“Have ye shown anyone but me this note?” he asked.
She shook her head, “I didn’t want Rinalda to worry.”
“Stay as close to her as ye can,” Leith advised. “I’ll take care of this.”
Her trusting smile was cold comfort to him as they parted ways, him to the stables and her back to the kitchens. Another day of digging into Cooper’s machinations while trying to figure out who had sent Mary that note.
Cooper was gone, so who could it be? The one flicker of light to his darkness was that his father was on the mend and would be back in less than a week. He needed to get things in order to prepare the celebratory dinner soon.
He needed to find out for certain if Cooper had any ties with enemy clans or the English. Cooper tended to keep all his acts to his chest, his suspicious nature did not let him share anything. The man was a human vault. He might even have to go to the capital and track down Cooper’s movements, and that had him grimacing. Now that he knew there was another threat to Mary here, it was unwise to leave her alone. But he had to go and she had to be kept safe.
His eyes lit upon a guard, pacing the parapets on the roof of the castle and he smiled. I’ll have a guard follow her in me absence.
It was just past dawn, the sky was barely lit while Mary was coming from emptying her chamber pot in the outside latrine when someone pushed past her and bumped her so hard, she fell to the ground, right into a pile of mud. The rains had battered the soil so hard last night that the ground was sodden.
“Coimheach,” Mary heard Fiona mutter under her breath.
Heaving herself up, Mary had to clamp her teeth down from crying out to her frustration. This woman was getting out of hand. There was not one day when Fiona did not insult her. The words were in Gaelic so she did not understand them but her sneering tone said it all.
She bore the hatred with aplomb though, not telling anyone. Perhaps it had been a bad move as she began to see more side-eye glances and sneers from those who had welcomed her into the fold weeks ago. Clearly, Fiona was poisoning those around her. She still held her head up high though. No level of slurs or bad-mouthing could lower her spirits, she already had the best—Leith’s love.
Wiping the muck off her backside as best as she could, Mary went back inside the servants’ quarters. Everyone was in a rush and she could understand why. The Laird’s celebratory dinner was fast approaching and everyone was in good spirits. She had not seen or been with Leith in the past few days, but that was all right, she knew he was busy.
Another reason to not bother him with trivialities like Fiona.
“Mary,” Rinalda said as she fixed her cot, “Have ye taken the…” she looked and spotted her mud-stained dress, “good lord, what happened? Did ye slip and fall?”
It was close to the real reason so she nodded. Instead of Rinalda’s face clearing with understanding, her eyes narrowed with suspicion. A loud laugh had her glancing over Mary’s shoulder and her face went tight, her eyes then ran to Mary and a curse left her lips.
Sighing, Mary just shook her head and went to clean up. With a pail of water, she cleaned up the lingering splotches of mud on her skin and then put on a drab grey dress. She did not have the strength to deal with Fiona, and she prayed Rinalda would not do anything foolish either.
Together they went to the kitchens and Mary to her post. As she worked, she spotted carts being carried into the kitchens: loads of potatoes, turnips, carrots, and cabbage. From her window, she could see slaughtered halves of beef, sheep, and goats moving into the smokehouses and large fish being scaled and salted on the large tables outside.
A feast, the likes of which she had never seen before, was in the making. She looked around and sighed in peace, Fiona was not there and everyone was doing their duties and not minding her. She could take a breath of relief.
“Mary,” Nessa called and her head shot up. A tray was placed in her hands with a trencher of cold cuts of venison and tiny boiled potatoes. Beside the trencher were two goblets, one with water and the other with the dark marron hue of an herbal brew. “This is the Laird’s meal, but first he must take his tonic. The guards' ken that he gets this first then his meal.”
Dutifully, she took them up to the Laird’s room but halfway there, she nearly tripped and a good portion of the brew splashed out onto the tray. Indecisive for a moment she decided to go back to the kitchen. The smell of the brew was bitter and burned her nose. Mary had two swallow a few times to have the feeling move from her throat.
What is this made of? It smells awful. My chest is burning in fact.
She hurried back to the kitchens and thankfully, Nessa saw her. “What is it?”
With a quick look, she saw the spilled brew on the tray and took the cup. “I’ll get ye some more.”
Mary went to a window and tipped the rest of the brew outside an unto a plant underneath before washing the wooden tray. Nessa came back with a full goblet. “Take care not to spill this one.”
Nodding, she took the refilled cup and meal up to the Laird’s door and handed the tray over the hulking wall of a man she had come to know as Dugald. He took and then held up his trencher-sized palm to cover a yawn. “Thank ye, lass, I’ll take it to him.”
Nodding, she left and took the stairs back to the lower floor when she nearly ran into another wall of a man. When his meaty hand grabbed at her she nearly skittled away in fear. His bearded face and beastly bulk had her heart hammering in her chest.
“Aye, steady there, lassie,” he said. “Ye dinnae want to be ending on yer face, now, innit?”
