand to her. “Come.”

  Ada put her hand into his and Jamie pulled her onto his lap, lifting her skirts for her so that she straddled him.

  He did not kiss her, just brought her close against him, pressing his chin against her shoulder while his arms slid around her back. They sat like this for many long minutes, quiet and still, while Ada ran her fingers through his hair, against his scalp.

  Finally, Jamie whispered into the hair at her nape, “I’ve missed you.”

  “And I you.” She closed her eyes and held him still. Another few minutes passed before Ada asked, “Is there more we need to talk about? Do you need to unburden yourself?”

  He shook his head against her, and finally straightened and faced her. He swiped a hand downward, from her temple to her jaw, moving strands of her hair off her face.

  “Lass, I canna talk about it anymore. Conall and Gregor and I—that’s all we’ve
spoken of for weeks. I’ve railed and raged, and I’ve cried, and we’ve struck out. And I’m done with all that. I need to look toward the future, this one here with you for right now.”

  “But Scotland’s freedom?” He couldn’t give up on that.

  “Aye, it’ll keep, lass. We’ve met with Robert Bruce, that’s what kept us away for so long. He requests that we three, Conall and Gregor and I, fight with him, as we had with Wallace. But it’ll wait for the right time. Aye, the war survives, lass, even as so many do not. But for now, can I no have you in my arms? Can you no tell me you love me again? For weeks, I’ve naught but heard the words in my dreams, or in my head. I need them from your lips.”

  Ada pressed her lips to his, breathed against him, “I love you, husband. I am yours.”

  “Aye, that’s all I need. But I owe you more and beg forgiveness from you. I left here with Wallace on my mind, fearing for his life, and I did no do justice to what you gave me before we departed. You gave me your heart and I promised nothing in return.”

  Ada disagreed, “Oh, but you did, Jamie—”

  “I did, with my body, but I never want you to no ken that I love you. This time was no too dangerous what we were about, but it could’ve been. If something had happened, you would no have ken that I love you, lass.”

  Ada sighed and tucked her head against his chest. “But you will still show me with your body, aye?”

  The smallest of chuckles escaped. “Aye, I’m thinking about that verra thing just now.”

  This raised her head, brought her lips to his. Ada melted against him, her joy at having him in her arms once again nearly undoing her. Over the next hour, he showed her love, and said, “I love you,” with more than simply words.