The Dreamer
Page 3
Gretna’s heart fell, and her happy mood disappeared as quickly as steam rising from a pot. Catriona and Mercy had nearly driven her mad by trying to saddle her with another husband, and poor Ian Cameron was their latest target. Apparently, the two had also involved Alexander in their scheme to see her married to Ian.
The crowd hummed with excitement. She glanced at all the expectant faces. How in heaven’s name had everyone found out? Had the wily women enlisted the help of the entire clan?
With an indulgent smile, Alexander stepped back to the dais, took Catriona’s hand, and helped her rise from her seat. Heavy with child, Catriona rested a hand atop her swollen middle and beamed at them both.
The need to turn tail and run was strong, but Gretna forced herself to stand firm. Nay. She’d not show cowardice in front of her sons. She glared at Catriona, willing the woman to hear her thoughts. How could they do this in front of everyone? A sideways glance at Ian made her feel even worse. Aye. She knew that set to a man’s jaw. He felt just as cornered as she. Hopefully, he didn’t think her a willing party to this mess.
Alexander cast a silencing look around the room, then smiled at each of the boys lined up like peas in a pod in front of Gretna. “How old are each of ye now?”
“Eleven,” Evander answered in a leery tone.
“I be ten,” Rory said after Evander elbowed him.
“Nine,” Finn whispered after both his brothers nudged him.
Alexander’s gaze settled on Gretna. “And how long have these poor lads been without a father to look up to and guide them?”
She bit back the sharp retort burning on her tongue. Alexander knew good and well how long it had been since Colin’s accident, and that bastard had been a poor excuse for a father. “Six years,” she said in the most respectful tone she could manage.
“And I believe this be the fourth time since last summer that these boys have stood before me. Is it not?”
“My boys are not bad—just a wee bit rowdy.” She forced a smile. “Just look at today. Whilst I agree they couldha handled it better, they were but trying to help the poor.”
Alexander nodded. “And that is why I intend to help both them and yerself.”
Ian groaned something under his breath that she couldn’t make out, but was certain it wasn’t good. Servants, guards, and folk from the village milled around the perimeter of the room, inching ever closer and narrowing the cleared space. She pulled in a deep breath. Merciful heavens, they’d surely smother her if they didn’t step back and give her some room.
“And I appreciate the thought. But we are fine, my chieftain.” Gretna made a gracious half-bow and managed another strained smile. Usually, she always called Alexander by name. After all, she was Catriona’s closest cousin. She hoped he’d realize the barb intended by her cold use of his title. “Thanks to the Lady Mercy’s generosity and my helping Mrs. Bickerstaff with her healing errands, my boys and I have had no trouble at all keeping food on the table and a roof over our heads.”
“Nay.” Alexander frowned and shook his head. “It is high time these boys were fostered and taught properly. They need a guardian to train them rather than allow them to shoot up wild as weeds. An upstanding man will help them become the best sort of men they can be.” His gaze slid to Ian. “And I have just the man. Let it be known from this day forward that Ian Cameron is legal guardian to these three until they reach manhood. Ye will foster them, Ian. Raise them up to be fine young clansmen. Teach them, and…” Alexander paused, and his smile disappeared. “Ye will keep them out of trouble, aye?”
“Far be it from me to refuse my chief and cousin anything, but I must respectfully decline,” Ian said. “I have no land. No home. I live my life on my horse’s back.” He gave a smug nod, then turned to Gretna with a placating smile that struck her ill. “They be fine boys, of that I’m sure, but I’m a mercenary. I canna be foster father to yer lads.”
“I didna ask ye to, now did I?” How dare he think her a part of this thinly veiled ploy. “I can take care of my own sons, thank ye verra much.” She turned back to Alexander and flipped a hand in Ian’s direction. “Ye heard the man. Not only does he not wish to do it, he has no place to keep them. He canna do it.”
“Of course he has a place to keep them,” Catriona interjected with a sweep of her hand toward a staircase at the back of the room. “He and the boys shall stay in the north wing of the keep. We’ve already set an entire floor in order for them.”
