“Aye,” he replied. Clearing the knot from his throat, he went on to say, “But ’tis important.” He made a hasty move for the door.
“Will ye be back fer the noonin’ meal?”
Her question brought him to a halt, with his hand on the door latch. “Nay,” he said. Without looking, he knew her lips had formed into that ‘o’ again, that her eyes were filled with disappointment. “I’ll be back fer the evenin’ meal.” And with that, he left her standing in the middle of his study with mouth agape.
There had been no opportunity to ask for a kiss, for he had retreated like a cat whose tail had just landed in hot coals. “What on earth is wrong with that man?” she wondered aloud.
Her idea to teach her husband the proper way to say goodbye was not going as planned. She would not allow his abrupt departure to spoil her mood. Eventually, she knew, he would have to stop running away from her.
There be time. Plenty of time.
Just after the nooning meal, John Bowie knocked at her kitchen door again. She met him with a smile. “Good day to ye, again, John Bowie.”
“Mistress,” he said with a slight inclination of his head.
“Would ye like to come in fer some cider and sweet cakes?”
She thought her offer sincere and kind. He looked at her as if she had three heads.
“Nay, mistress,” he replied. “I came to tell ye that Phillip Bowie sends his regrets. He does no’ have any spare venison fer ye.”
Spare venison? Hadn’t Alec told her the night before he had purchased the venison? Confused, she asked, “Did he say when he might have more?”
The man swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Nay, mistress, he did no’.”
First no milk, now no venison. She let out a frustrated breath. For a brief moment, she debated on whether or not she should let Alec know about the lack of milk and venison. Nay, she told herself. He be a busy man and this be something ye should be able to take care of on yer own.
“Thank ye, kindly, John Bowie. Please tell Phillip that if he cannot supply the venison, he can return the coin my husband gave him for it.”
“Return the coin, mistress?” he asked, apparently confused.
“Aye, the coin Alec paid him fer the venison. If he can no’ supply it, he may seek Alec out and return it.” She hoped her consternation was apparent enough and that he would let Phillip know she was not pleased.
The man bobbed his head again and left without saying goodbye. Mayhap this leaving without a word was a Bowie trait passed on from one generation to the next? Either way, it irritated her no end.
The only way to change the Bowies would be to change her husband. Oh, she didn’t want to change everything. Just the severe lack of manners.
Closing the door, she faced the empty kitchen. “Well, it will no’ be roast venison this night,” she said to no one. “I hope me husband likes mutton.”
Thankfully, Alec had emptied the tub the night before. That was her only consolation considering the man had stolen her bath. Determined to hurry and bathe before he returned, she happily began hauling buckets of water above stairs.
If the bath had been food, her mouth would have watered at the sight of it. Warm, steaming, and luxurious. She had just emptied the last bucket and set it near the hearth when Alec walked in.
“Och, wife!” he declared with a smile. “Ye spoil me, ye do!”
She stood in stunned silence as he quickly stripped out of his muddy clothes, leaving the pile in the middle of the floor. Without a word, he stepped into the tub and sank back.
“’Tis heaven on earth, it is!” he declared happily. The steam rose upward, his face bearing the expression of a very happy man.
Her heart sunk. He was taking her bath again. The one she’d worked so hard to prepare. Did the man have some sort of mental ability that detected a hot bath? She had few choices. Scream that he was a bath thief, or smile and feign all was well.
“Leona, lass, I can no’ thank ye enough fer thinkin’ of me like this,” he said as he reached for the empty pitcher. “Ye’re a good woman, ye are.” He dipped the pitcher into the steaming water and poured it over his head.
A good woman? ’Twas the closest thing to a compliment he had given her, at least outside their marital bed. Aye, Alec. I be a good woman who has no’ had a hot bath in far too many days to count! She wanted to rail at him, scream, mayhap take the pitcher from his hands and bash it over his thick skull. Tears threatened behind her eyes.
But she couldn’t scream or rail or injure him. He’d just told her she was a good woman. A good woman.
