Medieval Mistletoe - One Magical Christmas Season

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Ronan, obviously. Julianna wouldn’t have sent the missive without telling her husband. Most likely the Bruce has been apprised of the situation.”

  “And Wallace?”

  Magnus shook his head. “Still in Rome last I heard.”

  Blane looked just as grim-faced as his brother. “I’m going with you.”

  “We’ll need to gather Ronan.”

  “Best to get Brandon and Daniel, too.” Magnus had grown up close with his cousins Brandon and Daniel. Tales of William Wallace had spread like wildfire through the clans. Magnus had only heard great things about Wallace from Daniel, who was also a cousin on his father’s side to Murray a partner of the rebel leader.

  “Jamie’s in the Lowlands, we’ll gather him as well.” If Magnus was thinking of taking Jamie Montgomery—husband to his other sister, Lorna—that only encouraged Arbella, all the more. She had an idea. Now, she only had to convince Magnus that it was a good one, which would be no small feat.

  “I’m going.” Arbella braced her legs, straightened her shoulders, and prepared for her husband to balk. No doubt he— “Ye bloody hell are not!” His face flamed red, but she’d seen him angry before, and she’d known it was coming.

  Thrusting her chin up, she put her hands on her hips. “I am.”

  “And so am I,” her sister Aliah piped in.

  “Ye will not,” Blane said, only a little calmer than his brother, but Arbella suspected that was because Aliah had shot him with an arrow in the leg once before.

  “I won’t go into battle with you, Magnus, I’ll stay with Lorna. But I cannot be made to stay here for a month not knowing where you are, or what’s become of our family.”

  “What of the children?” Magnus asked, making her feel a twinge of guilt about leaving them for so long.

  “The children will be here with their nanny and Cook adores them.” They adored the two women, and if it weren’t for that fact, she might have wavered. “They’ll be well cared for. The walls of Dunrobin will protect them.”

  Magnus puffed out his chest. “I forbid it.”

  Arbella stepped forward, touching Magnus’ arm, and sliding down to his hand, entwining her fingers with his. He was resistant at first, stubborn mule, but when she prodded he did take her hand in his. “I want to be of help. Heather is with-child and who knows what the English infantry will have done to her. I need to be there to help her.”

  Magnus thought about it for only a moment before shaking his head. “I canna risk ye getting hurt.”

  Arbella pressed closer to him. “How can I get hurt with you there watching over me?” She stared up at him, eyes pleading, willing him to see it her way. She needed this. There was no telling how little time it would be before she went mad with waiting. “When you go into battle, I’ll be safely tucked behind Glasgow’s walls.”

  Magnus glowered at her for what felt like hours, perhaps hoping he could glare her into submission, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. At last, he gritted his teeth, let out a little growl, and then relented. “Och, you stubborn wench. I’ll let ye come along, but ye must be wary, and heed my every word. And ye will nay go into battle with me.”

  Arbella shook her head emphatically, tugged on his arm and reached up to kiss his cheek. “Nay, nay, I will not, and I promise to listen to every word.” She felt both relief that she’d not have to wait out his journey at Dunrobin, but also apprehension about what they’d find.

  Aliah let out a little squeak and then said in a near whisper, “Husband, what of me?”

  Arbella glanced at her sister and Magnus’ brother.

  Blane rolled his eyes. “All right,” not even bothering to argue with his wife. “Better to have two women to help Heather than just the one.”

  “I’ll go let Nanny and Cook know,” Arbella said, leaning up to give her husband a kiss on the cheek. “When do we leave?”

  Magnus took a deep breath. “We’d best leave just after the nooning. I’ll send a messenger to Glasgow Castle now so Montgomery is expecting us. And one to Ronan and Julianna, as well as Brandon and Daniel.”

  Arbella nodded and then headed toward the kitchens. There was much to prepare if they’d be leaving in the next few hours. Halfway there, she paused, hand pressed to her stomach and the other pressed to the ice cold of the stone wall. Outside the grounds were covered with a light dusting of snow. It would most likely take them twice as long to travel to Glasgow. She’d have to make sure they had plenty of furs and plaid blankets to keep them warm, and they’d have to travel along the main road where they could ask for the hospitality of crofters, or stay at inns so they didn’t freeze to death.