“My lady,” Gretna said in a tone she hoped her cousin would heed. “Has it slipped yer mind that Graham and Lady Mercy reside in the north wing—them and their children?” She’d gone beyond caring that they stood in front of half the clan. This foolishness had to stop.
“They dinna live on the second floor.” Folding her hands atop her middle, Catriona gave a self-satisfied nod. “The second floor needed a good cleansing of all the evil once done there. Father William’s already blessed it, and it’s quite ready to be filled with the laughter of children.”
Gretna was taken aback. “So, ye mean to take my boys from me? How can ye do this, Catriona? How can ye do such a thing just to get yer way?” By the saints, she would take her sons and leave Ruadh before she’d let them take her babies from her. They’d live in caves if they had to—whatever it took to be together.
Catriona beamed with the smile of a victorious warrior. “We would never attempt to take the lads from ye, dear cousin. They’ve already lost two fathers. How cruel would it be to separate them from their mother?” Her gaze fell to Finn as the boy shuffled backward even tighter into the protective folds of Gretna’s skirts. “Perhaps, ye misunderstand? Father William blessed the entire second floor of the north wing, and the maids have scrubbed all the chambers.”
“The entirety of the living quarters?” Gretna whispered, the words catching in her throat. Surely, Catriona didn’t mean…
“Aye! Ye will live here with the boys, too!” Catriona announced with an excited clap of her hands. Glee rang through her tone like the peeling of a church bell. She cast a stern look around the room and spoke louder. “Ye will share one of the chambers with Mam Hattie, whilst Ian and the boys share the other. Everything will be moral and proper as it should be.” Her tone dared anyone to say otherwise.
Ian lifted a hand and shook his head. “Alexander—”
“This is not a request, Ian.” Alexander’s congenial look hardened into a stern glare. “Yer chieftain bids ye do this, aye?”
“I am sorry,” Gretna whispered with the barest turn of her head toward him. “None of this is my doing. I swear it.” Could they possibly humiliate her any more? Would they leave her no pride at all?
Ian’s strong jaw flexed, and he bowed his head the slightest bit. The man had heard her, but had he accepted her words as truth?
With a shifting of his stance beside her, he swelled with a great intake of breath, then blew it out. “I accept the task then,” he said through bared teeth. “But until next summer only. As I said, I earn my way as a mercenary.” His scowl was an open dare to Alexander. “Come summer, I will be on my way again. Agreed?”
“For now,” Alexander said. The man was not a fool. A sly smile lifted a corner of his mouth. “We shall see how the lads fare by then, aye? I am not an unreasonable man.”
Ian shifted in place, obviously struggling to hold his tongue. “Aye,” he finally growled.
The crowd hummed all around them, buzzing and stirring like an overfilled hive. Gretna wouldn’t be surprised if the meddlesome fools didn’t break into cheers at any moment.
“May we go now?” she asked.
“Aye,” Catriona answered before Alexander could respond. With a sideways glance at her husband, she touched his hand and smiled. “I shall go now, too, and leave ye to the settling of the people’s grievances.”
Alexander helped her step down from the dais, then turned back to Ian and Gretna. “’Twill be a fine winter with the keep filled with kith and kin. Aye, cousin?”
As far as she was concerned, they couldn’t go fast enough. She took his arm and urged the boys onward. “On wi’ ye, now.”
“We’re to live here in the keep? All of us? With him?” Evander asked as they pushed their way through the crowded room.
“Hush now.” Gretna herded her brood to walk faster. “We shall talk of it in the courtyard. I’ve shared more than I ever cared to share with this clan today.” Tongues would be wagging all winter long and then some.
She hurried them down the steps and around the back of the keep to the walled-off gardens meant for the chieftain and those closest to him.
“Hold fast, lads.” Ian held them back, then sidled his way in front of them and opened the gate. Grim as death, dark brows knotted, his jaw flexed beneath the dusting of his shadowy beard. He gave a polite nod for her to pass through first. “M’lady.”
“Mama always opens the gate,” Rory argued. His plump, freckled cheeks went red, and defensiveness flashed in his eyes.
