by Alisa Adams
Maura smiled at her kindly. “Come and visit me,” she suggested, “we are living with Lyle for a few weeks until our wedding is done, then going back to Fort Augustus a few days later. You can give me an opinion on my gown, and of course, come to the wedding.”
Davina thought for a moment. This was just the sort of thing she needed to boost her spirits and help her to start to heal. “I will, thank you,” she replied, “it will give me something to look forward to, and I can see Lyle’s future wife at the same time.”
“And we can talk about your father if you wish,” Maura said gently. “When my father died, everyone was too scared to mention his name, but I would have loved to talk about him. He was so funny and clever. After two years, I still miss him.”
Davina clasped Maura’s hand in one of her own. Good, Maura thought, it’s going well.
Lyle watched them grimly, wondering how he could find out what was going on and if he could somehow warn Davina. There was something very, very dubious about Maura and he felt it every time he was near her. Now, seeing her talking to Davina, both of them smiling, he was afraid. He was afraid for Grant too. Such a woman would never be faithful to him. Just then, Maura looked up and caught his eye, then smiled at him coquettishly. He smiled back so that he did not cause any ill-will, but he needed to watch his back now. She sensed that he had guessed something.
Davina was pleased that she had made a new friend, but now there was the funeral to face. She sat at the front of the church with her mother, dry-eyed and tense. Six of the biggest mourners brought the coffin down and set it in front of the altar, and she sat almost immobile as Father Anthony intoned the dreary Latin words.
Davina had never understood why Mass was not spoken in Gaelic or English, and she spent most of the time during the service thinking about Ruaridh. The service in the churchyard was solemn and depressing. A misty rain had begun to fall, Davina and Una had both started to weep, and the mourners were chilled to the bone. As Davina watched the coffin being lowered into the ground, her one thought was that her father was trapped in that box with the lid nailed shut. Shortly they would dump six feet of earth on him, sealing him in forever, and she could not bear to look at it. She turned and ran away, howling with misery. Una would have run after her, but Athol stopped her.
“Let me,” he said and sprinted down the hill. There was a smooth slope there that ran almost to the cliff edge and he was concerned that her momentum would carry her over it. “Davina!” he called out as loudly as he could. “Davina, stop!” He had to shout a few times before she heard him.
She came to a stop just before the bottom of the hill and he skidded to a halt beside her. He took her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. “I thought you were going to throw yourself over the edge!” His voice was a growl of anger. Davina dropped to the ground and put her head on her lap, wrapping her arms around them. Then she burst into tears. He dropped to his side beside her and held her tightly.
“Shh... I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I did not mean to upset you, Davina. Forgive me. Forgive me, please.” He kissed her forehead softly. She smelled of lavender, he noticed and her skin was as soft as a rose petal.
She sobbed for a long time against his shoulder, then she looked up. “Thank you,” she whispered. He smiled, realizing for the first time how pleasant it was to be holding her. He did not realize until later that what he was feeling was desire.
Then she stood up, seeing Una running, almost tumbling down the hill towards them. She nearly lost her balance, but Athol saved the day again by catching her in his arms. Davina and Una clung to each other for a moment, then Athol took each of their hands and led them silently back up the hill.
Towards the very top, Una began to flag. She leaned over, hands on knees, to catch her breath, but Athol picked her up without effort and carried her to the top of the hill, where he set her down. She smiled at him gratefully, shaking her head.
“I cannot believe you did that, Athol!” she said, shaking her head in admiration. “You are not even out of breath!”
“There is no magic to it, milady,” he replied, laughing. “Lifting sheep, baling hay, harvesting barley—it all helps. I work alongside my men. They are wonderful fellows. In truth, I could not sit behind my father’s desk all day and I am far too restless to sit and gamble with other young men. They have other pastimes which I despise too. No, I like the outdoor life.”
Una felt the muscles on his upper arms. “I think it likes you too,” she said, smiling.
Father Anthony had waited for them to come back. He was used to interruptions of this sort; grieving relatives were notoriously unpredictable. They often did the strangest things in the middle of the service and especially at the graveside, when the finality of the situation hit them hardest. Now, he quietly resumed the service while Athol put an arm around Davina and her mother, standing between them for the rest of the service. Davina found his presence wonderfully distracting.
However, when it was their turn to throw a handful of earth on the graveside and they saw it landing on top of the coffin, Davina and Una broke down completely and half-walked, half-ran back to the castle.
Lyle came over to offer assistance, so between him and Athol, they supported the two women until they got back to the castle. Once there, they went into their favorite parlor and sat down by the fire. Lyle went, unbidden, to receive the mourners and see to their repast, then Athol ordered some hot mulled wine and sweet biscuits before closing the door. He settled a blanket around each of their shoulders and sat down, holding his hands out to the fire.
“Were you ever a maidservant, Athol?” Una asked, smiling.
“I am hoping to be one someday, milady,” he joked, “I am still in training.”
