by Lynsay Sands
Eva couldn’t hide her disgruntled expression at those words, or repress the mutter, “Not much change, except that he is avoiding his own room now that I am in it.”
Magaidh’s eyebrows rose at her words, but a small smile lifted her lips at Eva’s suddenly embarrassed expression. She supposed the herbs must be kicking in and loosening her tongue that she should have made such an embarrassing admission.
Magaidh settled on the edge of the bed. “I suppose, being a man, that me son has no bothered to explain about the wedding?”
Eva blinked at that question. “Wedding?”
“We thought ’twould be good fer ye to be married again, properly, now that ye’re here and both together. It’ll be a chance for the clan to witness the event and to meet ye.”
“Oh.” Biting her lip, Eva considered that this put a different picture on things. It was possible her husband would wait until after this second wedding to bed her, which was very thoughtful. But then she had known from their brief conversation in the gardens that he was kind. “That would be nice. And no, he had not mentioned it.”
Magaidh made a tsking sound and brushed at the skirt of her gown. “Men can be such a trial at times, do ye no think?”
A giggle slipped from Eva’s mouth at these words, though she couldn’t for the life of her think why she found them funny. It must be the potion, she assured herself. She was absolutely positive it must be the potion that made her ask, “He is not sorry then that he chose to marry me?”
Magaidh smiled gently at her distressed words and brushed a strand of golden hair behind Eva’s ear. “Nay. O’ course not, lass. What is there fer him to be sorry fer? Ye’re a lovely bride. And ye’re already making an effort to fit in. Nay, I’m sure he’s no sorry.”
“Oh,” Eva sighed. She was starting to feel a little sleepy now, but had questions to ask. Like what had happened to Connall and Aileen’s mother? Or did they indeed have the same mother? Or was the age difference between them because they had different mothers? And how long had Magaidh been married to Connall’s father, who must surely have been quite a lot older than she, but instead she asked, “When is this wedding to be?”
“Soon as the priest arrives. Connall sent a man to fetch him back and Effie is doing her best to prepare fer a large feast after the wedding. We’re thinkin’ to hold it on the chapel steps rather than inside so that all can witness it.”
Eva nodded at this news, then frowned. “But Aileen and Connall and yourself and who knows how many others have those reactions to the sun. How—?”
“We’ll hold it directly after sunset,” Magaidh assured her. “By torchlight. It’ll be lovely.”
“Oh. Aye. Of course.” Eva smiled slightly, her mind filling with imaginings of a bailey full of people, the soft light of torchlight and she and Connall and a priest…
“We’ll have to sew a new dress fer ye. Something lovely. I be thinkin’ the priest won’t be long in coming so we’d best set to work on it right away. Perhaps Aileen and yerself could pick out the cloth during the day tomorrow and then we can set to work tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night. Will you not help choose the material?” Eva asked. She rather liked this woman.
“I’ll not be available during the day.”
“You won’t?” Eva frowned.
“I often visit the MacNachtons,” Magaidh said vaguely. “They’re me clan ye understand.”
“Aye,” Eva said the word on a yawn. The herbal potion had definitely kicked in.
“There. Yer tired now. I should let ye rest.” Magaidh stood and headed for the door. “Sleep well, wee Eva.”
“She what?” Connall roared as he dismounted. He was just returning from a raid with some of the men, one of their special raids in search of sustenance. Connall avoided feasting on these raids as often as possible, but accompanied the men to be sure they returned alive and well. It was getting dangerous for them in the area and he insisted that they travel further afield in search of fresh victims. The only way to ensure that they did, and that none gave in to their hunger and stopped closer to home, was to accompany them himself.
The last thing he’d expected on returning was more trouble with his wife and the news that she had injured herself alarmed him more than he would have expected.
“She was trying to replace the furs to fix her mistake,” Ewan was quick to explain. “But her hands were full of the furs, ye see, and she couldnae hold her skirts out o’ the way, then her feet got tangled up in it and she tumbled down the stairs. It was only six steps,” he added swiftly in an effort to reassure Connall. “She twisted an ankle and suffered a few more bruises, but is fine other than that.”
