Once inside the kitchen, she lit candles and set about lighting the fires in both hearths. She made a mental note to ask Alec to help her replenish her supply of wood, for it would soon be depleted.
Once the fires were set to her liking, she removed the cloths that covered the loaves of bread taking up nearly every empty table and space in the large room. While the first batch of bread baked, she made herself a cup of warm cider.
It felt good to be in this room, knowing she was preparing gifts for the clanspeople she would meet later this day. She found peace here, as well as a purpose. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so at ease anywhere in her life. Silently, she prayed for the peace to be everlasting and that Alec’s people would, at the very least, be polite if not accepting. “Let them no’ hate me. And let them no’ care about me eyes.”
After finishing her cider, she washed and dried her cup and set it back upon the open shelf above the sink. Spotting a bit of flour on the floor, she grabbed her broom and swept it out the door.
By the time she finished those tasks, the first round of bread was done. With great care, she removed the bread and set it upon one of the larger tables to cool. With another dozen loaves set to bake, she realized she should make a list of all the things she wished to do over the next few days. Oh, she had the list fully memorized. But writing it all down was one more way to keep her mind from worrying about Alec’s people.
With no ink to be found in the kitchen, she returned to the keep. With a lighted torch, she set off in search of Alec’s private study.
’Twas one bare room after another. Just like the grand gathering room; empty. If anyone by chance were to enter this first floor of the keep they would undoubtedly get the impression it had been abandoned.
With each vacant room, her excitement dwindled. Mayhap her husband did not think he had the need for a private room in which to work. She had no desire to return to her bedchamber in order to retrieve her own supply of ink. Only because she did not want to wake her husband just yet. He had told her once he preferred late nights to early mornings.
Finally, at the end of a long corridor, she found what she was looking for. Though it could hardly be called a study. One heavy table that held a few scrolls, one lonely candlestick, along with quill and ink. Two hard chairs sat on either side of the table. Two more chairs sat in front of the hearth.
Nothing adorned the walls. No books, no tapestries, nothing at all that would lend any warmth to the large space. There were three tall windows covered with furs, and that was it.
Was this a glimpse into her husband’s heart? Was it too, desolate and barren? No, she could not believe that. Not after all the kindness he had shown her. And especially not after the tender and gentle ways in which he loved her physically.
But why must his home be so dark and dreary? There had to be a reason. Mayhap he had removed anything that might remind him of his brother. ’Twas entirely possible, and ’twas the only thing that made a lick of sense. She thought the prospect a sad one. Thus far, Alec had not discussed his brother. Mayhap ’twas all too painful.
Doubtful she could solve that mystery this morning, she grabbed the ink and returned to her kitchen.
By the time Alec came below stairs, she had baked four dozen loaves of bread, made out her list, and prepared him a lovely meal.
Alec stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a long moment. Gone was the frustration he had felt when waking up to an empty bed again.
Leona was standing at the counter, her back to him. Sunlight streamed in through the open window. A long, honey-blonde braid hung down the back of her dark green dress. She was humming a tune he did not recognize.
The smell of ham sizzling in the brazier, the warm scent of fresh baked bread, and the sound of his wife’s happy tune was like nothing he’d ever imagined he would desire before. Yet …
When she turned to place trenchers on the table, she was momentarily startled at his presence. “Och! I did no’ see ye there,” she said. Right before she gave him a brilliant smile.
’Twas an honest, genuine smile. One that said she was glad to see him. A smile that said a thousand things at once without her uttering a word. It terrified him to his marrow simply because of the way that smile made him feel.
Content. Happy. Adored. Glad to have a wife such as she. Glad that she was here.
Nay, he did not want to feel anything of the sort for it made him a weak, besotted fool.
And he most certainly did not want to return her smile, but ’twas impossible not to. ’Twas akin to trying to hold back a raging river with his booted foot.
“How did ye sleep?” she asked as she returned to her task at hand. “I hope ye be hungry. Ye’ll find more than a few hard boiled-eggs this morn.”