  She smoothed her hand over her belly, glad she’d kept silent about the small life growing inside her. Their fourth child. The idea brought a smile to her face, because her husband once said he would have rather invited the plague upon himself than have children, he was now going to have a whole brood of them. Marriage to Magnus had turned out to be exceptionally better than she could have ever hoped for. He was a caring, nurturing husband. Still blustery, but once they were alone, he swept her up into his loving arms and made her feel as though she were the most special woman in all the world.

  But, if he’d known that she was with child once more, he would not allow her to go along on this journey. And Arbella couldn’t not go. She had to see to Heather. She’d known the lass since she was but a girl, and now married and with child herself, Arbella felt a close bond with her. Also, this adventure, though dire as it was, was likely to be her last for a while. Her third pregnancy had taken a toll on her, becoming harder to heal from than the previous ones, and mothering three children as well as managing a castle was hard work. Adding a new babe to the mix—though blessedly welcome—would only tire her more.

  Despite it being a rescue mission, she was also looking at this being a nice long adventure with Magnus, without children. A break from their everyday routine, a chance for something exciting.

  She was probably deceiving herself. The journey would be arduous and she’d likely regret going if her morning sickness came. She’d only missed her monthly courses twice, so she wasn’t far along, and she’d yet to be sick. Perhaps God was seeing to it that this pregnancy was easier than the last—which had landed her in bed for nigh on three months at the end.

  Taking a deep breath, Arbella straightened and smoothed her skirt and then her hair. Feeling more put together she continued on her way down the few steps into the kitchen and pasted a smile on her face.

  “Cook, I’m in need of your assistance.” Arbella imparted orders for supplies and sent the maids on their way to pack up satchels and roll furs and extra plaids to keep them warm.

  “Mama!” Her three children circled out of their hiding place, honey and crumbs stuck to the skin around their lips.

  “I see you received your treats, my loves.” They beamed up at her, eyes bright and shiny with innocence, their smiles wide and bringing such joy to her heart that her breath caught. “Come give me a hug.” She bent down to her knees and gathered them in her arms. Though the journey was necessary, she’d miss her children just as a drowning man missed air—a realization she’d not picked up on until that moment.

  MAGNUS scrubbed a hand over his face as he oversaw the readying of the horses. Fur rolls and plaids were tied to the backs of the saddles and every horse had two satchels attached to the sides filled with the provisions Arbella had arranged for. He slid his broadsword beneath the blanket under his saddle, and stuck an extra one on the other side. A warrior could never have too many weapons.

  Their breaths puffed in the mid-morning air, white vaporous clouds before their lips. It was frigid out, and he once again second-guessed his decision to allow his wife and sister-by-marriage to accompany them.

  “I ken what ye are thinking, brother,” Blane said. “But I dinna think ye want the wrath of your woman if ye were to change your mind, and I’m certain I dinna want the wrath of mine.”

  Magnus grinned. �
�Aye, likely they’d give us each a knock upon the head—or ‘haps a kick in the ballocks—but such an injury might be worth it if ’twere to keep them safe.”

  Blane grunted. “Else they take off with the horses on their own. Then we’d be left with no horses, no wives and a deep ache in the family jewels.”

  It was Magnus’ turn to grunt. He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted, already feeling a tingle between his legs that he’d rather not. “Ye’re likely right.”

  The doors to the front of Dunrobin Castle swung wide and the two lassies in question bustled down the stairs amid a crowd of tiny blond and raven-haired heads. His sons were the spitting image of himself, he proudly admitted, while his daughter had hair of spun gold like her mother’s, and the innocent face to match. Magnus had been on journeys without his wife before—battles, raids and the collecting of rent, but he’d missed her each and every time. He was actually looking forward to having her to himself for a little while, even if it was a rescue mission. And even if he was likely to panic over her safety the whole time.

