Highland Hellion (Blades of Honor #1) (12 page)

Chapter 13

Arya followed Cailin and Fallon up the stairs, the idea of a bath and soft bed on which to take a nap, sounding very inviting. At home, she slept on a pallet on the floor. And aside from an occasional dip in the loch or stream that ran near their encampment, she’d not bathed in a proper tub since she was a bairn. Such luxuries were things of the past when her clan lost everything they owned to the Campbell.

The reminder of who she was and why she was at Fraser Castle quickly replaced the blissful thoughts of soaking in a tub filled with lavender scented water. And she could not stop thinking about her mother. The guilt of leaving Scotia at times so overwhelming that Arya could hardly think of anything else.

They arrived on the second floor of the castle, then traveled down a dimly lit passageway, halting when they reached a door at the end of the hall. Cailin retrieved a key from a ring suspended from the sash around her waist, then slid it into the lock. As mistress of the keep, she was responsible for governing the entry into rooms and vaults that were deemed private or off-limits to anyone but the immediate family.

Fallon’s babe yawned and stretched, then began to whimper. She cuddled the infant to her breast and cooed softly, but her attempt to quiet her wee one failed. “If you dinna need me for anything right now, Cailin, I’ll let you help Arya get settled while I take Jeanne back to our chamber and feed her. I will meet you both in the great hall for the evening meal. Alasdair wants to be on his way, so Cook is preparing the food early today. I’d suggest you dinna dally too long.”

Arya placed her hand on Fallon’s arm. “Before you go, can I ask you something?”

“Aye. What did you want to know?”

“If one has the gift of second sight, can they see both the present and the future? I’m afraid I have never set much store in superstition, so I am not sure how it works or why.”

Fallon smiled. “I often wonder myself. Sometimes the visions come to me in a dream. But they are not always limited to when I am asleep. Without warning, no matter where I am or what I am doing, a strange feeling of weakness washes over me.” Fallon moved Jeanne to her shoulder, and her daughter stopped fussing. “Occasionally, I feel nothing more than a sense of foreboding. But usually it is followed by flashes of light, images of people’s faces, or perhaps a brief glimpse of an event in past, present or future. Often they are things that do not make sense to me at the time and are difficult to decipher. Then there are the times when the visions are very clear, almost like they are telling a story of how things will unfold.”

“Are your premonitions always accurate?”

“For the most part, but there is no guarantee. Why?”

“She has an amazing gift,” Cailin interjected. “For as long as I’ve known her, everything she predicts has come true. Fallon is also a talented healer. I would trust her with my life. And have.”

“As I mentioned earlier, my mother hasna been well of late, and was wondering if you could tell me how she fares and if she will recover?” Arya averted her gaze. “I’d also like to know when I will be able to return to my home.”

“On more than one occasion, I saw the vision of a gravely ill woman, lying on a pallet in a small stone croft, and you were sitting at her bedside.” Fallon hesitated, then shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if searching for the right words to say. “I willna lie to you, Arya. Your mother is very sick. But then you already know this. However, as to your mam’s fate and if and when you will be returning to Oban, I canna answer those questions. I’m sorry, but I am unable to summon what I wish to know at will. I only see what the Almighty sees fit to share with me.”

Unfortunately, Fallon’s evasive answer did little to ease Arya’s concerns for her mother or her apprehension about being at Fraser Castle. Perhaps she knew the outcome of Scotia’s illness, but didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. Arya’s chest tightened at the thought.

The babe began to cry again, and Fallon’s effort to console her proved futile. “If you can spare me, I will see to this little one’s needs and join you later.” She turned and headed down the hall.

Arya shook her head. “I dinna know how you and Fallon remain sane with so many bairns to care for.”

“Bairns are a gift from God. And aye, we have been blessed, many times.” Cailin chuckled. “Lord willing, you will be too someday.” She shoved open the oak door. “But right now, we need to get you out of those filthy clothes and into a nice hot bath.”

Arya entered the chamber, greeted by a rush of warm air and the pleasant aroma of peat mixed with sweet-smelling heather. She inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. This was the first time she’d stayed in a room by herself. Even before their land and homes were taken as a spoil of war, she slumbered on a small pallet in a chamber she shared with her parents. And now, she occupied the one-room croft with her mam.

Arya surveyed her surroundings. Never had she seen a place so lavishly decorated. Her grandfather’s keep, the one now occupied by the Campbell, was nowhere near as grand. She’d often wondered why the Almighty saw fit to give some clans so much while others had barely enough to survive. Why the bairns of the lairds in the king’s favor had full bellies and nice clothes, and those of common man wore rags and went to bed hungry. The Fraser’s were clearly in King Robert’s favor.

“Are you all right?” Cailin asked.

“I’m overwhelmed.” Arya’s gaze locked on a bed with a massive oak frame, silk pillows, and finely woven, wool coverings. “It has been a long time since I’ve slept anywhere but the dirt floor of my mother’s croft.”

Her attention shifted to several overstuffed chairs near the fireplace, then moved to an ornately carved table with three high-backed chairs in the center of the room. A bouquet of freshly cut flowers sat on the table, along with a platter containing cheese, bread, and fruit, a jug of spirits, and two silver goblets. Someone had even lain new rushes on the floor.

“You’ve gone to a great deal of trouble,” Arya said as she stared at the platter of food, her stomach rumbling. “After living on turnips and oatcakes for nearly two years, this is a veritable feast.” She bit back the urge to request a sack so she could scoop up the repast and take it home for the hungry bairns of her clan.

“This room is lovely, but wish you dinna go to such a fuss. I would have been fine in the servant quarters or even with a plaid and some fresh straw in the stable. I am not accustomed to such finery. I am after all a stranger.”

“We wanted to make you feel welcome and comfortable. You are kin, and we are sisters-by-marriage.” Cailin clasped Arya’s hand. You belong here in the castle with us. This chamber is yours for as long as you’d like.”

While intended as a kind gesture, the remark about being kin struck an unpleasant nerve. Arya stiffened and raised her chin. Until a few days ago, she regarded the Clan Fraser as her enemy, and part of her still did.

“It has not been proven I am in any way related to Connor and his brothers. Just ask Bryce.” Arya withdrew her hand from Cailin’s grasp. “He believes my mother has played you all for fools. To be honest, I am not sure I believe it myself. I was born and raised a MacEachan and am very proud of my heritage.”

Cailin smiled. “And understandably so. From what Connor told me, despite the fact he and your father fought on opposing sides, he held a great deal of respect for Ronald MacEachan.”

“I’m surprised to hear you say that. I thought the Frasers despised our clan. Any clan related to the MacDougalls.”

“I must admit that during the war Connor and his brothers would have moved heaven and earth to see Dungal MacDougall drawn and quartered, but being related doesna make men one in the same,” Cailin replied. “I can understand your shock and even your denial when you heard Andrew Fraser was your real father. But after meeting you, I am quite certain what your mother told my husband and his brothers about who sired you is true. You show a strong family resemblance, aside of course from your blond hair and blue eyes. Which I am sure must be from your mother’s side. But your fiery spirit, tenacity, and strength are very much Fraser traits.”

“Should I be flattered or offended?” Arya asked.

“Neither. You are who you are.” Cailin slid the platter in Arya’s direction, then poured some mead into a goblet and handed it to her. “You must be famished, and if I know my brothers-by-marriage, you ate nothing but dried venison, fish, and bannock on your journey.

Arya’s mouth watered. Even the simple foods they consumed while traveling were more enjoyable than anything she’d eaten in months. Unable to resist, she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and closed her eyes, allowing the tangy, sharp flavor to caress her tongue. She washed the morsel down with a sip of mead. But even that small amount of the spirits made her head spin. Strange for a lass who could hold her own with the men when it came to downing whisky or ale. She nibbled on a bit of bread and a few berries, then placed the still-full cup on the table. When she glanced up, Cailin was staring at her.

“Is there something amiss?”

“I suspect you’ve lived a very tough life, Arya. And I am sorry.”

“You have naught to apologize for,” Arya picked up a linen square from the table and wiped her lips. “As far as I know, you did nothing to harm me or anyone else, Cailin.”

“Perhaps not, but the war with England was very hard on all Scots. Especially the bairns. You’ve only seen nineteen summers, so couldna have been more than four or five during the worst of it. Growing up at that time must have been very difficult for you and your parents.”

“What would you know about hardship?” Arya blurted. “You lived in this fine castle with everything you could need or want. While there was fighting going on in the area, most of the battles took place in the Lowlands and southern Highlands. You were tucked away here, and safe.” She did not mean to sound so belligerent, but the harsh words spilled from her lips before she could stop them. Damn her cursed loose tongue.

“Things are not always as they appear,” Cailin reiterated.

“I suppose that is true.” Arya raised her chin. “I dinna grow up with many material possessions, and anything our clan did have was stripped away by Robert the Bruce and given to Laird Campbell when the war ended. There were many times when we lived every day in fear and went to bed with empty bellies. But I had a mother and father who loved me, and that was worth a king’s ransom.”

“Then you were richer than I was. My life and that of your brothers may not have been as difficult as yours, but it wasna without tragedy or strife. We all saw our share of death and destruction during the horrible years when Longshanks sat on the throne. Friends became enemies, and brothers were pitted against brothers.” Cailin paused and drew in a slow, ragged breath.

“I was raised by a Highland laird near the border of Lowland Scotland,” Cailin continued. “Aye, my father was a wealthy man, but he was also a bitter tyrant who never once acknowledged he had a daughter. He blamed me for the deaths of my mother and twin brother from the day I was born. An only bairn, I was raised by my nurse and dinna know my mam. I never knew what it felt like to be loved or wanted. My da shunned me until he was ready to sell me off to the highest bidder in exchange for riches and alliances.”

Arya recognized the pain in Cailin’s eyes as she spoke of her father. She could not imagine growing up with such a man.

“When my da announced my betrothal to a horrible, old man, I decided I’d had enough and ran away . . . Foolish bairn that I was, I dinna think my plan through. Good thing Connor came along when he did.” Cailin said. “I was a little younger than you at the time. But it is a very long story. Best left for another day.”

A rap on the door interrupted their conversation.

“Who do you think that is?” Out of instinct, Arya slid her hand over the hilt of her sword.

Cailin patted Arya’s forearm. “There is naught to fear. I asked the servants for a tub, plenty of hot water, and some fragrant oils in which you can soak before dressing for the evening meal.” Cailin opened the door. “I also sent for Mairi, my personal lady’s maid to assist you with your bath. While you are doing that, I will fetch something for you to wear.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but if you can provide me with a basin of water and some linen to dry my face and hands, that is all I need.” Arya combed her fingers through her tangled hair. “I’d much rather wear my clothes. I have never been one for gowns when a tunic and trews are much more serviceable. But, a brush would be most welcome if you have one to spare.”

Cailin nodded. “I’ll have Mairi see that your garments are washed and returned to you. But please humor me and allow me to provide you with something to wear for the evening meal. It would please Bryce and make things a little less uncomfortable between you.”

Arya glanced down at her soiled garments, then shrugged. She saw nothing wrong with her attire, but had to agree, they could do with a wash. “Very well. I will accept your offer and wear the gown. But only for tonight,” she quickly added. “I will also take a bath, since you have gone to the trouble of calling for one, but dinna need anyone’s help. I prefer to do it on my own.”

“Understood.” Cailin stepped away from the door, allowing the servants to bring in a large wooden tub and buckets of steaming water. A petite young woman followed, carrying an armful of linen and a jug containing fragrant oils.

They placed the tub by the hearth, then filled it with water. Once completed, one of the servants addressed Cailin. “Will there be anything else, Mistress?”

“Nay, Ayden. I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you.”

The servant gave a curt nod then left, taking the others with him.

Cailin turned to her maid. “Mairi, if you could leave the toweling on the bed, Lady Arya wishes to bathe alone. Once she has undressed, please see that her clothing is washed and returned to her.”

“Aye, Mistress,” Mairi replied, then peered at Arya. “Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help you, m'lady?”

Arya shook her head. “Thank you, but I am accustomed to bathing myself, and have been dressing without help since I was three.”