“A few more bruises?” The MacAdie was scowling.
“Aye, well when she stumbled backward on the landing this afternoon, she scraped her arm up a bit and—”
“Why was this no’ mentioned to me earlier?” Connall barked. “Ye didnae mention this when I woke this evening.”
“I didna ken, did I?” Ewan excused himself. “I saw her stumble a bit, but she caught herself on the railing and assured me all was well, then when I was checking her for scrapes and bruises after her fall this night, I saw her arm and she told me that ’twas from earlier.” He grimaced. “It looked fair sore. I’m surprised she wasn’t complaining over it, and I’m thinkin’ she’ll be fair banged up on the morrow from this night’s accident as well. She ga’e her ankle a fine wrenching in the fall, and scraped one leg badly too.”
Connall scowled at this news. “Why did one of the men no replace the furs? What was she doing attemptin’ it herself?”
“I did try to convince her to let the men do it, but she insisted that she’d taken them down and should be the one to put them back. She’s English,” he said with a shrug as if that explained all.
Shaking his head, Connall tossed the reins of his mount to one of the lads who had come running up from the stables, then marched past his first into the keep.
“She’s sleeping,” Magaidh announced as he marched past where she sat at the trestle table talking to Aileen.
Connall ignored this and marched upstairs. Asleep or not, he would see her and see how much damage she had taken. She was his wife. It was his place to look after her.
Glynis was seated by the dying fire in the room, watching over her lady as she sewed a small tear in a rose gown that lay across her lap. The maid glanced up with surprise at their entrance, relaxing when her master nodded that she should remain where she was and he crossed the room to stand by the bed.
“She’s snoring.”
Connall glanced around in surprise at that shocked hiss from Ewan. He hadn’t realized the man had followed him, but he had, and his first wasn’t the only one Connall saw as Danaidh, Geordan, Domhall, Ragnall, and Keddy spread out in the room. Magaidh and Aileen had also trailed them up and now tossed repressing glances at the men.
“The herbal potion I gave her is most likely to blame,” Magaidh said firmly. “Twould put her in a deep sleep.”
Connall grunted at this and turned to glance at his wife. She had faint bruising on one cheek and he frowned as he reached down to run a finger lightly over it.
“Her face slammed into the rail on the way down,” Keddy whispered and shook his head. “But that ain’t near as bad as her leg and ankle.”
Connall immediately tugged the linens and furs gently aside to peer at her leg. She was wearing a white cotton sleeping gown and was sweet looking in slumber. He didn’t have to lift the gown out of the way, it was twisted high around her thighs, almost indecently high, he decided and turned a scowl on the men gaping down at her. All but Keddy caught his look and immediately turned away, but it took an elbow in the ribs from Geordan to get Keddy’s attention. Noting Connall’s scowl, Keddy too dropped his gaze.
Relaxing a little, Connall turned back to his wee bride and frowned at the shape of her legs; the ankle of one was swollen and bruised, and the calf and upper leg of the other was scraped and bru
ised. Recalling Ewan’s comment about her arm, he lifted his gaze to it now, noting the tender looking scrape and bruising there as well.
Easing the blankets carefully back into place, Connall turned and waited for the men and Magaidh to move out of the room ahead of him, then gestured Glynis out of the room as well and followed.
“She didna cry, ye say?” Connall asked with interest as he closed the door behind himself.
“She shed no a tear, m’laird,” Ewan reaffirmed.
Connall glanced at his mother and the maid. “No even once the men were out of sight?”
“Nay,” Magaidh assured him, the word reinforced by Glynis’s, “Nay m’laird.”
He merely nodded, but he was thinking most women would have wept copious tears and whinged unendingly. This was looking hopeful. Perhaps she would be a fine bride.
“She’s no to carry anything while walking the stairs,” he instructed them all, but was addressing the maid. “And should she wish to do anything strenuous or dangerous, ensure that one o’ the men are called to do it fer her. She is lady here and shouldn’t be performing physical labor.”
