How to Handle a Highlander

by Mary Wine

  Bari stiffened, the muscles in his neck cording, but he bent his knee and lowered himself before the earl.

  “I pledge ye me loyalty, even if it may cost me life. I condemn me sister Sandra for her actions and beg yer forgiveness for the slight me blood has done against yer noble person.”

  The earl didn’t comment for a long moment. Tension filled the hall as everyone waited. Moira stood beside Achaius, feeling as out of place as Bari was.

  “I accept yer pledge, and ye are welcome at me table,” Lytge finally said.

  Bari shot up and climbed to the high ground. Soft conversation began to flow, but it didn’t sound welcoming.

  “Bring on supper,” Lytge bellowed, proving time hadn’t stolen his vigor just yet.

  Achaius sat down next to Bari, taking the last two seats at the high table. It suited Moira, because she didn’t think she could sit still up on the dais with everyone’s eyes upon her. Daphne MacLeod was of the same mind. She pushed her chair back, but her husband caught her arm. She leaned toward Norris and whispered something. He released her, but his lips were pressed into a hard line. Daphne shook her head and stopped and stared at the retainers ready to follow her. She rubbed her back again and finally turned and disappeared through one of the arched doorways at the side of the Great Hall, the Sutherland retainers at her heels.

  Women began bringing in platters of food, and Moira joined their ranks, but they were not welcoming.

  She refused to let them intimidate her. She took a place at one of the lower tables, keeping watch on the ones that seemed most interested in making her evening difficult. It kept her mind off Gahan.

  When it came time to clear the tables, the Sutherland women were no less hostile. They made no effort to hide their distrustful comments and glances even as Moira helped gather dirty platters and mugs. A few of them smirked at her as they boldly sat down and began chatting while she worked. It was a bold action, one the Church might even give them time in the stocks for.

  Asgree appeared and snapped her fingers at them. “Unkindness has no place here,” Asgree said. “Leave the feuding to the men. We’ll have to endure enough grief from their quarrels without adding our own.”

  It was so similar to what Moira’s own kinswomen had said. She felt guilt tighten around her. So far, she hadn’t been able to hold Achaius’s attention for any length of time, let alone please him. He was still sitting at the high table, talking away to those willing to listen.

  He was her husband, and yet he wasn’t.

  Her thoughts strayed to Gahan and how much she preferred him. It was the truth, and it shamed her. Achaius may be guilty too, but it was her duty to take up the position of his wife. Moira noticed that Gahan, however, was watching her from the high table. He drew her attention, and it took true effort to look away. Then Achaius laughed, slapping her back into reality.

  She could still try to attract Achaius away from his scheming. She had to. It was time to be in her place.

  She moved in front of him and lowered herself. “I find I am tired and wish to return to our chambers. Would ye join me?” Moira said, smiling at him.

  Achaius stopped talking and grinned at her. “Ye head off to bed, lass. Best sleep while ye can, for when I join ye, there will be no rest for ye.” The Matheson retainers chuckled, but none of the Sutherland men did.

  She drew in a deep breath and straightened. Dreading her duties was irritating her now. She was not a coward. She didn’t want to have to keep steeling herself for something that never happened, but it seemed she couldn’t seduce Achaius even if she wanted to. She left the hall with a heavy feeling of defeat.

  The steps were much wider than in Fraser Tower. There was even a railing to hold on to. The walls were freshly plastered, and between the archer slits, large hooks held lanterns. Everything about the tower declared prosperity.

  The floors were also farther apart. She grinned when she reached the third floor. It was split into two chambers. Instead of two doors at the top of the stairs, there were four. Two angled west, and two faced east. The ones facing east opened, and she stepped inside. The first room was a receiving chamber. It wasn’t very large, but tapestries hung over the wall. Achaius’s gillie was sitting near the hearth, enjoying a thick slice of bread and cheese.

  “Mistress.” He tugged on the corner of his bonnet but looked at her in confusion. “Did the laird send for ye?”

  For all of his bluster, her husband didn’t seem to enjoy a warm bed as often as he claimed. Otherwise, the gillie would be expecting her to be in his master’s bed when Achaius arrived.

