Beloved Ruins, Book 1

by Marti Talbott

  Michael sighed. “I would have to banish you and I dinna care to do that.”

  “Normally when I am angry, I cry, but just now I am so enraged, I cannae even do that. How could she be so uncaring?”

  “Perhaps she dinna know Lindsey favored Murran.”

  “She knew,” Elena forcefully said. “Grizel is not as stupid as she pretends. A blind man could have seen how Lindsey felt about Murran.”

  “I dinna know until you told me.”

  “Aye, but you were not with Lindsey often the way Grizel was.”

  Michael bowed his head. “If only I had been.”

  Elena’s heart melted and her anger abruptly dissipated. “You cannae be with everyone daily.”

  “Aye, but I should have married Lindsey. Kester suggested it and I...”

  Elena shook her head. “She would have felt forced.”

  “Forced? Why?”

  “Because you are Michael and Lindsey would have done anything to please you, even marry you. She loved Murran, would have been miserable married to you, and I suspect you would have been as well.”

  “Kester said the same, but at least she would yet live.”

  “If you must blame someone, blame me. I called her friend and I saw no warning that she might harm herself. You would not have guessed either.” Elena closed her eyes for a long moment. “I am haunted still by the sight of the death I saw in her eyes.”

  At last, Michael reached for her. He slowly drew her into his arms and then leaned her head against his shoulder. “Forgive me for not realizin’.” She said nothing more, so he just continued to hold and comfort her. At length, he closed his eyes and confirmed what he already knew – the woman in his arms meant much more to him than someone in need of comfort. He knew not precisely when he began to love her, but the feeling was there and he could not deny it. She must have felt it too, for when he touched the back of her hair, she drew back and looked into his eyes. He was about to kiss her inviting lips when...

  “So this is where the two of you meet in secret,” Grizel said. Before either of them could say anything in return, she hurried back down the stairs.

  Elena turned in Michael’s arms until her back was to him and if he had not hung on to her, she would have chased after the woman. “Banish me!” she said, “but let me have my way.”

  He leaned his head against the side of hers and whispered. “Not just now.”

  She slowly turned back around, wrapped her arms around his neck, and lost her grief, her anger, and her thoughts of revenge in the splendor of his kiss.

  “WHAT DO YOU MEAN TO do?” Balric asked Michael after they went into the Great Hall so they could talk in private.

  “I know not what to do,” Michael answered. He was about to close the door in Kester’s face when he finally noticed she was right behind him.

  “I know what to do,” said Kester.

  “Kester, you cannae kill her. I forbid it.” Michael said.

  “I dinna intend to kill her, I intend to see that no other man climbs into her bed.” With that, and with Birdie right behind her, she walked through the foyer, out the door and across the inner-courtyard. She went to find Owen first, for he still felt Grizel’s betrayal the most, found him sitting alone by the river, looking up at Grizel’s castle window.

  Kester blocked his view and when he realized who she was, he quickly stood up as all men did in the presence of elders. “Are you unwell?”

  “Nay, but you shall be?”

  “How so,” he asked.

  “Have you not talked to Murran?”

  “Why should I talk to him, he...”

  “After Lindsey died, he looked up at the window you look at now. Grizel was there and do you know what she did?”

  “Nay, what?”

  “She shrugged.”

  Owen wrinkled his brow. “Shrugged?”

  “Aye. She shrugged as if to say Lindsey’s death meant nothin’ to her. If ‘twas me, I’d tell all the lads to take care, for that one has a heart made of stone.”

  Owen looked once more at Grizel’s window and then spat on the ground. “She is worse than an English.” In a huff, he marched up the path.

  “That should do it,” Kester said. When she realized where she was, she hesitated to turn around. She knew Lindsey’s fire would be out, her pottery would be no more, and...

  Just then, Michael took hold of her arm. “Shall I carry you again?” he asked.

  “Nay, but perhaps we might go the long way around.”

