Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Are ye enjoying yerself?” Bram asked, his impossibly blue eyes twinkling with delight.

  She brushed the dirt from her clothes to focus her attention on anything but his eyes. “Aye, thank ye, sir.”

  “Mama, can we go again?”

  “Nay, Kristen, I think it’s Nell’s turn now and we should be going. I promised Grandmother we wouldn’t be too long.” Turning to the women, Grace said, “good day. It was lovely to meet ye all.”

  “We will see ye later at the feast then?” asked Nell?

  Bram arched an eyebrow at her.

  “Uh…nay, I’ll be helping my grandmother in the kitchen.”

  “But it is yer first feast day here,” said Una. “Ye can’t spend the whole night in the kitchen.”

  “That is exactly what I told her,” said Bram.

  “Aye—well Kristen…” Grace shrugged. “Thank ye again for letting us join in.” She curtsied to Bram. “Good afternoon, Sir Bram.”

  Kristen mimicked her curtsy. “Good affernoon, Sir Bwam.”

  “I was walking back to the keep anyway. I’ll accompany ye.”

  The other women all grinned.

  “Thank ye, but it isn’t necessary.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.”

  If anything, Grace’s blush grew deeper and the grins on the other women’s faces grew wider.

  Chapter 7

  Bram told himself that he hadn’t been strolling through the village merriment in search of Grace, but when he found her, he knew it was a lie. Seeing her laughing and enjoying herself in the midst of a group of woman and children playing peevers took his breath away. When she fell and just sat in the dirt laughing and kissing her daughter, he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful sight. A woman who knew deep sorrow and yet could still relish the joy of life was surely a treasure.

  Now she walked beside him, silently. While he missed the liveliness she displayed moments ago, her sudden shyness and warm pink blush was equally as appealing.

  “So, ye met a few of the village women?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Aye.”

  “We pwayed peevers,” said Kristen.

  “I saw ye playing. It looked like ye were enjoying it.”

  “Aye.” Kristen nodded exuberantly then giggled. “It was funny when mama feww down.”

  Bram chuckled. “Did yer mama think it was funny?”

  Kristen nodded again. “Aye. She waffed a wot. Didn’t ye mama?”

  Although still blushing hotly, a smile flirted on Grace’s lips. “Aye, sweetling, I did.”

  “Do ye like it when yer mama laughs, Kristen?”

  The wee lass grinned. “I wike it a wot.”

  He leaned down conspiratorially, “I do too.”

  Grace gave a little laugh, glancing sideways at him. “Are ye trying to make me perish with embarrassment?”

  “Nay. I’m just trying to coax that smile back.”

  She looked down shyly, but couldn’t suppress a wee smile.

  With her guard down a little, perhaps he could talk her into at least coming to the hall for the music and dancing after the feast. “The women were right, ye know.”

  “About what?” she asked.

  “It is yer first feast day here and I don’t want ye to spend the whole night in the kitchen.”

  She shook her head and opened her mouth, poised to speak, but he put up his hand to stop her. “Don’t say me nay again. At least say ye’ll consider it.”

  After a few moments she said, “I’ll consider it.”

  “Thank ye.”

  *

  The feast was sumptuous and while Bram ate his fill, he wasn’t happy that Grace had helped prepare it but didn’t take part in it. He anxiously waited for the food and trestle tables to be cleared away so the dancing could start. He kept watching the doors to the great hall, not wanting to miss Grace when she arrived.

  Ian, who had been dancing with one partner after another all evening, approached with two tankards of ale. He sat beside Bram, shoving one tankard into his hand. “Who are ye waiting for?”

  “I’m not waiting for anyone,” said Bram irritably. He took a long pull of ale, avoiding his brother’s eyes.

  “Nay? It sure looks like ye are waiting for someone. Ye’ve kept yer eyes on the doors all evening.”

  “Well, I’m not waiting for anyone.”

  Ian shrugged. “Suit yerself.”

  Bram took another drink, trying to ignore his over-observant brother.

