In an old trunk tucked away in a storage room, Phillip kept countless journals and scraps of parchments. He wrote fanciful tales and drew wild illustrations depicting what he saw in his mind’s eye. He also kept very detailed logs of those who visited their keep.
Somehow, he took comfort in it, pretending that his mum wasn’t really dead, but was instead travelling the world. Convinced he was that if and when she returned, she would want to know about all the things happened in her absence. As he grew older and time passed, he realized his mother was never coming back. But old habits die hard and he continued to keep detailed journals and records.
As he grew older, the label of different was gradually replaced with labels of pompous and arrogant. People simply did not understand him. He was far from pompous. He knew his own strengths and weaknesses. He knew he would never be the warrior that his brother, Seamus, had turned out to be. And he would never be the man his father so desperately wanted him to be.
After the three men had left him, Phillip paced around his study. He knew much more about the accusations against Angus than he led the men to believe. Phillip admired their steadfastness and their loyalty as it pertained to Angus McKenna. Not many people in this world deserved such fealty. It was a shame that the fool had thrown it all away.
Lost in his thoughts, he did not hear his lovely wife, Helena enter the room. He hadn’t known she was there until he turned and nearly stumbled over her.
“God’s teeth, woman!” he said with a start. “How many times have I told ye no’ to sneak up on me like that?”
Helena’s face lit up with a smile. Most people did not understand how someone as beautiful as Helena could love a man like Phillip Lindsay. She was a tiny, bonny thing, with hair the color of ginger and eyes as blue as the ocean. There were many times when Phillip asked himself what she saw in him.
The young beautiful woman loved him unconditionally and with ferocity that others might not be able to understand. Outward appearances were often deceiving. Helena too, had been labeled different at a very young age. She had been born with a slight deformity. Her left leg was a bit shorter than her right. It gave her an awkward gait and because of it she was constantly tormented by other children. The vicious taunting from uncaring fools continued, even when she grew older.
Her lot in life was made even more difficult by the fact that she had gone nearly fifteen years without uttering a single word. There had been no physical or medical reason for her muteness. Nay, it had been brought on by the traumatic way in which her parents had died when she was ten summers old. A man consumed with evil and malevolence had forced Helena and her father to watch as he raped her mum then slit her throat. Moments later, with the terrified Helena still watching, he killed her father.
Helena had never learned why the man had done what he had done or why he had allowed her to live. As she grew older, she supposed he had done it simply because he could. Until she met Phillip a few short years ago, she had lived her life in silence -- taunted and ridiculed by those who never took the time to understand her pain or her suffering.
Phillip Lindsay had fallen in love with her almost instantly.
Never known for acts of bravery or physical strength, somehow on that fateful day, Phillip found a part of him he did not know he owned.
Helena was being tormented by a group of young men. They had cornered her in an alley in Stirling. Mocking her, calling her names, they were doing their best to lift her skirts. Had Phillip not arrived Lord only knows what they would have done to her.
In an act of bravery, Phillip stepped in, with broadsword drawn, and fended off the three young men. One was left dead and another without his right arm, while the third had taken flight never to be seen or heard from again.
Perhaps Phillip had picked up a few things from all the years of watching his brother and father on the training fields. It was even possible that there was some latent talent for fighting that had remained dormant until it was needed. Whatever the cause of his sudden show of strength, he had been glad for it.
Phillip tucked an errant length of ginger hair behind his wife’s ear with one hand while he caressed her swollen belly with the other. Helena stood on her tiptoes and gave him a peck on his cheek. “Are ye hungry, husband?” she asked him.
Cooking and baking was something his wife was very good at, as evidenced by all the weight he had gained since marrying her. He had always been on the thin side, until Helena came into his life. She had learned to cook and bake as a way of dealing with pain and heartache. Now, she had explained to him time and time again, she cooked and baked as a way of showing her love and gratitude for the man who saved her life.
“Wife, am I no’ fat enough for ye now?” Phillip asked as he patted his large belly.
Helena looked him up and down with feigned scrutiny. “Aye, I suppose ye’ll do.”
Phillip rolled his eyes and drew her into a warm embrace. Her head barely reached his shoulders, a fact that he thoroughly enjoyed for he loved the way her hair smelled. Like lilacs and fresh bread.
Helena returned his hug and snuggled her head into his chest, turning slightly to the side for her stomach had grown so big over the past fortnight. “I ken ye be worried over Angus McKenna, husband. Is there naught I can do?”
There were many times over the past few years when Phillip was convinced his wife could read his mind. This was one of those moments. The events leading up to Angus’ imprisonment weighed heavily on his conscience.
“Nay, lass, there is no’ anything we can do now,” he whispered into her hair. He did not like to keep secrets from his wife. But in this he would not yield to the temptation of sharing with her. The less she knew, the safer she and their babe would be.
