by Sherry Ewing
The old woman might as well have slapped her across the face, although, Ian’s mother knew not how much such an accusation tore at Lynet’s heart. She began to fidget as Ian’s mother made a circular motion of her hand towards her. Lynet looked at Ian, and he shrugged his shoulders, so Lynet proceeded to turn around so this obnoxious woman could inspect her, as though she were a piece of livestock to be closely inspected afore being purchased. When she had completed a full circle, Lynet once more looked directly at her husband’s dame and waited for her pronouncement.
“I am Lady Fiona,” she declared proudly. Nothing in her expression led Lynet to believe they would become friends anytime soon.
“Madam,” she replied with a slight nod of her head.
Lady Fiona turned her back on Lynet and whispered something to the woman behind her. She then had the gall to give a most annoying laugh that was anything but flattering when she peered again at Lynet. Her steely glare returned to her son. “Really, Ian, could you not do better than take to wife some woman who appears as if she has crawled out from beneath a thistle bush?” she sniggered.
The hair on the back of Lynet’s neck rose in indignation. How dare this woman speak to her in such a manner! Her mouth was poised to open a sharp retort, but instead, she remained silent, as Ian spoke on her behalf.
“She does have a prickly temper, of which I must say, I approve,” Ian softly chuckled, bringing her cool hand again up to his lips. Their eyes lingered one to the other, causing Lynet’s heart to quicken. “’Twill keep things interesting, will it not my dear?”
“Most assuredly, my laird,” Lynet calmly replied. She watched as Ian’s brow rose in amusement at her acknowledgement he was indeed her lord. ’Twas almost as if they shared a private jest between them, and a laugh escaped her mouth. “Do not get used to that, Ian.”
He threw his head back in merriment. “And yet, you have now used my proper title twice, dear lady, despite your vow to not let it pass your lips.”
Lady Fiona cleared her throat and abruptly brought them back to the realization people were still watching their every move and listening intently to their conversation.
“Has the marriage been consummated?” his mother all but jeered.
“I beg your pardon, madam?” Lynet was aghast she would ask such of them with all of Urquhart looking upon them, waiting for an answer.
Could such a smile be construed as anything else but malicious? “Ah…I see,” Lady Fiona said with satisfaction. “Then, there is still hope.”
“Hope for what?” Lynet murmured, almost afraid to hear where this woman’s thoughts were going to lead.
Lady Fiona’s face lit up in happiness as if all was going to right itself in her world. “Why there is hope this misunderstanding between the two of you can as yet be undone, of course. My son can then marry a proper Highland lass of the clan’s choosing.”
Lynet actually gasped at what she was hearing. Never had she thought her and Ian’s handfasting was anything other than a true marriage, no matter that they had not as yet carried out the act of truly becoming one. An embarrassing blush began to creep across Lynet’s face. If Ian were to denounce her, she would be returned home to Berwyck a ruined woman. No man of any standing, be he titled or not, would have her then.
Once again, Ian came to her rescue, saving her from any further disgracing remarks by his mother. Leaving Lynet’s side, he quickly strode to Lady Fiona to take her upper arm in a firm grip.
“Hear me, and hear me well, madam. There has been no misunderstanding. Lynet is my wife, and you will not, under any circumstances forget such a fact,” Ian snarled. “Now get inside. Once I have my lady settled in our chamber, I will summon you and finish having speech in privacy where conversations of this nature belong!”
Lynet saw the older woman cast a mutinous gaze upon her son ’til she turned to take her leave, grabbing the arm of the younger lady at her side. Ian’s voice halted her progress and her shoulders jerked when she heard the tone of his speech. “Have you not forgotten something, mother?”
Lady Fiona turned back towards them and gave the briefest of nods afore picking up her skirts and hastily retreating into the castle. Already the air, which had only moments afore seemed to be stifling all around them, brightened like the sun peeking through the clouds after a heavy storm. Ian put his arm around Lynet’s shoulder and embraced her.