“A gentleman always opens the gate for the lady, and she always passes through first.” Ian motioned her forward again while still scowling at Rory. “’Tis proper and mannerly, ye ken?”
“They know that,” Gretna defended as they entered the private garden. “I’ve taught my sons their manners.” She pointed at a bench tucked between a pair of rowan trees lit with the brilliant red of autumn. “Sit over there. All three of ye now, and be quiet whilst I speak with Master Ian.” She pointed a warning finger in their direction as she walked away. “And dinna ye move from that seat, or I’ll have yer behinds, ye ken? I’ll fetch ye in a bit.”
The restless lads lined up on the bench.
Thankfully, Ian followed her without argument. She led him a few steps away, far enough so the boys couldn’t overhear. “I had nothing to do with this,” she said, wishing to be anywhere but where she stood. Cheeks burning with bruised pride and shame, it took all her strength to take hold of this situation and attempt to manage it. “Ye know me, Ian, or ye should by now. Have I ever acted as though I wished to trap a man and saddle him with my bairns? When Coire died, I found myself forced into a loveless marriage with Colin. It was a grand mistake, but I’d promised—for Coire’s peace of mind. Do ye truly think I’d willingly go through such misery again?”
“Nay, lass.” He scowled at their surroundings, looking everywhere but at her. “But I dinna see a clear way out of this for either of us just yet.” He raked a hand back through his unruly, shoulder-length, dark hair.
The poor man looked travel-worn and weary—as handsome and fine as she remembered but still as though he sorely needed a meal and a bed. His frown settling on the boys, he shook his head. “It’s the women. Catriona, Mercy, and I’m sure even Isobel had a hand in this all the way from Edinburgh. Ye know as well as I, they canna help themselves. All three think if ye’re not married, ye canna possibly be happy.”
“I am blessed with three, fine healthy sons, a roof, and plenty of food in our bellies. How could I not be happy?” She hugged herself, refusing to speak her true feelings. Unfortunately, Catriona and Mercy knew one more thing about her. A weakness that worked to their advantage. They’d weaseled it out of her one afternoon while the three of them snipped herbs for drying. They knew she was lonely. She’d foolishly confessed it. Even told them how she missed the closeness, the precious loving she’d shared with her first husband.
Dearest Coire, God rest his soul. The emptiness he’d left her with when he’d died had only worsened with the forced marriage to his twin brother after the deathbed promise to ease Coire’s mind about leaving his bairns behind. Marrying Colin had been a fool’s errand. She would not go through another loveless union of duty and convenience. She had her sons. They were all she needed. “I am truly sorry they trapped ye. Especially in such a public way.”
“Alexander is sly as a fox and firmly under Catriona’s control.” Ian gave a weary laugh. “This all happened just as they planned it. I grant ye that.”
“Ye know they think we’ll eventually marry. Think if they force us together and wear us down, we’ll give in and do as they wish.” Gretna gathered her knitted shawl closer. A chill had set in. A chill that had nothing to do with the kiss of winter hiding in the autumn breeze. “But at least he didna refuse ye flat out when ye said ye couldna stay until they were grown. He didna say for certain ye couldna leave come next summer. There is that to help ye through the winter.” At least Ian seemed to accept none of this was her doing. She wished she could make this better for him.
He gave her a look that clearly conveyed he thought her addled. “Ye know better than that.” Thumbs hooked in his belt, he turned and looked at the boys again. “I’m surprised ye’ve managed to escape a trap such as this for as long as six years. Damn meddlesome clan.”
“I believe my working with old Elena to learn her healing helped me avoid the fall of the axe for a while.” She joined his study of the boys fidgeting on the bench. Not one of them had the capacity to sit still, but at least all three remained where she had put them. “I’m sorry for ye, Ian.” She massaged the side of her throbbing head. A cup of willow bark tea was definitely in her near future. “I truly am sorry. I know ye’ve much better things to do rather than playing nursemaid to three boys and tolerating me when I’ve no more desire to be yer wife than I wish to be tossed off a cliff.”