  “I agree.” He wrapped her hand around his arm and guided her toward the next path. “I have been meanin’ to have a word with you. Yours is the oldest cottage in the village and needs be torn down. ‘Tis time you live in the castle where Birdie can have all the table scraps he wants. What say you?”

  “Shall you tear down Lindsey’s cottage too?”

  “Hers is old as well. If you agree, I shall have the lads gather your things. Is there anythin’ of hers you wish to have?”

  “Nay, I have the hourglass to remember her by.”

  He was afraid she was going to cry again, so he said no more. He leaned down, picked Birdie up, and took them both to their new home in the castle.

  MICHAEL HAD JUST TAKEN off his shoes and shirt, and was preparing to go to bed when someone knocked on his bedchamber door. Afraid it was Grizel, he grabbed his shirt and was about to put it on when Brandon opened the door. “What is it?”

  “‘Tis Rory,” Brandon said.

  “What about him?”

  “You best come, Michael. He is in the north tower and refuses to leave. ‘Tis my night to stand guard, but he insists ‘tis his night.”

  Michael discarded his shirt and followed Brandon out the door and up the two flights of stairs to the tower. At the top of the second flight, he signaled for Brandon to wait there and then quietly climbed the third flight. Rory seemed not to notice when Michael walked into the room. Instead, he sat on a stone bench and stared out the window at the stars in the night sky.

  Michael folded his arms and just watched his old friend for a time.

  At last, Rory noticed him and said, “I wish to be alone.”

  “Do you also wish to stand guard instead of Brandon this night?”

  “I do.”

  Michael walked between his second in command and the window, and then turned to face Rory. “I do not wish it. You are too upset to see clearly enough to warn us.”

  “Warn us of what? We’ve not seen the English in...”

  Michael ignored his protest. “‘Tis time to build Lindsey’s bridge.”

  “Lindsey’s... bridge?” Simply hearing her name threatened to bring a tear to his eye.

  “Aye. We shall use the stones in Lindsey’s cottage and Kester’s besides.”

  “I cannae – I cannae think to...”

  “Of course, the lads are not as good at settin’ stones as you, but we shall manage.” Michael waited, but all he got from Rory was a sigh. “I thought to have Lindsey’s name chiseled in the stones, so as to remember her throughout the generations.”

  “In English?”

  “Perhaps in English on one side and Gaelic on the other. Master Balric can write the letters for us, and Carson can...”

  “Carson?” Rory squared his shoulders a little. “He cannae chisel stones.”

  “If not, there is Jersome or perhaps...”

  Rory sighed, “I cannae leave it to anyone else...I suppose, but dinna make me take down Lindsey’s cottage. I cannae bear to even walk down that path.”

  “The other lads can bring the stones to the river, and perhaps the lasses can plant flowers once the cottage is gone.”

  “Aye, she loved flowers, even the ones we call weeds.” Rory thoughtfully looked down. “Why did she do it?”

  Michael knew Rory would ask that question someday, and feared the truth would hurt him more. “I know not for certain.” He left the window and walked to the top of the steps. “When did you bathe last?”

  �
��I dinna recall.”

  Michael stretched out his arm and pointed. “‘Tis a warm night and the loch is that way.” With that, he left and when he reached Brandon, he nodded for him to go up, and then continued on down the stairs. Before he reached the bottom flight, he heard Rory begin to descend the steps. Relieved, he took a deep breath and headed back to his bedchamber.

  TO MAKE CERTAIN SHE could hear her children, Elena had begun keeping her door open a crack. She was about to check on them one last time before bed, when in the light of his open door, she saw a shirtless Michael walk down the hall and go in. A second later, she heard Grizel’s door close.

  Elena drew away from her door and sat down on the edge of her bed. She tried her best to excuse what she had just seen, but there was no excuse. Grizel had finally gotten her way with Michael.

