A Night of Angels

by Andersen, Maggi

  Melchior, a ghostly shape in the dark, pricked up his ears, stuck his velvet nose over the gate, and blew hot air into Ailsa’s face.

  “My thanks.” Her breath clouded back at him as she stroked his handsome visage. “Dinnae mind me. I confess I’m feeling a wee bit sorry for myself. It seems my lifelong dreams willnae…” She bit her lip and blinked back tears. “Willnae come true.”

  Then, from the depths in the stable came a sudden, low rumble. A deep groan, followed by a long, soft breath. Ailsa drew a sharp breath of her own and held it, her scalp tingling as she peered toward the sound. There followed another loud hiss of breath, a rustle of straw, and an elongated splash, as if someone had tipped a bucket of water on the floor.

  Ailsa had been around horses enough times to recognize the sounds, and understood what they meant. Somewhere in the stables, a horse was in foal. She released her breath, drew another, and groped her way along the stalls, peering over the gates. Finally, in the last stall of all, she found the mother-to-be.

  The mare, her belly clearly distended, lay on her side on a bed of thick straw. She was a pretty little horse—a piebald, her white markings easily visible in the darkness.

  “’Tis a pertinent night to be giving birth in a stable, my lady.” Ailsa placed her hands atop the gate, rested her chin on them, and gazed down at the little mare. “And you already have one of the wise men in attendance. His name is Melchior. Down at the end there.”

  The horse heaved another breath and fidgeted. Ailsa squinted at the mare’s backside, trying to see a sign of the foal, but the shadows masked any details. “Dinnae fret. Take your time. I’ll stay with you.” Ailsa heaved a troubled sigh. “I’d rather be out here than in there.”

  Not quite true. The cold, by now, had worked its way into Ailsa’s bones, and her wet feet had long since gone numb. But the thought of seeing Calum at Moira’s side kept Ailsa from returning indoors.

  She pondered what Calum had said about not needing a wife. If the agreement had already been made ’tween the lairds, he’d be obliged to comply whether he liked it or not. In any case, Ailsa doubted he’d be able to resist Moira.

  Not once, in all the years since she’d first met him, had she considered he might marry someone else. She’d made foolish assumptions, believing he’d one day marry her, or even care for her in that way.

  Bothersome.

  Tears pricked her eyes anew. That’s what he’d called her, time and again.

  Bothersome.

  At that moment, the mare half-rolled and let out a low moan. Then, a pair of white, spindly legs protruded from her rear end, still wrapped in their pale, protective sac.

  Ailsa shifted on her frozen feet. “Aye, there you go,” she murmured. “That’s it.”

  “Here you are!” His voice—Calum’s voice—startled her. His cloaked shape moved through the dark to stand beside her. “I’ve been looking all over for you. What are you about, hiding out here? ’Tis freezing. Your poor mother is fair flustered and thinking the wee folk have carried you off.”

  “Calum! I…” Ailsa hugged herself and glanced about, searching for an explanation. “I felt a wee bit sick from the peat smoke, so I came out for some air and, um… and wandered in here. It seems this wee horse has decided to have her foal tonight, so I… I stayed to watch her.”

  Frowning, Calum peered over the stall gate. “Aye, well, you missed the betrothal announcement.”

  “Oh, that.” Any last vestige of hope vanished, and Ailsa hugged herself tighter. “Sorry I wasnae there.”

  He raised a brow. “You already knew about it?”

  “Um, no’ precisely. But my mother hinted that it had been discussed.” Her teeth chattered. “Are you happy about it, Calum?”

  He muttered a curse, unfastened his cloak, and settled it around her shoulders. “Look at you. What were you thinking, coming out here without a cloak? You’re freezing. And aye, I’m happy enough. ’Twas a bit of a surprise, but I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, though I still mean to see the Holy Land one day.”

  “And so you should. ’Tis good to have dreams.” Ailsa breathed in the familiar scent from his cloak and blinked away tears as her teeth chattered again. “And ’tis even better when those dreams come true.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Are you happy, Ailsa?”

  “Aye, of course.” She mustered a smile from somewhere. “If you’re happy, I’m happy too.”

