Wings of Morning (24 page)

“Well, Molly’s birthday is March 14. Mayhap, if I could scratch up the funds, I could throw a grand party for the lass and invite Regan to attend. If she knew it was a verra special occasion, she might be willing to come, even being with child and all. She won’t be that far along in another three weeks or so, after all. From what I’ve heard, she’ll be but six months along.”

Walter paused again, then sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ve barely the funds for a simple birthday gift, much less a fine party. There are just too many repairs needed for such an old house as this.”

William shot him a relieved look. “Och, if that’s all that’s keeping ye from persuading Regan to come here, that’s no problem at all. I can cover the costs of a birthday celebration.” He reached down to unfasten a leather pouch hanging from his belt. “How much do ye need?”

Eyeing the size of the pouch, Walter named an amount that soon emptied half of William’s coin. If he had dared, he’d have asked for most of what the other man carried. But Walter didn’t want to appear greedy. Once William had implicated himself in Iain Campbell’s murder, it’d be a simple enough thing to extract periodic payments from him. And that, on top of Regan’s annual support stipend, should cover his needs very nicely.

“I thank ye for yer generous donation to my sister’s birthday celebration,” he said as he rose and placed the coins in a small, carved wooden box sitting on the mantel.

“Just see that Regan attends and stays here until her husband comes to fetch her,” Drummond growled, “and it’ll be money well spent.”

“I’ll do what I can.” Walter turned from the mantel. “Just pray that Iain doesn’t linger overlong in Edinburgh. If the queen’s problems aren’t soon solved, we may have a bigger problem on our hands.”

“And that problem would be?”

“Any use of force to keep Regan at Strathyre wouldn’t sit well with her husband. And, her devotion to Molly notwithstanding, I can only keep her here for a finite amount of time.”

“Are ye certain this is such a good idea?” Mathilda asked two weeks later as Regan prepared to mount her horse. “I know it’s yer foster sister’s birthday and all, but what if Iain returns while ye’re gone? He’ll not be pleased to discover ye’ve ridden off to visit Strathyre in the middle of yer pregnancy.”

Regan laughed. “And what’s so terrible about a half day’s journey in the middle of a pregnancy? Most peasant women work until the day they deliver, and sometimes that’s in the fields where they’ve gone to assist their husbands in the harvest or planting. In light of that, I’m thinking I can endure a wee ride.” At her mother-in-law’s worried expression, she relented at last. “Fine. How about if I ride in a pony cart instead of upon a horse? Would that ease yer concerns?”

“Aye, it would. It’s just that I wish . . . wish ye’d stay safe and sound here, that’s all.” Mathilda lifted her gaze. “And what am I to tell Iain? He’ll blame me, he will.”

“Tell him to come fetch me posthaste. I’ve been wanting to pay Strathyre a visit for a time now. I miss Molly. She’s only seven, going on eight, after all. She doesn’t understand why I’ve been so long away from her.”

“Then mayhap ye could bring her back with ye for an extended visit. Surely Walter MacLaren wouldn’t mind, would he? What little I saw of him at yer wedding, I wasn’t taken with him or his surly nature. Indeed, the wee lass would likely do better at Balloch for a time than moldering away with that unpleasant man for a brother.”

It was true Walter rarely had time for his sister. But he was also a man beset with myriad problems, the very least of which was where sufficient funds would next come to keep Strathyre going, much less see to the endless repairs the old tower house needed. Still, Regan had to admit Mathilda’s suggestion was a most pleasant consideration.

Molly would definitely accept the offer, and Regan felt certain she could convince Walter to do so as well. After all, it’d be one less mouth to feed for a time, and he could let the nurse who cared for Molly go while the little girl was at Balloch. That, too, would save him money.

“Yer idea has merit,” Regan replied. “Despite what ye may think, though, Walter does love his sister. Nonetheless, I might well be able to convince him to allow her an extended visit. Mayhap, if we’re verra fortunate, even through the summer.”

Iain’s mother clapped her hands together. “Och, and wouldn’t that be a wonderful time! She’d be here for the bairn’s birth, she would. And she and I could go for walks in the garden, and I could read her stories, and ye and I could see her in some new gowns. Och, I can’t wait!”

