Susan King - [Celtic Nights 03] (28 page)

All the while, he spoke in a soothing murmur. Between Lachlann's deep, calming tones and Ninian's gentle pats, the horse tolerated the process. Eva waited patiently nearby, watching them.

Lachlann finished and glanced up. "Ah, you are back," he said. Ninian peered around the horse and smiled openly at her.

"Margaret thanks you for the pothooks and ladles,"' she said, coming closer. "And Angus would like to know when his nails will be done. He has a good deal of work to do now, for the priest has asked him to repair the church rafters."

"He will have the nails in a few days." Lachlann straightened and wiped his brow with a smudged arm, then patted the horse and murmured praise. "Ninian, that is the last horse, my friend. You have worked hard this day, and I thank you. Take her back to the stable now, if you will." The boy took the bridle rope and led the horse away, and Lachlann turned to Eva. "He has been a great help this morning. He has an easy way with the horses, and they seem to like him."

"You are finished?" Eva asked. "I thought shoeing horses would take most of a day."

"We started very early. Alpin brought the boy over at dawn to see if you had returned yet. Ninian has been tending to the chores in the house and in the stable too while you were gone."

She nodded, and he sent her a quizzical glance. She knew he wondered why she had gone to Margaret's for several days, but he did not ask. "And I am glad for the extra time, since I want to ride to Glen Brae to find the charcoal burner," he said. He stooped to pick up the iron bucket with its smoking embers. Ninian came running back from the stable and gathered up Lachlann's tools, and the smith nodded approval. "Good lad. Now while I get cleaned up, will you saddle the garron? She will have rested from her ordeal by now." Ninian ran off eagerly.

"Your garron did not like being shod?" Eva asked.

"Garrons are so tough-footed that they do not need shoes, as the destriers do on this rough ground, but I added nails to her hooves to give her better footing on the hills in the winter. She did not like the procedure, but Ninian calmed her nicely. The child has a gift."

"Thank you for being so kind to him."

"Did you think I would be anything less to him? He is a good-hearted little fellow."

"He is," she agreed. "But since he is Colin's son, you might not like him so well."

"I am not so hard-hearted as that, Eva." He watched her.

"I know," she murmured.

He frowned, and seemed as if he would speak, but instead he moved toward the smithy door. "I will be back this evening," he said over his shoulder. "If the soldiers come to the stable, keep Ninian with you, and shut yourself in the house."

"I can take care of myself," she called.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "I am sure of that. But you have new-made locks. Use them."

* * *

"Ninian, not so fast," Eva laughed later, as she followed the boy up the long, steep bank from the lochside to the stable yard. Her muscles ached in a satisfying way after a demanding practice session with Alpin on Innisfarna. As she climbed the slope, her gown swung against her bare shins; she had changed out of the belted plaid and shirt before leaving the island.

After Lachlann had left for Glen Brae, Alpin had ferried over to fetch Ninian, and she had crossed back to the island with them to practice some sword work. Later she helped Ninian trim the vines in Alpin's garden, while the old man grumbled about the effort involved in raising a few flowers.

Taking time to explain privately to Alpin what Colin had done, she did not tell him of her deepening love for Lachlann. She listened to his gruff insights as he encouraged her to refuse the marriage, but she did not mention Green Colin's threats.

As she climbed the hill after Ninian, the dogs barked with excitement, and Eva laughed at their delight when the boy began to run around the meadow with them. Aware that he was hungry, she went into the house to cook eggs and porridge, which she knew he could easily eat; some foods were a challenge for him to chew and swallow, so she prepared his meals carefully.

Stirring the kettle, she turned with a smile when Ninian burst through the door. At the alarm on his face, she straightened and swung the pot off the fire on its new chain. The boy pointed outside, his chest heaving, face pale, mouth working to produce intelligible sounds. Hearing the clatter of horses' hooves in the yard, she realized that the patrol had returned, but that would not normally disturb him. The dogs, too, were barking ferociously.