Deciding it best to leave now, before she said or did something foolish, she gave him the same kind of goodbye as he was so fond of giving her. Without a word, she rushed from the room and headed below stairs.
Chapter 14
Early the next morn, she tried to slip out of bed without waking her husband. But the moment she lifted the furs, his hand slid her around her stomach as he pulled her into his chest.
“Why do ye flee our bed each morn?” he asked, his voice scratchy with sleep.
Leona giggled lightly. “I do no’ flee, Alec. I leave early in order to prepare yer morning meal.”
“What if it is ye I want to feast on?” he asked playfully as he nibbled at the tender spot of skin behind her ear.
“Although that sounds like a splendid idea, and one I could fully enjoy, I fear by the noonin’ meal, ye’d be starvin’,” she replied with a giggle.
He nuzzled his chin against her neck, his day old beard scratched, but in a thoroughly pleasant way. “’Twould be a most pleasant way in which to starve.”
By the time she made her way below stairs and into her kitchens, the sun was already coming up. ’Twas a pleasant, bright morning, with only a hint of fog caressing the land.
Once inside, she lit candles first, then the fires, all the while humming a happy tune. While her husband had fallen asleep almost as soon as they were done loving one another, she had gained a good deal of energy. ’Twas a most delightful way to start the day.
With only a few eggs left in the larder, she grabbed her basket and stepped out into the early morn. She felt light today, with a sense of carefree abandon that she’d not felt since she was a very little girl.
God, I love the feel of yer hair, he had declared more than once. ’Tis softer than any silk. And yer skin? I love the way it feels against me own.
With the warm memories of the night before, she gathered eggs with a smile. The chickens squawked and protested, but she was undeterred. With her eggs gathered, she thanked the chickens and returned to her kitchen.
She was slicing ham when she heard a scratch at her back door. Wiping her hands on her apron, she opened the door to find Patches on the other side. A moment later, he was licking her hands, begging for her attention. She could not resist smiling at the beast. “Well, good morn to ye,” she said as she scratched the top of his head.
Though he seemed content with her affections, he soon began to whimper and lick his chops. “Och!” she declared. “Do ye smell the ham?” He whimpered his answer.
“Stay,” she ordered with a pointed finger. The obedient bandogge sat back, continued to drool and lick his chops but he waited patiently for her return.
Knowing Alec would disapprove, she gave the dog a few scraps of ham anyway. After he chomped them down, she gave him a few pats on his back, then ordered him to return to Seamus.
As she returned to her work, someone came knocking at the back door. He was a younger lad, maybe only five and ten years of age. A tall, skinny boy, with dark hair and eyes, and he looked rather nervous.
“Mistress, I be Caleb. Charles asked me to tell ye he can no’ bring ye milk this day.”
Leona sighed inwardly and prayed this would not be a daily occurrence.
“His cow was startled this morn and knocked over the bucket,” he went on to explain.
Although she would have liked milk to help make a gravy, ’
twas not the end of the world. “Thank ye, kindly, Caleb. Please tell Charles no’ to worry over it. There is always the morrow.”
He gave her a nod, bid her good day, and left.
“I hope Alec does no’ tire of the same meal each morn,” she murmured. “Ham and eggs, eggs and ham, it be the same no matter what ye call it.”
Stepping into the larder, she looked around, ever hopeful that something would gain her attention, something delicious with which to break their fast. As she was perusing the contents, she was startled when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.
“Leona?” Came Effie’s voice from the kitchen.
Stepping out of the larder, she smiled and greeted the woman. “Good morn, to ye.”
“Och! There ye be!” Effie replied. “Ye look busy this morn.”
“Just making Alec his mornin’ meal. What brings ye here?” Leona asked.
Effie smiled. “I needed to stretch me legs. Dougall and the boys have gone fishin’ and I thought ‘twould be nice to visit with ye. To see how ye be gettin’ along.”
