Alec chuckled softly as he twined a loch of her hair around his index finger. “I thought as such,” he admitted. “Still, I felt compelled to ask.”
She rested her head against his chest, glad for the warmth his body and arms gave her. “What if they both survive?” she asked.
“Then we should give them a home here,” he replied. “If that be what she wants.”
Leona hugged him tighter. “’Tis times like these that I wish we had a kirk, or even a small chapel.”
Alec grunted, but whether ’twas in agreement or disgust, she could not tell. “Ye do no’ need a kirk or chapel to pray, lass.”
“I suppose no’,” she agreed. “Still, there is somethin’ to be said for havin’ a quiet, peaceful place to go at times like these.”
He shrugged once, but otherwise had no response.
How dare he bring those lice infested creatures into the keep? Rutger would never have allowed such a thing. He would have let them starve, as Alec should have done. Now they be stinkin’ up the place. But everyone is acting as though Alec and Leona saved the life of the king! Bah! A good deed? I think no’.
Dougall will be dead soon enough. Then I can put into play the rest of me plan. I can no’ act too quickly, it might bring about suspicions. I can no’ afford that.
Derrick and Fergus dyin’, that was a blessin’. I’ve already begun to put the seeds of doubt into the minds of their women. Blamed Leona, I did. Soon, I will start speakin’ of witchcraft and blamin’ her for all who are dyin’. “Dougall was as healthy as an ox before she arrived. And now look at him.” Aye, seeds of doubt that will grow and grow until all the clan will be believin’ she is naught but a witch. A witch who is here to destroy us. A witch who turned Alec’s head.
But ’tis difficult to wait. My fingers itch to be around Leona MacDowall’s throat, to squeeze hard as I watch her eyes buldge out of their sockets, to watch as she takes her last breath. Och! What a happy day that ’twill be!
Once she be dead, Alec will go back to actin’ like the Bowie he was meant to be. He will no longer care about peace, or farmin’. I will make certain of it.
Chapter 28
Leona did not consider her concern for his wellbeing ‘nagging’. Neither did Alec, but he refused to admit it. His wife was motivated by a kind heart, and he could not hold that against her. Besides, he did rather enjoy all the attention she had been bestowing on him.
Her kind heart extended to perfect strangers as well. When she wasn’t fussing over Alec, she was fussing over Fionn and Slaien. Fionn had improved, but was far from being out of the woods just yet. Poor Slaien, however, was not doing as well as Leona would have wished. The fevers still ravaged her frail body. Occasionally, she would drift in and out of consciousness, but as far as any of them could tell, she had no idea where she was or what was happening to her.
Just two short days after bringing Slaien and Fionn to the keep, and a little more than a sennight after the attack, Alec informed Leona he was leaving. She very nearly became unhinged. “Are ye daft?” she asked him.
They were in their bedchamber, preparing for bed. She was slipping out of her dress as she stood beside the bed.
Frustrated, Alec shook his head. “I told ye weeks ago about this trip.” ’Twas vitally important to the future of their clan that he begin forging bonds with their neighboring clans.
“That was before ye were nearly killed!”
“But I was no’ killed, was I?” he ground out.
“There still be time to be killed, Alec,” she told him.
Apparently, he was unbothered by her veiled threat to finish what the attackers had started. “Do no’ worry over it!” he exclaimed as he removed his sword belt and hung it on a peg next to the bed. “I be taking Kyth with me, and fifty of my best men. I will back before ye’ve even realized I am gone. I shan’t be away for more than a sennight.”
She grunted derisively. “If yer wound opens again, and ye bleed to death, ye will have no one to blame but yerself. Do no’ expect me to feel sorry for you either!”
He laughed at her distress as he climbed naked into the bed. “I believe what ye are tryin’ to tell me is that ye will miss me.”
She glowered at him. “Miss ye? I think no’!”
He offered her a seductive smile. “I will miss ye.”
Caught by surprise, she stood half undressed beside the bed. “What?” she asked, uncertain she had heard him correctly.
