This Heart of Mine (79 page)

They were not the picture-pretty villages of England with their whitewashed cottages and windowboxes of brightly colored flowers. The houses here were of dark stone, and the summer season, Alex told his wife, was not long enough to encourage flowers. Besides, such things took time, valuable time that was needed for more important things like helping in the fields of barley and oats or for keeping the kitchen garden free of rabbits so that there would be onions, leeks, and carrots through most of the winter.

“ ’Tis a beautiful land, lass, but often ’tis a harsh one for our people.”

She was beginning to understand him through this. “At least the cottages are sturdy,” she noted.

“Aye, but they dinna belong to the people who live in them. They belong to the lord of the land. Only the roofs belong to the peasants. If they move, the roof goes with them.”

It took several days for them to reach
Dun Broc
, and, to Velvet’s surprise, they stopped well before sunset each day and only at the houses of people who were bound by oath of fidelity to the great Gordon clan. Velvet and Alex were welcomed warmly there, fed simple suppers, and given beds from which they arose before dawn to eat bowls of hot oat stirabout with honey and cream, still warm from the cow, and then went on their way.

Velvet, having been advised by Cat Leslie, was now dressed very much like the Countess of Glenkirk. She rode astride, wearing dark green trunk hose and a cream-silk shirt over which she sported a leather jerkin with bone buttons belted with a wide, brown leather belt that had a silver buckle and showed her tiny waist off to perfection. Her brown leather boots came to her knees and her auburn hair was clubbed back with a black ribbon. Atop her head was perched a velvet bonnet with one eagle’s feather in it, and she carried a Gordon plaid of warm wool should she grow chilly. Alex was dressed in his kilt as were all of his men, but in his bonnet he wore two eagle feathers denoting him as a chieftain of a cadet branch of the Clan Gordon. Only the Earl of Huntley, George Gordon, had the right to wear three feathers, and, in all of Scotland, only the king himself wore four.

Pansy was also dressed like a boy, to the delight of Alex’s men and the belligerent annoyance of her husband, who, seeing his comrades eyeing his wife’s shapely legs hugging her pony, became quite jealous. Before Pansy on her saddle rode
little Dugie, although sometimes Dugald couldn’t resist carrying his son himself to both his and the boy’s delight.

Velvet’s heart began to hammer with excitement when on the third afternoon Alex suddenly said to her, “We’re now on BrocCairn land, lass.”

“Where is
Dun Broc?”
she asked, looking about.

He smiled at her innocence. “ ’Tis several miles away over the next ridge of hills, but ye canna see it yet.”

They rode on through the forest, sunlit this afternoon, and around a small lake he told her was called Loch Beith, meaning birch. Indeed, the loch was surrounded by them, their leaves bright gold with the autumn sun, reflecting themselves vainly in the blue, blue loch. The sight took her breath away.

On they rode up the hills surrounding the loch, through the pine forest, and once Velvet thought she saw a fox, and another time a family of pine martens. Alex told her that the area was home to weasels, wolves, and wildcats as well. When they reached the top of the small mountain that Alex insisted on calling a wee hill, the sight that met her eyes as they stopped to rest the horses was one of incredible beauty. Below them was a small glen where the village of Broc Ailien was located as well as the manor house of his brother-in-law, Ian Grant, Alex told her. She could see a great herd of cattle grazing in a meadow near the village.

“Cattle, lass, is the sign of a man’s wealth here,” he said. “A good deal of our wealth comes from them. We raise the cattle, and then each autumn a portion of the herd is slaughtered, then pickled, and barrels of it shipped to France, Holland, Denmark, and certain German states. I have a permit from the king to take salmon from my waters, and these, too, are exported either smoked, salted, or dried. My wealth comes from my cattle mainly, however.”

“Who ships your goods?” she demanded, ever her mother’s daughter.

He chuckled. “In my youth I convinced my father to let me invest in the purchase of several ships, and we now ship our own goods rather than pay another to do it. Before that time we had to contract out to a middleman who usually took too great a fee and still cheated us.” He pointed. “Look across the glen, Velvet, and then look up upon the mountain above it.”

Velvet’s eyes followed his finger, and suddenly she saw it, a castle that seemed to spring up from the very rocks of the mountainside.

“Dun Broc!”
he said.