"What is it?" She came toward him. "What is wrong?"

"Tchoh'n—tchoh'n!" He was excited, even frantic, eyes wide, his words more distorted than usual.

"Slow down and tell me," she said, coming closer.

"Tch... oll-hun. Da!" he exclaimed in frustration. "Here!"

Then she understood, and her heart dropped like a stone. "Colin? Your father is here?"

He nodded and pointed. Through the open door, she glimpsed men and horses and heard voices. Before she could reach the door, a man stepped inside. Ninian skittered out of his way.

In breastplate and cloak, Colin seemed larger and heavier than she remembered, but she had not forgotten his thick, ruddy features, or the glower that composed them now.

"Boy, I asked you a question! I expect an answer from you, despite that affliction of yours. Where is the smith, and the lady who resides here as well? Boy—" He stopped, seeing Eva.

Eva watched him, standing very still. Ninian came toward her, and she rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Eva!" Colin moved toward her. "I have been eager to see you." He smiled and held out his hands. "Or should I say, wife. It is good to be here at last."

"Colin," she said calmly, though her heart slammed and her fingers trembled on Ninian's shoulder. She did not give Colin her hand in greeting. When he leaned forward to kiss her, she turned her head so that his lips met her cheek. He pulled back.

"You did get word of our marriage?" he asked. "I sent a letter to inform you that it was done. The king thought it best in order to hasten the petitions I have pending. It was not difficult to arrange a proxy ceremony."

"I got the word," she said stiffly, "but not from you. I learned about it from... a message the king sent here."

He nodded. "So long as you know. We have much to celebrate, then." His narrowed gaze skimmed her from head to foot. "I hardly knew you, hiding in this dark little hut. You look like a fishwife in that old gown and plaid. That will change now that you are the wife of a man of position."

She lifted her chin and did not reply.

He stepped away to shut the door behind him, closing off the sounds from the yard of the men dismounting, talking, leading their horses to the stable. An oppressive silence filled the room. Eva had never perceived the little house as dim, cramped, or smoky; it had always seemed intimate, familiar, and welcoming. But Colin brought shadows and tension inside with him.

He came toward her. "I hoped to find you well, but by the saints, I did not expect to find you in such poor circumstances."

"I like it here, where I am safe, and welcomed by friends."

"I saw Robson at Strathlan earlier today. He told me you fled Innisfarna—sheer temper, I told him. Still the she-wolf, eh?" Taking her hand in his rough one, he kissed it, his lips cold and dry. "I see you found the boy."

"Ninian." She pressed his shoulder in encouragement. "Greet your father."

Ninian spoke with halting nasal distortion, but Eva understood him. "God be with you, Father," he managed to say.

Colin frowned at him, then looked at Eva. "Taught it to speak, did you?" She sucked in her breath, shocked by his heartlessness.

"Ninian speaks quite well," she said. "You must have forgotten that in your absence."

"I did not forget that I sent him to Robson so that he would learn some simple skills. I did not want him to bother you." He frowned at his son. "He looks bigger."

"Of course," she snapped. "He is a growing child. And Robson says he does his tasks well, and he has been a good companion for me here. Ninian has a gift for working with the horses, too. You would be proud to see that. When you teach him to ride, he will outdo any rider you have ever seen." She could feel Ninian's shoulders straightening beneath her hand.

"When I teach him to ride?" Colin laughed.

Covering a flare of temper, Eva patted Ninian's shoulder. "Go to the stable and see if the soldiers need any assistance, if you please." Smiling, she gave him a little push. He skirted past Colin and fled outside.

Eva glared at Colin. "How can you treat your own son as if he is worthless—scarcely human!"

"I see you went softhearted over him. Have mercy, little wildcat. I am not without sympathy. I do my duty as a father, though heaven fastened him upon me like a trial."