  “He told me to sleep while I could,” Moira replied truthfully.

  The gillie shifted. “Then ye should go into the outer chamber until he sends for ye. He is master, and it is best to wait for his instructions.”

  It wasn’t so much what the boy said that made her abandon her resolve to take up her position as wife as it was his tone. He was worried. Deeply worried that she’d not do as his laird wished.

  “Ye will tell me husband that I await his command,” she instructed firmly.

  The gillie grinned and tugged on his cap. “Yes, mistress.” He pointed to the outer chamber. “And there is a fine bed there for ye, on the other side of the receiving chamber.”

  The receiving chamber was dark; only a single candle burned near the door. She made her way across the thick carpet to the double doors and opened them onto a bedchamber. A fire had died down, but the coals still glowed warmly. Moira chided herself for how relieved she was, knowing she’d most likely spend another night without having to share Achaius’s bed.

  The bedding was turned down, indicating that the staff of Dunrobin was accustomed to noble unions that lacked passion. It was no doubt the reason the earl had a bastard he favored so much. Gahan’s mother had been the woman he truly loved.

  For a moment, she was caught in the grip of jealousy. Men had so much more freedom. For the first time in her life, Moira understood why women took lovers in defiance of the Church. Cold beds were very unwelcoming, a fact she’d been innocent of just two days ago, before she’d taken Gahan as a lover. Well, that was a memory now.

  Moira draped her overgown on the back of a chair and sat down to take off her shoes. Her stockings had new holes in them, but she’d leave the repair until morning. She reached for a brush sitting on the bedside table and drew it through her hair several times before she climbed into the bed. It was chilly, but not for too long. The sheets were clean, and she pulled them up to her nose as she tried to use the hint of lavender to drive the memory of Gahan’s scent from her mind.

  It didn’t work very well, but at least the comfortable bed lulled her into sleep—even if Gahan was waiting there in her dreams for her.

  ***

  Gahan emerged from one of the secret passages, joining Norris in his private chambers. Their father sat in an armchair in front of the fire.

  “Bari Fraser is in the north tower, well away from us,” Gahan reported. “But he is nae happy. It seems none of our women are interested in sharing his bed.”

  “Sandra seems to suffer the same difficulty,” Norris remarked. “The men set to watching her door report she’s taken to trying to seduce them so they will tell her brother she is alive. I suppose I should have put her in a tower overlooking something other than the main gate.”

  “I’d prefer it if she left Dunrobin,” Daphne interrupted. She was fussing around in the bedchamber beyond the open curtains of the receiving area, but she noticed the stares being sent her way and moved into the doorway. Her swollen belly looked huge, and she began to rub it slowly. “Well, I would, and ye are having yer meeting in our private chambers, so do nae expect me to keep silent. But I know why ye’re here. To make sure no spies overhear ye.”

  Every castle had its spies. Daphne turned around and returned to fussing with a length of cloth. The earl waited until she’d moved away a good ten feet.

  “I’d like to be rid of Sandra as well, but I will certainl
y nae be handing her back to her brother,” the earl remarked. “She’s a blot of bad luck.”

  “Bari is nae much better,” Gahan said. “I wager he does nae know his sister’s marriage went unconsummated. He does nae have the union he wants with the Mathesons.”

  “Achaius might never admit such a thing. He wants the dowry.” Norris grunted. “On second thought, though, I think it might be better to have him know ye took Moira to yer bed. At least the man would try his hand at killing ye, and we might be rid of him.”

  “Ye must never assume the outcome of a fight,” Lytge warned. “I’ve seen a few surprises in me years and would nae like to lose one of me sons. I warned ye to keep away from Moira Fraser, and ye’ll do it, Gahan. Achaius may yet consummate his union. The man talks of it often enough.”

  “He’s past the age,” Gahan replied. “I’d wager me last bit of silver that Moira is sleeping alone right now.”

  “Ye cannae have affection for a Fraser,” Norris declared. “None of us could.”