“People are staring, Ian,” she whispered, even whilst her arms went around his waist.
“Let them…” he replied, reaching up to cup her cheek. “I am most sorry for her treatment of you. Are you all right?”
“Aye. She does not even know me, and already she hates me.”
“I cannot fathom what has gotten into her. She was never like that when I was a lad.”
“I am sure all will reveal itself in time, Ian.”
“She is just displeased I have gone against her wishes and wed without consulting her.”
He took her arm and led her into the Great Hall of the keep. Lynet did her best not to cough from the hazy smoke filling the chamber. A quick glance at her surroundings told her the estate had been in disarray for some time. The hall was sparsely furnished. The walls had but one tattered tapestry hanging from a bent metal rod. Two large grey dogs lounging by the fire appeared as though they were in need of a meal. She could only ponder if, mayhap, everyone at Urquhart was in need of such sustenance.
As they made their way across the filthy rush covered floor to the stairs, Ian called out for water to be brought to his chambers for bathing. Several serfs scurried off to do his bidding. Lynet lost count of the number of stairs they climbed ’til they reached the fifth floor. The passageway seemed eerily silent, with only the occasional torch lit to help them find their way down the dark corridor.
They came to a portal located near a corner of the keep, and Ian pushed the oaken door open. Lynet tried to hide her dismay at seeing the condition of the chamber that was obviously made for the laird and chief of the keep. ’Twas apparent Ian’s brother had not spent many hours here afore his demise.
“God’s wounds,” Ian cursed.
She could understand his sentiments regarding the room. Lynet tried to envision the chamber for the possibilities ’twould offer, thinking of a large bed with lush velvet hangings instead of pelts of fur thrown carelessly upon the floor and up against the wall. A small table that served as a desk would never do, but a larger one would be a nice addition near one of the windows. Colorful cushions in the rounded corner would brighten up the seating space and would add a nice touch to the area where one could gaze at the loch below. There was one chest located on the opposite side of the room, although Lynet was almost afraid to open the lid. She had no doubt she would find within a nest of mice, given there was a considerable hole chewed open at the bottom.
She went towards the window and almost ran into a cobweb that housed a very busy spider as it spun its silken thread around its latest meal. With a timid smile, she turned back to Ian, who still stood rooted and frozen in place. “It could be worse,” Lynet said brightly.
He came back from wherever far off place he had traveled to in his mind. “Surely you jest, madam?”
She walked over to him and placed her hands upon his arms. Her thumbs roamed over his skin and she could feel his muscles flex with tension. “We shall make the best of it,” she declared cheerfully.
Ian pulled her a step closer, and Lynet’s heart leapt as she felt the heat of his body next to her own. She realized this was the man she had wanted all her life. Ian…her knight…her husband…and she could at long last call him her very own.
“Are you, perchance, attempting to make me laugh?”
Lynet gave a slight shrug. “I thought a light heart might be best given the circumstances.”
“Do you always have so much hope and faith all will work out?”
Ian brought her fully against him, and a gasp escaped her. She had never willingly been this close to another man in her life. “I
am here, am I not?” she replied, as she tried to find breath to fill her lungs, although this in no way answered his question. “’Twas, mayhap, not how I envisioned our marriage starting out, but that does not seem to matter now, does it? We are wed. You have your inheritance─”
“Such as it is,” he finished glumly, filling in words she would not have spoken.
“Aye…such as it is, and yet, I know all will work out, for I have faith in you. That is more important than anything else, Ian.”
A lazy grin formed on that perfect mouth of his, and she waited for the touch of his lips on hers as his head began to lean down towards her. But fate had other plans in mind when a loud knock came upon the door. They broke apart, and Ian called out to the serfs to enter.
An army of clan members, both men and women, came into the chamber bearing a tub, along with bucket after bucket of water. Drying cloths were laid on the table, along with a change of clothing Lynet prayed would fit. A young girl stood meekly by to assist with her bathing, once she was ready.
