By the time he looked up, the Swintons were out of sight and Neil was back in position waiting for Donnahail to let him know it was safe to move on. He nodded to his laird and stayed beside her as they renewed their ride across the meadow.
At length he let his horse drift back into position and when one of the other men looked at him, Donnahail wet his first finger and made a tear mark from his eye down his cheek. The other man nodded and passed the word...Kadick was crying.
The MacGreagors were moving in the direction of England and there was plenty to point out and talk about, but no one said a word. Until now, none of them truly realized how dreadful life had been for the little lass with the mark. She was a woman now of course, but she was still a little lass in Neil’s eyes—a very hurt and nearly forgotten child.
He wanted to make it up to her somehow, but how? Then he realized he had another problem. It was one thing to imagine finding a husband for a normal woman, but what kind of laird would expose Kadick to the shunning of both the Scots and the English? He could not do that to her.
What he needed was a reason not to take her into England with him. Yet even that might seem cruel. As hard as he tried, he could not think of a good enough excuse. Then word came to him that Kadick was crying which made him feel even worse.
When they finally stopped for the night in a clearing big enough to house them, the men were still subdued. Trying to make her feel better, two of them were there to help Kadick off her horse, others quickly made her bed, another offered to take her for a walk and when yet another man asked if she desired anything, Kadick put her foot down and yelled at them, “Saints be praised, stop hovering!”
Realizing what she had done, she covered her face with her hands, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I am sorry. I am quite well, honest. I am also quite used to the way the world sees me.”
“Aye, but you had a tear in your eye. I saw it.” Donnahail muttered.
“I had a tear in my eye because my backside hurts like I imagine the fires of hell hurt. You might have found me a softer horse, Donnahail MacGreagor.” She playfully swatted his arm and turned to smile at Neil. “Now if you will allow it, I desire some privacy.”
Neil nodded and watched her walk toward the small pond his scout managed to locate before they stopped for the night. He didn’t believe her and doubted any of the others did either, but she had the good grace to put them at ease. He suspected she had been doing that all her life too.
When she came back, her hood was down, her face was washed and she walked with dignity and pride. Neil held out his hand, helped her sit down on the bed the men made for her and then knelt down between her and Greer. “Now I will hear the truth.”
Kadick’s shoulders slumped, her demeanor quickly changed and she hung her head. “I should be accustomed to it by now, but I never am. At least this time it served a purpose.”
“Aye, it saved a Swinton’s life.”
She smiled at the implication that a MacGreagor couldn’t lose. “That it did.”
“However, I am concerned about taking you into England. ‘Tis bad enough for a Scotsman to react that way, but I will kill the first Englishman who does and that would start a war.”
“I see.” Her heart sank, not so much because she believed she would find acceptance in England, but because she was learning to love being with all the men and sharing their adventure.
Quiet until now, Greer finally spoke up, “There is one way we could take her with us.”
“How?”
“Well, the Swintons wear blue paint. We could cover her mark and wear the same mark as hers ourselves.”
Neil was delighted. “‘Tis a wonderful idea.”
Luag shook his head. “The English will see it as a mark of battle.”
“But I really only want to go to a festival. I have never been to one,” Kadick said.
One of the men put more wood on the fire and then turned to face his laird. “It would not have to be the same mark as hers. I could paint a flower on each of Greer’s cheeks and perhaps a bear or a horse on some of the lads’ faces. So long as the markings are the same color, who will care?”
Neil was more than pleased. “Done then. All we need to do is find paint.” He kissed the top of Kadick’s head, got up and went to his own bed. “Sleep well, tomorrow we see England.”
CHAPTER V
FOR THIS EXACT OCCASION, Greer brought two of her English gowns so she would more easily fit in and when they came to the first farm, she sighed. She was thrilled not to have to milk the stinky cows and pitied the woman who was. At the first farm, there were no unmarried women. Nor were there any at the second and third farm, but the forth farm was much larger and required several women to care for the needs of the lord and lady of the manor.
Her clothing was the common clothing of a housemaid, she wore her hair in braids and at first, no one even noticed Greer. The milking shed was ten stalls long with one back wall and a slanted, thatched roof precariously held up by intermittent posts that seemed too thin to hold the weight. Patched holes in the roof made it obvious the roof was not there to keep the women dry, but to keep the rain out of the milk buckets.
Greer held her breath to avoid the smell and waited until the cows were in their stalls. Then she watched the women bring their short stools and buckets, make themselves as comfortable as possible and begin their work.
Cautiously, she approached the first woman while at the same time staying ready to move quickly, should the cow kick the bucket. “Are you unmarried?”
The woman slowly turned to stare at Greer.
“What I mean is, would you care for a husband? I mean. I come from the clan MacGreagor and our lads are in want of wives. Are you willing?” Greer got no reaction and tried to think what else she could say. Perhaps this one did not speak English. Suddenly, she realized she was not speaking English. Greer smiled and repeated her little speech in the right language...with a few improvements. This time the woman’s eyes lit up. She handed the bucket to Greer and scurried down the row of women until she found what she was looking for.