  Lytge chuckled and stood. “As if ye listened to anyone when young Daphne took yer interest. I know the look, because I still see Gahan’s mother in me dreams. Ye are both me sons, cursed with the need to love.” He pointed at Gahan. “Stay away from her, at least until she is no longer a wife—and I’d appreciate it if her husband died on his own land, nae on mine.”

  “She is nae his wife,” Gahan insisted.

  His father nodded slowly. “I agree that an unconsummated union is no marriage, nae in Scotland, that is. The English might disagree, since they let the Pope tell them what to do, but the only witnesses to such a thing cannae be the man who wants the bride for himself. The Matheson will have reason to feud with us.”

  “Her brother will hardly agree to ending the sham of a marriage either,” Norris added.

  “Why is this so bloody complicated?” Gahan groused.

  “Because ye are me son and too much like me,” Lytge informed him. “No man has everything. There are plenty of men serving as me retainers who may chase the lass of their choice, but they long for the position ye enjoy, and make no mistake about that. But that same position has a cost, for naught is free in this life. Yer actions gain responses…Ye must think before ye act, else watch the men serving ye suffer for a rash act. Fate tests us all.”

  It was the truth, but Gahan had no liking for it. The only thing that made him nod in agreement was the sound of regret in his father’s voice. His sire wanted what was best for him, but being the Earl of Sutherland meant thinking of duty before all else.

  Fate did indeed want to test him.

  ***

  Moira was jerked out of sleep, certain she’d heard someone calling. The chamber was dark, only the faintest glow coming from the hearth. The nights were still long. She didn’t think it was past midnight. Drapes covered the windows, so there was no light from the moon to help her see into the corners of the room.

  “Help…I need…help…”

  The sound was muffled, like it was coming through the walls. She crumpled the bedding in her hands in fear. Dunrobin wouldn’t be the first Highland fortress with restless spirits.

  “Moira…I need help…”

  She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  A Dunrobin ghost wouldn’t know her name.

  She grabbed a candle and held it against the coals until it lit. A warm glow surrounded her, but it also showed her that she was alone. “I hear ye…”

  “Here…I’m here…”

  It was Daphne MacLeod’s voice, but muffled. Moira moved slowly toward the far side of the chamber and heard the woman groan.

  “Where are ye?” Moira called out.

  A thump sounded against what looked like a doorway to the garderobe. Moira pressed on the wood, and it popped open, releasing a draft of cool air that made the candle flicker. Once the flame grew bright again, it illuminated a hidden passage with narrow stairs spiraling down into darkness. Daphne MacLeod was sitting on the stairs, her hands fisted in her skirts. Her face was drenched in sweat.

  “Thank Christ…”

  “My lady, why are ye here?” Moira sputtered.

  Daphne groaned long and low before opening her eyes and sucking in a deep breath. “I was spying on ye. Christ forgive me! But I was, for I just had to know if ye were only pretending to be sweet-natured.” She gasped, and her hands clenched her skirts tighter.

  “I’ll go get help,” Moira said quickly.

  Moira started to stand, but Daphne cried, “Do nae ye dare leave me! There is no time! This is what I get for spying. Me babe is coming now! I can nae even make it to me own chamber. Ye have to help me!”

  She let out a cry and leaned back on the narrow steps. Moira set down the candle and peered at Daphne for a moment. “Ye are right, my lady, the child is being born. I see its head.” Her heart began to race, but she bit her lower lip to steady herself.

  “I know I’m right!” Daphne shouted.

  Moira knelt between Daphne’s knees and gathered up her undergown to catch the baby. “Do nae worry, I’ll catch the babe. Push with the next pain.”

  Daphne groaned as she bore down, and the baby’s head came all the way into view.

  “Breathe, lady! And push!”

  The baby was slick, and Moira used her skirts to get a good hold on it as Daphne pushed again.

  “Good…well done, lady. The shoulders are out.”

  Daphne yelled with the last push needed to birth her baby. Moira gently clasped the infant’s head and ankles before turning it over to clear the fluid from its nose and mouth. The baby gasped, and its arms began to flail as it let out a squeal.

  “It’s a lad, lady! A fine, strong little boy,” Moira declared.