Ian leaned down and gave her cheek a quick kiss. “I will leave you to see to your bath, my lady. There are matters I must needs attend to, but I shall endeavor to return as quickly as I can so we may finish our…discussion.”
She just knew a rosy blush heightened the color of her face from his words, especially when she heard his chuckle. She watched him leave, bellowing orders to ensure the room’s furnishing would be made more to his liking. Not knowing how much time she had, Lynet scurried to make herself presentable. After this night, she would be a maid no more.
Chapter Twenty
By the fire, which had been made for him, Ian sat in a chair that could only be termed uncomfortable. His hazel eyes peered at the interior of the chief’s solar. It did not take much to envision what this room used to look like afore his brother had run the estate into the ground. He had already dismissed the steward, who had given him a grim report of the clan’s state.
Not much was left. Even Ian could have surmised this himself, for surely, he had eyes in his head and had already witnessed the people were almost to the point of starvation. He had foreseen this outcome years afore, knowing his brother’s nature. Ian would not be surprised to learn he had spent his last coin on ale and wenching. ’Twould have fit with the brother he had known all those years ago when he had left. He could only pray some woman would not try to claim her bastard child was his brother’s, and he would need to find means to feed another soul.
His mother had become bitter over the years, although this, too, should not have startled him. He only awaited her arrival to continue their conversation in privacy. Ian assumed the younger woman who had been at his dame’s side was to have been his potential bride, and this was an additional reason why Lady Fiona was displeased with him. He had already been told the lady was packing her belongings to return from whence she had come. It mattered not to Ian where she lived, only that she arrive there safely.
There was only one knock upon the door, and Ian called out for his mother to enter. The portal was pushed opened by a servant. His mother entered with her head held high. She was followed closely by her brother, who leveled his steely gaze at Ian with an open display of contempt. So even this had not changed over the years.
“Uncle Edric…” Ian murmured, barely acknowledging the Scotsman who would like nothing better than if Ian were dead so he could take over the clan as its laird and chief.
“I see you still canna show respect for your elders, boy.”
“Surely, I am no longer a mere lad, and as I am clan leader, ’tis you who should be showing me the respect I deserve. Did you, perchance, forget I am my father’s son and next in line?” Ian proclaimed as he relaxed back in his chair with his fingers drumming the arm, awaiting his uncle’s decision.
“Bah…look at you. You may be wearing a plaid, but everything about you proclaims you to be more English than Scot!”
“And yet, here I am, after being summoned by your own sister, to claim my place as the rightful heir of Urquhart.”
“You do not deserve to be laird!” Edric sneered.
“Enough!” Fiona interjected. “I will not have you squabbling about who should rule. By right, Ian is chief, and I will not hear another word of who is worthy or not on the running of this clan.”
Ian’s brow rose at hearing this unexpected declaration from his mother, and yet, still he waited silently for his uncle’s recognition.
“My laird,” Edric said through clenched teeth, giving the slightest nod of his head. The older man’s glare told Ian he must needs watch his back whilst his Uncle’s lips sealed in a firm line of displeasure. Such a display told Ian this was far from settled.
Ian rose from his chair. “Now that such a matter has been established, I see we are in dire straits here. You should have sent for me sooner, mother.”
Fiona slumped down into the vacated chair and rested her hand on her forehead. “We sent runners in every direction. How was I to know your whereabouts, since you never bothered to keep me informed if you even yet lived, all these years?”
Edric went to stand behind his sister and put his hand upon her shoulder, as if to offer her some form of comfort. Personally, Ian did not think his uncle held affection for anyone, so this bit of display surprised him. A look passed between the two siblings, causing Ian to wonder at their ploy. Perhaps all was not as it appeared, since they turned their attention back to him with a surprising display of welcome. He almost felt as though he were a mouse being led into a trap with a tidbit of tasty cheese as the jaws of death clenched and snapped tightly around his neck.