Leona thought it a most kind gesture. “Well I be glad ye thought of me,” she said as she offered Effie a stool near the hearth. “Be ye hungry? Would ye like some cider?”
“I’ve already eaten, but a bit of cider would be nice.”
Effie sat sipping cider while Leona returned to her work. “How are ye feelin’?” Leona asked, with a nod toward the woman’s belly.
“It be gettin’ more difficult to sleep at night,” Effie replied with a slight giggle. “This one prefers the late night hours.”
A twinge of envy struck Leona’s heart before she pushed it away. Mayhap, just mayhap she was now carrying Alec’s child. She smiled at the thought.
“What will ye be doin’ later this day?” Effie asked before taking a sip of cider.
“Cleanin’ this keep,” Leona replied.
“I do no’ envy ye in that task. Do ye have rushes?”
“Nay, I fear I do no’,” Leona admitted.
“Well, after yer mornin’ meal, come to me cottage. We can gather rushes together.”
Leona was grateful for the offer. “I thank ye, kindly, Effie. I would like that verra much.”
“Think nothin’ of it. I be in need of fresh rushes meself,” she replied.
A long moment of silence passed, with Leona busy at the table and Effie sitting quietly at the hearth. Something about Effie’s countenance, the way she stared blankly into her cup, felt ‘off’. “Be there somethin’ the matter?” Leona asked.
“I hear ye met me sister, Patrice, yesterday,” she said.
“Aye! I did. She was verra kind to me. I like her.”
Effie glanced up from her cup. “Leona, I would like ye to be careful when it comes to Patrice.”
Confused by the warning, Leona knotted her brow. “But why? She was verra kind to me.”
Effie let loose with a heavy breath. “She has no’ been the same since Rutger’s death.”
Of course not, Leona thought to herself. Who would be the same after such a thing?
“Patrice might seem kind to ye, but…” Effie’s voice trailed off.
Leona could sense there was far more she wanted to say. “Effie, say what ye need to.”
“I do no’ like speakin’ ill of me sister. ’Tis the truth I do no’. But, I ken her better than anyone. She will pretend to be nice to ye while she’s with ye. But behind yer back?”
Leona gave this a good measure of thought. Effie seemed genuine in her concern. Mayhap Patrice was the kind of woman who could not be trusted. Usually, Leona was quite good at picking up on such things, for she had suffered at the hands of plenty of people like that in her lifetime. But not once had she detected even a hint of duplicity with Patrice.
Not wanting to argue it, and not wanting to find guilt in someone she truly did not know that well, she decided to wait and get to know Patrice for herself. But she would heed Effie’s warning. “Thank ye, Effie, fer yer honesty. I shall be verra careful when it comes to Patrice.”
Effie looked as relieved as she did embarrassed. “’Tis only yer best interests I have in mind, ye ken.”
“Do no’ fash yerself over it,” Leona told her with a smile. “What time would ye like to gather rushes?”
With breakfast served, the tables cleared, and Alex on his way to work in the fields, Leona searched for something to tie bundles of rushes together. She was excited for the chance to be out of the keep as well as a chance to do something so mundane and ordinary as gathering rushes with a friend.
The only other time in her life she had experienced a true friendship was when she had lived with the Mackintoshes and McLarens. Leona could say, unequivocally, that Rose Mackintosh was her one and only friend.
But now she faced a new chapter in her life. A new way of living. Not only was she married — and if that didn’t surprise anyone then nothing on earth ever would – she was married to a braw clan chief. The chatelaine of her own keep. Hundreds upon hundreds of people were now counting on her, even if they didn’t know it.
She had learned from Alex that the last married Bowie chief had been more than twenty-five years and five chiefs ago. Mayhap, just mayhap, the cold reception she had received from the women, was due to that. Not only had their chief married, but he had married an outsider. Undoubtedly this was a change that would take some time getting used to.
She found the necessary twine in the storage room above stairs. Tucking the twine into her belt, she grabbed her cloak from her bedchamber and left the keep.
