by Deb Kemper
“Aye, sir, jest a few finishin’ touches.” She headed down the hallway to the nursery, in a flash.
Garth stole to Amalie’s door to peek inside. It was his first look into her private space. He glided through to find her in her dressing room. She sat at the table before an oval mirror, head bowed.
“Are ye prayin’?” He whispered as he eased up behind her.
Her eyes sparkled when they met his in the reflection. “Aye, that I was. I prayed for a tall, handsome man to come rescue me from the kind ministrations of my well-meaning helper.” She turned on the stool to face him. “And there you are, milord.”
He held his hand out to her. She reached for it and rose. He wrapped her in his arms. He kissed the most beautiful woman in the Chattan, the world for that matter, for she belonged to him.
“Ahem!” Millie’s hand propped on her hip, as she scolded the laird and lady of the manor. “Sire, ye’re not supposed to be in here.”
Garth sighed and frowned. “Millie darlin’, we’re already married. I’ve seen her and plan on seein’ her again shortly.”
“Ye’re leavin’ here now. Go on and tend to yer guests. A page’ll fetch ye when it’s time fer her to make her appearance.”
He stole another kiss and went through the door where he turned back for a last look. “I’ll be waitin’, my heart.”
Amalie smiled, her eyes teary. “Aye, my love.”
“Wssht, lass, let’s get yer hair up, yer dress on, and ye can go.” Millie grabbed the boar hairbrush and proceeded to arrange Amalie’s coppery tresses. “I don’t reckon ye’ll need a thing fer them cheeks, they’re rosy as can be.” Her voice gentled after Garth left them. Millie eyed her in the reflection. “Had ye any idea how this wou’ turn out?”
“No, truly not, Millie. I loved him more every day, but had no notion he loved me back.” Amalie smiled at the recollection of her laird’s declaration of affection. “Now, if I can just give him a son, I think I’ll have done him justice.”
“Ye’ll have a basketful of bairns. Ye’re built fer it with those wide hips. Ye’ll have an easy time with ’em and I’ll be right ’ere catchin’ ’em when ye’re ready.” Millie grinned while she worked.
“You’re comin’ to the feast, aren’t you?” Amalie looked into Millie’s eyes. She suddenly realized, with sorrow, their stations had changed. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”
“We’ll always be friends, Amalie. Mr. Douglas and I’ll be with the children tonight, at the high table. After supper the nurse’ll take Jessica for bed and we’ll be there to celebrate wi’ ye. We wouldn’t miss it fer all the world.”
“Do you think Garth’s stepmother and sister will come?” A frown creased her brow.
“They’re here but don’t fret. They’re to stay in the guest quarters. Ye needn’t even see ’em except in the common rooms.” Millie pinned up the last curl and worked ribbon through the braid and curls. “Ye look like a queen, a Celtic one, of course.” She squeezed Amalie’s shoulders. “I love ye, lass.”
Amalie patted Millie’s hands. “I love you, Millie.”
“Let’s get ye to yer man, now.” They left the bride’s chamber and made their way down the stairs to the foyer where Himself waited.
Garth paced past his watchful collies, in the gallery, waiting for his bride. He couldn’t bear to walk into the great hall without her. When he heard her he turned to watch her float down the staircase, enrobed in pale creamy muslin, satin, and lace.
He made sure his mouth wasn’t open, agog at the sight of such beauty. “Amalie! Ye look like an angel, my heart.” He took her hand, bowed, and held it to his lips. “Millie, I’ll take her from here. Ye’re comin’ soon with the lasses?”
“We’ll be behind ye in a few minutes. Give ye time to introduce Lady Mackintosh, sir.” She smiled as she watched them leave the gallery, wishing there was some way to capture such a fine moment.
Garth and Amalie entered the door nearest the high table.
Chieftain Daniel Macgillivray met them there. Shorter than the Mackintosh by half a foot, he shook hands with Garth and kissed Amalie’s cheek. “Congratulations, milord and milady. Are ye ready to be introduced?” His gray eyes landed on Amalie.
She blushed and nodded. “Aye, ready as I’ll ever be, sir.”
The Macgillivray laughed. “This is yer family now, Amalie. They all wish ye well.”