The events of the past three years had led up to this moment in time. Phillip knew he was just as much a pawn in this game as Angus was. There were too many unknown players, unknown factors and that was a point he did not enjoy in the least. In just three days, if things played out as he worried they might, Angus McKenna would hang, alongside his son-in-law. Angus McKenna was a proverbial scapegoat in this melodrama.
Everything that I do, I do for Helena and my child, Phillip thought as he hugged his wife more tightly. Helena and their babe were his entire world. There was nothing he would not do to insure their safety and futures.
There was no room for feeling guilty. Angus was where he was because of the choices he had made. The only man Angus could blame was himself.
If Phillip Lindsay hoped to live long enough to see his first child born, there was not anything he could do to stop it.
ELEVEN
When Arline had told her husband about the MacDougalls at the gate and the three in his study, she could see his face light with an idea.
“Their timin’ could no’ be better,” Carlich told her. “They can escort ye to Stirling.”
Arline did not like the idea of going to Stirling and she most assuredly did not like the idea of complete strangers acting as escort. But, if the MacDougalls were as loyal and as fierce as Carlich had described them, then perhaps it might not be such a bad idea.
Carlich had asked very little of her over the past three years. Even if he was as old as dirt, he was still a kind man. He never yelled, never raised a hand to her and in short, had treated her with nothing but kindness and respect.
When she had come to Lindsay lands three years ago, she was a terrified lass of five and ten. Carlich had immediately put her at ease, letting her know the truth behind why her father had arranged their marriage and why Carlich had agreed to it.
Arline’s father, Lord Orthanach Fitzgerald of Kildare, Ireland, had gotten himself into a good deal of trouble and owed some less-than-respectable men a good deal of money. Arline’s mother, Frances, was one of Carlich’s distant cousins. Frances had died when Arline was but ten. Without Frances there to keep Orthanach in check, he rapidly began a downward spiral, spending far more money than he had. By the time Arline was nearing her fifteenth
birthday, Orthanach was so far in debt that he feared for his life. The men he owed the large sums to were not patient, nor were they the kind to wait until his financial situation improved.
Her father hadn’t arranged the marriage as a means of protecting her, or for securing her future. It was simply a means to pay his debts, nothing more. After she and Carlich were married, Carlich had explained the situation to her fully. He had even admitted that he had been fully intending to reject Orthanach’s offer of her hand. That was until he met her.
It wasn’t so much her outward beauty that had attracted Carlich to her, but the spark of life evidenced in the way her green eyes twinkled with laughter over a ribald joke he had told her. She reminded him of his sister, long since dead and instinctively, Carlich wanted to protect her.
Carlich was a good, honest, even-tempered man, and for that, she loved him and cherished the friendship they had developed.
Scotland’s future and its freedom potentially lay in her hands. With more than just the lives of Angus McKenna and Duncan McEwan hanging in the balance, she found it quite difficult to deny her husband his request.
Never in her life had she done anything even remotely dangerous. Before her mother’s death, Arline had been raised to be a dutiful, quiet lady who would grow up to be a dutiful, quiet wife. Her destiny was to sit quietly, do as she was told, and never speak out of turn. Never put to voice any thoughts or feeling she might possess. Nay, good dutiful wives were genteel, quiet and unassuming. That was until she came to the Lindsay keep. Albeit she had yet to experience anything dangerous, she had been given more freedom than she had known before. Until now, the most dangerous thing she came in contact with was the bone needle she used for her embroidery.
With Carlich’s help, Arline had found her voice and a backbone. He had always encouraged her to speak her mind, to believe in something bigger than herself and to hold tightly to her convictions. Aye, he was her husband, but he acted more like a grandfather spoiling a favorite grandchild than a husband.
Arline pondered the situation for a time. She worried about the safety of the keep in her absence. Aye, there would be plenty of people to care for Carlich. Knowing what she did now, she fretted over the safety of her people.
Her people. They were just as much hers as Seamus’. Seamus was gone more often than not. His wife had died a year before Arline had married Carlich. Arline was the lady of the keep, the chatelaine, and she did her best to make certain the keep ran smoothly. She loved these people, or at least most of them. She had no great fondness for Seamus or his arrogant son, Aric. Though she was used to their odd way of coming and going without leaving word, it still angered her that they had left with Carlich so close to death.
“Wife,” Carlich sounded hopeful. “Will ye do this fer me?”
Arline gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled lovingly at him. “Aye, husband, I shall.”
Suddenly, she felt quite energized by the thought of racing through the countryside, surrounded by a group of fierce Highlanders. The fact that her father would be appalled at such behavior made the idea even more enjoyable.
She looked away from her husband to ask the stranger a question only to find he was gone. He had managed to slip away without her notice.
Spies, Arline thought. Ye canna trust them.
“Yer a good woman, Arline,” Carlich said as he patted her hand and closed his eyes. “A verra good woman.”
