“Dinna berate yourself, Brie. How were you to know? You’ve nay carried a bairn before.”
Even though the danger had been false, still Alys couldn’t be sorry she’d come. Alex, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to leave. Since their arrival the previous evening, he’d scarcely drawn breath before he’d begun bullying her to set out again. That it was Christmas, and the first he’d spent with his son, seemed not to matter to him at all. Were it not for Brianna’s obvious favor, he would have forced the issue, Alys was sure. Fortunately for her, they were in the MacLeod’s stronghold and relatively isolated on the Isle of Skye. Had they been on the mainland, she wouldn’t have put it past him to throw her and Alasdair across his saddle and bear them away. Still, eager as he was, she didn’t believe she could put him off for more than another day or two. As he never tired of pointing out, he was her lord and master.
Brianna nodded. “I confess I am not used to lying about idle, and I am not as clever with my needle as are you. I ought not to complain and yet I can’t help it. The waiting weighs heavy on me.”
Alys nodded. She well remembered the feeling. “Once you hold him or her in your arms, the waiting and discomfort will seem but a trifling price to pay.”
She smiled, thinking back to how the midwife in Portree had cut the cord and laid a newly born Alasdair upon her breast. Exhausted and frightened though she’d been, still it had been a most wondrous moment. She’d hoped to experience such a miracle again by bearing Callum’s child but like all her other dreams, that too must die.
Brianna settled intense green eyes upon her. “Your bravery shames me.”
Puzzled, Alys said, “My bravery?”
Brie nodded. “Aye, when I think of how you birthed and cared for Alasdair in a foreign land all on your own, your bravery shames me.”
Alys felt the tips of her ears heat. Even after seven months of Callum’s courtliness and consideration, compliments still sometimes brought out her shyness. For the future, though, fielding praise should present no problem. Alex treated her as more of a possession than a person. Now that he’d gotten her away from Callum, the tolerance he’d shown her on their first night together seemed to be fast fading.
She shrugged and looked down. “As mothers, as women, we do as we must in the best way we may contrive.”
Brie arched a brow. “And this husband of yours, does he do the best he can contrive?”
Alys felt her shoulders droop. “Nay, my lady, I fear that he does not.” Since arriving the day before and privately telling Brianna and Ewan her sad news, she’d done her best to put on a brave face for her friends. But it was hard, so very hard.
Brianna levered herself up on her elbows. “Might it help to talk the matter through?”
Miserable, Alys shook her head. “What is there to talk of? I am wed, the deed is done and there is no undoing it.”
Brie nodded. “I too was wed once against my wishes, to my cousin Donald. And yet only look how my circumstances have altered and in not even a year.”
Alys allowed it was so. “And yet you were widowed, my lady. I fear if I think upon your tale overmuch, I may be tempted to wish myself the same, and that I cannot let myself do. Regardless of whom I love, Alex is still my husband and Alasdair’s father.”
“And what of Callum?”
Unable to meet Brie’s gaze, Alys looked away. “Before I left, I told him I loved Alex after all.”
“Oh, Alys, you didna!”
Alys sighed. “Aye, I did. I thought to spare him further pain, to make it easier for him to move on with his life but now…” She put down her needlework and sank her head in her hands.
From across the room the bed creaked. Footfalls made their way through the rushes toward her. Brie’s scent, rosemary mingled with mint, enfolded her like an embrace.
Her friend’s hand found her back. “Do you think he believed you?”
Alys lifted her head and looked up into Brie’s face. There she saw no judgment, only concern and a friend’s unconditional caring. “If you’d seen the hurt in his eyes when he looked at me, I think he must have, at least a little.”
“You must set this right, Alys. Callum deserves to know how you truly feel about him. You owe him that much and yourself, as well.” Brie’s tone was gentle but firm. “Whatever happens from here on, you cannot leave with this lie standing between you.”