“Where be ye goin’, mistress?” A voice called from the upper wall. Leona was standing at the drawbridge, waiting for it to be lowered.
“To Dougall’s home,” she called up to the man. “To see his wife, Effie.” Though why he needed to know, she couldn’t begin to guess, but kept the question to herself.
Without another word, the drawbridge was lowered. Taking that as permission to leave, she crossed over the thick timbers quickly and headed for the path that led to the cottages.
Having only been to Dougall’s once before, it took more time than she had planned to find the place. Though many of the cottages were similar in size and appearance, there were enough differences to make it somewhat easier to discern one from the other.
Just as had happened the day before, she was at once surrounded by children. At least a dozen wee ones, ranging in age by her estimate from six to no more than two and ten. The girls outnumbered the boys.
“Good day, mistress!” one of the little girls said with a smile. Leona felt guilty for not remembering her name. Nor could she remember anyone else’s.
“Good day to ye, lass,” she replied with a warm smile. It did her heart a measure of good knowing that at least the children would treat her kindly.
“Where are ye goin?” the cherubic little girl asked before slipping her hand into Leona’s.
“To gather rushes with Effie, Dougall’s wife.”
“Can we go with ye?” she asked.
“Aye, we want to help!” another girl who couldn’t have been more than ten summers said. Her smile was bright and so sweet. There was no way Leona could have denied their requests.
“Aye, I see no problem with ye helpin’,” she told them.
The boys, wholly uninterested in gathering rushes, declined the offer to join the women folk. “We’d rather hunt with the men,” one of the younger boys said. He looked so serious — a smaller version of her husband or Gylys or Kyth — Leona could have laughed aloud had she not worried she’d injure his young pride.
The girls kindly escorted Leona to Effie’s cottage. As they walked along, they were filled with all manner of questions. “Do ye like bein’ mistress?” “Do ye like bein’ married to our chief?” “Is it true ye have to sleep on the floor because Alec took away all the furniture?”
’Twas difficult, but she managed to keep up with the questions. “Aye, I do like bein’ mistress and I do like bein’ married to Alec. And na
y, ’tis no’ true about the furniture. We sleep in a bed. He hasn’t taken it all away.”
One of the older girls chimed in. “Me mum said he took everythin’ away because it be too painful a reminder of his brother.”
Leona had surmised as much. “Well, he hasn’t taken it all away. Just most of it.”
“Because it reminded him of Rutger?” she asked.
“I am no’ certain. Mayhap we should ask Alec,” Leona said.
“Ask Alec what?” Leona nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard her husband’s voice. She spun to find him standing but a few steps behind her, sporting a curious expression.
“What are ye doin’ here?” she asked, completely perplexed at seeing him. He was supposed to have been working in the fields.
She had no doubt now, from his piercing gaze, that she had done something wrong. But what?
“Ye left without escort,” he replied coolly.
Perplexity turned to confusion. “Escort?
Standing with one hand on his hip, he crooked his index finger and bade her come forward. Uncertainty reigned supreme as she took a step toward him. He crooked his finger again and again until she was nearly stepping on his feet.
Leaning down, in a low, soft voice that did not match the glower he was giving her, he said, “Ye can no’ leave the keep without escort. ’Tis too dangerous.”
Not once in all her days had she ever required an escort and told him so.
“But ye were no’ the chief’s wife,” he politely informed her. “Ye can no’ leave the keep without an escort.”
“But are we no’ safe and sound on Bowie lands?” she asked, more than miffed with him, but for reasons she couldn’t exactly explain at the moment.
“Aye, we are, lass. But I would feel better if ye did no’ leave without an escort.”
Was that tenderness she saw in his eyes? Her heart instantly warmed with a rapid beat. He cares. He truly cares about me!
“Ye do no’ ken these lands well and are likely to get lost.”
The warmth and fondness evaporated in the blink of an eye. “Lost? Ye can no’ be serious. I was only goin’ to Effie’s and she was goin’ to take me to gather rushes. And I do no’ get lost!”
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 16