Arline stood and kissed his forehead and straightened his blanket. “And ye are a good man, Carlich Lindsay,” she whispered against his cold, clammy skin.
With her mind made up, she set off to see to the men who waited below stairs in her husband’s study.
Daniel’s felt his patience being sorely tested. He, along with Roy and Ronald, had been waiting for nearly an hour for Seamus Lindsay to come meet with them. Surely Seamus understood the importance of message he had been given earlier.
Roy and Ronald paced in opposite directions, mumbling curses under their breaths. They were just as offended as Daniel over being forced to wait for the Lindsay chief to grace them with his presence.
“Mayhap,” Ronald began, “they did not relay the message accurately.” He had paused before the fireplace and looked hopefully at his brother, Roy. “I be certain that the Lindsay would no’ keep us waitin’ like this if he knew the importance of the matter.”
Roy was not as hopeful as Ronald. “I swear, if I find he’s been tumblin’ under the sheets with some kitchen maid while he makes us wait, I’ll no’ be responsible for me actions.”
Ronald chuckled at his brother’s threat. “I’ll hold him down for ye, brother.”
Daniel had been seated for more than a quarter hour, waiting for the door to open and the Lindsay chief to walk in. The longer he was made to wait the more his anger boiled. He had finally reached the end of his patience. Bolting to his feet, he headed toward the door, pausing to inform Roy and Ronald exactly what his intentions were.
“If the Lindsay will no’ come to us, then we shall go to the Lindsay!” he seethed.
Roy and Ronald cast a glance at each other, shrugged their shoulders and nodded their heads in agreement. “I could no’ agree with ye more, Daniel. We’ve waited long enough,” Ronald said as they started toward the door.
Before they could reach the door, it opened with a rush of air, startling the three men. Their hopes at giving Seamus Lindsay a piece of their minds were quickly dashed.
With a swishing of silk skirts and the faint scent of lavender, a very comely young lass walked into the room. Auburn curls had been forced into a braid and looked as though they fought desperately for escape. She was taller than most women, with bright green eyes, and a very slender waist.
The three men stood silently for a moment while the lass scrutinized each of them in rapid succession. “Which of ye is Daniel?” she asked, forgoing formal introductions.
Daniel gave a slight bow at the waist. “I be Daniel,” he answered with a tilt of his head and a smile.
She gave a curt nod and wasted no time getting to the heart of the matter. “I apologize for making ye wait, Daniel. Ye are here on behalf of Clan MacDougall.” It was a statement, not a question. “How can I be of assistance?”
Daniel gave a furtive glance toward Roy and Ronald, who stood beside one another, looking just as perplexed as Daniel felt. Daniel noted a very distinct Irish accent and found it as intriguing as he did confusing. What was an Irish lass doing at the Lindsay keep and why was she here instead of Seamus?
“Pardon me, lass, but we are here to speak with Seamus,” he told her. He began to think that Ronald was correct in his assumption that the message had not been delivered correctly.
The lass folded her hands in front of her, her expression unchanged. “I ken that. But Seamus is no’ available at the moment. I act in his stead.”
Three sets of brows knotted in simultaneous confusion. “I beg yer pardon lass, but we must speak with Seamus. Please, deliver to him the message that we come to --”
She held her hand up to stop him. “I ken verra well why ye are here. Ye invoke the bond of the seven. I am fully aware of that bond, Daniel. Again, I tell ye that I act in Seamus’ stead.”
Daniel was growing quite frustrated, but managed to hold his temper in. He had no idea who the redheaded young lass was nor did he know why Seamus was refusing to meet with them. The lack of soldiers at the border and the lack of men within the castle made the hair on his neck stand up.
“Are ye his daughter?” Roy asked, his ire plainly evident.
She took a slight pause before answering. “Nay, I am no’ his daughter.”
The three men cast more curious glances at one another as their confusion and frustration grew. Daniel decided it was time to take control of the situation. “Lass, pardon our confusion. But who are ye and why are ye acting in Seamus’ stead?”
With a lift of her chin she pulled her shoulders back and looked Daniel in the eye. “I am Lady Arline Lindsay, w
ife of Carlich Lindsay. Seamus is no’ here.”
The three men could not hide their astonishment. Their eyes snapped open along with their jaws.
Lady Arline had grown accustomed to the reactions she received when she announced who her husband was. While she may have been accustomed to the astonished looks and the way people whispered behind her back, it did not mean she was unbothered by them.
With a slight shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, she placed her hands on her hips. “Lads, close your mouths. Ye be no bairns, ye’re men full grown. Arranged marriages should not be such a shock to ye.”
Daniel was instantly embarrassed by her direct chastisement. He could feel his face burn. Roy and Ronald cleared their throats, but remained quiet. Daniel attempted to apologize for being rude. “I do apologize, my lady,” he said. “It is just that --”
McKenna's Honor, a Novella, Book Four of the Clan MacDougall Series Page 7