“Aye, m’laird.” Glynis bobbed.
Connall nodded, satisfied that he had handled the matter in the best possible way to ensure the woman wouldn’t hurt herself again. His mistake had been in forgetting her background. Most ladies would never have considered removing or replacing furs themselves; they would have directed servants in the doing, but Eva came from Caxton, where she had been valued so little her brother had tried to palm her off without a dower. No doubt he had made her feel a burden in other ways. She was probably trying to make herself valuable, he considered and he wouldn’t have that. As her husband it was his place to ensure that she understood her value. He’d begin to work on that on the morrow.
“I really doonae think the laird will be pleased with this, m’lady,” Glynis protested for at least the hundredth time as she trailed Eva across the bailey.
“Nonsense, Glynis,” she said firmly for at least the same number of times. “There is no reason at all that my husband, Connall,” she tested the name on her tongue. “There is no reason that Connall should be upset by my tending to the injured and unwell. Ladies all over England perform this task. Tis much more acceptable than removing and rehanging furs,” she assured the maid. Glynis had told her about Connall’s edicts since her accident. Apparently he had informed her the night before that “his wife” was not to carry anything while ascending or descending stairs, then had approached her again this morning just ere sunrise to order her to keep Eva from doing anything that was not the expressed sphere of the lady of the manor to perform.
The maid had obviously taken these orders to heart. Glynis had recounted them to Eva the moment she’d arrived at her bedchamber to find her awake, and had repeated them every five minutes since then; while she had helped Eva to dress, then as she had taken her arm to assist her to limp below to the great hall, and even while Eva had sat to break her fast. It had gotten worse since Eva had announced her plans for the day, however, and the girl was growing positively strident now as they approached the stables.
Eva had come up with her plans for the day as she’d lain in bed enjoying that early morning, fuzzy, just-woken-up feeling.
Having decided that changing anything at MacAdie was not a good idea until she had a better understanding of her new home, Eva had learned her lesson. MacAdie keep was run just as its lord and master wished; there was nothing really for her to improve at the moment. She would have to find another way to prove her worth and that she could be an asset here.
After considering the tasks that were usually the province of the lady of the castle, Eva had decided that—for now at least—tending to the ill and showing her healing powers was her best bet. Certainly, the servants didn’t need directing, and even had they, she hadn’t a clue what she should be directing them to do. MacAdie keep had been running along well enough long before she showed up, so tending to the ailing it would be, Eva had decided.
Then, of course, she had moved to get out of bed and barely managed to bite back a startled cry when pain had shot through her. But Eva wasn’t the sort to give in to aches and pains. Besides, she was hoping that the activity would distract her from the pain and perhaps loosen up those aches.
She had thought it was all a simple, perfectly sensible plan. Of course, that was before she had asked Glynis to take her around to anyone she knew was ailing, and the girl had said ‘ailing?’ in a blank voice, then shook her head. “We’re a pretty healthy lot here, m’lady. In truth I cannae think o’ anyone unwell at the moment.”
Eva had not believed the redhead at first, but when Ewan had assured her it was so, she’d had no choice but to take it as truth, then she’d considered the matter and decided it was probably for the best anyway. She hadn’t been allowed to bring any of her medicinals with her here, so had nothing to treat anyone with anyway, which had led to her new plan of what to do this day. She would visit the surrounding woods and clearings to see if she could find anything useful to treat the more common ailments such as an infection. Glynis hadn’t liked this idea at all and had glanced around for support, but Ewan had left the table by then which Eva could only think was her good fortune. She was rather certain the first would have disliked the idea at least as much as Glynis, if not more and might have scotched the plan. As it was, however, with him gone, Glynis had been on her own and had tried to dissuade her by suggesting that a servant be sent to search the area for what she wanted. Eva had patiently pointed out that no one but she would know what she was looking for. Though Glynis had still protested, Eva had ignored her and gone about doing as she pleased with her usual stubbornness, sure she knew best.