Then she briefly disappeared and when she reappeared, she had the hand of another woman. Together they raced back to Greer. She took the bucket back, set it down, grabbed Greer’s hand and pulled her around behind the shed. “Say it again for my cousin to hear.”
Greer did. Then she said it again for another woman and yet another until she began to worry. “Will your lord get upset when he finds you talking to me?”
“Aye, but what can he do?” asked the first. “So long as we do not have to milk the cows, I will go with you.”
“So will I,” said another. The other two emphatically nodded.
Four wives at a time, Greer thought. This should not take long at all. “But will your lord release you?”
“I have no intention of asking him,” said the first woman. “We can slip away in the night. Where will we find you?”
Greer glanced back at the clump of trees where she knew the men were hiding. “Can you meet me outside the gate?”
“Aye.”
“One more thing, they are very large lads. Do not be frightened, they will not hurt you.”
On the other side, an older woman had her ear against the thin wooden wall listening to every word. She waited until the milkmaids returned to their work and the milking was done, before she went to the manor to alert the lord. Her prize, she expected, would be a lighter workload. Perhaps he would even relieve her from her duties as a dairy maid. He promised he would the last time, but then claimed they were too shorthanded. This time he would do it. He had to.
Three miles from the first farm, the MacGreagor men were excited when Neil came back and told them four women had agreed to become brides. The men could hardly wait. They took turns bathing, washed their hair, and even cleaned their fingernails with the tips of their daggers. They trimmed their beards, cut their hair and changed into cleaner clothing. Then they made sure they had plenty of fresh meat
roasting over the embers of a fire, washed bowls and had ample wine all set out and ready.
When evening finally came, Neil, Greer and three other men took enough horses to the clump of trees near the farm and waited for darkness.
THERE WAS LITTLE TO do but wait and since Kadick was the only woman among the remaining men, Donnahail took it upon himself to sit down on the grass not far from her in case she needed something. He did not feel comfortable letting her just sit there with no one to talk to, and he wasn’t at all sure the other men would take the trouble to become her friend. So far, they had not.
Normally, she felt ill at ease when one of the men sat on her right side nearest her mark, but for some reason it was different with Donnahail. She couldn’t think why. All the men were trying very hard to be pleasant and helpful, but with him, she even managed to forget her mark occasionally. Maybe it was because she liked talking to him so much. “Greer told me the lasses will not be accustomed to wine. The wealthy drink wine while the poor drink a kind of bitter ale. Why do you suppose that is?”
Donnahail shrugged. “Who can understand why the English do anything? Lately I have been wondering if taking an English bride is such a good idea.”
“There are not so many Highlander lasses to choose from unless you wait for some of the younger ones to grow up.”
“I know, but think of all the complications. The language of love only lasts so long, you know. The bride, and in your case the groom, will be forced to learn a new language. ‘Tis a lot to ask and we will need vast amounts of patience while they are learning.”
Kadick wrinkled her brow. “The language of love?”
“You know, the hugging and the kissing.” He noticed her blush, but wisely did not mention it. Kadick not only kept herself hidden away, it seemed, she was very young in the ways of men and women. He decided to change the subject. “What sort of lad do you hope to find?”
She forgot all her shyness and giggled, “I do so hope he is the breathing sort.”
He rolled his eyes. “That might help. What else?”
“You mean if ‘tis possible to find a lad who can see beyond my mark? Neil was the first in a long time who actually looked into my eyes. Then next was you and now a few others have done it. But it has taken days for some lads and we do not have days to spend in England.”
“Are you giving up already?”
“Not giving up exactly. There really was little hope when I started on this venture, but I could not bear the loneliness any longer. Some days Millin was the only person who acknowledged my existence.”
“Perhaps that was your own fault.” Donnahail did not mean to say it so bluntly, and watched to see what she would do. He would not blame her if she got upset.
Kadick remained calm and simply shrugged. “You appear to be a good enough man, and since you are a MacGreagor and not a MacClurg, I will forgive your lack of wit.” It was an excellent returned insult, she thought, and waited to see his reaction. If he got upset, she would know he was easy to anger.
Yet he did not get upset, he smiled. “I deserved that. About what am I witless?”
“Before the MacGreagors came, I was out and about constantly. I might have continued to be that way, but...well, you saw it yourself...people fear me at first.”
“I doubt the MacGreagors would have shunned you, Neil would not have allowed it.”
“Aye, but how was I to know that? And there were lost MacGreagors finding their way to us nearly every day. If I were outside, I would have felt the need to run and hide with each new occasion.”
“So it became easier just to stay hidden.”
“Aye.”
Donnahail asked, “Am I cured of my lack of wit yet?”
“Not yet, I will let you know when.” She said it with a straight face and then slowly returned his smile. “What sort of wife are you looking for?”
“That is not an easy question to answer.” He shifted his position, pulled a long blade of grass out of the ground, broke off the end, and put the clean end in his mouth to chew on. “She must have a good sense of humor. I would not enjoy a lass who is too serious or cries incessantly.”
“I feel the same about a husband, he simply must not cry all the time.”
Donnahail grinned and then gave her his best worried look. “Of course a lass must cry from time to time, ‘tis the way of lasses.”
“True.” She shifted her body a little so she could get more comfortable, leaned down, pulled out a long blade of grass, broke off the end and put the clean part in her mouth. “Do all lads understand that?”
“I do not know. Hopefully they learn that from their mothers.”
“Why do you think that happens?”
“The crying you mean? I think it happens so a lad will hold her.”
“Oh.” Kadick took a moment to think that one over. “You did not know William. He was Millin’s husband before he died in the plague. They raised me and I was just remembering how he used to hold her when she cried. I see now you are right about that.”
“Were they good to you?”
“They were very good to me. I hope very much to find a lad who will honor me the way William honored Millin.”
It was Donnahail’s turn to look perplexed. “Honor how?”
“Let me see ... how does one explain honor?”
“We honor Neil by bowing to him when others are around. Did William bow to her?” When Kadick laughed, it sounded like music and he could not help but smile.
“Hardly. Millin is not always sensible and neither am I, or so William sometimes pointed out. I do not recall but one time he raised his voice to her. Normally, he agreed until she got to her more sensible mind, and then he would gently point out the error in her way of thinking.”
“Was he always a sensible lad?”
“Nay and we had many a good laugh over that, but just as he did, Millin waited until he was shrewder before she reasoned with him.”
“And did you learn that talent?” he asked.
“I hope so. I let you get away with scolding me.”
He quickly bowed his head. “I did not mean to scold you. Do you think you could teach me how to honor a lass?”
“I do not know. How hard is it for you to learn?”
He lifted his chin in mock defiance. “Impossible, or so my father often said.”
CHAPTER VI
KADICK WAS STARTING to like this man and hoped she could find a husband with his temperament. “Shall I tell you about the one time William yelled at Millin?”
“Please do,” said Donnahail.
“Well, Millin got it into her head that she was going to reproach another woman. William never forbid her anything, but that time he said nay, she was to stay out of it. Millin wouldn’t listen and went out the door before he could stop her. Furious that she would disobey him, he chased after her, picked her up and carried her back inside. ‘You will never disobey me again!’ he yelled. Can you guess what happened next?”
“What?”
“She slapped him...hard.”
“Did he hit her back?”
Kadick’s eyes grew wide. “Nay, he loved her, he would never hit her. Instead, he kissed her and he would not stop kissing her until her anger left and she gave in.”
“I would not have thought to do that.”
“That is what I mean. William honored his wife. He filled her life with love, not arguments or orders, or unpleasant remarks, just love and the many forms love takes in a person’s life. I was a part of his love for her too.”
“In what way?” he asked.
“It was William who rescued me. He never said, but I think my first mother was about to kill me. Instead, he took me home to please a wife who had not conceived.”
“And pleasing her pleased him,” Donnahail said.
“Aye. Therefore I pleased them and the two of them pleased me very, very much.”
“Not all marriages are like that, you know.”
“Why not?”
&
nbsp; He chuckled. “There are many reasons but mostly ‘tis because lads choose a wife for the wrong reason.”
“Which is?”
“Her beauty, her stature and sometimes even just the way she looks at him.”
“Looks at him how?”
Donnahail was suddenly sorry he brought up the subject, and worried he would have to explain in more detail. “Well...she looks at him with...lust in her eyes.”
“Oh. Millin has explained lust to me. But lust is not just a lad’s problem, ‘tis a lass’s as well.”
“True and if they marry for lust alone, they cannot expect a happy marriage.”
Kadick smiled. “I agree, although I do not yet know how to tell if a lad wants to marry me because of lust alone. Perhaps you will have to help me with that.”
“I will be honored.” He returned her smile, but turned away before she could see too much in his eyes. Sometime in the last few days, the feeling he had for her changed from a protective older brother, to a man growing fond of a woman in his company. He liked talking to her and enjoyed her way of thinking. She was not piteous as she had every right to be, or resentful as some others might have become in her position. More importantly, she was not vain. Considering his last romance, a lack of undue vanity was high on his list of wife requirements. Wife requirements? Was he really considering Kadick’s qualities as a possible wife?
Both of them were being unusually quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Kadick spoke up. “I’ll not find a husband like William, will I?”
“I doubt I will find a wife like Millin either and certainly not in England. The ways of the English are not like ours.”
“I have an idea.”
“What?”
“I will find a good wife for you if you find a good husband for me.”
Marti Talbott's Highlander Series, Volume 4 Page 13