“Easy there, McColloch,” Leith’s steady voice cut through her panic. He even reached over and pried the man’s hand away from her shoulders, “Ye’ll have the lass in apoplexies if ye keep doin’ that.”
The bear-man squinted and peered between Leith and then her, then back at Leith before a sly smile took his face. His rumbling voice dipped. “So, ‘tis is the lass, eh?”
The…what does he mean by that?
Helpless to voice her confusion, she aimed a heated glare at Leith only to have this Mister McColloch burst out laughing, “Feisty too, ye could do much worse.”
Huffing, Mary turned toward the kitchen only to have Leith take her arm, “Thank ye for going up to me Faither.”
Slightly mollified, Mary gave him a tight smile and left. The instant she stepped in, her almost-happy mood sunk to the tips of her toes. Fiona was there in the corner whispering something to another. She kept her head straight and kept walking back to her station.
As she worked, she forced herself to ask why Fiona hated her so much and without a cause. Mercifully, she went through the rest of the day without any interference from the woman and had her meal in the quiet darkness of the kitchen.
On her way to the servants’ quarters, she lingered near the hidden seat where Leith had first tapped in the hidden well of her desire. She ran a hand over the stone bench before she sighed and sat. In the darkness, she carefully considered what she was doing.
Loving Leith had not been the plan but it had happened. The plan was to find Tina’s Aunt and live with her for a while before moving off. She had never expected to love a Scotsman and be loved by one. What did make her afraid was that Leith was in line for his Lairdship, one that required him to marry well. He could never marry a servant girl no matter her noble background.
One day I will have to step aside.
Heavy-hearted, she went to her quarters, and stepped into the lamp-lit room. Most of those in the room were already in their beds so she stepped quietly over to Rinalda’s cot and sat. The older woman was not there but had to be there soon. She was probably using the chamber pots in the next room. Her head was down and she was fiddling with her skirt as worry had her biting her lip.
Rinalda came and sat near her, her voice dipped, “Are ye all right?”
“No,” Mary whispered, “Why does Fiona hate me so much?”
Her hand was taken and two palms closed over it, “Ah, Mary, ye
dinnae ken and I dinnae want to tell ye but it’s common knowledge, she wants to be with Young Lenichton…intimately. He hasnae shown her any attention though she still tries. Now, yer here and he has shown ye more attention than she has been given in five years, so she is angry and jealous.”
Somehow, Mary should have suspected something like that. A woman scorned was not one to take lightly. If Fiona was smearing her name, and leaving a heap of stinking dung on her sheets, who was to say that she was not the one behind the note?
Soberly, Mary sighed out, “I never thought I’d be in this position.”
“What?” Rinalda’s hushed voice took on a teasing note while she felt an elbow being jabbed in her side, “Being loved by a Highlander?”
“Being loved by anyone, to be honest,” Mary admitted as she looked around the darkened room and hearing the soft murmurs from the sleeping bodies.
“Being loved by a Highlander is not anything to be ashamed about,” Rinalda hugged her close. “Be assured, ye will never find another man who is as protective or loyal as he is. He will protect ye to his dying day.”
“I know he will…” Mary said as she stood and went over to her cot. She shot an apprehensive look over to where Fiona lay, If I’m here, that is.
26
It had been a long while since Leith had been up on the parapets of his home. It was the afternoon of his father’s celebration dinner and he was anxious. His mind was running. If it had legs, his mind would probably have made it to Edina, circled to Glasgae and then taken the mountain pass back home—twice.
The day was cool and the sky had not a cloud in it. His eye took to the mountain that rose in majestic splendor behind his home. The tip was thinly covered by wisps of clouds and sunlight was flickering down on the land below benignly.
His pensive eyes then went down to the road that led to the castle. In a few hours, people would be flocking that dirt lane, coming in droves to see the newly sane Laird. Last night when he had gone to visit his father to check that all was well, he looked in to see his sire asleep on the bed.
He had even stayed a while to prove to himself that it truly was his father, back in his right mind. Aaron had not moved one inch and Leith was beginning to feel it was unnatural but dismissed it. Perhaps his father was just too tired.
When he had finally gone off to bed—a cold empty one as Mary was not in it—he had barely gotten any sleep. He knew worry was not logical, as, in the days past, his father had shown him that he was getting stronger, physically and mentally.
Bracing himself on the rough stone wall, he felt the wind tug at his formal clothes. He wore his blue-and-green plaid proudly, secured with a brilliant blue jeweled brooch at his shoulder. He stayed put until he saw the streams of people coming up the hillside and music began to play.
Dusk was growing and the pinpricks of the stars began to present themselves at the horizon. A frosty bite of wind reminded him that winter was soon to come and so far up in the Highlands, it was always bitterly cold. He chuckled at the memory of his seven-year-old self, waking to a numb nose as he had left his window open that night.