"He is a blessing to you, if you would but see it."

He sent her a perplexed look and strode to a bench to sit down. "Get me some ale. I am thirsty after a long ride," he said. "I doubt you have good wine here, though I sent some to Innisfarna for my use later. What became of it?"

"I have no idea," she said stiffly. She poured some heather ale and smacked the cup down on the table in front of him. "I am not an innkeeper," she said. "Though you are welcome to the hospitality. I can offer you porridge if you are hungry." He waved in refusal. With regret, she realized that Ninian, hungry as he was, had not yet eaten; she would make certain he did so after Colin left.

Dear God, she thought, let him depart soon. She needed time to accept that he was here at last—and that all her dreams, however precious and impossible, had ended now. Whatever hope she harbored wavered in his intense and demanding presence.

But she must cling to hope and the strength of her decision. Marriage with Colin would be unendurable, no matter the benefits for her kin. He had demonstrated already how arrogant, unsavory, even cruel he could be. And she could not imagine life without Lachlann now.

For one fervent, guilt-edged moment, she wished Colin would tell her that he could do nothing for her kinsmen. Only then would she feel free to refuse him entirely. She frowned and arranged her thoughts as if she prepared weapons for battle, then opened her mouth to speak.

"So you took the boy under your wing," Colin said abruptly, wiping his mouth after swallowing ale.

She nodded. "He is a good lad. Colin—"

"He should have died at birth, puling and ugly thing that he was, choking on his food."

"Dear God," she said. "He is but a child!"

"His mother died after he was born, and left him with me. A penance for my sins. She was my leman, and not my first wife, who died childless." He looked at her over his cup boldly, daring her to protest against his penchant for mistresses.

"I see," she said flatly. "Who raised him?"

"My mother took over his care and coddled him too much. But she brought him healthy to boyhood," he admitted in a grudging tone. "Not easy to do with a changeling."

"Changeling?"

"My mother never believed it, but I am convinced he can only be a changeling child. My own son must have been taken out of the birth chamber and this one left behind. He should have been left on a hill for the faeries to take back. He is a wild creature, most of an idiot, lazy and foolish as faeries are. He scarcely ages, and he will never be a tall man—but hill faeries do not breed strong and beautiful," he added, glancing at her. "Not like your kind."

"My kind?" she asked in astonishment.

"Dark faeries—the tall, warlike ones of old, the ones in your heritage," he said. "Aeife's line. I like to think, my dear," he went on, "that you are very much like her."

She stared at him, her heart suddenly pounding in realization: for all his shrewdness and practical coldness, Colin believed in faeries. She narrowed her eyes, wondering at that oddity in such a hardened, worldly man. Colin seemed fascinated by the ancient line of her descent.

"Ninian is a sprite of some sort. Stares at me like a dimwit and cannot speak. Never will, with that curse upon him."

"My own faery blood is nothing but a legend," she said. "I am sure I am nothing like Aeife the Radiant One. And I do not know how you can speak so ill of your own son," she added.

"Huh. I half expect him to go up the chimney in smoke one of these days. But I have a duty to him, so I sent him to Innisfarna to be a page. It is Christian charity."

"Give him the charity of your heart. He is neither idiot nor changeling, but a little boy. He needs the respect and love of his father, like any son."

Colin scowled. "He has charmed you, I see. So it was with my mother, who spoiled him when she was alive—showed him more mother's love than I ever got, I will tell you! My father never allowed me to be coddled in his household. Ninian needs simple tasks and a strict hand. It is the only way with such a one as that," he muttered, and gulped ale. "Unwise to succor a faery breed. Should have got rid of it."

Feeling a wave of fury, Eva fisted her hands. "Colin, please! Can you not act the proper father to him, and show him some amount of tolerance—even simple kindness?"

He waggled his brows. "Taking your husband to task, are you? We can play that game. But I was hoping for a happy welcome. You are a sour girl."