Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03] (20 page)

Several nights ago, if she had stayed in the smithy, and if she had answered his query differently—honestly—instead of walking away to shut herself in the house, something more might have happened between them. Dreams might have come true.

She sighed, and noticed Lachlann's steady gaze fixed upon her. Certainly he, too, felt the passion that sparked between them. How long she could deny that power, she did not know. It flared within her whenever he was near.

Eva watched the water foam and rush past the side of the boat until Alpin pulled in to the shore and tied the craft to a wooden jetty. They stepped out and followed a path that led up a long hill toward the castle, the climb so steep that Eva felt the burn of it in her legs, though she was accustomed to much walking and running over the hills of Glen Fhionn.

The iron gates were open, and Eva, Lachlann, and Alpin were welcomed inside by the sentry, who knew the ferryman. Alpin's request to see Mairi MacKerron produced a broad smile, and they were waved into the bailey yard. A servant girl led them up a flight of stone steps to a second-level entry.

They walked along corridors inside a castle that was as large and grand as the properties her father had held before the dispossession of her clan. Eva looked about with enough interest to slow her step, and she lagged behind when the servant brought them to a wide, arched doorway and knocked.

The girl opened the door and spoke, then waved them inside when a woman called out in welcome. Lachlann entered first.

"Oh, Lachlann!" Mairi's deep, warm voice rang out, and she rose from her seat to rush toward him. Eva smiled through tears as she watched Mairi wrap her foster son in a long embrace. They were not mother and son in the flesh, yet they were similar in their tall, strong builds and dark heads. Mairi's eyes were a warm, serene brown, and her hair, beneath a bleached linen kerchief, was liberally streaked with gray.

He smiled at her. "When I came back to Balnagovan, you were not there to welcome me," he teased. "I was surprised to find Eva instead—and glad that you had taught her to cook." He grinned. "She made me feel at home again. She even brews a heather ale as fine as your own, and keeps your house and animals well."

Mairi laughed. "I am glad to hear it. Three years and more you were gone, my boy," she added crisply. "Did you expect me to sit and wait for you? I have plenty to do, though I took time to pray for you each day. Ah, Eva, come here," she said, reaching for her. "It is good to see you."

Eva stepped into the firm, warm embrace she had come to love. "Mairi!"

"I am glad you were there when Lachlann came home," Mairi whispered. "You were always dear to him, and I think it meant much to him to find you there." Eva felt her throat tighten while Mairi released her and turned. "Alpin MacDewar, do not think to get a hug or kiss from me, you old goat."

"Och
, I washed for nothing," Alpin groused.

Eva laughed then, accustomed to the prickly banter between the two old friends. She saw a real flush creep into Alpin's weathered face, and Mairi's brown eyes sparkled.

Lachlann put an arm around his foster mother's shoulders and led her to a backed bench piled with cushions, beside a huge stone fireplace. Several children sat in the vast chamber, beside the hearth and on stools and on the floor. "Introduce us to your brood, Muime," Lachlann said, smiling down at a pair of small girls who openly gaped at him, their handsewn dolls clutched tightly in their arms.

"The four nearest the hearth are the children of my niece Katrine and her husband, Patrick Stewart," Mairi said. "The other four—the small girls, and the two boys by the window—are their Stewart cousins. They are all in my charge for now. Lachlann, sit. Eva, Alpin, you as well. The serving girl will bring refreshments—for you, too," she added to the children.

Clearing a seat for Eva, Mairi pushed aside a board game set up on another bench. A stone playing piece clattered to the floor, and a toddling boy emerged from somewhere to pick up the stone and taste it. Eva plucked it out of his hand and Mairi scooped him expertly beneath her arm.

"Little Patrick is a curious soul," Mairi said. "Elspeth and Robbie, please move your game over there. The adults want to talk." The boy and girl gathered their board game and took the pieces over to a window seat to sit with their cousins.