Raking a hand through his hair, Leith took the steps down to the sentries’ inner gate and then went to the great hall. He briefly thought of Mary and felt agitated. No matter how he dug, he still had not found out who had sent her the note. Moreover, he had gotten word that the lochs to Edina were overflowing. This meant that his trip to find out exactly how deep Cooper had sunk his claws into ripping him out of his rulership had to be put on hold.
He got to the great hall as it was filling in, greeting those he knew as he went along. The peoples’ spirits were high and servants were doling out drinks by the trayful. He stepped onto the dais where the high table sat and looked around, spotting Mary once or twice but she kept slipping back into the kitchens. He then trained his eyes on the staircase where his parents would be coming down.
When he saw them enter, his mother in her plaid and holding his father’s hand, a deafening cry arose from the crowd, and by their happy faces, he knew they truly loved his father.
His heart felt light as Aaron climbed onto the dais and sat in the middle throne-like seat accompanied by cheers of joy. Clad in his formal plaid, his dark hair was combed, and his face calm but Leith spotted a strange look in his eye.
Is Faither worrying? Is he afraid that his people would reject him again?
Aaron was looking around but a strange tick was making his jaw jump. Ignoring it for a while, Leith gestured for the music to die and when it was gone, so did the chatter. He spoke, loud enough that his voice carried to each corner of the room.
“As I’m sure ye heard months ago, me Faither took ill,” he paused to search the faces and all of them were dim, “Very ill, to a grievous stage where we kent he would never recover but the resilient strength of me ancestors run strong and our blood proves itself once more!”
Holler and thundering applause, stomps, and cheers exploded in the hall and Leith allowed them to continue for a while. “I must give thanks to a healer, who made the way to have him back fully on his feet. In honor of me Faither, Aaron Balloch, Laird of Lenichton, we will feast tonight till the wee hours of dawn!”
Platters of roasted beef, fowl and lamb began to enter the room, as mountains of boiled, braised and roasted potatoes followed. Fried fish, sugared mackerel and loaves of brown bread graced the many tables as well as sweetmeats, pudding, pies, and shortbreads. Leith went to his seat and took his mother’s frail hand.
“ ‘Tis a good day, Mother, try to smile,” he said.
Her thin lips barely curved and Leith had to hold back a tired sigh. Reaching for his goblet, he sipped water and looked over the room. He kept one eye on his father and one on the hall. Everyone was joyful, everyone was celebrating, music was in the air and food was flowing. For once, Leith felt the load he’d carried on his back for the past seven months ease.
“Here,” Nessa said while handing Mary a cup of tea and a trencher of food. “The hall is filled and nay one is going to be sending back their goblets in a good while. Makes no sense for ye to nae fill yer belly as well.”
Taking the food, Mary set to eat, it was nearly midnight but the people beyond, inside the great hall did not seem to realize that it was night. The kitchen was warm, fragrant and bright as other servants puttered around it.
Nibbling on honey-glazed pheasant, she nearly moaned in pleasure. The food tasted so much more delectable than it had before. She was nibbling on a sweet shortbread when a loud crash with screams chasing after it, blasted through the room.
She dropped her food, not caring that it had spilled to the ground and ran into the great hall to see people running out of the room and others cowering behind upturned tables. Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw why.
Laird Lenichton, the man who had been so calm and serene was now lobbying goblets and trenchers far and wide. The high table was on its side and food dashed to the ground. Long rivulets of wine were staining the floor stones like freshly drawn blood.
He spun with a snarl and hefted a knife that whistled through the air before it embedded itself in a door. Leith was trying to get to the man but he had another knife in his hand and was brandishing it like a sword. “Come at me, ye heathens!” he snarled to thin air, “Fight me if ye dare!”
Leith lurched himself at his manic father and the knife slashed down in a killing strike. Mary screamed. Heads snapped to her, Lady Lenichton the first one, but Mary did not care that her act was blown. Leith was about to die at the hands of his own father. The man she loved was one wrong move away from being disemboweled.
Her hands flew to her mouth in horrified fear as the battle between father and son continued. Leith had managed to dodge the blow but his father was growing more manic. People were fleeing the hall, tripping over their feet to safety. Her legs were weak but she had to do something. She ran in and went to Lady Lenichton who had fallen on her side.
Looping her hands under Lady Lenichton,
Mary pulled her away from the fracas. The lady drew her legs up under herself and pressed herself in the corner. Mary’s eyes were trained on the two still battling out on the dais. Dugald and another guard, Finlay, were lingering around the two, keeping keep watch for any chance to jump in.
Leith managed to grab his father’s arm and forced him to drop the knife. His father howled as his arms were twisted behind him. Dugald and Leith leaped in and grabbed the mad Laird. Mary’s heart shattered in two when she saw the raw heartbreak on her lover’s face.
She then looked at Lady Lenichton and saw—what? Was that a…smile? Mary blinked and the woman’s face was now bleak and tortured. Her mind must have tricked her, there was no way the woman would be smiling while seeing her husband in that condition.
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