  After a few moments, Ian said, “I know ye aren’t waiting for anyone, but ye do know that there are musicians and dancers outside? Maybe the person ye aren’t waiting for is there.”

  Damn. Ian was right. Bram hadn’t even thought about that. When they had great feasts, there wasn’t enough room in the hall for all of the clan members who attended. There was always food and drink set up on tables outside and after the meal there was music and dancing there as well. Maybe Grace was there. Bram drained his tankard, stood, and began winding his way through the revelers in the hall.

  “Ye’re welcome,” called Ian.

  Once outside, Bram stood on the top of the steps, looking over the crowd. Every flash of coppery hair caught his eye, but none of it belonged to the woman he sought. He wandered through the crowd, nodding as people called greetings to him, but avoiding being pulled into conversations. After searching for what felt like ages, he resigned himself to the fact that Grace had stayed in the kitchen all evening, despite his request.

  That was it. If she wasn’t at the party, maybe she was in the kitchen. Again, he worked his way out of the throng of people and around to the back of the castle. He stopped in the open doorway. She had her back to him, sweeping the last bit of dirt into the hearth.

  “Are ye still considering whether to join in the festivities?” he asked.

  She spun around. “Oh. I—I—ye startled me.”

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping I could convince ye to come enjoy what’s left of the celebration.”

  She met his gaze. The vulnerability he saw there for a moment shook him to his core.

  She sucked in a quick breath and looked away. “I told my grandmother I would finish tidying the kitchen for her.”

  He glanced around. “It looks like ye have.” He crossed the room, took the broom from her, and stood it in the corner where Innes kept it. He turned back to her and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

  Her hand flew nervously to her throat. “But Kristen—”

  “Is evidently tucked in bed and safe with Innes.”

  At her continued hesitation, he said, “Grace, please. Are ye always this stubborn?”

  Her brow furrowed and she gave a small shrug. “I’ve already told ye, ye bring out the worst in me.”

  There it was again, that glimpse of vulnerability that he didn’t understand. It stirred a distinct desire to protect her from whatever caused her distress. “If ye don’t want to join the revelers, I will walk ye home. But I would very much like for ye to return to the party with me.”

  *

  Grace stared at the beautiful man who held his hand out to her, enticing her to go with him. Why was she resisting this so diligently anyway? He was just being kind to her, perhaps to make amends for the way they had doubted her the day before. What harm was there in accepting his kindness and enjoying the festivities?

  “I’ll go for a little while.”

  The smile that spread across his face was heart-stopping. “Good.”

  She turned away for a moment to snuff the candles before walking past him to the door. He followed, taking her elbow and guiding her to the front of the keep.

  Grace had never seen anything like it. It looked as if everyone in the village had attended from the very young to the very old. The front courtyard was filled with people, the very center of it left a bit more open to give the dancers room. Una was dancing with a fierce looking warrior who must be her husband. Senga and Nell were there too, families in tow. The doors to the great hall
were open and it too was teeming. Peggy waved merrily at her from across the courtyard.

  The atmosphere was more festive than anything she had ever experienced in her little village but perhaps the best part was the music. Melodies from flute, lute, and recorder all intertwined and were carried forward on the driving beat of a hand-held drum, stirring the feet of the people dancing. She was simply enthralled.

  She felt Bram tug at her elbow. “Shall we go into the hall?”

  “Oh, but this is wonderful,” she said. “Can we just stay here?”

  He grinned. “Anything ye wish, Grace.” As one song ended, he asked, “would ye like to dance the next one?”

  “Aye, I would,” she answered.

  He took her hand and together they joined the dancers. The music started again, and Grace lost herself in it. She loved dancing but it had been ages. The familiar patterns and steps came back to her as easily as breathing. Callum hadn’t enjoy dancing as much as Grace. He had humored her and tried a couple of times but she knew he didn’t like it, so she never pushed.

  Bram, on the other hand, performed the dances with skill, just as her father had and seemed to enjoy it as much as she did. After they had danced five or six dances and she was quite out of breath, he led her off the dance floor. “Ye should rest a bit. Wait for me here and I’ll get us some ale.”

