Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes

by Ceci Giltenan

  Facing the disapproving stares of the men, Grace wasn’t sure what to say. The fact was, she too had thought it callous but she had seen the fear in her mother’s eyes and therefore understood her reasons. She sighed. “I don’t know all of the details. I know they feared my mother’s father. She told me that before she died.”

  “As I have already told ye, Tristan was a good warrior. When I knew him, with the hubris of youth, he feared no one. Who was the formidable man that could make Tristan Murray tuck tail and run?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. My mother feared him even on her deathbed. She wouldn’t tell me and made me promise never to try and find her clan.”

  The Laird frowned. “I just don’t believe it. I don’t believe he would cower before anyone. I would sooner believe him dead.”

  “Laird, I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself. I’m certain he must have been a good warrior. He taught me…things…about weapons.”

  “What things?” asked Bram.

  “How to care for them and how to use some of them. I can shoot a bow, but not as far or as accurately as he could. He said the best skill a woman could learn was how to handle knives because it took less strength. He was particularly skilled at throwing knives. He could pierce an apple thrown into the air.”

  The laird gave her an odd look. “Aye, he could. I’ve never seen anyone else do that.”

  “I can.” She couldn’t keep a note of pride out of her voice. “He taught me. I can hunt small prey with only a knife.”

  All three men looked as if they didn’t believe her.

  “Really?” asked Bram, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I believe ye, thousands wouldn’t so I fear ye’ll have to prove it.” He walked around the table and handed her his small dirk, a look of challenge in his eyes.

  “If I do, will ye believe me?”

  The laird looked at her appraisingly for a moment before answering. “Aye. If ye can pierce a thrown object with a knife, I will believe that Tristan Murray taught ye how and that he is yer da. Mind ye, there’re no stores of apples left from the fall harvest, so ye’ll have to take aim at a neep. Ian, send someone to fetch us one and meet us outside. Yer mother would frown on throwing knives in the hall.”

  “Aye, Da.” Ian nodded and left the hall.

  Grace weighed the knife in her hand to get a feel for the balance. She ran her thumb along the blade, feeling the point. She frowned. “Laird, neeps are much harder than apples.”

  “Aye, but it is fairly safe to claim ye can pierce a thrown apple, when there aren’t likely to be any around to throw.”

  “Nay laird, that’s not what I meant. I can hit a neep, but the blade needs to be very sharp. This one isn’t. May I have a sharpening stone?”

  Grace took the tiniest bit of pleasure at the look of surprise on his face.

  “Aye, of course ye can. Bram, fetch her a stone.”

  Bram too nodded and left the hall on his errand.

  Laird Sutherland motioned toward the door. “Shall we go outside?”

  “Aye, laird.”

  She walked with him to the outer bailey. Once there, the laird frowned at the activity. “There are too many people here. I don’t want to risk anyone being hurt by a lass hurtling knives.” He ordered some of his men to clear the bailey.

  While she waited, Grace tried to get a better feel for the knife. She flipped it in the air, catching it deftly each time. She walked over to a wooden building that appeared to be a barracks. She threw the knife repeatedly, testing the balance and perfecting her aim with it. She had only one chance at this. She had to prove her boast.

  Chapter 5

  Bram had spent the previous evening wondering about the lass who claimed to be Tristan Murray’s daughter. When she entered the hall with Innes, he was struck again by how beautiful she was. Seeing her stand with her arms encircling the babe on her hip stirred a deep yearning within him. He did want a wife and children and had expected to marry Fiona MacNicol before the end of the summer. That was water under the bridge now.

  He had reined in his wandering thoughts and watched as his father interrogated the lass. Bram was even beginning to believe she might be telling the truth until she made the outrageous statement about her skill with a knife.

  Now he had returned with the sharpening stone and stood with his father and Ian watching her handle his dirk with skill, throwing it repeatedly into the same spot.

  Ian broke the silence between them. “What do ye think, Da? Could she be telling the truth?”

  Their father shook his head. “It’s not an easy story to believe.”