“I dinna believe I’m all that terrible a choice, am I?” His disgruntled look swiveled back to her. “Ye make it sound like ye’d rather have the plague than be caught in the same room with me.”
“That is not what I meant, and ye know it.” Saints alive, she’d forgotten he was the sensitive one. Always had been. She assumed it was because of what she’d heard about how his wife was murdered at Glencoe. The hideous deed was made even worse because she carried their first child. “Ye’re a fine man,” she hurried to reassure. “But I’ve been married twice, and dinna wish to lower a third husband into the grave.”
“Aye, well…” He cast a glance skyward. “I’ve buried more than just Janet, and I’m none too keen on burying another either.”
“Ye married again?” She hadn’t heard that. Of course, it had been over three years since he’d been back to Tor Ruadh.
“Not exactly.”
Have mercy on her soul. The man looked like one of her lads when they’d done some mischief and were trying to hide it. “What do ye mean not exactly?”
“Shall we go to yer croft and pack yer things?” he asked, ignoring the question entirely.
Since the marriage noose hadn’t tightened around her neck just yet, she’d leave him his secrets for now.
“Aye.” She released the boys from the bench with a wave of her hand. “Home, lads. Time to gather our things. Run and see if Master Simpson will let us borrow his cart, aye? It should do well enough to move what little we have.”
She stole a more lingering look at Ian, as the lads charged past them and stormed out of the garden. Had he always been this tall and broad-shouldered? She hadn’t remembered him as such. Shooing away the thought as though it was a midge, she concentrated on where they were headed rather than on Ian’s good looks. “We’ve not got much, but we have all we need. It shouldna be too big of a chore to get us moved into the keep.” As they passed through the garden gate and crossed the bailey, she caught sight of his horse with several compact bundles lashed behind the saddle. “What about yerself? I assume ye dinna have more than what ye have packed on yer horse?”
For the first time since Alexander had harnessed them with their sentence, Ian gave her a genuine smile. “Aye, ’tis everything I own.” His smile widened. “I was right. Ye are a canny lass.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” She didn’t know whether to be insulted or not.
“Sutherland said ye refused him.” He nodded his approval. “I told him that showed ye possessed good sense.�
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“Sutherland loves women. All the women.” She squinted to catch sight of the boys, but they’d already sprinted out of view. “I am far too busy to take on the breaking of that randy horse.” Someday, Sutherland would meet his match, and she hoped she was around to enjoy that spectacle.
They exited the barbican and maneuvered around a stretch of muddy ruts taking up half the lane. As they topped the first rise, the sight of the boys scampering around Mam Hattie and a cart pulled by a MacCoinnich guard halted her. “What have they done?” She fisted a hand in her shawl. Was nothing private anymore? Had they dared to go through her things without her?
“It looks as though they’ve already packed yer croft for ye,” Ian said as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
“They had no right.” She charged forward. They may have meant well, but this was too much. “What have ye done?” she shouted. The realization hit her that for them to have already finished, even though they had little to pack, Alexander must have ordered Graham to send the guard with the cart to her croft while they still stood before him in the great hall. This latest meddling infuriated her. She was not some pawn for the clan’s amusement.
Mam Hattie smiled and waved as she toddled along beside the scantily filled cart. Arisaid covering her silver head, a gnarled hand holding it tight beneath her chin, she squinted against the sun peeping through the clouds. “Wait ’til we get closer, lass. I canna hear ye over the racket.”
Evander bounced up to her. “All is already packed. Can we be off to play now?”
“Ye may not,” she said sharper than she meant. Guilt washed across her. It was not her son’s fault their lives had become the MacCoinnich’s favorite pastime.
Evander backed up a step and motioned for Finn and Rory to stay back. “Sorry, Mama. What do ye wish us to do?” he asked in a hurt tone that made her feel even worse.
She shook her head and waved him away. “Forgive me, Evander, I’m weary. Of course, the lot of ye may go and play.” She snatched hold of his arm before he escaped. “But I beg ye, please stay out of trouble. At least for the rest of the day, aye? Will ye try? Please?”