  Arbella was cloaked in the fur-lined plaid mantle he’d had made for her the previous winter. Her cheeks were already flushed, perhaps with excitement? Their children bounced around her, tugging at her hands and skirt and she bent to the ground, gathering them all in her arms and whispering things that made their tiny faces light up.

  By God, he loved her. A jest if he were to have been told such over five years before when he’d plucked her from amidst a battlefield and rode away with her to the Highlands. The fiery spirit he’d first glimpsed in her had not waned; it only seemed to grow like his love as she spread it around to him, their children and the clan. He could not have chosen a better wife or partner to share his life.

  “Are you ready, husband?” she asked, standing and walking toward him.

  The children pouted, and he ruffled each of their heads.

  “I’m ready,” he said, and to their children, he teased, “Keep the castle safe. The clan depends on you.”

  After embracing their children, Magnus helped his wife onto her horse and wrapped an extra fur around her legs. “Let me know when ye get too cold, or have need to stop,” he murmured.

  Arbella cupped his cheek and leaned down to give him a light kiss on the lips that made their children groan. “This is a rescue mission, I’ll not hamper you, I promise.”

  “Och, love, ye could never hold me back.”

  Arbella let out a tinkling laugh. “On the contrary. I could, but I will not.”

  ARBELLA shifted on the saddle, the tops of her thighs stinging from the cold, her toes long since numb. Inside the fur muff, she rubbed her hands together, trying to rub the ice from her bones. Snow drifted over them lightly, falling in glistening stars on her horse’s mane. The hood of her cloak was pulled lower over her face, and she’d wrapped a thick wool scarf around her neck, using it to cover her chin, cheeks and nose.

  They rode over a road, southward, crossing over a white-dusted moor. On the horizon, the sky was turning a brilliant pink and orange. She could already see a light outline of the moon against the white-blue of the sky.

  Magnus and Blane rode at the front, guards filling the space in front of Aliah and Arbella and behind them so they were completely protected. The men took turns riding ahead and returning, scouting out the safety of the road. By nightfall they’d be close to the border of Sutherland lands and would need to make camp.

  Her bladder screamed for relief, but she didn’t want to disappoint her husband with her need to stop. Magnus would never say anything, and in fact, he’d already asked her thrice if she had a desire to stop, but how could she say aye? She’d promised not to be a hindrance and they were not yet far enough away to make it impossible to return her home. Aliah, who rode beside her, had done the same, each of them turning to make silent grimaces when their husbands weren’t looking.

  They spied a village with smoke curling from the chimneys of the various crofts. Magnus held his fist in the air, and Arbella could have cried out with joy at the signal they’d be stopping shortly.

  As they neared the village, a few dogs howled and several crofters stepped from their doors to see who approached. The Highland men had pulled the lengths of their plaids around them, their wives and children poking from behind their broad shoulders to see who crossed into the village. When they recognized their laird, they raised their hands in welcome and then bowed.

  “My laird,” one particular red-haired and bearded man stepped forward, a wide smile showing off a couple of broken teeth. From his size and bearing alone, Arbella could tell the man wasn’t one to back down when urged into a fight. Mayhap he even liked to brawl for fun. Her husband certainly did. “Can we offer ye a place to rest before the fire? ’Haps some stew to warm your bellies?”

  Magnus dismounted from his horse and clasped the man’s arm. From the time she’d known him, her husband had always been very amiable with his crofter’s and as such they treated him with great respect. She liked to think she’d followed in his example and done the same. They were well liked by the clan, a fact she was proud of.

  “Aye, have ye enough room for us all, Davie?” Magnus asked.

  “If he’s doesna, we’ve got the space,” said another crofter.

  “And us as well.”

  “We’ll gladly share our whisky with ye fine folks,” Magnus said.