  He grunted. “Well, I should think it’ll be at least four or five years before we marry. Time for me to get my spurs and for my bonny wee bride to enter womanhood. Will you come inside now, afore we freeze to death?”

  “I’d prefer to stay out here a while, if you dinnae mind.” A tear made its escape down her cheek, and she turned away, giving silent thanks for the veil of darkness. “Like I said, I’d like to watch the foal being born. I dinnae think it’ll be much longer now. Look, its wee legs are sticking out already. Maybe you can tell my mother where I am and that I’m fine. And I wouldnae mind keeping your cloak for a while either, if you’ve no objection. You’re right. I was foolish to come out here without one.”

  Calum fell silent, yet she felt his gaze on her. “Why are you crying, Ailsa Rose?”

  “I’m no’ crying.”

  His hands settled on her shoulders, and he turned her, gently, to face him. “Aye, you are.” Frowning, he wiped an offending tear from her cheek. “I confess to being a wee bit puzzled. Is it because of the betrothal? I thought you’d be happy about it.”

  She laughed through a sob. “I am. It’s just…”

  “What?”

  “Well, I always thought you and I might, one day…” She laughed again and shook her head. “I’m being silly. Forgive me, Calum. I’m happy for you, truly. She’s very bonny, and ’tis plain she’s smitten. She couldnae keep her eyes off you during dinner.”

  His brows lifted. “Who couldnae?”

  “Moira, of course.” Ailsa sniffed. “Oh, look! The foal’s wee head is out. White, too, like its legs. I wonder what it’ll be. Colt or filly? A filly, I’m guessing. It—she—looks like a wee filly.”

  Calum cleared his throat and moved to stand beside her, folding his arms across the top of the gate. “Ailsa—”

  “Do you remember when Freya had her kittens?” Ailsa strived to keep her voice casual. Not easy, considering she was in the midst of a losing battle. Never had she felt such raw and confusing emotions. She wished Calum would leave, because being so close to him, knowing he was pledged to another, hurt her to the core. At the same time, she prayed he would stay. Not just for a moment, but forever. By her side. Where, till a short while ago, she’d always believed he belonged. “We stayed up half the night watching them being born. That was the first time I’d ever seen an animal giving birth. She had six of them, remember? One for each year of my life at the time. ’Tis a miracle, I think, the way a young creature grows inside its mother and then comes out complete. Do you no’ think so, Calum?”

  “’Tis a miracle, aye.” Calum bent his head and gave a soft laugh. “Ailsa Rose, I swear you’re as daft as a brush.”

  She scowled at him. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re hiding out here freezing your wee arse off while pretending to be happy for me, and ’tis as plain as the stars in the sky that you’re nae happy at all. Why is that?”

  Even in the dark, Ailsa could see the look of amusement on Calum’s face. That he found her distress funny turned her sadness into a flare of fury.

  Fists clenched, she turned on him. “Well, excuse me for having feelings, Calum Tormod MacKellar. Maybe you should consider that you’ve been my… my best friend for most of my life, and I care for you. Very much, as it happens. But after tomorrow, I’ll likely never see you again, which makes me sad.” Tears welled up in her eyes and tumbled down her cheeks. “I ken you think me nae more than a bothersome wee pest, but that doesnae mean I dinnae feel things. And you’re wrong, actually, because I am happy for you. Very happy
, because you deserve the best. So, if I’m sad, I’m sad only for me. But I’ll be fine, I’m sure. For now, though, I just want to be alone for a while.” Sobbing, she dropped her head into her hands. “I-I’m sorry, Calum. P-please, just… just go.”

  “Ailsa, nay.” His breath brushed across her hair as he pulled her into his arms. “Hush, now. Dinnae cry. You’ve got it all wrong. All of it.”

  A sob lodged in her throat as she gazed up at him. “Wh-what do you mean?”

  “I mean…” He peered down at himself and grimaced. “Och, now, will you look at that!”

  She looked. “What?”

  “Tears and snot, all over my chest.”

  “Calum!” Teeth gritted, she tried to push away from him, but he held her fast. “Stop teasing me. Tell me what you meant.”

  His grin lit up the darkness. “I’m no’ betrothed to Moira, you bampot.”

  She blinked. “You’re no’?”