A small thrill raced through her.
Dun Broc! Her home!
It was not a large castle, but, oh, how beautiful it was with its battlements and towers soaring high above the glen. It would be practically impregnable, she thought. She could not even see how one could reach it, and she asked Alex.

He smiled. “Look carefully, lass. There is a very narrow, walled road that leads from the glen up to
Dun Broc.”

“Then the castle cannot be attacked, can it? You couldn’t get enough of an army up that narrow road at one time to make an attack, could you?”

“Nay,” he answered, “but we are not totally impregnable, lass. The north side of the castle sits atop the mountain on a narrow plain. Although we are walled, like any castle walls they are breachable in certain instances. Still, only once in the history of
Dun Broc
were those walls scaled successfully, and that was during the reign of James IV. A castle serving girl who was in love with one of the opposing soldiers let a ladder down to her lover one night, and he, after rendering her unconscious, opened the main gate to the king’s soldiers.”

“Why was the lang besieging
Dun Broc?”
asked Velvet.

He smiled. “ ’Twas a small dispute over a pretty lady. The lady, however, preferred my ancestor and married him after he had carried her away. The king broke in and found them honeymooning, but instead of being angry he is said to have laughed, admitted he was well bested, and given them a wedding gift of a golden candelabra, which you will see on the sideboard in the Great Hall tonight.”

Velvet laughed. “ ’Tis a very romantic place that is to be my home.” Then she turned, her face radiant. “It’s beautiful even from here, Alex, and I know that I’m going to love it!”

“Let’s go home then, lass,” he said, and they began their descent into the glen.

“The earl is coming!” A barefooted boy ran at top speed through Broc Ailien shouting, “The earl is coming!” He was proud to be the first one to trumpet the news.

The cottage doors flew open, and the residents of the village poured forth to welcome their lord and his wife. Broc Ailien, Velvet noted, was more prosperous-looking than so many of the other villages that they had passed through. Some of the cottages had front gardens that did indeed boast flowers, and those that didn’t had boxes of herbs on the windowsills. The faces were smiling and filled with welcome; the men casting approving looks at Velvet, the women nodding slyly at one another.

“Welcome home, m’lord!”

“Welcome to yer lady, m’lord!”

“God bless ye both, m’lord!”

The greetings came thick and fast, and Velvet couldn’t help smiling. Alex, who knew each and every resident of his village, had a word for them all. “Allan, I thank ye kindly! Gavin, ye’ve gotten fat while I’ve been gone. Hae ye been poaching in my woods again, man? Jean, another bairn? This will make three in three years, won’t it?” They looked absolutely delighted to see him, to be acknowledged so personally. He knew all about them, their problems, their strengths, their weaknesses, and Velvet could tell that they loved him for it.

There was a small village square with a Celtic cross to mark it, a small inn, and a little church in Broc Ailien. This is a good place to live, thought Velvet. Then a woman stepped directly in front of Alex’s horse. She was petite and blond, and she was holding up a child, a little girl.

“Will you not bid your daughter a good day, Alex? Have you brought her a fine gift as I promised her?” the woman asked boldly.

“Ye should nae promise what ye canna give, Alanna,” Alex said quietly, and attempted to move his horse by her and her child.

Alanna poked her daughter, and as if on cue the child cried out, “Papa! Papa!” She was too tiny to say much more, but it had its effect.

Unable to help himself, Alex reached down and took the child up into his arms. “How are ye, Sibby?” he asked, his face tender. It was obvious that he loved his daughter.

It was as if someone had thrust a knife into her vitals so sharp was the pain. Velvet turned her head away, and quick tears filled her eyes, but only Pansy saw them. The tiring woman glowered at Alanna Wythe, but the blond English girl merely tossed her head and smiled boldly.

“Is this your wife, then Alex?” she said.

Without answering her, the earl handed her back the baby, then turning to Velvet said, “We’re almost there now, sweetheart. Ye’re beginning to look tired.” Then they moved on and rode out of the village.

Jean Lawrie, the goodwife to whom Alex had spoken, looked archly at Alanna Wythe. “Ye’d best beware, ye bold baggage! I’ve known Alex Gordon my whole life, and I can tell ye that he’ll nae put up wi’ yer forwardness, nor will he allow ye to offend his bride.”

“You’ve two daughters, don’t you, Mistress Lawrie? If you
want that fine son you’re carrying to be born safe, I’d not offend me.” Alanna’s eyes narrowed.

Jean Lawrie crossed herself. “Oh, ye’re a bad one, ye are! Ye’ll nae frighten me though. I dinna believe the tale that ye’re a witch. Perhaps ye can fool some of the younger girls in this village wi’ yer love charms and potions, but ye canna fool me. If ye’re so all-powerful, then why has yer witchcraft not kept the earl’s favor?”

“Alex loves me,” Alanna Wythe declared firmly.

“Humph,” snorted Jean Lawrie. “Ye’re a fool if ye believe that, lass. I saw the look he gave his beautiful wife. He’ll hae her belly filled in nae time at all, and when her son is born, he’ll nae gie ye another thought. He wouldn’t now except for wee Sibby.” Then she flounced off, satisfied at having bested the Englishwoman.

Angrily Alanna stared after her, but then she turned to look after Alex. She had given him a child, and what was her reward? A cottage in this backwater village and a pension that could barely keep them. She detested keeping house, and no woman in the village would work for her. Sybilla was forever hanging onto her skirts, whining for this or that. Alanna hated it here, but eventually she would be back at
Dun Broc
with a servant to care for her and another to look after her brat. She had already begun casting charms that would bring Alex back to her and away from the proud bitch who had not even bothered to look at her.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Alex apologized as they reached the narrow, walled road that led up to
Dun Broc.

Velvet took a deep breath. “ ’Twas not your fault, Alex, but now perhaps you’ll see why she must go. She’ll not give you up, and she uses the child to gain your attention.”

“If I send her away, God only knows what will happen to wee Sybilla, and she’s a bonny little bairn, Velvet. Surely ye saw that?”

“I did not notice, Alex, but you could give the child to some kindly village woman to raise. Surely she would be better off, and I suspect that Mistress Wythe will be happy to accept a bag of gold from you and her passage home to London.”

“God, Velvet! I dinna think a great deal of Alanna, but what kind of woman would leave her child? She’ll nae do it, I’m certain, but gie me a little time and I will try to have her gone before the winter sets in here. Be patient lass. Ye need nae see her again.”

He couldn’t know how his words wounded her, but she
would not tell him of Yasaman. Instead she said, “I will see her each time I go down to the village, Alex, you may be certain of it.”

“She’d nae be so bold,” he said, and Velvet thought how little her husband knew women.

“You cannot be sure what she will do, Alex. Remember Mary de Boult,” she warned. Then she changed the subject entirely, asking, “Where is your sister’s house? Did you not say ’twas in this glen also?”

“ ’Tis on the other side of the village,” he answered. “We’ll go there in a few days, but I am certain that we’ll find both Annabella and Ian awaiting us at
Dun Broc.
Dinna invite her to spend the night or we’ll nae get rid of her for a week.”

“Alex! She’s your sister, your only sister!”

“She’s a spoilt and willful minx,” he answered her. “When Mother and Nigel died, she moved herself and that weak-kneed husband of hers right into
Dun Broc
, and it wasn’t until Father passed away that I was able to rid myself of her. She was already telling her bairns that they would inherit
Dun Broc
one day because I wasn’t married or likely to be so. She herself could have made a better match than the one she made, but for some reason she wed wi’ Ian Grant. I have never been able to understand it.”

They were close to the head of the road, and Velvet could see the lowered drawbridge and the portcullis raised to welcome the castle’s master. Suddenly upon the battlements appeared a lone piper whose bagpipe wailed a spirited tune that Alex told her was called “BrocCairn’s Triumph.” The sound of the pipe hovered in the air over the glen, the notes blending one into another until the last of the melody was played in a victorious burst. Velvet could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising in excitement.

“Tis how the chief is welcomed home,” Alex said, “and today is a most joyful homecoming for my people because ye’re with me, Velvet. They’ve long awaited their Countess of BrocCairn, lass. My mother’s been dead close to five years now.”

They passed over the drawbridge, the horses’ hooves drumming on the heavy wood, and beneath the portcullis arch into the castle courtyard. On the south wall was the stables, with its blacksmith shop and its armory. Directly before them across the courtyard was the castle itself with its walled garden. The double-arched main doors of the castle were open, and waiting on the stone steps leading to them were a man and a woman.