  Moira wiped the baby’s face clean and looked up, but Daphne had collapsed back onto the stairs. Her chest rose and fell, but terror knotted Moira’s insides. They’ll hang me if Daphne is found dead…

  But her hands were full with the baby, and it was still attached to its mother. The doorway to the hidden passage was still open.

  “Help!” Moira drew in a deeper breath and yelled. “We need help!”

  The wind whipped up the stairwell, and she cuddled the baby close to keep it warm. Another gust of wind came up the stairs, and she looked down into the darkness. There had to be a door open below to let the night breeze in.

  “Help us!” she yelled down the stairs, the sound bouncing between the stone walls. “Someone! Please!”

  Every second felt like an hour. The baby settled down, making small noises as the candle flame flickered. Her heart was racing, and sweat trickled down her back beneath her clothing. Daphne lay like a broken doll across the steps. But there had to be retainers charged with watching her chambers.

  “Who’s up there?” a man’s voice asked.

  “Lady Sutherland needs ye!” Moira shouted.

  She heard him coming, the hard pounding of boots against stone. She reached up and pulled Daphne’s skirt down just before a Sutherland retainer emerged from the darkness.

  He took in the scene and growled at her. “Ye will nae touch the laird’s wife, Fraser.”

  “We have no time for that!” Moira snapped. “I need a knife to cut the baby’s cord so we can move the lady to my bed.”

  The man’s eyes grew round as he looked at the baby. He bumped into the wall as he cowered away from the scene of childbirth.

  “A knife, sir!”

  He reached down and took one from the top of his boot. Moira cradled the baby in one arm and cut the cord with her other hand.

  “Ye must move her gently, as though she is made of straw.” Moira stood up carefully, nodding toward her room. “Into this chamber, for we dare nae move her more than necessary.”

  “I should take her to her own chamber,” the retainer argued.

  “Ye cannae. She must nae be jostled, else she might bleed. Each step is a risk.”

  The man made the sign of the cross over himself before gently scooping Daphn
e up off the stairs. He angled her through the doorway that led to Moira’s chamber and settled her in the bed.

  “Fetch a midwife—and quickly,” Moira instructed him. She held the baby in one arm and plucked a candle from the table. She knelt down and held the wick against the embers to light it. A golden pool of light illuminated the newborn.

  “I cannae leave the mistress with ye,” the retainer said.

  “What do ye know of childbirth?” Moira growled at him. “Ye know nae how to help at all, so I dare nae leave her with ye. Shall we both stand here, then? Get on with ye!”

  Daphne made a soft sound of pain, her head moving from side to side as her face drew tight. Yet it was a sweet sound, for it meant the lady still drew breath.

  “Get me hot water and linens and some experienced women!”

  Moira grabbed her overrobe and swaddled the baby with efficient motions. The retainer hesitated only a moment before he was running through the dark chamber.

  “Where…where am I?” Daphne blinked, trying to see in the dark.

  “Ye are fine, lady, and have a new son.” Moira carefully gave the child to Daphne. “He’s strong and well, Lady Sutherland.”

  Daphne clasped her arms around her baby and studied his face for a long moment, then looked up at Moira. “I fainted.”

  “Aye, but many do.” Sure the baby was secure, Moira released him to his mother’s embrace.

  Daphne tried to sit up, but Moira pressed her back. “Ye must nae, lady. Ye must stay still.”

  “Get yer hands off me wife, Fraser!”

  Norris Sutherland didn’t wait for Moira to obey him. He grasped her shoulder roughly and pulled her away from Daphne. Moira went stumbling across the floor; the retainers following Norris Sutherland let her fall in a heap.

  “Do nae raise yer voice, Norris!” Daphne snarled and sat up.

  “Ye must stay still, Lady Sutherland!” Moira gasped. “Ye might tear yer insides and bleed.”

  “Do nae tell me wife what to do!” Norris shouted at her.

  “Yet, she is correct.” Asgree appeared in nothing but her shift and nightcap. The head of house was out of breath but still took command. “This is no place for raised voices.” The baby started crying, all the shouting disturbing him. Asgree flicked her long braid over her shoulder as she leaned in to look at the new baby.