  THE NEXT MORNING, MICHAEL climbed to the top of the north tower as he always did. Below, the dairy maids carried their buckets down a path one way, and several unmarried men came from the opposite direction to pay their best compliments. Michael was relieved. It appeared after several days of mourning, the world was set right again. Yet, when he looked at Lindsey’s cottage, he saw something he had not expected. Rory was there. Somehow, Rory managed to make a hole in the wall of Lindsey’s cottage and was breaking the mortar and removing the stones.

  Michael walked down the steps and left the castle. On his way to Lindsey’s cottage, he motioned for several of the men to follow him. When he arrived, Rory completely ignored him. Michael’s second in command looked even more unkempt than he had the night before and it was obvious he had not slept.

  Rory removed another rock, and then carefully put it in the pile he started.

  “Had we not better take the roof off first?” Michael asked.

  “And let the lads damage the stones?” Rory angrily shot back. “I cannae allow it!”

  “‘Tis better than damagin’ you.”

  “Is it?”

  Michael puffed his cheeks. “Did I not tell you to bathe last night?” Again, Rory ignored him and went back to work another stone out of the wall. “Rory, I command you to come with me. A good swim shall do us both good.”

  Rory threw out his arm in the direction of the men who stood watching. “You’ll not let them break the stones?”

  “I give you my pledge. They shall remove the roof and that is all.”

  He set the stone in the pile and then shook his head. “I cannae...”

  “I command it. Shall you disobey me?”

  Rory considered it for a moment and then reluctantly gave in and went with Michael to the loch. Once they had taken off all their clothes except their long pants, the two men swam until Rory was so exhausted he could swim no more. At last, Michael helped him back to his cottage and poured him into bed. He tossed a blanket over his friend and then left. Just in case, he stood outside his door until he was certain Rory stayed in bed.

  MICHAEL CHANGED OUT of his wet clothes and went to tend some of his duties in the Great Hall. He had not yet recorded Lindsey’s death and knew it would be best to get it over with. He went to the small table against the wall, retrieved his writing materials, and then took a seat on the side of the large table facing the door – just in case Grizel came in unannounced. He was relieved when there was an appropriate knock on his door.

  “Enter.” He was surprised to see both Murran and Owen at his door. “‘I cannae abide bad news just now and from the looks on your faces, I fear that is what you have come to tell me.”

  Owen was the first to speak. “Tis about somethin’ I heard in the market.”

  “Go on,” Michael said.

  “‘Twas the day we took Lindsey last,” Owen started. “I thought nothin’ of it at the time, but...”

  Murran looked at Owen. “‘Tis what I came to tell him too. I have been bothered by it as well.”

  The sound of Lindsey’s name pulled at Michael’s heartstrings. “Do get to the point,” he urged.

  “A guard told Lindsey there is a lad offerin’ a reward for a lass with red hair and green eyes,” said Owen.

  “A four thousand pound reward,” Murran added.

  “‘Twas only three thousand,” Owen argued.

  Murran shrugged.

  “Fear not, for Master Balric says there is word in the market that the lass has been found,” Michael said.

  “Now there’s a pity,” said Owen. “I hoped ‘twas Grizel. After all, she does have red hair and green eyes.”

  “As do half the lasses in Scotland,” Michael pointed out. “What did you think to do with her?”

  “I thought to...” Murran decided not to finish that sentence.

  “Have you forgotten the edict? Her guard claims a lad intends to kill her.”

  “Who can blame that lad?” Owen spat. “I thought to do it myself.”

  Michael smiled in spite of himself. “We cannae kill her and we cannae send her away. We can but wait until her guard returns for her.”

  “Could be a miserable year or longer,” Murran muttered.

  Michael raised an eyebrow, but there was little he could say to that. “Murran, Kester wants a small cart she can pull Birdie in.”

  “I shall see to it.”

  “Good. I fear Birdie shall die next and Kester shall not be able to survive it. See to it right away, please.”

  “Aye,” Murran answered. He was quick to walk out as though being in the same room with Owen made him uncomfortable.

  Michael watched Owen hold back for a moment. “He was once a good friend.”

  “Aye...the best of friends.”

  “He would still die to save you.”