  The party dismounted, several crofters coming forward to help with the horses, seeing them safely into various barns for warmth and feeding. The small village was dark, lit only by the candlelight from tiny windows, and the few torches men brought outside to assist the laird’s party. Arbella’s feet stung when she stepped on the ground as sensation tried to work its way through her frozen blood. Magnus gripped her hand in his, rubbing to bring back warmth, and then led her into Davie’s croft. Half of their party left with another crofter to enjoy the hospitality offered, as they could not all fit under one roof, nor would they want to burden their crofters with such a demand.

  ’Twas warm inside and smelled of peat and stew. Her stomach grumbled loudly, and she bit her lip. What were the chances the stew had no meat? She’d gotten along just fine in the castle with her odd eating habits—well, she didn’t think they were odd, but whenever she told anyone she ate no meat they always looked at her a little cockeyed as if they expected her to say she didn’t believe in God. As much as she wished for a meatless stew, ’twas unlikely the burbling cauldron within the hut would be vegetables, grains and broth only.

  Before she had a chance to even inquire, Magnus spoke. “What’s in the stew?”

  “A bit of rabbit, carrots, onions and turnips.”

  He gave a slight shake of his head and a quick glance at Arbella as if to say he was sorry. How many times did she have to remind him that she didn’t expect everyone to cater to her eating habits? Lord, but he was so endearing, so thoughtful, it was enough to make her sigh. She leaned in close to him and whispered that it was all right.

  “Have ye any cheese, bread and carrots ye’re not using?” Magnus asked.

  “Aye, my laird.” Their gazes shifted to Arbella, and then they understood. Of course the laird’s wife’s different consumption of food would have come up among members of the clan and they’d likely attributed it to her being a Sassenach as they called her. “And for Master Blane’s wife?”

  Aliah shook her head and smiled. “I’ll have a wee taste of your stew as it is.”

  Arbella playfully stuck her tongue out at her sister.

  “Bella, I hope you do not plan to bore these poor gentleman with your story of the pigs,” Aliah teased with a wink and a crooked smile.

  Arbella rolled her eyes. “Only because it might make them queasy enough not to eat their stew.”

  “You’re too kind,” Aliah said sarcastically.

  Magnus swung his arm around Arbella’s shoulder and pulled her in tight, giving her a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “Och, if ye want to tell the story, I’m always
willing to listen and I swear it’ll not sour my stomach.”

  She patted her doting husband on his flat, muscled belly and gazed up into his eyes. “I love you.”

  Magnus grinned. He’d been so supportive of her odd eating habits, instructing the cook upon her arrival years before to be certain no meat touched her plate, and he still was. Their host signaled for them to join him at the table with his family and his wife served the stew, the aromas of onion and herbs strong, making Arbella’s stomach groan. A trencher of hard white cheese, warm, crusty bread and a long, thick carrot were given to her. A few bites in and the loud rumbling of her hunger started to dissipate.

  “What brings ye and your party southward, my laird, if I may be so bold as to ask?” Davie inquired.

  The Sutherland warriors kept to themselves already knowing, but Davie’s family was at full attention.

  “We’re going to visit my sister and her husband in Glasgow.” Magnus did not expound on his explanation.

  The crofter and his wife gazed on curiously. Magnus did not provide an answer to their ponderous stares and instead took a rather large bite of his stew. The weather outside was harsh and could only promise to get worse. It was rather odd that they were traveling in it—especially the women. She shivered just thinking about it. Her toes were finally defrosting sending tingling pricks along the bottoms of her feet.

  Just then Arbella bit down and crunched through her carrot loud enough that it echoed comically throughout the silent croft, gaining a few chuckles from Davie’s children and a grin from Magnus.

  “My wife takes charge of most things, including her carrots,” he teased, obviously glad for the distraction and the chance to change the subject.

  Arbella let out a laugh and elbowed her husband. She leaned in close and said, “Be careful, else I take a bite out of you, husband.”

  Magnus snorted, set down his spoon and threaded his hand behind her neck before she had a chance to move away. His lips crashed onto hers and he kissed her with all the abandon he normally reserved for the bedroom. Never a man to display his affection before—to anyone—ever since they’d married, he’d become quite the expressionist.