“Still, m’lady. Perhaps ye should be askin’ him ere ye—”
“Glynis,” Eva interrupted patiently. “Do I take the time to ask my husband ere I do every little thing, I shall never get anything done. Besides, he never seems to be about to ask anything of,” she pointed out and grimaced at the irritation in her own voice. She had seen little enough of her husband since arriving at MacAdie, and though she was trying not to let it bother her, it did seem to her that he was showing her less attention than she might expect from a new groom.
“But yer leg is paining ye,” Glynis pointed out, apparently deciding an alternate argument was necessary. “Ye should be restin’ it, m’lady, else it will surely swell more.”
Eva made a face at that suggestion. The girl was absolutely right about that, of course. In fact, it felt as if her ankle swelled a little more with every step she took, but Eva was determined not to give in to it and continued grimly forward, much relieved to see that they had reached the stables. “I shall be able to rest my leg on horseback, Glynis.”
“Oh,” the girl drew the word out in a worried sound that made Eva roll her eyes. “I’m really thinkin’ that the laird isnae gonna like this. He’ll thrash me fer lettin’ ye ride oot o’ the keep alone, he will.”
“I will not be alone, Glynis. I will have you with me,” Eva pointed out.
“Aye, m’lady, but that’s jest as guid as alone if yer attacked. At least let us ask one o’ the men to accompany us?” she begged.
Eva felt guilt besiege her at the girl’s panicked state. She herself knew that Connall would not be pleased about their riding out alone, but suspected that if she asked Ewan to send a man with them, he would put paid to the plan altogether. Assuring herself that all would be fine and the trip would be without incident, she said almost apologetically, “We are not going far, Glynis. I promise, I—Oh hello.” Eva paused as her attention was turned by the sight of a beautiful dog lying near the entrance to the stables. “Who are you?”
“That’s Angus’s dog, m’lady,” Glynis informed her unhappily. “He’s paralyzed and no verra friendly.”
“Poor thing,” Eva cooed, smiling when the dog wagged his tail. “He looks friendly enough to me. He’s just wanting some attention, poor creature.”
/> “Nay, he—” Glynis broke off with a cry of alarm as Eva held a hand out for the dog to sniff and the tail wagging, calm looking animal suddenly turned into a snarling, snapping beast who decided to take a chunk out of that hand.
Connall spotted Ewan waiting for him the moment the stone door to the secret chamber started to slide open, and knew at once that this could not be a good thing. The man had been his first since the year after he had married Aileen some thirty years ago, and in all that time, Ewan had only been awaiting Connall’s rising a handful of times. Now he was waiting for the second time in two days…in the two days since his new bride had arrived and Connall immediately began to see a pattern.
“What has she done?” he asked abruptly as the door slid closed behind him. “She hasnae taken the furs down again has she?”
“Nay.”
To Connall’s mind, Ewan was looking a little put upon and as if he was happy that his laird was awake to take over the responsibility of his wayward wife. “What then?”
His brother-in-law didn’t bother to sugarcoat it, he just said, “She’s been bitten.”
“Bitten?” Connall echoed with amazement. “By what?”
“By Wolfy.”
“What?” Connall exclaimed with disbelief. “Wolfy? The mutt from the stables? But he’s paralyzed at the back end, he can’t but drag himself around a bit and that not far.”
“Aye. Weell, she decided to befriend him, didnae she?” Ewan said dryly, then shrugged and added, “He wasnae feelin’ verra friendly.”
“Dear God.” Connall rubbed his forehead with exasperation. “How bad is it?”
Ewan wrinkled his nose. “It bled badly and looked a fair mess, but Aileen says there’ll be no permanent damage.”
Connall sighed his relief at this news, started to turn away, then paused to ask warily, “Is there anythin’ else I should ken?”
“The priest has arrived,” Ewan announced cheerfully and Connall felt some of the stiffness leave his shoulders. This was good news at least, he thought, turning to move toward the stairs now.