Regan grinned. From wearing a long face and almost begging her not to leave, Mathilda had changed to nearly shooing her from the castle. It was evident the older woman loved children and wished for more of them at Balloch. Her and Iain’s children would certainly be blessed with a doting, loving grandmother.

“We’ll be off then,” she said, reining in her horse. “After all, the sooner I get there and celebrate Molly’s birthday, the sooner I can return with the wee lass.”

Mathilda nodded and stepped back. “Aye, best ye do. Indeed, if all goes well, mayhap ye’ll even be back before Iain returns.”

“Aye, mayhap I will.” With that, Regan strode off to find Charlie and commandeer a pony and cart.

On a fine, late April afternoon, Iain finally returned home. As he reined in his horse in the inner courtyard, he gave a great, contented sigh.

“I know we’ve been gone barely two months,” he said, glancing at his cousin, “but it feels like two years.”

Niall grinned, then swung down from his mount. “Aye, it does. But that, my friend, comes with being in love and counting the days until ye can return to yer beloved. It’s a most unsettling problem, to be sure.”

“A problem, of course, from which
ye’ve
never suffered.”

“Och, never, of course.” Niall’s grin faded. “I can’t believe my son’s now over two months old, and I’ve missed all those early, precious days with him. And then, there’s Annie . . .”

“Aye, there’s Annie.” Iain dismounted. “Well, it won’t be but another few days and ye’ll be with her again. As for me, I can’t wait to see Regan. Do ye think her belly will be huge by now?”

His cousin chuckled. “That’s unlikely, with over two more months to go. Ye haven’t much pleasant time left with her, though. She’ll soon become verra weary of her childbearing, what with her back aching all the time, and her inability to get out of bed or chairs without help, and her sleepless nights. By the time she finally delivers, ye’ll almost feel as if ye’ve borne the bairn with her.”

“Will I now?” Iain laughed, then handed his horse’s reins to one of the stable lads who ran up. “Now, that’s a most pleasant consideration.”

“Well, mayhap I exaggerate a bit. It’s hard, though, to see the woman ye love so miserable. Especially during the actual birthing.” Niall dragged in an unsteady breath. “It nearly tears yer heart out.”

“Aye.” Iain sobered. “I fear it as any man would. Still, it’s the woman who must suffer the pains and risk the dangers. I want to be there for Regan, though. I won’t let her go through it alone.”

“Be prepared, then, to fight yer way past the midwife, maidservants, and, for ye, yer mither. They seem to think a man’s place isn’t in the birthing chamber.”

“Mayhap.” Iain indicated they should head for the keep, where his mother was just now exiting. “But if Regan wants me there, there I’ll be, and no one will tell me otherwise.”

As they approached Mathilda, Iain glanced around for sign of his wife. Strange that she hadn’t been one of the first to greet them. Unless she was perhaps ill, or something—a chill coursed through him—had happened to her and their bairn.

“Where’s Regan?” he immediately asked, forgoing the usual greetings. “Is she all right?”

His mother smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “Aye, she’s fine. And it’s most pleasant to see ye again too.”

Relief almost making his knees weak, Iain took her into his arms and gave her a hug. “I’ve missed ye, Mither, and I’m so verra glad to be home!” He loosened his grip on her to lean back and gaze down into her face. “Now, where’s Regan? If she’s fine, why hasn’t she come out to greet us? Surely she’s not angry with me? I know we’ve been gone far longer than we’d hoped, but there was naught to be done for it.”

“Well, we can talk about the queen over the supper meal,” Mathilda said briskly. “And the reason Regan hasn’t come out to greet ye is because she isn’t here.”

Iain went very still. “Where has she gone then, and why?”

“About a week into March, she received an invitation from that foster brother of hers. Seems he was having a special birthday celebration for his sister, Molly, and Regan, being so close to the wee lass, wanted desperately to attend. I saw no harm in it. The lass, after all, was pining after ye something fierce. I thought a short visit to her old home would do her good. So she left with an escort of ten of yer men, and, save for a few letters in the first weeks, I haven’t heard from her since.”

Iain frowned, released his mother, and took a step back. “And the lads ye sent along with her? Are they still at Strathyre House as well?”