Mairi settled on the cushioned bench holding Patrick in her lap. A low cradle sat on the floor, and she began to rock it with one foot. Inside the shadowed interior, Eva noticed a mound of silken coverings, two tiny pink fists, and a peaceful, tiny face. "So this is Katrine's newest one," she said.

"Her name is Aileen," Mairi said, looking at Lachlann. Eva noticed a quick frown cross his brow.

"My birth mother's name," he said quietly, as he sat beside Mairi. "No wonder you have not yet returned to Balnagovan, for you are surely busy here. How long do you expect to stay here? Until these little creatures grow tall?" He smiled at Patrick, who watched him with wide brown eyes.

"Katrine and her husband, Patrick, are looking for two young nurses for this brood," Mairi said. "I will stay until they find them. Now, tell me what you have been doing, Lachlann. I see a new scar on your chin—how did this happen?" She took his nicked jaw in a brisk, motherly fashion.

"An English arrow clipped me at Orleans," he answered.

"Orleans! Where the French girl won the day? I heard you rode with her! That made me so proud." Mairi beamed at him.

"We Scots stayed beside her throughout the battle," he said. "She wiped the blood from my face with her own sleeve when I was hit." Eva looked at him in surprise, for he had said little about his adventures in France.

"I heard she was a courageous, remarkable girl. Did you know her well?" Mairi asked.

"Jehanne was my commander, and I admired her. She was captured, tried for heresy, and executed. What more is there to say?" He spoke mildly, but Eva heard the current of tension in his voice. He turned his attention to Patrick, waggling his fingers and smiling as the child tried to snatch his hand.

"Were you with her when she died?" Mairi asked.

He shook his head, and Eva felt a sense of relief. She was glad he had not witnessed that tragedy, though she found herself wondering what he knew of the Maid of Orleans. "I was not in Rouen then. I was on my way home to Scotland to recover from some wounds I had taken."

"Were you badly hurt?" Mairi asked in concern.

He shrugged. "A cut in the side, and a blow to the head. They are healed now, though my vision is not as sharp as it once was."

"Tell us what happened." She touched his arm, and he shook his head. Watching, Eva felt her heart constrict for him in echo of his pain. He did not look at her.

Patrick giggled, eager to renew the finger game. Lachlann wiggled his hand, and the child lunged, arms extended, toward him. Chuckling, Lachlann lifted the dark-haired, blue-eyed toddler onto his lap. Eva sat silently with the others, acutely aware that Lachlann deliberately hid something about his past.

Mairi smiled, watching him play with Patrick. "That child could be your own, you two look so much alike," she said. "Well, you are cousins, after all."

"What?" Lachlann looked at her over the child's head.

Eva, startled, stared at both of them. "Cousins?"

"His father—who is not here just now, or I would introduce you to him—is your first cousin. Your mothers were sisters. Lachlann, I thought Finlay explained that to you before he died."

Lachlann shook his head. "Finlay told me something about my parents, but not that detail. What else should I know?" he asked in a wary tone.

Eva glanced at Alpin, who looked troubled. All she had ever heard of Lachlann's parents was that they were related to Finlay and had died when Lachlann was a baby. Now she realized that Lachlann himself had been told little more than that.

Mairi sighed. "Finlay wanted the truth kept from you when you were younger. He intended to tell you when the time was right, but he kept putting off that day. Then he died so quickly from what seemed a simple illness..." She drew a breath, and Lachlann took her hand. "I knew he spoke to you privately as he slipped away, but I was so heartbroken that I could not bear to hear his last words... not then. By the time I found the strength to ask, you were about to depart for France. I waited until you returned. Lachlann, I am sorry."

"I understand. Tell me what you know." He glanced at Eva and Alpin. "I trust you two," he told them, and Eva felt a warm thrill at his words. He glanced at her directly. "Perhaps you need to hear this, too."

* * *

The little one in Lachlann's lap squirmed and began to fret. He handed him to Mairi, who soothed him until the child relaxed against her. At the same time, she continued to rock Aileen's cradle with her foot.

"I remember the night you were brought to Balnagovan, to Finlay and me, the night your parents died," she said. "You were just past a year old, the same age as this little fellow."

"Who brought me to you?" Lachlann asked.

"The charcoal burner and his wife," she said. "The old one who lives in the forest above Strathlan. I think he lives there still. Alpin?" she asked, turning.

He nodded. "He does, though he and his wife are quite mad. The man makes good charcoal, but his odd manner keeps many customers away."

"I remember him. Finlay sometimes bought charcoal from him." Lachlann looked at Mairi. "Go on."

"The charcoal burner knows something of what happened the night your parents died. Finlay said the old fellow was the only one who knew the truth but he has never spoken of it that I know. Lachlann, your father was a MacKerron, and a very skilled bladesmith. That much you knew."

Lachlann nodded. "Tomas MacKerron was his cousin. They learned their art from the same man, Finlay's father. And now I learn that I am related to this child through my mother." He glanced at Patrick, asleep on Mairi's wide bosom. "I want to hear the whole of it."

"His grandmother and your mother were sisters, daughters of a Stewart who was a kinsman of the king. Patrick's little sister, here, was named for your mother, Aileen."

He frowned. "I was never told that my mother was a Stewart of Glen Brae."

"Of Strathlan. Do not hold it against us, Lachlann," Mairi said. "Finlay insisted upon the secrecy. I did not agree, but honored his wishes."

He nodded, trying to understand. "Stewart of Strathlan?" he asked, astonished.

"But Colin Campbell holds Strathlan," Eva said. Lachlann glanced at her. She sat forward, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the hearth. The sight of her fresh, dark beauty stirred him, a respite in the midst of his current confusion.

He was glad that Eva would learn about his parents here with him, and she would learn of his obligation for vengeance, too. There were apparently details he had not yet heard, but he knew that Colin had some part in the death of his parents. Finlay had revealed that much to him, although Lachlann had not yet found the right moment to explain it to Eva. But the time had come for truth.

"When Aileen and I were girls," Mairi said, "Strathlan was part of Aileen Stewart's dowry. But she did not want to marry the man her father chose for her. One night she secretly wed her true love—Tomas MacKerron, the local blacksmith. Her father was furious, and disowned her."

"Finlay did not tell me that part," Lachlann murmured. "He said that my father had been a cousin and a fine blade-smith, and my mother a beauty from a fine family. And that they had been murdered."

"Murdered?" Eva gasped.

"Finlay always believed so, with reason," Mairi said. "What else did he tell you?" she asked Lachlann.

"Something about a tradition among the MacKerrons..." He stopped, shook his head. "The making of a faery blade."

"Faery blade?" Eva asked quickly.

"There is a tradition that the MacKerrons know how to forge faery steel," Alpin said. "I thought it was just a tale."

Lachlann shrugged. "There are methods in the making of steel, said to have been taught to a MacKerron by the faeries ages ago. Nonsense, of course, but it makes for a good tale."

"It is not nonsense," Mairi said. "Some say that Tomas MacKerron crafted the finest blades because he used those secrets. And Finlay revealed them to you."

"He told me some of it," Lachlann said. "I think he left much unsaid. He was weak, and I did not press him to talk."

Mairi nodded, hesitated. "Lachlann, your parents were happy. They had a good marriage and they both loved their little son." She touched his hand. "But Tomas made an enemy of the man who had first been betrothed to Aileen Stewart. The man sued for her dowry and won it in the courts. Tomas and Aileen had nothing, after that, but what living he made at his craft. But they were content. I want you to know that."

"Who was her betrothed?" Eva asked.

"Murdoch Campbell. Colin's father. That is why Colin owns Strathlan now—he inherited it from his father."

Eva gasped. "Oh! It should have come to Lachlann!"

"It could not, for Aileen's father disowned her. She brought nothing to her husband... except her love, which was all he ever wanted of her."

"So Murdoch won Strathlan?" Alpin asked.

Mairi nodded. "He sued for it three years before Aileen and Tomas died in a fire at Tomas's smithy."