“So you are wed,” Fiona said as she patted Edric’s hand, who then moved to the hearth to casually rest his arm upon its mantel.
“Aye,” Ian replied warily.
“She has monies to aid in the estate, then?” Edric said, as he began to examine the nails of his fingers as though he had nothing better to do. “I assume this is why you have but recently married.”
“I am sure I will be able to collect Lynet’s dowry, once I send word to Berwyck. ’Twas the least of my worries at the time of my leaving without it,” Ian replied.
“What, pray tell, could be more important than ensuring the future of our clan with coin to fill our coffers?” Fiona’s scornful reply dripped with greed and her obvious need of wealth.
Ian crossed to the desk near the window and leaned up against the wood, folding his arms across his chest. “I would think my lady’s life more important than a bit of coin madam.”
“Explain yourself?” Edric demanded.
“She was kidnapped by another who sought her wealth. I thought it prudent to retrieve my wife afore he defiled her.”
“Then she is wealthy! You must consummate the marriage and quickly.” Fiona smiled and began rubbing her hands together in satisfaction. “’Twill ensure her monies can provide for the estate, and we can return to living in the manner to which we were accustomed afore your brother depleted your inheritance.”
“I did not handfast with her for her dowry, mother. I care for the lady.”
“Handfast? You were not even married afore a priest?” Edric interrupted.
Afore Ian could answer, his mother rose from her chair, as if he was not even in the room. “’Tis of no import now, Edric. ’Tis still binding. But, we must bear witness they have in truth finalized their union. Then there will be no question Ian has the right to can claim her fortune.”
“Aye, you have that aright, sister. Come, nephew, and let us see the deed done.”
Ian was appalled at where this conversation had led. “You must surely be jesting if you think I would allow you to watch as I take my wife?”
Fiona gazed at him, as though he were but a lad in need of a scolding. “Do not let sentiment play a part in this. You must think of your people.”
“I am thinking of my people. Why else would I be here if I did not care for them?” Ian bellowed.
Edric came to stand next to his sister
. “Then there is no need for speech about how you must provide proof she is a maid, else you must needs marry another.”
“I am already wed, and I will hear no more talk of another taking Lynet’s place,” Ian retorted hotly. “I stand by my handfast with her, so I will hear no more of such speech!”
Fiona came to point her finger at him again, as she had in his youth. “To hell with the handfast you made with her! As head of the clan, you know of our ways and what is demanded of you, or have you forgotten such customs whilst you were on English soil?”
“I have forgotten nothing, including my duties to Urquhart. Hence, my appearance here.”
Edric opened the solar door and motioned with his arm for Fiona and Ian to follow. Ian stood where he was ’til his uncle shut the door once more. He would be damned if he would embarrass Lynet by having his family observe them whist he made her his wife in full.
Ian casually made his way behind his desk and picked up quill and parchment. He would do this in his own time, and not at the whim of an uncle and mother he had not seen, nor heard from, in many a year.
“I have matters to attend to, and you may await me and my decision on how to handle such a delicate matter in the Great Hall. I am hardly fit to run upstairs and take my wife in my present condition, wearing the stench of sweat and blood from battle,” Ian informed them.
He dipped the tip of the quill into the ink and began to write a message to Dristan, scratching the words across the parchment. Still not hearing that he was at last alone with his thoughts and the emptiness of the chamber, he looked up with raised brow. He leveled a stern gaze upon the two older people who stood next to one another with open mouths. “You are dismissed ’til I call for you.”
Ian heard a low growl emit from Edric, but he ignored such an outburst, knowing the war between them had only just begun. He continued writing his missive ’til he at last saw from the corner of his eye the leaving of his uncle and mother. The oaken door slammed shut with enough force that the sound resonated down the passageway. Putting down the quill, Ian folded the parchment and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh.