by Lynsay Sands
Eva picked nervously at the joint of chicken in her trencher. She had worked hard this afternoon and was exhausted and should have been starving too, but found herself attacked by a case of nerves instead as her gaze slid unhappily around the empty tables. She was beginning to get the feeling that her brilliant plan of that morning wasn’t perhaps as brilliant as she’d thought. The reaction to her removing the furs from the windows and arrow slits to allow some proper sunlight in to brighten the place had not gone over well with anyone so far. Not even Glynis, and Eva had rather counted on the maid’s support and encouragement, but instead the girl had tried to dissuade her. Unfortunately, Eva could be bullish when she had an idea, and—positive that her husband would like and appreciate her efforts—she had insisted on marching ahead with her plans.
Grimacing, she tugged the sleeve of her gown up and turned her arm over to examine the bruised and swollen forearm. Eva supposed that—had Glynis been at least a little more encouraging—she would have attempted to enlist the aid of a couple of male servants to aid in the endeavor, but fearing more resistance, she’d opted to do the chore herself, and had nearly managed to kill herself into the bargain. Grimacing, she tugged the sleeve of her gown up and turned her arm over to examine her forearm. She’d nearly tumbled from the small ancient and rickety balcony that ran the length of the row of arrow slits when Ewan had come stomping into the great hall demanding to know what in God’s name she thought she was doing. She’d stopped her fall by catching her arm on the rail, but then had been so irritated at the unnecessary accident—the man hadn’t needed to startle her so with his bellowing and stomping about—that she had refused to undo all the work she had done and had insisted on waiting for Connall’s pronouncement on the matter.
Now she was beginning to wish she had simply put the furs back up and forgotten the entire thing. The reaction of every last servant and soldier in the castle had not been encouraging. They had filed in for their meal this evening, all going quiet as they had spied the last rays of sunlight stabbing through the now uncovered windows, then had sat whispering amongst themselves until the last rays had died. Moments later, they had risen as one and hurriedly filed out.
Now Eva sat alone at table, wondering if her husband would bother to make an appearance. The man had been absent all day, “about his business” as Ewan had claimed and had yet to show himself. Eva had hoped to have a word with Aileen before she saw Connall, or at least before Connall saw her changes. She had been hoping for a bit of encouragement she supposed, some reassurance that Connall would indeed approve of the changes and appreciate her efforts. Unfortunately, her new sister-in-law hadn’t come down since that morning and Eva was starting to fear that wasn’t a good sign at all.
“Wife.”
If she was slow to respond to that address, it was quite simply because it took a moment for Eva’s distracted mind to recognize that she was the one being addressed. Not that she’d forgotten that she was married now and had a husband, but she hadn’t considered that this meant that she was now a wife.
“Wife.”
Eva turned slowly, her eyes moving with trepidation to the speaker, then she blinked in surprise. She had worried about her husband; who he might be, what he might look like, how old he must be and so on, but the man standing before her was nothing like she’d expected. She’d decided after meeting Aileen that he must be older, at least having seen forty-five to fifty summers, and she had worried about other things, such as what if he was unattractive to her? What if he had gone to fat at his advanced age or had bushels of unattractive grey facial hair? But this man was nothing like she’d expected; his hair was a midnight black as Aileen’s was and he had the same deep brown eyes, but there the similarities ended. This man was no more than twenty-five or thirty years old and he was strong and well built with a flat stomach and wide shoulders. There was another fact, however, that was more surprising to Eva.
“We have met, my lord,” she blurted.
Connall MacAdie seemed to be thrown off track by her words, and the grim, stern set to his features faltered briefly. He hesitated, then nodded. “Aye. At court.”
“You spoke to me in the gardens,” Eva remembered, smiling at the memory. She had fled there after dinner to escape the whispers and laughter about her plain, outdated dress. This man—Connall MacAdie she realized now, though she hadn’t known his name at the time—had come across her out there. “You were very kind to me.”
Her words seemed to make the man uncomfortable, and Eva supposed that men—warriors like the MacAdie laird was reputed to be—were discomfited to admit to a softer side. After a hesitation, he settled on the trestle table bench beside her and seemed to pause to gather himself. Eva smiled at him brightly, relief and pleasure glowing on her face as she awaited whatever he was gathering himself to say. She was so glad—grateful even—that he was the man who had bartered for her. That fact was washing all her worries and fears away, for surely his kindness in the gardens was a sign that he would be equally kind in marriage. And he was handsome too. Eva was suddenly positive that she was the luckiest girl in the world at that moment.
“Ye—” he began, but paused as he glanced up and caught her expression. His gaze narrowed. “Why are ye lookin’ at me like that?”
“Like what, my lord?” she asked with a beaming smile.
“Yer all smiling and happy looking.”
“I am happy,” she admitted. “I never knew your name you see, we did not introduce ourselves in the gardens, so I had no idea that you were the MacAdie, the lord I was married to and I was ever so worried that we might not suit. But now I know ’tis you…” She smiled brilliantly. “I just know everything will be all right.”
Connall looked taken aback at her words, and Eva knew she was embarrassing him, but just had to tell him, “I worried that you would be old or fat and I would not find you attractive, but you are ever so handsome. Any girl would be pleased to claim you as husband. And ere I got here I worried that you might be mean or bad tempered, but you were so kind in the gardens at court, distracting me from my worries and embarrassment…Well, I just know I needn’t worry about your being cruel. My sweet mama in heaven must have sent you to me to save me from the abbey. I am ever so lucky.”
Connall simply stared at her, a blank look on his face. Eva waited a moment, but when he continued to stare at her as if at a loss, she cleared her throat and glanced around in search of something to talk about until he regained himself. And of course, her gaze landed on the now-uncovered windows and arrow slits. “I hope you do not mind,” she began tentatively, then paused to clear her throat before nervously admitting, “In fact, I was hoping you would be pleased, but I—Well, I am new here of course, and wanted to do something to please you, something to prove my value, perhaps and…Well, I noticed that it was so dark and dreary in here with all the windows and arrow slits covered, so I set about removing the furs to allow some sunlight in during the day. It is night now, so you cannot see, but it is ever so much brighter without them.” Eva glanced at him, pleased to see that the blank expression was slipping from his face. She was a little less pleased, however, to notice the grimness that now descended in its place. Alarm coursed through her. “Do you not like it?”
“Hmm.” He seemed to be battling within himself over something, then he cleared his throat. “Tis no that I doona like it,” he said slowly, though Eva was pretty sure that was an out-and-out lie since his expression rather said he didn’t like it at all. “But the furs shall all have to be rehung tonight.”
“You do not like it,” she realized with disappointment. “I felt sure—Tis so much brighter with them down during the day.”
“Do ye no think that had I wanted the furs down, I’d have ordered it done meself long ago?”
Eva blinked at that comment. In truth, that hadn’t occurred to her, but it should have, she supposed. Her gaze slid to the windows again. Really, it was so much brighter without the furs during the day…which he hadn’t s
een, she reminded herself, and said, “Perhaps if you saw them during the daylight, tomorrow morn, mayhap? If you still did not like it then, I could—”
“I’ll no see it,” he said firmly. “The furs shall be returned at once.”
“But—”
“And in future, ye’ll check with meself or Ewan ere making any further changes.” He stood abruptly then, signifying that the subject was now closed. “I’ve things to do and ye’ll no doubt be abed ere I return, so I’ll bid ye good night and wish ye good sleep.”
Eva stared after him in amazement as Connall MacAdie marched to the keep doors and out. He hadn’t even stopped to eat, and what had he meant that he would see her on the morrow? Was he not going to come to her bed to consummate their marriage that night? She had wondered if he had joined her in the chamber last night and she had merely slept through his arrival and departure, but now she realized that this was not the case. He had not slept alongside her, forgoing consummating the wedding to allow her some much needed rest after her long journey, he obviously had not joined her, and had no intention of doing so tonight either.
Eva was distracted from these distressing thoughts by the arrival of Ewan and the other men who had brought her here. Connall’s brother-in-law avoided her gaze as he settled on the trestle table bench at her side. The other men followed suit as they found their own places on either side of them, then there was much throat clearing and uncomfortable shifting as Donaidh, Keddy, Geordan, Domhall, and Ragnall avoided meeting her eyes as well.
“Was he verra upset?”
Eva glanced to her left as Keddy finally asked that question. The redhead was finally meeting her gaze, though Eva almost wished he hadn’t. The pity in his eyes made her stiffen her spine and force a smile as her pride exerted itself.
“Nay, not very. At least he did not yell or anything, but he did not care for the change,” she admitted and bit her lip to keep it from trembling in distress at this magnificent failure of her attempts to please her husband.
“Well, it’s no that he didnae like it, lass. He didnae e’en see it if ye’ll recall,” Geordan pointed out judiciously.
“Aye,” Keddy agreed. “And ne’er would neither.”
Eva glanced at the redhead with a frown. “Why would he not see it? Perhaps he missed it today, but surely tomorrow or the next day he would be around long enough to enjoy—”
“Nay.” Keddy shook his head. “Cannae stand the sun, can he? No without it makin’ him sick. He’d ne’er see it.”
“What?” Eva frowned at this news, then glanced at Ewan who was glaring furiously at the young man.
Sighing, her husband’s first turned to her, cleared his throat, then said, “I should’ve explained this to ye when I approached ye about it earlier, but ye were rather busy and I was so upset I wasnae thinking straight. Aileen and Connall cannae stand the sun. Their skin is fragile and the sun damages it,” he explained slowly, sounding rather labored in the endeavor.
“You mean they react to the sun?” Eva asked, trying to make sense of his words.
That suggestion seemed to make Ewan brighten. “Aye, that’s it. They’ve a sort of reaction to the sun. It makes them fair sick. Connall’s is so bad he avoids it altogether, or the best he can, and Aileen…well,” his expression softened. “She can take more sunlight, but no straight on and no fer too long.”
“I see,” Eva said slowly, thinking to herself that this was perhaps where some of the vile rumors about this family came from. If they could not go out in sunlight because of a negative reaction…This situation wasn’t totally alien to Eva. There had been a girl in the village at Caxton who’d had a similar ailment, only she didn’t get sick, but broke out in spots whenever she stayed out in the sun too long. If Connall’s family suffered a similar ailment and because of this avoided the sun, well, that would explain why they were rarely seen in daylight. She shook her head to herself at this thought. People could be ever so cruel about things they didn’t understand.
Eva grimaced as she realized the extent of the gaffe she had made. She’d thought to bring some cheer to the keep, but instead had threatened the health of its inhabitants, and most likely not just her husband and his sister. If this trait was common to their family…well, most clans were interrelated weren’t they? Cousins and such?
Her gaze slid to Ewan. “You obviously have no negative reaction to the sun?”
“Nay,” he admitted. “I’m originally of the MacDonald clan. I became a MacAdie when I married Aileen.”
Eva nodded, then glanced at the other men in question.
“I’m a MacAdie,” Donaidh announced. “I’m son to Aileen and Ewan, but the sun doesnae bother me.”
“Then you are nephew to me!” Eva exclaimed, then frowned. “Why did no one tell me ere this?”
Ewan and Donaidh glanced at each other, then the father shrugged and said, “It’s no important.”
The son nodded, “Aye, and ye didnae ask, did ye?”
She clucked a sound of annoyance, then blinked at the realization that her new nephew was of an age with herself.
“I’m a MacAdie,” Keddy said, distracting her from her thoughts. “But while I try to avoid the worst of the sun, it doesnae affect me like it does Connall and Aileen. I jest get more freckles.” He grinned at her.
“Tis the same with me,” Ragnall announced, flashing a freckled smile at her.
“Domhall and I are brothers; MacLarens by birth,” Geordan informed her. “My ma moved us here when our da died and she married a MacAdie. We were jest wee lads then.”
“I see,” Eva said on a sigh, then glanced at Ewan again. “Is this why Aileen did not come down for supper?”
Ewan nodded solemnly.
“Oh dear,” Eva sighed. “I am ever so sorry. You must apologize to her for me. I did not realize—I did not know or I never would have—” Pausing in her explanations, she stood abruptly. “Glynis!”
“What’re ye doin’, lass?” Ewan asked with a frown as he gained his feet beside her.
“I will rectify the matter at once.” Eva announced firmly, then addressed the maid as she came running up, “Please fetch back the furs for the windows, Glynis. I must return them at once.” She gave them all a reproving look as she added, “Had someone troubled themselves to tell me of this sun reaction business, I never would have removed them in the first place.”
“We should’ve told ye,” Keddy said sorrowfully as Glynis rushed to the corner where the furs were stacked.
“Aye,” Ewan agreed. “That being the case, we’d be pleased to rehang the furs fer ye.”
“Nay. I took them down and I shall put them back up,” Eva said firmly, moving to meet Glynis halfway as the girl came rushing back. “And I shall apologize to Aileen myself as well.” She shook her head as she took the furs. “As Connall said, had he wanted the furs down he should have ordered it done long ago. Obviously I do not yet know how things are done around here, but I should learn ere I start trying to change things.”
“It’d be no trouble at all fer the men and meself to rehang the furs, Lady Eva.” Ewan was following her, and his men following him, as she marched to the rickety wooden staircase that led up to the landing along the row of arrow slits.
“Nay. I can manage it.” Eva assured him. “But, perhaps one of you would be good enough to take my husband a drink and some food. I fear he was so upset he left without eating.” She frowned over that as she started up the stairs, craning her neck in an effort to see over the stack of furs, and taking wide steps in an effort to avoid stepping on her gown and tripping herself up. “On second thought, you no doubt have enough to do, and I should probably be the one to take the food to him, as it is my fault he was too distressed to eat. Perhaps that and an apology will help him regain his appetite.”
“I’m really thinkin’ ye should let one o’ the men—” Eva heard Ewan begin his suggestion again, but it ended on a gasp of horror as she—despite her great care—stepped on the hem of her gown, tan
gled her feet in it and stumbled back down the half dozen stairs she had mounted. Her cry of alarm was echoed by Glynis and the men on the ground.
Five
“There!” Magaidh smiled at Eva as she pulled the linens and furs up to cover her in the bed. “Ye jest rest noo, lass. Ye’ll feel better come the morn.”
Eva sighed miserably. The woman had been incredibly kind. Indeed, they all had. Ewan had performed a quick examination of her right there at the bottom of the stairs she’d fallen down, with the men worriedly overlooking the enterprise. Once assured that she wasn’t too horribly injured, he had carried her up the stairs with the men and Glynis trailing.
Magaidh had met them in the hall on her way down and changed direction, accompanying them to the room Eva had been given. After sending the men away to tend to the furs, the other woman had ordered Glynis off in search of a special salve for her bruises and some sort of herbal drink to soothe her, then had helped her to undress. Once Glynis had returned with the salve, Connall’s stepmother had rubbed it gently into Eva’s scrapes and bruises herself, before urging her to drink the not unpleasant potion she’d sent for. Now she had tucked her up in bed.
“Have you a bad reaction to sunlight as well?” Eva asked suddenly. She wasn’t tired and really didn’t wish to be alone.
Magaidh hesitated, then nodded.
Eva sighed unhappily. “I suppose that is why you haven’t been downstairs all day either? Because I took the furs off the windows and let the sun in? I am sorry, Magaidh. I didn’t realize.”
“Tis all right, child. Ye couldnae ken.”
“Nay, but I should have asked if there was a reason for the furs. I shall ask in future ere trying to change anything,” she assured her.
“I’m sure ye shall.” Magaidh smiled but Eva didn’t feel any better.
“I’ve angered my husband.”
“Nay. Well, mayhap a little, but he’ll recover. He’s a man, men doona like change. All of this is change fer him too,” she pointed out.