“I said that I would miss ye,” he said as he smiled warmly.
Blast it if she didn’t begin to cry! “Ye will?”
He scooted across the bed and helped her undress the rest of the way. “Aye, I will. Be ye tired lass?”
She shook her head. “Nay, why do ye ask?” She swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands.
“I remember ye tellin’ me once, that ye sometimes weep when ye be tired. Lately, ye have been weepin’ quite a bit.”
“I have not!” she argued, her mood shifting so suddenly it surprised even herself.
Alec chuckled softly as he pulled her into the bed. “Nay, ye have no’.”
“Make up yer mind, Alec,” she told him as she snuggled against his chest. “Have I truly been weepy?”
“Aye,” he nodded as he kissed the top of her head. “Ye have.”
Unable to deny the truth any longer, she said, “There has been much sadness of late. First Derrick and Fergus, and now Dougall.”
“I ken I do no’ have to ask, but will ye promise me ye will check in on Dougall and Effie whilst I am away?”
She hugged him tight and made the promise.
The sound of the horses clip-clopping over the heavy wooden bridge echoed ominously in the early morn. Alec and his men left at dawn on a dreary late September day. Leona and Adhaira followed as far as the drawbridge, waving goodbye and wishing them good luck and safe travels.
Leona refused to cry in front of Alec or any of his men. She would save her tears for later, after he was gone and she could return to the privacy of her bedchamber. Though ’twas no easy feat to hold back the tears of longing, of wishing he didn’t have to leave.
She stood at the entrance of the keep and watched in quiet turmoil until the last horse had crossed. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently. Please, God, keep them safe. Bring my husband back to me.
The sound of hooves on the bridge broke through her prayers. Leona opened her eyes only to see her husband trotting back over the bridge.
Alec pulled his horse to a stop halfway over. Ares snorted and shook his big head. Alec crooked his finger at her, bidding her come forward.
A delightful tingling sensation burst from her stomach to her fingertips as she hurried to her husband. “What are ye doin’?” she asked as she stood next to his mount.
Alec smiled that devilishly handsome smile she so adored. She took his outstretched hand in hers, uncertain what he was doing. He surprised her by hauling her into his lap. “Remember,” he whispered against her ear. “I shall miss ye.”
Then in front of God and everyone, he kissed her. The kiss, wild and wholly inappropriate, considering the number of people who were witnessing it, left her breathless and stunned.
A few wild heartbeats later, he was setting her back on her feet.
Leona stayed on the drawbridge until the band of Bowies were nothing more than tiny dots on the horizon
Leona kept herself busy as she counted down the days her husband would return. Keeping her loneliness to herself as she presented a happy front to anyone she encountered.
Before Alec left, he increased the number of men who would watch over her in his absence. At Alec’s insistence, Kyth and six other men had been moved into the keep. They made temporary barracks, three to one of the empty rooms above stairs and three to one below.
’Twas not easy for Leona to be surrounded by so many men — only one of which she knew well at all. Patrice had also moved into the keep, though ’twas only temporary. She had come to help with Fionn an
d Slaien days ago and hadn’t left. Leona was exceedingly grateful for her help and her company.
Fionn had improved remarkably. With Leona and Adhaira’s good cooking, and Patrice and Mairi’s healing skills, the boy no longer looked like the same gaunt, vacant-eyed living skeleton as when he had arrived. Leona wished she could say the same for his mother.
The little boy refused to leave his mother’s side. Gylys kept the lad company for most of the day. With so many guards inside the keep, it mattered not to Leona. She was glad he had taken an interest in the boy.
“He guards ye like ye’re the queen of Scotia,” Patrice whispered as they sat next to the hearth in the warm, cozy kitchen.
There was a man posted at each door. “While I can appreciate my husband’s concern, I must admit it is a bit—” she paused, searching for the right word, “uncomfortable.”
Patrice giggled. “At least ye have Adhaira here with ye, to keep ye company.”