Alys sighed. Brie spoke true. Honesty was the best way, the only way. Had she followed that maxim sooner, her life might have followed a straighter, smoother course. When she’d found herself pregnant with Alasdair, her first thought had been to go to her parents and brave her father’s anger. Instead she’d let Alex play upon her fears and persuade her to run away with him. She’d tossed her old frock in the mill stream to make it seem as if she’d drowned. At the time, she told herself it would be better for her family, less painful, to think her dead. The other morning with Callum she’d once again employed a lie to make matters better—and once again she’d but made them worse.
Brie broke into her thoughts. “I recall a young woman, wise beyond her years, telling me that our earthly lives amount to but a teardrop in time and that if we do not love one another truly and well whilst we are here, there is little point in living at all. That wise woman was you, Alys. Do you remember that day?”
Alys met her friend’s gaze, the lump lodging in her throat making it hard to do more than nod. “Aye, I do.”
“Not so verra long ago, I was about to let Ewan go free without confessing that I loved him. I was proud then, but beyond my pride was a terrible fear of being hurt again. Had I not listened to your wise words and taken them to heart, Ewan would be back upon Fraser lands and I would be here—alone. And that would be a terrible tragedy, do you not think?” Brie’s hand covered Alys’s shoulder. “You are gifted with a rare wisdom and a loving heart. In this instance it isna your head but your heart that holds the answer—and there is only one answer, Alys. You must tell Callum the truth.”
Alys didn’t trust herself to speak. Acknowledging she’d done wrong was one thing, finding the courage to make it right quite another. If she admitted the true depth of her feelings, what was to stop either of them from committing a far greater sin, a sin from which there was no coming back?
“You will think on what I have said?” Brie pressed.
Alys found her voice and nodded. “Aye, I will.”
CHRISTMAS HAD COME AT LAST!
Father Fearghas stared down at the open parish records ledger, half afraid to credit the proof of his eyes. Beside the neatly written date, “April 14, Year of Our Lord 1458,” the name Alexander Field was penned in a decidedly less tidy yet still decipherable hand. On the line beneath were the initials of his bride: MG.
Whoever MG was, she was most certainly not Lady Alys.
A knock sounded outside the door. Fearghas started. The parish priest, Father Seumas, gave the call to enter.
A young priest poked his tonsured head inside. He touched his forelock to Fearghas and then turned to Father Seumas. “I crave your pardon, Father, but ’tis the tanner’s wife. She is on her deathbed and sent her son to fetch you so that she may receive the last rites.”
The priest let out a put-upon sigh. “Verra well, tell him I will come anon.” He waited for the novice to take his leave before turning back to Fearghas. Lowering his voice to a confidential whisper, he explained, “The woman takes to her deathbed at least monthly. She craves attention from her husband. Unfortunately, he is more interested in the innkeeper’s comely daughter. Still I must go. You will forgive me?”
Father Fearghas nodded with enthusiasm. Truly the Divine worked in mysterious ways. “Of course, I comprehend completely. Pray and do as you must. I will be but a moment or two at most.”
Already rising, Father Seumas nodded. “I thank you for your understanding. Pray take as long as you like. When you are finished, pull yonder bell and someone will come and fetch back the book.”
Father Fearghas nodded. “O
f course, of course…”
Left to his devices, he felt sweat break out upon his face, several droplets striking the page. He dashed an arm across his forehead lest he obliterate the precious, evidentiary ink.
It was wrong of him, he knew, and yet considering his action would be in the service of a higher power, was it so terribly wrong? Once he returned to Castle Fraser and delivered his news to Callum, he would be sure and do proper penance: say sufficient Hail Marys, don a hair shirt, maybe even flagellate himself a time or two for good measure. But he couldn’t afford to pause and consider the consequences now. The moment called for bold action, gallant deeds, fearless sacrifice…
He rent the page from the register, closed the book and ran.
IT WAS IN READING The Pardoner’s Tale later that afternoon that inspiration struck Brianna. In Chaucer’s comical yarn, the priest passed off pigs’ bones as saints’ relics and sold “indulgences” to the gullible, all while preaching against greed. Amusing as the story was, it was also a reminder that people and circumstances were not always what they seemed.