  “Nay, I’m betrothed to a bothersome wee pest called Ailsa Rose Macdonell.” He chuckled and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “And may God help me.”

  “But, I thought…” Ailsa’s heartbeat thudded in her ears as she clutched at his surcoat. “Do you jest?”

  His expression softened. “Nay, wee lass, no’ about this. I wouldnae be so unkind as to do that.”

  “Oh, Calum.” Despite his assurance, she still sought validation. “Truly? We’re to be married?”

  “In a few years from now, aye.” He grimaced. “You’ll still be leaving the day after tomorrow, though, so we’ll no’ be seeing each other for a good while. And you should know I meant what I said about the Holy Land. I still intend to visit it someday.”

  “And I meant what I said. You should go. ’Tis good to have dreams.” Remembering their conversation earlier that day, she pondered for a moment. “But can you still become a Templar knight if you’re married?”

  “Aye, as long as my wife doesnae object.”

  “You’ll hear no objection from me, I swear it.” My wife. Ailsa heaved a sigh. “It seems my dreams are destined to come true, and yours should too.”

  He smiled. “I’ll remember you said that.”

  Fearful of him fumbling with an answer, Ailsa refrained from asking if she’d ever been a part of Calum’s future dreams. Whether she had or not didn’t really matter. She was pledged to him, may the angels be praised, and he seemed quite accepting of it. And if he didn’t love her now, she’d make sure he did one day.

  From the stall came a long, guttural groan, which drew Ailsa’s attention. “Oh, Calum, look! The foal is out. And what a bonny wee thing! ’Tis as white as snow.”

  “Looks like a sturdy wee thing, too.” Calum slid his hand into hers. “We’ll come back and see it in the morning. Ailsa, please, let’s go in where its warm. I cannae feel my feet.”

  Chapter Two

  Daylight was rationed during Highland winters. Dawn arrived long after breakfast, and the night arrived long before dinner. Calum awoke to the darkness of a Christmas morning and dragged himself from the warmth of his bed with some reluctance. At the same time, he felt a tingle of anticipation, an expectation of good things to come.

  Returning home after an absence of almost eight years had been a lesson in mixed emotions. Calum belonged here, of that he had no doubt. He shared his blood with those who had gone before and, God willing, those who would follow. His difficult birth had been the first and last for his mother. Being an only child put additional pressure on him to produce an heir.

  Yet leaving the Macdonell holdings had also been a tug on his heart. He’d learned much under Laird Macdonell’s tutelage and had always been treated like one of the family.

  Truth be told, Calum had balked a little when his father stood up during the previous night’s banquet and announced that a marriage alliance with the Macdonells had been agreed upon. He felt like he’d known Ailsa forever, but that also meant he considered her more of a younger sister than a future wife. Still, such alliances were the way of things, and he’d never consider objecting to the betrothal.

  Too, in many arranged marriages, bride and groom never met till the day of the wedding. At least Calum knew the lass who would one day be his. He already had a fondness for her, for sure, and she’d never hidden her adoration for him. From the first day they’d met, when she’d been but a tiny bairn, she’d followed him around like a lost pup. Yet, on reflection, he’d never once found her infatuation annoying. Amusing, aye. And flattering, if he was honest.

  Now in her thirteenth year, Ailsa had a comely appearance. Not beautiful, exactly, but pleasant to look upon, with bonny hazel eyes and an infectious smile. Her hair was bonny too, its color somewhere between red and blonde, depending on the light. She still had some maturing to do—her scrawny limbs and flat chest gave no hint of her approaching womanhood. But she’d undoubtedly fill out, as lasses did.

  He recalled their meeting in the stable the previous night. For the first time, he’d seen a true glimpse of Ailsa’s selflessness. The way she’d wished him happiness while under the misapprehension that he’d been promised to Moira MacAulay. No tantrums or spiteful words. Her grace, despite her obvious heartache, had impressed him. The subsequent light in her eyes, when she’d learned the truth of it, had touched him. And she’d encouraged his plans to visit the Holy Land, promising never to object.

  All things considered, Calum couldn’t think of any impediments at all. Besides, the actual marriage wouldn’t be for another few years. Plenty of time for him to further hone his military skills and acquire his spurs. He’d miss Ailsa, too, he admitted. Probably more than anyone else from his adoptive home.