Whenever Alec was near, she grew nervous and excited at the same time. Especially when he smiled, as he was doing now.
Those feelings often led to her prattling on about one thing or another. “I made ye ham, eggs, sausage, and bread. There also be berry jam and apples. But if that be no’ what ye want, I can prepare ye somethin’ else.” She would have prepared him anything he wanted, just to have his smile.
“Nay,” he said. “That will do.”
’Twas then he noticed the dozens upon dozens loaves of bread. “What be this?”
Leona smiled proudly. “Bread. I told ye I did no’ want to meet yer people without some sort of gift. Bread was the easiest thing fer me to make.”
He frowned. “And I told ye ’twas no’ necessary.”
She could not understand why he seemed upset. ’Twas a simple gift. “But—”
Alec stopped her with a raised hand. “Our people will respect ye, Leona, simply because ye are me wife.”
’Twasn’t only their respect she wanted. Growing more uncomfortable under his glare, she looked at her boots. He could not possibly understand the importance of it all. “But I want them to like me.”
Before he could say anything to reassure her, Kyth and Gylys appeared at the back door. Leona let them in.
“I told ye ’twas fresh baked bread I smelled,” Kyth said triumphantly as he crossed the threshold. “And ham as well!”
Gylys rolled his eyes at his friend. “Ye’re actin’ like a cat about to get a bowl of fresh cream, ye lout. Our lady does no’ want to feed us as well as her husband.”
At seeing all the bread on the table, Kyth whistled. “Is the entire clan coming to break their fast?”
Leona smiled wanly. “Nay,” she said. “Alec is takin’ me to meet the clan this morn. I wanted to give each family a small token of my thanks and esteem.”
“Thanks?” Kyth asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Fer what be ye thankin’ them?” Gylys asked, sounding just as confused as his friend.
Tears welled in her eyes. Those tears apparently had the same affect on his men as they did Alec. A sudden pang of guilt stabbed at his gut.
“Och! M’lady, do no’ fash yerself over it!” Gylys offered. “They’ll be right thankful fer the gesture.”
Kyth chuckled. “Though I fear none are used to people givin’ things to them.”
“Aye, they be more accustomed to takin’ what they want,” Gylys told her.
Aye, she knew what he said was true, but that did not mean she would not make the attempt to show them her sincerity.
Within the hour Leona and Alec were ready to set out to meet their people. With Gylys and Kyth acting both as guard and basket carriers, they set out to introduce Leona to their people.
Over the drawbridge and down a narrow path lined with ancient trees, the party spilled out into a clearing. Dotting the land were numerous huts and cottages, many of which had only recently been built.
Each home, while slightly different in appearance, possessed the same patch of earth for gardens. A few had barns — either separate from or attached to their cottages — in which to house any livestock. Flowers grew around many of the cottages.
Smoke billowed out of countless ch
imneys. Running happily throughout the glen were dozens of children, all playing together. Squeals and giggles rang out in the crisp morning air.
Home. This be what I always wanted, Leona thought to herself. Her stomach tightened with glee; her mood was instantly lifted. Certainly happy children bespoke of happy homes, which in turn meant Alec’s people would welcome her with open arms.
Catching sight of their laird, the children all stopped their frolicking and rushed to greet him.
“Alec!” A young lad called out as he raced toward them. Leona estimated him to be around eleven years of age and there was no mistaking he or any of the children who followed behind him were Bowies. They all sported the same dark hair as their laird.
“Good morn, to ye, Wills,” Alec said. His smile was warm and affectionate. It made Leona’s heart swell with pride and hope. If he could be this kind to these children, it only made sense he would be a good father to their own.
“Be that our new mistress?” Wills asked with a raised brow.
“She be verra pretty,” one of the younger girls spoke out.
Leona felt her cheeks grow warm at the compliment.
Alec raised his hands to call for quiet. “Aye, this be yer new mistress, me wife, Leona.”