Closing the book, she studied Alys. The girl had moved her chair closer to the window to make the most of the waning winter light. Her pretty profile exuded an almost tragic sadness. No doubt she was mulling over their earlier conversation and struggling with what to do about Callum. Minded of how she’d once fought her feelings for Ewan, Brianna was hard-pressed not to rise from bed and give her friend a consoling hug.
Alys jabbed the bodkin into the collar of the christening robe she was stitching for Brianna’s bairn. She’d begged Brianna to let her take over the task, and Brianna had consented, hoping it might distract her friend from her sorrows for a few hours at least.
“By Saint Simeon’s bones, look what I’ve done!” Alys pulled away, sucking at her finger.
Brianna had never known Alys to drop a stitch. Nor had she ever before heard her friend curse.
She set the hoop aside and started up. “I must get some water to wash this out, otherwise it will stain.”
“Leave it.”
“But—”
“Nay buts.” Brianna gentled her tone. “It is a baby gown, Alys. I expect it will accumulate a great many stains before my son or daughter has done with wearing it.”
Alys sat back down. Brianna made a show of returning her book but she could not concentrate and for once, the baby’s kicking was not to blame.
Thinking back to Chaucer’s pardoner, she asked, “Alys, where were you and Alexander wed? You never did say.”
Alys lifted her head. Though her pretty visage showed no sign of reproach, she must be wondering why Brianna brought up such a sore subject. “We wed in Portree. He bribed a priest from St. Andrew’s to marry us. But even then, it wasna done proper in the church but in the inn where we stayed.”
“That’s rather unusual, is it not?”
Alys shrugged. “I suppose it is. Had Alasdair not been on the way, money or not I’m not certain he would have done the deed.”
“Hmm.” Brianna picked up her book and pretended to read.
Milread said pregnancy often sharpened the second sight in women so inclined. Ever since Brianna had felt the baby’s first stirrings, her intuition had seemed especially keen. She had a ticklish feeling at the tip of her nose, a twitching that came over her these days when something didn’t smell quite right. Alys’s first marriage wanted looking into and the sooner the better.
7
“BROTHER! Faith but this is a happy surprise.” Ewan crossed the chamber and clasped Callum in a hearty hug.
Still awkward with showing affection, Callum returned the embrace as best he could. Stepping back, he looked into his twin’s face, a near mirror image of his own. Though Ewan was younger by mere minutes, still he would always be Callum’s baby brother.
Ewan clapped him on the shoulder. “When I sent for Milread, I never expected you would come, too, though in truth I’m glad of it.”
Like most of the actions Callum had taken in the course of his life, his journey to Skye was motivated by simple selfishness. He hadn’t been able to bear being in his castle without Alys. Everywhere he turned, everywhere he looked, he saw her or rather the ghost of her.
“Brianna is recovered?” he asked, already knowing the happy news and yet hoping to shift the conversation away from him.
Ewan nodded. “It wasn’t the bairn but the gooseberry tarts she’d eaten before bed. She has sworn off sweets and I have sworn off nagging—for now.” He ended with a laugh.
Mired in his misery, still Callum couldn’t help but note that his brother looked weary and worried. Once he would have found such domesticity to be a bore, but not so now. Loving Alys truly had changed him for the better. It was also tearing him apart. Even though days had passed, the memory of watching her ride out of his castle gates still wracked him, fresh as the slashes on his palm. That she was beyond his protection was the source of almost constant anxiety.
“You must be parched from your journey.” Ewan poured two goblets of wine and handed one to Callum. “Brie will want to see you shown to your chamber and a bath made ready.”
Callum took the wine, grateful for something to do with his hands. These days they did little more than hang idle at his sides.
“Dinna trouble yourself on my account. I can always go to the mountain if need be. You do still keep the bathing tent there?”
Preparing a full bath in the dead of winter was a time-consuming task involving heating water enough to fill a trough and then bearing the buckets up many flights of steep stairs.
Ewan nodded. “Aye, Brie and I go ourselves sometimes to steam and…well, be private, though usually in the spring.”
Callum didn’t have to imagine what “being private” entailed. Bathing together was one of many intimacies married couples shared and yet another pleasure he and Alys had never had the chance to experience. Imagining how lovely she would look wet, he raised his goblet and drank deeply.
As if reading his thoughts, Ewan said, “Brianna and I were much aggrieved to hear of the sad ending to your wedding.”
Thinking Milread lost no time, he dropped into a tapestry-covered chair. “Och, Ewan, you above anyone ken the life I lived before Alys. I’ve lain with women I couldn’t begin to love, taken pleasure for my own selfish sake without thought to any other. As a youth, I tormented you without mercy. When you confessed to plighting your troth with Brianna that fair day, to giving her your flute as a token of your bond, I never tired of calling you out for the weak-minded folly of falling in love. And now…”
“And now,” Ewan prompted.
Callum drew in a deep breath and braced himself. The tables were at last turned. His brother was about to have his chance to gloat, and Callum knew he had every right to do so.
“Now that I know what it means to love and be loved in return, I would fall upon my knees and beg your forgiveness.”
Instead of heckling, Ewan sent him a look of sympathy. “I see you have grown a heart at last, for you wear it on your sleeve.”
Callum drank more wine. “I would that I had not, for I have grown one only in time to see it crushed beneath an Outlander’s heel.”
“One never knows what life may bring. When I first learned Brie had wed her cousin, Donald, I believed with all my heart that she was lost to me forever. Who could have divined that in a few years she would be both widowed and my wedded wife?”
Callum nodded. “And yet you had the great good fortune to be abducted and bound to your lady’s bed. If I thought I was relinquishing Alys to a better man, a man more like you, I would bear the parting with more grace. But I do not believe Alexander Field is a better man.”
Along with showing himself the codless scut of Callum’s earlier estimation, he was a bully. He couldn’t begin to deserve Alys. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t care about making her happy. It was clear to Callum he didn’t mean to try. Denying her the comfort of the litter was all the proof he needed.
Ewan n
odded. “I do not believe so, either.”
Callum lifted his cup, and then nearly choked on the swallow he took. They’d been within Ewan and Brianna’s fortress walls not yet an hour. Had Milread truly had the time to tell them so much?
Drawing the cup down, he asked, “How so?”
Ewan stared at him strangely. “Alys is here. She and Field arrived yesterday eve. I thought you must know.”
Alys was there! Callum shot up from his seat. “How is she? Where is she?”
Ewan laid a staying hand on his shoulder. “Draw it mild, my brother. I ken your eagerness and its good reason, but before you seek her out, you need to contrive a plan. This husband of hers, this Englishman, is a cunning cur. Even without the pockmarks, I could not like his face.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Callum caught sight of Brianna passing by the open doorway. She stopped in her tracks and entered.
“Callum, what a grand surprise this is, grand indeed.” She beamed at him.
Advanced pregnancy must have altered her indeed. They’d put their differences behind them before she’d married his brother, still he’d never known her to greet him with quite such enthusiasm.
“Merry Christmas, Brianna.” He turned to her and bussed her cheek. Stepping back, he surveyed her, heavily pregnant but radiant, clearly in the bloom of health. “You look well, my lady. I am glad to see you so.”
Ewan crossed to his wife’s side. “And I mean to keep her so.” Laying a hand on her elbow, he guided her over to a brocade-covered chair with all the care one might employ in the handling of rare porcelain. The display of conjugal tenderness tore at Callum’s heart. He had treated Alys in such a gentle and loving manner and would have continued to do so for all their days. Now owing to Alexander Field, he would never have that chance.
He waited until she was seated and then came directly to the point. “I know Alys is here.”
She nodded. “Aye, sweet creature, she insisted on coming to tend me. I last left her sewing in my solar. She is as yet unaware you are here.” Brianna hesitated. She cleared her throat. “I am given to think that not all is as it should be with her marriage.”
Blaze Historicals Bundle II Page 28