  “I can get our drinks,” said Grace, feeling slightly embarrassed at the thought of the laird’s son fetching her a drink.

  “Nay, lass, ye’ve worked all evening, allow me.”

  “But ye shouldn’t—”

  He put a finger on her lips and grinned. “Grace, don’t argue.”

  She smiled at him. “Fine. I’ll wait here for ye.”

  She turned back to watch the dancers as Bram walked away. In a few minutes she felt a hand at her elbow. She turned, expecting to see Bram, but it wasn’t him. It was the dark-haired man named Michael she had met earlier on the village green. “Oh…hello.”

  “Good evening, Grace.” His smile was warm and friendly but it didn’t have quite the same effect on her as Bram’s. “I’ve looked for ye all evening. I had finally despaired of ever finding ye.”

  “I—I—was working in the kitchen most of the evening.”

  “Ye seem to be enjoying the music.”

  “Oh, aye, I am.”

  “Would ye care to dance with me?”

  “Well, I’ve just—”

  “Good evening, Michael,” said Bram from behind him. There was a definite chill in his voice.

  Michael either didn’t recognize it, or chose to ignore it. “Bram, aye, ’tis a good evening. Better now that I have finally found this beautiful lass.” Turning his attention back to Grace he said, “so, Grace, will ye dance with me?”

  “Nay, she won’t,” said Bram. At Michael’s questioning look, Bram added. “She’s been dancing and needs some refreshment.” He handed her a tankard. “Here’s yer ale, Grace.”

  “Ah, well, perhaps later.” Michael gave her a small bow and moved away.

  Bram frowned. “Do ye know him?”

  “Not really. He was playing quoits on the village green today and introduced himself.” At his continued scowl Grace asked, “is there something wrong?”

  “Nay.”

  “Are ye angry with him for some reason?”

  “Nay. Michael MacBain is a good warrior—a good man.”

  “Oh.”

  Grace wasn’t sure where that spark of surliness came from but it disappeared just as quickly. They drank their ale and chatted about nothing in particular. When she finished her tankard he pulled her into the center of the courtyard for several more dances. Finally, exhausted she said, “I really should be going now. It’s late, I’m tired, and Grandmother will be worried.”

  “Well, if ye must go, I’ll walk with ye.”

  “Thank ye, but it isn’t necessary.”

  “Have I already mentioned tonight how stubborn ye are, Grace Breive?”

  She laughed. “Fine, walk me home.”

  When they had left the inner bailey, leaving much of the noise of the crowd behind them, Bram asked, “Did ye enjoy yerself?”

  “Aye, I did. Thank ye.”

  “I don’t think I have ever enjoyed dancing quite so much.”

  They had reached Innes’ cottage. She stopped in front of the door and smiled up at him. “I’m sure I haven’t.”

  He looked at her intently. “Well then, we will have to do it again.”

  “I’d like that.” It had truly been a wonderful evening.

  “Good. Then ye’ll give me no argument about attending the feast on St. John’s Eve in three weeks.”

  “What?”

  “Ye heard me.” He grinned. “No argument.” He reached behind her, and lifted the latch as he had the night she met him. “Good night, Grace.”

  Chapter 8

  Bram continued to avoid his father and all talks of betrothals for the next few days. The week after Pentecost was a holiday week and the weather for the first few days was particularly fine. That made it easy enough to stay out of his way.

  However, Bram was equally as intent on seeing more of Grace. He found reasons to walk past the kitchens and Innes’ small cottage, hoping to see the lass who captivated him. He saw her occasionally but didn’t have the opportunity to exchange more than a few words each time. And while he was certain she had enjoyed the time they spent together on Pentecost, once again, she was polite and guarded when he saw her in passing. Perhaps it was because other people were around. One evening he did hear her singing lullabies to Kristen. He waited outside, hoping she would come out for a bit of air. Sadly, she didn’t.

  Then by midweek the weather changed and they were lashed with cold rain for several days. He didn’t see her at all then. On Friday afternoon the rain slowed to a drizzle. Intending to exercise Goliath, Bram walked to the stables. As he entered, a woman’s voice and child’s laughter floated from the hayloft. He knew instantly whose voices he heard.

  He climbed the ladder, following the enchanting sound. Grace and Kristen sat in the hay with their backs to him. Close to them was a mother cat with a litter of kittens squirming and playing next to her.

  “I wanna hold one,” said Kristen.

  “Sweetling, they are very little and fragile. We don’t want to hurt or scare them. What matters most, Kristen?”

  “Kindness,” the wee lass answered.

  “That’s right. And being very careful is the way to be kind to a kitten. So, come here and sit in my lap. We’ll hold one together until I’m sure ye know how.”

  Kristen squealed and scooted into Grace’s lap. “Wheesht, Kristen. Ye don’t want to make so much noise ye scare them either.”

  When Kristen was settled in her lap, Grace said, “Now, make a bowl of yer hands, like this.” The lass cupped her hands as her mother had shown her. Grace stroked the mother cat’s head. “Ye don’t mind if we give one of yer babes a cuddle, do ye?” Gently she lifted a tiny grey kitten in one hand. Putting her other hand under Kristen’s little ones, she placed the kitten in her daughter’s cupped hand, keeping her own hand in position next to the kitten protectively. The little tableau was beautiful.

  “What’s her name?” Kristen asked.

  “I don’t suppose she has a name yet.”

  Kristen leaned her head down, rubbing her cheek against the kitten. “She’s soft.”

  “Aye, pet, she is.”

  “Can we take her to show gwanny?”

  “Not today. She is too little to leave her mama.”

  “What’s her mama’s name?”

  “I don’t know. Robert told me where to find her, but he didn’t mention her name.”

  Robert was the stable master and it explained how Grace came to be there. Bram cleared his throat, causing her to start and look over her shoulder for the source of the sound. “Whisky.”

  “What?” asked Grace. Kristen too twisted to look at him. “Careful, Kristen, ye’re still holding the ki
tten.”

  Bram smiled. “The mother cat, Robert calls her Whisky.” He climbed the rest of the way into the loft and crouched down beside them. With one finger he rubbed the tiny kitten’s head. “If ye could name a kitten, Kristen, what name would ye give it?”

  Kristen’s brow furrowed, causing him to smile. She clearly was giving it serious thought. After a few moments she said, “Spwite.”

  “Spwite?” he asked.

  Grace laughed. “She means ‘Sprite’. She can’t quite pronounce it yet.”

  “That’s what I said. Spwite.”

  He grinned. “Why Sprite?” he asked.

  “My mama calls me her wee spwite sometimes.”

  “Well, I suppose that’s a fine name for a cat then.”

  Kristen beamed at him. “Do ye wanna hold one? Mama will show ye how.”

  “Kristen, I’m sure Sir Bram knows how to hold a kitten and we should go see if granny needs any help.”

  “She aweady said she didn’t when Wobert told us about the kittens.”

  Grace smiled apologetically at him. “The rain has kept us indoors. Long days stuck indoors make wee lassies restless. Robert thought this might be a nice distraction.”

  Bram smiled at her. “I expect so.” He didn’t want them to leave just yet. “In truth, Kristen, it has been a long time since I’ve held a kitten. Perhaps ye could show me how.”

  Kristen nodded vigorously. “Ye make a boww wif yer hands wike this. Then mama needs to put her hand under yers to keep the kitten safe.”

  Bram cupped his hands and winked at Grace. “I’m ready.”

  Grace laughed. “Kristen, I think Sir Bram’s hands are big and strong enough to hold a kitten without my help.”

  He gave a mock sigh. “I suppose I can manage alone if I must.” Sitting in the hay, he reached for a tiny black and white kitten, cradling it in one hand, while rubbing its head with the other.

  “Yer s’posed to use boff hands,” Kristen chastised.

  “Kristen, it’s all right. See, one of his hands alone is bigger than both of yers.”

  “Wike Da’s hands were.”

  “Aye, pet. Like yer da’s were.”

  The grief that appeared in Grace’s eyes caused Bram’s heart to ache.