They all laughed then. Athol’s attempt to cheer them up appeared to be working. They sat by the fire reminiscing for a while, talking about when they were younger and the escapades they had got up to. When they mentioned Ruaridh, Una became tearful, but she did not lose control. The wine was sweet and spicy, and biscuits redolent of honey and ginger. After a while Una became sleepy.
“It’s been a hard few days,” she remarked, standing up and yawning. “I think I could sleep for a week. No—” She put her hand up as Davina started to accompany her. “Thank you, sweetheart, but I can manage to get up the stairs on my own.” She turned to Athol. “Thank you for all your help today, Athol. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“My pleasure, milady.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “Please look after yourself, and if you need help with anything send me a message at once.”
“May I kiss you?” Una asked shyly.
“Of course.” Athol was taken aback and slightly abashed, but he offered her his cheek. To his surprise, she took his face in both hands and kissed him lightly on the lips.
“You are a good man,” she said warmly, then turned and left quietly.
Athol put his fingertips to his lips. “My goodness,” he said softly, “I did not expect that!”
“She is a very affectionate person.” Davina smiled.
Athol pulled Davina down to sit beside him and she found herself very unexpectedly pressed against him with his arm around her shoulders. What is he doing? she thought, tensing up immediately. He felt it at once.
“Davina, we are friends, are we not?” he asked. She began to pull away from him, but he resisted her and she sat where she was, frowning in puzzlement.
“Yes,” she replied, wondering where this was going.
"I wondered why you treated me with such disdain sometimes," he frowned, then looked at her straightforwardly.
She sighed. "I was not aware that I did," she replied, "but I always felt that you were a bit too… vain."
“You are not the first person to say it," he replied, "it is my demon, but I am conquering it, I hope. But may I say that you are blooming these days, in spite of the circumstances."
She blushed. "Thank you," she replied, astonished.
&nb
sp; He hesitated for a moment. “What do you think of Maura MacKay?” he asked the question in a matter-of-fact way, but he was frowning with concern.
“I am going to see her before she leaves again,” Davina replied, “I think she’s a warm person and very lovely.”
“That was the impression I got too,” he replied thoughtfully.
“But you know she is betrothed, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know," he replied, sighing theatrically. "My heart is broken—yet again!" They laughed.
“You will have to find yourself another lady to dote on.”
“You, perhaps?” he asked, smiling.
Looking into his greenish-brown eyes, she wondered if he was jesting or if there was a purpose behind his suddenly flirtatious manner. Probably jesting, she decided. “No,” she answered, “not me. I am not spoken for but nobody seems to want me. Too fat, probably!” She laughed sadly.
“I told you before you’re not too fat!” he said sternly, "Maura is beautiful, but it is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. There are many types of beauty and yours is one of them."
“To what do I owe all this flattery?" She laughed then changed the subject. “I am thinking of starting a horse-breeding business. I bought a mare who was in foal a few months ago, you remember? Well, it gave me the idea. I love horses, and I have the capital, so why not?”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he replied, “and you are just the person to start it, Davina. You have ambition. You will do well.”
She hugged herself and smiled. “I am so glad you think so,” she replied, “it will be good to have some moral support.”
“I will help you in any way I can. You just have to ask.” He smiled at her. "It will be my pleasure."
“I am so glad to hear it,” she said, sighing with relief. “I think I am going to need all the help I can get!”
He left a few minutes later. As she watched him galloping away, she reflected that tonight's was the most intimate conversation they had ever had, and her heart raced at the thought.
I must be going mad, Athol thought. Davina? But there had been something between them tonight and suddenly the thought of Maura seemed much less attractive.
14
Three Friends and a Mother
When Una went outside she hoped that some of the guests had dispersed, but she was disappointed. Lyle had done a sterling job of circulating between them, chatting to everyone and introducing strangers to each other while gently hinting to them that it was time to go. When Lyle saw Una come out he looked relieved.
“You are a fine young man,” Una said warmly, “I should have done this myself but I—”
He held up a hand. “Do not think of it, milady.” He shook his head. “When my sister died I did the same thing, so I have experience.” He smiled at her. “Now, are you going to say goodbye to some people or shall I escort you upstairs? You look very tired and I dare say it has been an emotional day.”
“I will say goodbye to them all at once,” she replied and went to the main staircase. She climbed five steps then Lyle called for silence. “Friends,” she began, “thank you all so much for coming. I know Ruaridh would have appreciated it very much; Davina and I do too. Please feel free to stay as long as you wish but forgive me if I retire. It has been a long few days. Goodbye.” Then she turned and fled up the stairs to her bedroom.
Lyle went into the little parlor to stand in front of the fire. “It’s freezing out there,” he complained.
“Thank you for all your help, Lyle,” Davina said, “I do not know how we could have managed without you—both of you.”
Lyle smiled at her. “Think nothing of it, Davina,” he said, “your mother is a good woman. She will recover from this, not for a long time, I think, but she will. And by the way, you are a good woman too.”
“A good woman that nobody wants!” Davina’s laugh was bitter.
Lyle fought down a white-hot spasm of anger. He hated unfairness in all its forms, and this went beyond unfairness; it was plain cruelty. His answer, he knew, was inadequate in the extreme, but there were no fitting words for a situation like this.
“That will happen in its own good time,” he told her and smiled, cursing himself for being a hypocrite and a liar. What could he do? He hated lying to her, but until he found out what was going on he had no weapons with which to fight. This was his mission solely because he had made it so and that was only because he thought Davina was a worthy enough person to deserve his help.
He had contemplated telling Athol but decided against it. Athol was simply not a person who could keep a secret, so he and his father were tackling the problem by themselves. He was glad to hear that Davina was starting a business of her own; it was a very unusual thing for a woman to do, but it was not completely unknown. Maybe when she was a well-known horse dealer she would be better regarded by the many men who were spurning her now. Until then, he intended to find out who was spreading the scurrilous rumors, and when he did, God help them!
They sat for a long time, talking softly about times gone by and plans for the future. Lyle was full of them. As the oldest and only son, he would inherit all his father’s property, and he hoped to have at least four children including at least one son.
“What does Mary say about your love of children?” Davina asked, smiling at Lyle. “She is the one who has to do all the hard work, after all!”
“She cannot wait to be with child,” he answered warmly, “I am a lucky man, Davina. She is a wonderful woman and I could not ask for better.”
“I am so happy for you, Lyle,” Davina said sincerely, “she is a lovely girl and I am very fond of her. Tell me, what do you think of Maura? She is very beautiful, is she not?”
Lyle shrugged, feigning unconcern. “I concede that, Davina,” he replied, “but beyond that, I know very little about her. I believe she lives in Fort Augustus, does she not?”
“Yes, but Grant wanted the marriage to take place here,” Davina replied, “because he has family here. Her father passed away a while ago and now she has no-one but Annabella.”
Athol stretched and yawned, then looked out of the window. “Time to get back to work!” he announced.
“And me,” Lyle sighed, “with great reluctance!”
“Indeed, I am sorry to see you both go,” Davina replied, “in spite of the occasion, it has been pleasant to sit and talk.”
“We must do it again,” Lyle said fondly, “it has been lovely.”
“And if you need anything,” Athol repeated, “remember, we are both here.”
She nodded. “I will,” she replied, smiling. “Thank you both very much and I hope to see you very soon.” She ushered them out of the room, to discover, to her dismay, that there were still some stragglers in the Great Hall.
Davina’s face must have given her away because the two men looked at each other and nodded. The past three days had been exhausting for both Una and Davina and neither man wanted any more of it to pile itself on top of them. They began to approach the little knots of people and ask them politely to leave, but Maura, one of the very last, turned back to speak to Davina.
“Before I go…” She smiled winningly. “I must tell you how much I admire you. You have organized everything very well under trying circumstances. Now, I have overstayed my welcome and so has Grant, thanks to me. Forgive me. I will send you an invitation to the wedding. Goodbye, Mistress Davina.”
“Goodbye,” Davina replied, smiling. As soon as Maura’s back was turned she allowed the smile to drop from her face. She sighed as Athol and Lyle came back.
“Thank you again.” Her voice was relieved and she hugged them both at once.
"Go to bed,” Athol ordered in a mock-stern voice. Lyle smiled and gave her a little wave then both men walked away, leaving her feeling bereft. She hugged herself. If only Nanny were here! she thought.
“I don’t like that woman,” Lyle said firmly, “that Maura.”
“Why not? You must admit she is ve
ry… decorative!” Athol commented, laughing. Lyle did not laugh.
“There’s something sneaky about her,” he replied, “I cannot put my finger on it but I do not trust her.”
“You do not know her!” Athol pointed out. “She may be one of the finest people on God’s earth, for all you know.”
Lyle shook his head. “I feel it,” he said uneasily, “I’m going to have as little to do with her as possible and I advise you to do the same.”
Athol stared at him in annoyance. “I think I will make up my own mind,” he stated firmly, “are you going to the wedding?”
“Yes, but not because I want to,” he said grimly. “Mary wants to go.”
Athol was silent for a moment. “Do you not think,” he said thoughtfully, “that by getting married you are giving up your freedom? It sounds as if Mary tells you what to do most of the time.”
“No,” Lyle replied, laughing. “It may seem like that, but we both give and take. She comes with me to buy livestock and puts up with the wives of all my elderly colleagues. She is the soul of tact and diplomacy. And I am looking forward to taking her in my arms and making love to her, lying with her in our bed with her warm body next to mine. I want to fall asleep with her and wake up beside her in the mornings. I want to have children with her and grow old with her. I love everything about her.”
Athol was incredulous. “But your marriage was arranged, was it not?” he asked.
“It was,” Lyle admitted, “but it soon became a love match. I liked her as soon as I began to talk to her, but it only took a few more weeks before I realized I could not live without her.” He paused. “Athol, have I not told you all this before?”
“In a way,” Athol answered, “but never with such passion. Well, it seems that you are most fortunate, and this is the kind of union I should strive for. But not at the moment!” He added hastily, “I have too much to do first. My parents drop a lot of hints, though.”