  “I know, and I would die to save him still.”

  “Perhaps you might tell him that.”

  Owen nodded and walked out.

  AFTER THEY WERE GONE, Michael decided to see what Elena was up to. When he spotted her, she was with Kester talking to Kester’s son and daughter-in-law, so he decided not to disturb them. He went to see how the men removing the cottage roofs were doing and as he expected, they were carefully hauling the materials away to be used again when the next cottage was built. He suggested they use it to build Brandon’s shop, and they agreed. Hopefully by the time Rory woke up, there would be nothing left of Lindsey’s cottage but the stone walls.

  It saddened him to see it being torn down, and wondered if he should have waited a week or two, but keeping Rory busy had always been, and still was, the best way to help someone’s heart heal. He just wished he had hard physical work to do as well.

  The next time he saw Elena, she was still with Kester, and again he left her be. Kester needed her more than he did, Michael supposed. He noticed, however, that she did not even look at him, and wondered what it meant. Always before, she seemed to watch for him just as he watched for her. It meant nothing, he decided, and left to see how Murran was coming with Kester’s cart. It was too soon, for Murran was still trying to figure out how to build something sturdy yet light enough for Kester to pull the dog in.

  Michael went home.

  AT SUPPER THAT NIGHT, Elena was unusually quiet. Michael told a delighted Kester that Murran was going to build her a cart for Birdie, and Master Balric announced he was finished writing the first story.

  “When might you tell us the next?” Balric asked.

  “Any time you like.” Michael answered. “Perhaps Kester and Elena shall join us.”

  “I would like that,” said Kester. “I never tire of hearin’ the stories.”

  Elena said nothing and Michael noticed. When he looked, Brenna was frowning at him. “What?”

  “Your beard is too long,” the child answered.

  “It is?” Michael asked. He looked to see if Elena had an opinion, but she was concentrating on choosing her next bite of food. “How short should it be?”

  Brenna rolled out her hand and pointed at her uncle.

  “Michael chuckled. “That short? Perhaps I might cut it all off.”

  “I would lik
e that,” Grizel said as she breezed into the dining room and sat down. “Lads are far more handsome without all that hair on their faces.”

  “Not that your opinion is worshiped in this clan,” Kester grumbled.

  Grizel narrowed her eyes. “I do not care to be worshiped. I only care to stay until I am free to do so, and then go home.”

  Elena could hold her tongue no longer, “Are you not planning to stay forever? ‘Tis what you said this morning.”

  “Is that true?” Michael asked, turning a critical eye on his guest.

  Grizel giggled, “Oh, Elena, you must not constantly take everythin’ I say to heart. Believe me when I tell you, I wish to go home the instant it is safe, and cannae wait to do so.”

  Elena glanced at the perplexed looks on the faces of her children and went back to eating her meal.

  “I am happy to hear it,” said Kester. “I shall have to hang you if you dinna go home soon.”

  Michael chuckled. “You haven’t the strength to hang anyone.”

  “True, but I shall have no trouble findin’ help.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Michael. “I suggest we contain ourselves to happy talk when we share a meal with the children. What say you, Kester?”

  Kester looked at Samuel. A lock of hair was sticking up in the back of his head and it made her smile. “Very well, I shall say no more to the Red, lest she provoke me first.”

  “Thank you.” Michael nodded. He took a bite of his own dinner and then directed his next comment to Master Balric. “The next story is about a lass by the name of Rachel.”

  Later that evening, Michael, Kester and Balric gathered in Balric’s study and Michael recounted the story of Rachel and Connor.

  Elena did not come.

  FOR THE MOST PART, Beitris was happy working in the Castle. She adored spending time with Elena and Kester, and loved minding the children when Elena had other things to do. She eventually learned to tolerate Grizel. She made Grizel’s bed when she was good and ready, washed Grizel’s clothes when she absolutely had to before Grizel complained to Michael, and told Grizel to brush her own hair. She dared Grizel to complain to Michael about that and Grizel never did.