“I fear she does no’ like all the attention the men bestow upon her,” Leona said as she sipped on warm cider.
“Where is she?” Patrice asked.
“Doin’ laundry. But if ye ask me, she escaped.”
They giggled quietly. “Och!” Patrice said, a thought suddenly occurring to her. “Have ye even begun to make new dresses with all the fabric Alec purchased for ye?”
Leona slapped a hand against her forehead. “Bah! I had completely forgotten.” She’d been so busy tending to her sick guests, making sure auld Melvin was fed, as well as all the guards within the keep, she hadn’t given any thought to dresses.
“Well, let us take advantage of this quiet time and start,” Patrice suggested.
Leona welcomed the idea.
Soon, the two women were in Leona’s bedchamber and Patrice was taking her measurements. “I can no’ remember the last time I had a new dress made just for me,” Leona admitted happily.
“Then where did yer current dresses come from?” Patrice asked.
“Hand-me-downs mostly. Though Rose did make me a fine yellow gown for my weddin’ day!”
Patrice paused briefly. “Rose Mackintosh?” she asked.
“Aye,” Leona said, momentarily forgetting about Rutger kidnapping Rose. The event had led to his death.
“Ye, Patrice, be the second woman I could ever call me friend,” Leona told her warmly. “And I be truly grateful for it.”
Patrice offered her a shrug of indifference as if she were embarrassed by Leona’s kind words. Leona reckoned ’twas the Bowie way and left it at that.
“How be Effie?” Leona asked. “I fear I have no’ had time to see her of late.”
“Effie is Effie,” Patrice said as she removed the pretty burgundy fabric from the bed. She said nothing else as she carefully unfolded the fabric and shook it out. “This be a fine burgundy wool,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.
Leona could not understand the relationship betwixt Patrice and Effie. Certain she was that had she ever been blessed with a sister, they would have been close. In her mind, nothing could or would ever have come between them.
“Why do ye and Effie no’ get along?” Leona asked.
“Do ye want tight fittin’ sleeves, or loose?” Patrice asked, ignoring the question. Carefully, she folded the fabric in half and laid it on the floor.
Undeterred and more than just a bit curious, Leona said, “Loose. And why will ye no’ answer me?”
“Because I do no’ want to discuss me sister,” Patrice replied in a firm tone.
Leona stood, perplexed. “I never had a sister,” she said. “I fear I do no’ understand why ye do no’ get along.”
Patrice finally looked at her with hands on her hips. “Do ye want me help or no’?”
’Twas apparent she was not going to get the answers she sought. “I do,” she replied softly.
“Then let us get on with it, shall we?”
Leona could only nod in agreement as she hoped she hadn’t hurt their friendship.
Though Leona would have been more than happy with a simple, serviceable gown, Patrice would have none of it. She insisted on adding some elegant stitches to the bodice and sleeves. She had run back to her own little cottage and returned a short time later with all manner of pretty silk thread.
“I think the dark green would be nice against the burgundy,” Patrice said. Leona agreed. They sat together by the hearth, each working on a sleeve.
One of the guards came to Leona’s room to let her know the evening meal was ready. Leona was glad for the break, for her eyes were beginning to feel strained.
“Thank ye,” she told the young man. “We shall be down straight away.”
Carefully, she laid the lovely dress out on the bed and went below stairs. Leona felt tired and famished. She had not been eating as well as she should have these past few days. Too much had happened that kept her mind and hands busy, and she did not take the time to eat well.
As they descended the stairs, a smell coming from the gathering room assailed her senses. “Good, God!” she exclaimed. “What is that awful smell?”
Patrice was behind her on the stairs. “’Tis just fish,” she said, confused.
The smell was simply too much. Leona’s stomach roiled and churned in protest as she began to grow quite dizzy. Then her world turned black.
Thankfully, Patrice caught her before she could do any real injury to herself. “Leona!” Patrice exclaimed as all manner of people rushed to the stairs.