  Shrugging off a sneaky threat of melancholy, Calum shifted his focus to the day’s events. On this blessed morning, after Holy Mass, and weather permitting, he intended to take Ailsa for a ride. He wanted to show her something—a place not far from Castle Cathan that held a special meaning for him. As a young boy, he’d often visited the spot with his father. Being absent for so long, he itched to see it once more, and for some reason, it felt important to share the experience with Ailsa. He hoped she’d see it the same way he did, as a sacred place. A place of legend. He had plans for it. Plans he’d never discussed with anyone. And he wanted Ailsa to be the first to hear of them.

  He heard the commotion as he descended the stairs. It came from outside in the courtyard—men’s voices, raised in obvious anger. He recognized one of the voices as his father’s. Heart quickening, he scurried outside.

  “Is everything all right?” Calum asked his sire, who stood, hands on hips, watching as Castle Cathan’s closed with a hefty clunk. “I heard shouting.”

  “Everything is fine, lad.” Greum MacKellar gave his son a look that implied amusement rather than annoyance. “I was just bidding Godspeed to Taran MacAulay.”

  “Why is he leaving so soon?”

  “Partly because you’re nae betrothed to his lass, but mostly because he’s a hot-headed fool. He hoped you’d be marrying Moira and was disappointed. Threw a wee tantrum after the announcement last night and was still whinging about it this morning. We had words, and now he’s away back to Dunraven in a huff.”

  Brows raised, Calum regarded his father. “You dinnae seem too concerned.”

  “I’m nae concerned at all. ’Tis no’ the first time we’ve crossed verbal swords. MacAulay makes a lot of noise, but he’s no’ a man who bears grudges. He’ll calm down.”

  Calum grinned. “I suppose I should be flattered I’m in such great demand.”

  His father snorted. “You’d nae be in such great demand without land and title, lad.”

  “True enough.” Calum squinted into the gloomy winter sky. “Speaking of land, I’d want to take Ailsa to Lorg Coise Dhè today, after mass.”

  “Then do so. The wind has shifted to the west, so this snow will likely be gone by midday.” His father gestured across the courtyard. “She’s in the stable, by the way, fussing over the new foal.”

  Ailsa greete
d him with wide eyes and a smile that brightened the gloom. “Oh, Calum, look! ’Tis a wee filly, as I thought. Is she no’ bonny?”

  He grinned. “Good morn to you too, Ailsa Rose.”

  “Sorry.” She wrinkled her nose. “Good morn, Calum. And a blessed one it is, to be sure.”

  Calum paused, taking a few moments to look at the lass who had been chosen for him. He’d seen Ailsa almost every day for the past seven years, but it occurred to him he’d never really looked at her. He tried to imagine her as a woman—a lass with a shape that curved here and there. He failed.

  Ailsa’s smiled wavered. “Is everything all right?”

  “Everything is fine.” Dismayed by the uncertainty in her face, he tugged on her braid. “I was just admiring my future bride.”

  Her smile returned, and a blush came with it. “Look at the foal, Calum. She’s perfect. And her coat! ’Tis as white as fresh milk.”

  As he had the previous evening, Calum settled himself at Ailsa’s side and peered over the gate. The foal, which had been nuzzling at its mother’s teat, lifted its head, shook itself, and toppled over.

  “No grace at all,” he said, as the foal staggered to its feet again.

  Ailsa scowled. “Only because she’s newborn. She’s still finding her legs.”

  Calum grunted. “I was only teasing. She’s is a braw wee thing, for sure.”

  “Did you hear all the shouting just now?”

  “Aye, I did. Some folk are nae happy about our betrothal, it seems.”

  “Your neighbors, as it happens.”

  “Who live over a day’s ride from here, with a wall of mountains in between.” Calum tugged on her braid again. “’Tis nae about to start a clan war, so dinnae fash. Listen, after mass, I want you to dress warm. We’re going for a ride.”

  “Where to?”

  Calum smiled. “You’ll see.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Ailsa asked again as they wound their way through a sheltered stand of pine trees. The mild westerly breeze had turned the mantle of snow to liquid, which now saturated the ground beneath the horses’ hooves.