“Well, nay. Regan soon sent all but one of them back, claiming their board was too great a drain on Walter’s meager funds. The plan was to send the one lad back to Balloch to fetch a sufficient escort when she was ready to return.”

“And don’t ye think it strange she’s been there close to six weeks now, with no further communication or having sent our man back with a request to fetch her?”

Mathilda looked chagrined. “Aye, of course I was beginning to wonder. But I kept hoping ye’d return any time and see to the matter yerself. Not that
ye
were overly conscientious in keeping me apprised of the goings-on at Court or yer plans either!”

Niall chose that moment to intervene. Taking Mathilda’s hand, he tucked her arm in his. “There was little time to be writing, if we’d even dared tell ye of what was going on,” he said. “And, one way or another, Iain’s now home and can soon fetch his wife.”

He shot Iain a look over the top of his mother’s head. “Seems like we’ll both be heading out again on the morrow. And a wee detour to MacLaren lands won’t put me all that late in getting back to Kilchurn.”

“My thanks,” Iain replied. If Walter MacLaren thought to play some game with him, the added presence of Clan Campbell’s chief and his men would soon give him pause. Not that
he
wasn’t up to confronting the other man himself. Indeed, he’d ride to the gates of hell and back for his wife and unborn child.

Nonetheless, a sense of foreboding filled Iain. “Aye, we’ll indeed head out at first light,” he muttered. “There’s something not right about this overlong visit. Whether Walter MacLaren likes it or not, I mean to bring Regan home posthaste.”

17

“Regan, I’m
so
bored! Could we go for a walk?”

Glancing up from the tiny set of stockings she was knitting, Regan looked over at Molly. The little girl had long ago given up on the simple scarf she had been trying to knit and had taken up a spot on the bench beneath the bedchamber window. She looked back now, though, with a pleading expression in her bright blue eyes.

Regan smiled and set aside her own knitting. “Aye, that’d be a nice change from all this hard work, wouldn’t it?” She rose, walked to where Molly sat, and extended her hand. “And where would ye like to go?”

Molly jumped down from the bench and took her hand. “Let’s walk down to the loch. It’s warm enough, isn’t it, for me to go wading?”

“Hardly,” Regan replied with a chuckle. “Though it’s next to the last day of April and the springtide flowers are blooming, the loch is still sure to be verra cold.” At the girl’s crestfallen expression, she laughed. “But mayhap we can pick a pretty bouquet of flowers instead. For the dining table in the Great Hall. It’ll look so nice there for the supper meal, don’t ye think?”

“Och, aye!” Molly’s expression brightened, and she tugged on Regan’s hand. “Let’s go. Come on, Regan!”

It was a mild, sunny afternoon, and they were soon strolling down the narrow, winding dirt path from Strathyre House to Loch Voil. Eventually, a little burn joined up to run alongside the path, its banks covered in yellow-petaled marsh marigolds interspersed with red and white tulips. In the shade of nearby oak and rowan woods, colorful primroses grew. White heather bloomed on the sun-kissed hillsides, and marsh violets peeked through the sprouting grass beneath the newly budded birch and willow trees perched on the very edge of the shore.

They must have spent a good three-quarters of an hour walking along, picking flowers, when Molly paused to glance up the hill toward Strathyre House. She stood there, her hand shading her eyes, for so long that Regan finally turned to see what she was looking at.

A large group of men on horses—she guessed it to be thirty or more—had drawn up before the old tower house. Even from a good quarter of a mile down the hill, Regan thought she could make out Campbell colors. Her heart gave a great lurch. Iain! Could it possibly be him?

“Come, Molly.” She extended her hand to the little girl. “We’ve visitors. It’s only proper we go up to greet them.”

Molly paused only long enough to shift all the flowers she had been picking into her other hand, then took Regan’s hand and fell into step alongside her. “Do ye think it’s yer folk, come finally to fetch us?”

“Mayhap.”

Regan certainly hoped so. After a month visiting Walter and Molly, she had thought it time to send David Campbell, the only one of her escort she had kept behind, back to Balloch to request additional riders to accompany her home. But that had been over two weeks ago. Even with the repeated bouts of spring rains, it had begun to seem overlong for the men’s return. Walter’s decided lack of enthusiasm for sending one of his own men to discern what the problem might be had additionally been troubling.