“What be wrong with her eyes?” A little boy asked.
Leona felt her heart fall. So it begins, she mused.
“Not a bloody thing,” Alec told the boy. His tone was firm, yet kind.
The children all seemed to shrug in unison. Apparently if their laird was unbothered by her odd colored eyes, then neither would they.
“What have ye in the baskets?” another inquisitive child asked.
“We’ve come to introduce ye all to yer new mistress,” Alec told them. “She brings ye gifts of bread.”
Dozens of perplexed and curious eyes turned to stare at their new mistress.
“And before ye can ask why,” Alec began, “’tis because she be a good woman.”
That was all the explanation any of them needed. Leona wondered if the parents would be as inclined as their children to accept Alec’s word on any given matter.
Excited, the children fell into place around Alec as he led the way down the path. Two little girls, mayhap no more than five years in age, wriggled their way through to stand on either side of Alec. Each of them slipped a tiny hand into his. The vision of her husband walking hand-in-hand with these children, tugged and pulled at her heart. Oh, she could not wait to give him children of his own. How desperately she wanted to see him walking along, holding the hands of their children.
Leona was summarily pushed to the rear of the group, but she did not mind. She caught a few of the children staring at her, but she saw no malice in those bright, young eyes. Only curiosity.
Alec knocked on the door of the first cottage. A very pretty young woman, with a babe on one hip and a wean clinging to her blue wool skirts opened the door. She wore her dark hair in a long braid, draped over one shoulder.
“Alec!” she exclaimed happily. Realizing their laird was not alone, she stared curiously out at the throng of children. A moment passed before she called to her husband. “Fergus! Alec be here!”
Moments later, a young man appeared at the door. “Alec,” he said before catching sight of his entourage. “I see ye brought company,” he jested.
Alec offered him a warm smile. He turned to take his wife’s arm, but she was not standing next to him. Turning around, he extended his arm to her. With a good deal of trepidation, she stepped forward.
“Fergus, Maisie,” Alec began. “I would like to introduce ye to me wife, yer new mistress, Leona.”
While Fergus welcomed her with a kind smile, the same could not be said of his wife. “’Tis a pleasure, m’lady,” Fergus said with a slight bow. Maisie remained mute.
“I brought ye a gift,” Leona said. Reaching into her basket, she pulled out a small loaf of bread and offered it to Maisie.
“Why?” Maisie asked. Her tone was sharp and quite unkind. “I ken how to make me own bread.” She stared at the bread as if Leona were trying to hand her a pile of warm horse dung.
“’Tis a gift,” Alec explained.
While that explanation might have satisfied the children, it meant very little to Maisie. “But I can make me own bread, Alec.”
“I ken that,” he told her.
Still holding the bread, Leona made an attempt to explain herself. “Where I come from, the mistress often brings gifts to her people. I did no’ mean to offend. ’Tis simply a gift.”
Maisie quirked a dubious brow. Before she could utter an unkind response, Fergus took the bread. “Thank ye, m’lady.” He sounded just as confused as his wife, but was not appalled or offended by Leona’s gesture.
Leona stood nervously and in silence while Alec and Fergus chatted for a while longer. Maisie continued to glare at her new mistress.
Leona tried to convince herself that the rest of Alec’s people would not appear nearly as offended as this young woman. Wanting nothing more than to be kind, Leona offered her a compliment. “Ye have verra beautiful children.”
Maisie responded with a very unladylike and derisive snort.
“And a very beautiful home,” Leona tried again.
Maisie turned her gaze away, choosing instead to look at something other than Leona.
Gratefully, they were soon saying goodbye and heading toward the next cottage. She was introduced to another young couple. Their response was much the same as before. The young woman was insulted by Leona’s gift, but her husband was much kinder about it all.
And so it went, one cottage after another, with similar and equally disheartening results. By the time they reached the tenth cottage, Leona was on the verge of tears.