“If you say so.” She glanced up at her husband. He winked.
“Ye’ll do fine!” The Macgillivray called order with a signal to the bagpiper. At the shrill pitch of the pipes the crowd fell silent. Garth stepped forward with Amalie on his arm.
“Chattan clan and family, I’m pleased to introduce my wife to ye; Amalie Sullivan Mackintosh.” He bowed to her.
Amalie kept her eyes on him, paled, and smiled. She curtsied beautifully.
The Macgillivray held a fine wooden box as he took his place beside The Mackintosh. Garth lifted the heavy lid and removed a gold coronet resting on blue velvet. He placed the tiara securely on Amalie’s curls.
The Macgillivray handed over a Mackintosh tartan arisaid.
Garth draped the shawl across her left side. She focused on his every move. He slipped his hand inside her dress to secure it, with a brooch, near her shoulder, smiled, and winked. She blushed.
“Madame.” He took her hand, tucked it inside his arm, and led her down the steps for the first dance.
Garth watched her when the first notes struck and saw recognition in her eyes. The minstrels played the tune they’d first danced to, on Martinmas night. She glided across the floor in his arms, lovely and never happier.
As supper ended, Garth left his seat, at the high table acknowledge his father’s wife. “Madam, how good of ye to accept our invitation on such short notice.”
She distinguished Amalie with a cold smile. “Lady Mackintosh, how lovely ye look today, not atall as bedraggled, as the night we first met. Yer change in station agrees with ye.”
“Thank you, madam. I attribute the improvement to my husband’s care more than the way he clothes me.” Amalie returned the challenge.
Garth’s glance between the two of them assured him that Amalie was equal to the task of verbally fencing with his tactless kin. He grinned and extended his hand. “Will ye dance with me, Lady Mackintosh?”
Amalie looked up as she took his hand. “I’d be delighted, sir.” He held her chair tucking her arm into his as he led her to the dance floor. “Bravo, my sweet.” He bent to whisper in her ear. “Verra well done.”
Chapter 14
Amalie opened her eyes, on the eve of Candlemas, and spent a moment savoring the warmth of her lover’s bed. She turned to find her husband up and away already. She stretched and snuggled deeper into the warmth.
“Marriage is lovely!” She spoke aloud to the cold empty room. “Two months ago today I became milord’s wife.”
She stirred and squirmed out of the thick down mattress into her shoes nearby. The cold stone floor and walls bore the room’s heavy chill.
She trudged quickly to the bathing chamber to find the fire roaring in the hearth. She shed her gown and washed in the basin near the fireside. As she splashed the cool water on her face she felt nausea sweep over her. She straightened and pulled her gown on again to go to her room and prepare for the day.
****
“Millie?” Amalie’s tone was urgent, causing the chatelaine to glance up from the pot of porridge she stirred.
“Are ye alright, milady?” Millie’s frown deepened.
Amalie shook her head and made a rolling motion with her hand. “A bit hoopy this morning. Is there something I can do?”
Millie’s brows rose. “Oh, that then.” She smiled as she scrubbed her hands down her aparan. “Well, let me see what we got.” She entered the larder and moved about collecting bottles. “How ’bout a nice peppermint tea?” She didn’t wait for an answer but poured boiling water into a china pot and scooped leaves from a tin. “I can get
ye a piece of cold bannock to nibble, too.”
“I’d be obliged.” Amalie leaned on the preparation table. “I don’t know what’s got me, I’ve been this way the past few….” Realization dawned on her.
“Have ye now?” Millie grinned. “Does Himself ken?”
Amalie shook her head. “No.” Her eyes widened when the movement made her dizzy.
Millie grasped her arm. “Sit, milady. Nibble the bread and I’ll pour yer tea.” She returned in a moment with a steamy cup. “Why don’t ye go back upstairs and I’ll have Gerty bring this to ye. Stay easy, ’til it passes, before ye try to come back to the kitchen.”
“I must help prepare dinner. It’s my job now.”
“And ye’re fine at it, darlin’, but I can get a girl from the village, fer a bit, ’til yer belly’s calmer.” Millie stroked her back.
“When do you think that’ll be?” Amalie looked hopeful.
Millie chuckled. “In a month, maybe two. Look, ye need yer strength to teach the girls and tend to yer husband. Let me worry ’bout the rest.”
“But it’s a feast day tomorrow and….” She swallowed as the fragrance of roasting meat slammed her senses. She covered her mouth.
“Aye, see? Now hasten to yer chamber. Gerty’ll be up in a minute.” Millie led her to the back stairs.
Candlemas dawned cold and gray in the Highlands, the threat of snow imminent. Amalie scooted to her chamber, before her husband woke, and took care to sip the cold peppermint tea she prepared the night before. She nibbled a bit of bannock, hidden on a saucer with a cup flipped over the top. She cracked the ice on her basin of water and washed in the frigid bathing chamber. She pulled on her stays and laced them, when a noise startled her.
Garth propped in the doorway. “Why’re ye up so early, my heart?” He enjoyed surveying her body through the thin shift she wore under her stays.
“I’m preparin’ for the day, milord. We must go to chapel soon….”
He reached for her, unlacing her stays. “We’ve time to wake properly. Yer fire’s not going. Wait fer Gerty to come get yer room ready. Ye’ll freeze in here.” He swept her up into his arms and carried her back to his chamber and their warm bed.
****
Millie laid on a fine feast for the Chattan. Under her supervision the staff toted platters of roast venison, fat hens with dumplings, boiled potatoes, and baked apples to the food line. Guests delighted over wilted kale and carrots dressed with apple cider vinegar and herbs and Amalie’s sweet oat cakes glazed with plum preserves.
Oat and barley breads adorned every table, with jars of honeycomb and bowls of freshly churned butter. Servers ladled soup of oats, salt tack broth, and kale into the waiting guests’ bowls.
The minstrels struck a merry chord that began the festivities. Garth roared with laughter at the high table, surrounded by his wife and daughters. His stepmother, sister, and brother-in-law sat just beyond them.
“Jessica, ye look like an angel today. Did Mallow fix yer curls this mornin’?” Garth favored his youngest with special attention. His eyes dancing, his finger sprung a curl.
“Aye, Da. I’m sorry to fall asleep in chapel. Mallow woke me early to look pretty.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“Perhaps we’ll go up soon and nap together.” Amalie offered the tike.
Garth shot a sideways glimpse at his wife. “Ye stayed awake nicely in chapel, milady.”
“Mmm, it was all I could do not to join Jessie in slumber.” She pushed the little bit of food around her plate.
“Ye don’t eat enough.” Garth’s smile melted. “Are ye unwell, Amalie?”
“No, a little tired is all.” It’s a good excuse to absent myself from your stepmother. She smiled into his concerned frown and patted his hand. “I’m well, sir.”
Mrs. Mackintosh glared at Amalie and chewed her bread slowly.
“When is your family leavin’?” Amalie’s face burned under the matron’s gaze.
“Tomorrow perhaps, shall I hasten their departure?” He raised her fingertips to his lips and kissed them.
“I’d be ever so grateful, sir.” Amalie glanced down the opposite side of the table and smiled into the dowager’s leer. “Madam, is there something on your mind?”
“Tasteless displays of affection in public are the ways of harlots and their consorts. They have no place in proper society.” Her voice dripped sarcasm and honey at the same time, a sneer in place.
Amalie’s eyes rose to her opponent’s. “You’d know that firsthand, I suppose?” She waited for a reply with raised brows. “No? Neither would I, havin’ never shared a table with either, knowingly.”
Mallow’s head dropped as she covered her mouth, with a linen napkin. She stole a curious look at Jessica, struggling to stay awake. Garth watched the interchange with amusement for a moment before interceding.
“Madam, ye’re welcome to leave my table and my land if ye find the company intolerable.” He covered Amalie’s hand with his own. “But ye won’t be insultin’ my wife again, or ye’ll be banished fer good.”
****
Garth held Amalie to study her upward gaze. “I’ll be back in a few days. Is there aught I can bring ye from the city?”
She shook her head. “Only yourself, milord. I’ll miss you with all my heart.”
He chuckled and nuzzled her neck. “I’ll miss ye with more than my heart, love.” He kissed her. “Well, I best be on the way. I can stay here and love on ye the day long, woman.” He released her.
Amalie stepped back and smoothed the front of her dress. “The children await you in the hall, sire.”
Garth opened the door of his study and stepped out, Amalie behind him.
Jessie ran hard at him. “Da! I’ll miss ye somethin’ fierce!” She clung to him as soon as she was in his arms.
Mallow stood with Amalie. “Da, will ye bring us back a new book, please?”
He laughed at her. “A book? Not jewels, dresses, or the like wi’ you, it’s always another book.” He chucked her chin and kissed her forehead. “Whatever yer wee heart desires, pet.”
He stood Jessica back on her feet and bent low. “Ye mind yer mam and I’ll be back in a few days.”
“Aye, Da.” Jessica’s hazel eyes began to tear.
“There’s naught to be sad over, Jessie, I’ll be home before ye miss me.”
She smiled bravely, blinking through tears. “Aye, Da.”
Amalie stepped around Mallow to brace Jessica’s shoulders.
Garth turned away after a quick peck on his wife’s cheek. “Madam, I’ve ne’er been one to be feel torn from home, but I’m sore wi’ the sorrow of it, this day.”
Amalie smiled and inhaled his scent as she stretched on tiptoes, across Jessie, for another kiss from him. “Aye, sir, but we’ll be fine. Just go!”
He turned away, hoisted his valise and walked through the door without a glance back.
****
Amalie rolled to her side, snug in the warm feather bed that embraced her. She tugged a quilt up to her chin and wiggled deeper into the softness.
“Amalie.” Her husband’s deep voice sounded nearby. “Amalie?” He touched her shoulder gently.
She struggled from slumber. “Sire, I didn’t know you’d returned.”
“Aye, an hour past. I need ye—in my chamber.”
She sat up, pulling a quilt with her. “May it please you, milord, to rest here tonight?”
He sat on her bed. “No, our marriage bed is my chamber. We’ll be in it.”
“I’d rather stay here. Look my bed is warm, comfortable. It’s not as though you haven’t slept here before.”
“Sleep’s not what I crave, woman. Hie to my bed. I’ll be waitin’ fer ye.” He rose and turned away. His wide shoulders shrugged wearily.
“I’ll not be sharin’ your chamber tonight, milord. We can discuss the reason in day’s light. You’re welcome in my bed.” She flipped the quilts back.
Her husband turned, fiery-eyed in the di
m light of the candle he carried. “Woman, I’ll not contend wi’ ye!” He rasped. His strong hand rested on his hip. “Up, I say, this instant.”
Amalie slipped back down into her bed and waited.
Garth sighed heavily and undressed. “Sometimes ye sorely vex me, lamb.”
“You’ll understand more on the morrow, milord. I need to be cautious.”
****
At dawn Garth lay beside Amalie, his hand spread on her small mound of belly. “Ye’re sure?” A grin replaced the frown he wore on waking.
“Aye, I didn’t mention it until I was positive. ’Twas why I wanted to stay in my warm bed. Millie said I need to not be chilled.” She rubbed her hand down his shaggy, muscular arm and landed on his hand. “Are you pleased, Garth?”
He laughed. “Of course I’m pleased, my heart. It explains yer lack of fervor for mornin’ love makin’ of late. I feared ye ill.” A shadow drifted across his face.
“It’s a temporary change of disposition.” She smiled coyly. “I assure you.”
****
A few nights later, Amalie knocked at Garth’s study door. No answer. I swear I heard him come in. She turned for the back of the keep to the kitchen. She dipped a cup of water from the wooden bucket on the prep table and savored the coolness to her dry throat. She shivered in the chilled room. The coals of the fire in the wide stone fireplace were nearly gone. She dipped another cup to take with her and made her way back to the front stairs.
As she stepped into the dim gallery, the study door opened and her husband emerged. He headed directly upstairs without a glance around. She waited, in the shadows, until his chamber door closed. I’ve no’ seen you three days, milord. Not a word from you. Why are you avoiding me?
She crept softly up the stairs and to bed.
Chapter 15
Two months passed, when one morning, Gerty finished washing Amalie’s hair. “It’s a warm day, ma’am. I was thinkin’ if ye wanted to go to the roof and dry yer hair, it’s the day fer it.”