  Bram nodded in agreement. “But she didn’t back down or make excuses. She gave forthright responses and admitted when she didn’t know the answer.”

  “Aye, but both of ye are too young to remember Tristan. He was a strong, skilled warrior. The idea of him hiding from his wife’s father, like a scared rabbit, is ludicrous.”

  “But Da, what does she stand to gain by the lie?” asked Ian.

  “A home with an old woman who desperately wants the story to be true,” answered their father.

  “Aye, but where is the harm in it? Her appearance has brought Innes only joy.”

  “Ye have a point,” Bram agreed. “After all, Innes has nothing for her to inherit and by all accounts the lass seems willing to work and earn her keep.”

  “The harm is that we know nothing about her. What if she is a whore who grasped onto a story she heard in an effort to improve her station? What if she has run away from a husband? Would I want her marrying one of my clansmen if these possibilities were true? Worse, what if she is a spy for one of our enemies? I don’t know if she can be trusted. Besides, if this is all a lie, a temporary convenience, and she leaves as suddenly as she appeared, Innes will be devastated.”

  Bram nodded. “And if she doesn’t leave, her past could surface at any time, creating a terrible problem for us.” He didn’t want to believe that the lass was a whore, or a spy, or even a runaway wife but he understood his father’s caution.

  Grace seemed to have become comfortable with his knife because she walked across the bailey towards them. Before she could say anything, Bram gave a little bow, presenting her with the stone as if it were a thing of great value. “The stone ye requested, Mistress Breive.”

  She accepted the stone, ignoring his mocking tone. “Thank ye.”

  She spied the water trough outside of the stables and walked to it. Wetting the stone and blade, she carefully honed it. Periodically she laid the stone down, and balanced the knife by its point on the middle finger of her left hand.

  “By all the saints, what is she doing?” asked Ian.

  Their father smiled for the first time since Innes left with the babe. “She is testing the sharpness of the point of the blade. She will try to balance the blade on her finger until the point is so sharp the weight of the dirk will be enough to puncture the skin.”

  They watched her work the blade for a few more minutes, until she tried to balance it and pulled her hand back. She caught the knife with her other hand even as she sucked the blood from her finger.

  “I’ve never seen anyone do that,” said Ian.

  “Nor I,” agreed Bram.

  “Well I have. Be careful when she gives it back to ye, Son. I’ll warrant it has never been that sharp before. Tristan Murray sharpened blades like that and I guess I have my answer. Whether she can pierce the neep or not, she is Tristan’s daughter.”

  Bram was surprised by the relief he felt that she hadn’t been lying to them. “Then we are done here, Da?”

  His father grinned at him. “Nay, I want to see if she is as good as her Da.”

  She cleaned the stone and blade before walking toward them resolutely. “I’m ready, Laird.” Her tone was serious but she appeared focused, not fearful.

  His father looked at her for a moment before saying anything. Bram scowled. It was a way his da had of intimidating people but they hardly needed to intimid
ate her more.

  His da’s manner was gruff and his tone disapproving when he finally said, “Well, it’s about time. Yer only throwing at a neep, lass. Ye could split a fly’s hair at twenty paces with that knife now.” Anyone who knew Laird Sutherland would have recognized that as a complement.

  Grace Breive simply straightened her back, looked him directly in the eye, and said, “My Da always said, there is no such thing as good enough.”

  His father frowned, clearly trying to suppress a grin, but Bram and Ian chuckled. At Grace’s confused look, Ian explained, “Oddly enough, our da says the same thing.”

  Their father dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “Enough of this. The dirk is good and sharp now, so let’s get on with it. Ian, on my count throw the neep in a high arc.”

  “Aye, Da.”

  “Three, two, one, throw.”

  Grace instantly focused on the vegetable hurtling skyward, letting the knife fly seconds later.

  Thud. The knife hit the neep, causing it to veer off its trajectory and drop to the ground.

  Ian whooped, “Ye did it!”

  Grace walked calmly to pick up the knife and neep before returning to face his father. Bram expected to see triumph or pride written there or even the determined look she wore as she prepared the knife, but he didn’t. She appeared just as tense and anxious as she had when she first stood before them in the hall.

  Again, his father kept his serious demeanor for moment, staring her down. Finally, he gave her an approving smile. “Well done, Grace. I was convinced ye were Tristan’s daughter when I saw how ye prepared that knife. He is the only man I have ever known to do that balancing trick to test the sharpness. Ye are welcome to live here with yer grandmother. Ye are one of us.”

  Clearly relieved, her shoulders sagged. “Thank ye, Laird,” she said softly. Was that a tremor in her voice? “Am I excused then?”

  “Aye, lass, ye can go.”

  She curtsied, saying, “Good day, Laird,” before taking her leave of them.

  They watched her go for a moment. “She is rather pretty,” observed Ian.

  For some reason, that annoyed Bram.

  “Aye, she is,” agreed their father. “There will be any number of men who will happily marry that young widow. Cam would make her a fine husband.”

  This annoyed Bram too. “Da, it hasn’t been that long since she lost her husband and parents. Give her time to adjust before ye have her married off.”

  “Aye, of course I will. Besides, we need to find a bride for ye. Come with me to my solar and we can discuss our options.”

  That was the last thing Bram wanted to do. He scrambled to find an excuse to postpone another bride discussion, “Ah…Da, I’ll be along in a while. I just realized Grace kept my dirk. Anyway, ye haven’t picked a wife for Ian yet, discuss it with him.” Before his father could argue, Bram followed in the direction Grace had gone.

  He had barely rounded the corner, heading toward the kitchen, when he saw her. She had stopped, head down, one hand covering her face, the other clutching his dirk, still stuck in the neep. She was trembling. Was she crying? He approached her, touching her shoulder. “Grace, lass, what’s wrong?”

  Startled, she spun around to face him. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

  By the angels, she had just performed a feat that no man he knew could do and instead of feeling elation, she was crying. She dashed at the tears on her cheeks even as she denied being upset. Something compelled him to touch her. He reached out and cupped her cheek in one hand, lifting gently so he could see into her lovely green eyes. “Please don’t cry. Is there something I can do?” He brushed a tear away before letting his hand drop.

  She shook her head. “Nay. Really, I’m fine. It’s just—just—I was afraid. I love my grandmother. She is all Kristen and I have left.”

  “Yer grandmother is important to us as well. We didn’t want to see her hurt again.”

  She nodded. “Last night, I admired how protective ye were of her. It’s just that I never imagined anyone would think I was trying take advantage of her. My parents’ choice has caused her so much pain.”

  “Aye, it has. My father knew yer da and respected him. I think that is why it was so hard for him to believe the story.”

  “Please understand, sir—”

  “Call me Bram.”

  “Bram. Please understand…they believed they were doing the right thing. I loved my husband. We were very happy. But my parents, their love was beyond description. My father adored my mother and she was devoted to him. They lived for each other. My mother lost her will to live when Da died.”

  “Yer husband died too. Ye went on.”

  “I had to, for Kristen’s sake. I couldn’t lose myself in grief. That life is over. If I try to dwell there…well I just can’t. I try not to think about how much I miss them. But just now, when I had to prove to ye that I was their daughter by doing something I spent much of my life learning from my da…feeling the balance of the knife, honing the point and edge, taking aim…the memories were so strong. I was just overwhelmed for a moment.”

  What an eejit he was. He had seen it as only a test of skill, one any man might play at and wager on. Grace wasn’t a man, and it hadn’t been a few pennies at stake. Her future had rested on the contest. Furthermore, he hadn’t even remotely considered the memories it might conjure, reminding her of all she had lost. “I’m sorry, Grace.” It was very little, but he didn’t know what else to say.

  *

  The man standing in front of her confused her. He had been determined to ensure that Innes wasn’t hurt but he had hurt Grace with his mocking attitude. Her encounter with Laird Sutherland and his sons had done nothing to improve her opinion of powerful men. However, Bram had followed her and showed her concern.

  He had wiped a tear from her cheek.

  How long had it been since anyone had done that? When Da and Callum died, it was all she could do to handle her mother’s grief. There had been no one to comfort Grace.

  Now he offered her an apology. But instead of leaving well enough alone, she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “What are ye sorry for?”

  Bram cocked his head, clearly surprised by her question. “What?”

  “Ye said ye were sorry. What are ye sorry for? Are ye sorry for thinking I was a liar? Are ye sorry for doubting me when I said I could do this?” She waved the somewhat ridiculous looking knife with the neep stuck on the end. “Or are ye sorry I’m crying because I miss my da?”

  He appeared to be at a loss for a few moments. Finally, he answered. “I’m sorry for all of those things. I can see we hurt ye today. I swear it was for the right reason, but still, I’m sorry. I wish we had shown ye a bit more consideration.”

  “I’m sorry too.”

  “What are ye sorry for?”

  “I’m sorry my parents’ choice hurt the people they left behind. I swear it was for the right reason, but still, I’m sorry.” She echoed his words.

  “Grace Breive, like Da said, ye are a bold one, but ye make a fair point.”

  Grace was frankly stunned that she had said those things. She felt heat rising in her face and looked down for a moment. “I’m usually rather nice. I think ye bring out the worst in me.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  She gave him a rueful look. “Well, I have never stolen anything before and I walked off with yer dirk. I’m sorry.” She pulled the neep off and held the knife out to him.

  His eyes twinkled. “I’m not.”

  She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she decided she had already been far too forthright. She looked down at the vegetable in her hand. “I think my grandmother needs to serve roasted neeps at dinner.”

  Bram laughed appreciatively. “I think so too. In fact, I’m going to walk ye to the kitchen and ask her myself.”

  Grace was appalled. “I didn’t mean that. It was only a jest.”

  “And a good one. Da will see the humor in it…but if he doesn’t, it
was my idea. Maybe I’ll ask her to stick a knife in one.”

  Grace shook her head. “Oh, please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t do that.”

  He took her elbow and started pulling her with him as he walked toward the kitchens. “I can just imagine the look on his face now.”

  “Nay, Bram. Ye can’t do that.”

  He laughed again. “Has anyone ever told ye ye’re bossy?”

  “I said ye bring out the worst in me, but please don’t do this.”

  “Fine, no knife. But we will have roasted neeps.”

  Just as he promised, when they reached the kitchen, Bram asked Innes to serve roasted neeps at dinner. When he explained why, Innes, Maisie, and the other women working in the kitchens laughed heartily and complemented Grace on her skill.

  Before he had taken his leave, Lady Sutherland arrived. Clearly she was surprised to find her eldest son there. “Bram, what on earth are ye doing here?”

  “I escorted Mistress Breive back after her meeting with Da because I wanted to make a special request for dinner.”

  Lady Sutherland arched an eyebrow at him. “Since when have ye cared what was served for dinner, as long as there was enough of it?” The women all chuckled.

  “I just had a sudden desire for roasted neeps.”

  Lady Sutherland’s musical laughter filled the kitchen. “Yer father told me what happened. It serves him right. In fact, I think I’ll serve him one on the end of my knife.”

  Grinning at Grace, Bram said, “I think that is an excellent idea, Mother.”

  Grace buried her face in her hands.

  Lady Sutherland laughed again. “Come with me now, Son, and leave Innes and her staff to their work.”

  The day before Pentecost was a day of fasting, so only the evening meal would be served. Still, there was a flurry of activity as the women prepared for the feast of Pentecost. Hours later, when the kitchen had been put to rights during the afternoon lull, Innes sat dozing by the hearth in her cottage, as Kristen napped on a pallet in the tiny bedroom.

  Grace had obtained some new wool and had skirted and washed it in Durness while staying with Dugald. She had prepared it to the point it could be carded and wound on her distaff for spinning. She would take this opportunity to further work the wool. She opened the chest her grandmother had given her for storing her belongings in order to return the brooch and letter back into the box for safe keeping and to get her cards and distaff.