Nay, she told herself. Ye be Alec’s wife, the mistress of the keep and its people. Ye’ll no’ cry, at least no’ in front of anyone. ’Twill simply take time fer them to get to know ye.
The children gradually lost interest or were called into their homes by their parents. ’Twas long after the nooning hour when Alec knocked upon the door of an older looking cottage. This time, he did not wait for anyone to come to the door; instead, he opened it and stepped inside.
“This be Melvin’s cottage,” Kyth explained as they followed Alec in.
’Twas a bit unkempt, but by no means filthy. A small table holding a few dirty pots and bowls sat in the center of the small space. In the far corner of the room was the bed in which Melvin Bowie was resting.
He was seventy if he was a day. Thinning gray hair crowned his wrinkled face. But his eyes twinkled as he smiled the moment he saw Alec.
“This be Melvin,” Kyth whispered to Leona. “He has no’ been well fer some time.”
“Good day to ye, Alec.” The auld man sounded tired, his voice strained as if it took a good deal of effort to speak. Holding out his hand, he gave Alec’s a squeeze. “And who be this lovely lass ye brought with ye?”
Alec smiled at Leona as he held out his hand and drew her to stand beside him. “This be me wife, yer new mistress, Leona.”
“Och! The McLaren lass,” Melvin replied with a smile. “They must truly believe ye want peace to give ye such a bonny bride.”
“Down now, ye auld thief!” Alec said playfully. “Do no’ get any ideas about stealin’ away with her.”
Melvin laughed, albeit weakly. “Ye ken I could, Alec. Were I thirty years younger.” Facing Leona he said, “I was no’ always auld nor weak. I had me fair share of lasses in me day.”
Leona liked the man immediately. “I imagine ye neither jest nor lie,” she told him. “Even now, ye be a handsome man.”
He beamed with pride at her compliment. “I like her, Alec. Make sure ye treat the lass well.”
Alec chose to ignore his remark. “How fare ye?” he asked, his tone turning serious.
“I have had better days, lad.”
Having seen the dirty pots and dishes, Leona was concerned that he could not care for himself. “Have
ye eaten this day?”
Waving away her concern with a gnarled hand, he replied, “Do no worry over me lass. I’ll soon be joinin’ me wife, me sweet Jannet.”
Something told Leona he meant to join her in the afterlife, so she remained quiet. His tone, the way his eyes twinkled brightly at saying her name, told Leona he loved the woman, even if she were no longer here. She began to wonder what the woman had been like. Would Alec’s eyes ever twinkle similarly at the mere mention of her own name?
“How long has she been gone?” Alec asked him.
“Four years now,” Melvin replied. “Four years and three months come the new moon.”
Awkward silence filled the tiny cottage. Leona was suddenly beset with an overwhelming need to be busy. Wanting very much not to shed any tears over the auld man’s missing his wife, she began clearing the pots from the table. “Kyth, would ye fetch me some water? I should like to wash Melvin’s dishes.”
“Those be no’ mine,” Melvin said from his bed. “The women folk bring me a meal each day. They take turns, ye ken.”
She stood at the table, a small pot in one hand and a bowl in another. “Ye eat only once a day?” she asked with one raised brow. No matter how auld or weak a body was, it still needed sustenance more than once a day.
“’Tis enough,” Melvin replied. “They be busy with their own. ’Tis enough they think of me when they do.”
Wrinkling her brow, she looked to Alec for some guidance. From his blank expression, he had none.
“Would it be all right if I too, brought ye a meal?” she asked Melvin.
His smile burned brighter. “Now, that would be an honor, mistress! An honor indeed.”
Leona continued to tidy up while Alec and Melvin discussed the growing crop of barley.
“If all goes well,” Alec told him, “we shall have a fine crop come October.”
“And who do ye plan on sellin’ it to?” Melvin asked.
“The McLarens and McLeods have agreed to purchase a goodly amount. In a few weeks, I plan on visiting neighboring clans in hopes of sparking deals with them.”
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 11