Oh, she wanted to vomit. If she could throw up, it would alleviate the roiling in her stomach. “I be sorry,” Leona whispered as she fought to still her spinning head.
“Help me get her back to her room,” Patrice said.
One of the guards lifted her into his arms while she complained. “Och! I will be fine,” she said. “Please, I can walk.”
He ignored her request, as well as her demand. Moments later, he was laying her on her bed while Patrice and Adhaira hovered over her. Adhaira was fanning her with the end of her apron. Patrice was checking for signs of fever.
Someone had called for Mairi, who came rushing into the room. “What happened?” she asked as she gently pushed Patrice aside to see for herself.
“I do no’ ken,” Patrice said. “We were headin’ to sup. She complained of somethin’ smellin’ horrible, then she collapsed.”
“I did no’ collapse,” Leona argued. “I simply felt light-headed for a moment. Truly, I be fine.”
“Ye most certainly are no’ fine,” Patrice argued.
“Och!” Leona said as she threw a hand over her achy eyes. “’Twas just that God-awful smell! What was that?”
“I smelled nothin’ but the fine fish Adhaira had prepared. And mayhap leeks.”
The mention of fish and leeks did not settle well; the faint odor still lingered in her nostrils. A wave of nausea, overwhelming and intense, washed over her. Quickly, she rolled onto her side, reaching for the chamberpot. Mairi grabbed it and held it whilst Leona threw up.
Adhaira stood with tears in her eyes. “I did no’ think the fish smelled bad,” she murmured.
“It did no’ smell bad,” Patrice told her as she wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “’Tis just that Leona is no’ feelin’ well. I am certain it be a fine fish.”
“Adhaira, go below stairs and heat some water,” Mairi directed. “And Patrice, fetch me bag from Slaien’s room.”
Once the women were gone, Mairi set the chamber pot aside and looked at Leona. “So how far along do ye think ye be?”
Less than a quarter of an hour later, Leona was shedding tears. Tears of joy she could not suppress if someone had a dirk to her throat.
“Ye be certain?” she asked for the tenth time.
Mairi shushed her sweetly. “Aye, lass, I be certain. I’d say ye’ll be a mum come spring. Mid to late April if I ken anything about babes.”
The joy was overwhelming. “I am goin’ to be a mum,” Leona repeated breathlessly, still unable to believe the go
od news. “I am goin’ to be a mum.”
“Aye, ye will be a mum,” Mairi said as she wiped her brow with a damp cloth. “Mayhap ye should send word to Alec?”
Alec. Suddenly she felt miserable that he was not here to share in the good news. Now she was crying for altogether different reasons.
“Wheest, lass,” Mairi said with a smile. “It does ye no good to cry.”
“I can no’ help it!”
Mairi hugged her for a long while, patting her back and telling her all would be well.
Finally, her tears began to wane. “Please, tell no one yet,” Leona said. “I want to tell Alec myself. I do no’ want him to hear it from anyone but me.”
Mairi agreed, suggesting they tell anyone who asked that she simply ate something that did not agree with her.
Leona could barely contain her happiness. Finally, she would have someone who would love her without question or condition.
Chapter 29
Alec had planned on being gone for only a sennight. ’Twas a fortnight later before he and his men trod over the drawbridge.
Road weary, covered in grime, drenched to the bone, he was tired. More tired than he could ever remember being. And he was furious. Furious, deflated, and feeling hopeless.
Of the eight clans they had visited, only three had even allowed them entry. Of those that did, only the McLeod’s and the Mackintoshes agreed to purchase their grain.
Acres and acres of fine grain, better grain than even he had anticipated when he’d planted it last spring. And very little of it could he sell. He did not possess enough granaries to store it all.
In a foul mood, he handed his horse off to a stable boy and thundered into the keep. He wanted a bath, a hot meal, and nothing else. Feeling worthless, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to see his wife.
The Bowie Bride: Book Two of The Mackintoshes and McLarens Page 37