Now, though, there might well be no further cause for concern. Even if Iain wasn’t with the other men, perhaps David had at last returned with the others to fetch her. One way or another, she’d be glad to return to Balloch. It was, after all, her home now.

Just then one of the riders turned, appeared to catch sight of her and Molly, and swung off his horse. He started down the path to the loch, his long, ground-eating strides carrying him swiftly to them. His tall, broad-shouldered form and blond hair soon gave him away. It was Iain.

Regan gave a low cry and attempted to quicken her pace, but the extra weight of the child she carried soon slowed her once again. It didn’t matter, though. Iain broke into a run.

In a matter of seconds, he slid to a halt before her. Regan inhaled a deep breath. “Well, it’s about time ye were coming for yer wife,” she said, her heart pounding so hard she imagined he could hear it. “I was beginning to think the wonders of Court and all its fine ladies had dazzled ye into forgetting about me.”

Iain’s deep blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “As if there were any other woman for me but ye, lass.” He moved close, took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. “Och, I confess I counted the days until I could return to ye, I did,” he said hoarsely when he had finally lowered her hand to clutch it over his heart. “Court and all its allure hold no appeal for me anymore. Not when I’ve a wife I love, a bairn on the way, and the finest home in all of Scotland to return to.”

It was all Regan needed to hear. With a joyous sound, she flung her arms about Iain’s neck, lifted on tiptoe, and kissed him. Pulling her to him, he returned her kiss with an equally ardent one of his own.

Regan didn’t know how long they would’ve stood there like that if Molly hadn’t finally tugged on her skirt.

“It’s not polite to ignore a body,” she said rather grumpily. “And it’s even more impolite not to introduce us. Ye taught me that yerself, ye did.”

With an amused snort, Regan hastily disengaged herself from Iain. “Och, Molly, I’m so sorry.” She looked from the little girl to Iain. “M’lord, I’d like to introduce ye to Molly MacLaren, Walter’s sister. And Molly, this is my husband, Iain Campbell.”

Her cheeks dimpling with a shy smile, Molly curtsied prettily. “M’lord, I’m verra pleased to meet ye.”

Iain dropped to one knee before her. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips in a gallant kiss. “And I’m verra pleased to meet ye at last, m’lady.”

Molly examined him with solemn interest. For a fleeting instant, Regan feared she had taken a sudden dislike to Iain. But then, as if finally making up her mind, the little girl nodded.

“I like ye,” she said. “And ye’re verra bonny, ye are.”

“Am I now?” Iain chuckled, released her hand, and shoved to his feet. “Have a care, lass, or ye’re sure to turn my head.”

“Aye,” Regan added, shooting her husband a wry look. “He’s already quite insufferable as it is, what with all the lasses swooning at the mere sight of him. It’s up to us, I fear, to keep his head from exploding with conceit.”

“Och, and wouldn’t that make a mess!” Molly wrinkled her nose and stared at Iain’s head as if watching it for signs of a sudden size increase. “Still, as bonny as ye are,” she next said, suddenly changing the course of the conversation, “ye’re not half as bonny as my brother Roddy was. That’s why Regan married him first, ye know.”

Regan couldn’t help a small inhalation of breath. She looked to Iain.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem the least offended by the little girl’s remark. Instead, he gave a thoughtful nod.

“Aye, but I love Regan so much that I was happy she’d have me anyway.”

Molly twisted her mouth. It could only mean one thing. She was struggling with something really difficult and confusing. Regan moved close and laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Ye marrying her.” The child gazed up at him, her eyes suddenly tear bright. “Ye took her away from us, me and Walter. It’s verra mean, ye know.”

Iain looked to Regan, entreaty now gleaming in his eyes. She smiled, then squatted beside Molly. “And have ye already forgotten that Walter gave ye leave to visit us the entire summer?” She shot Iain a quick, pleading glance. He smiled and nodded. “So ye see, we’re all but neighbors now, and can visit back and forth whenever we wish.”

“I’d like it better,” the girl muttered, “if ye still lived with us.”

“Yet ye also know that when women wed, they usually move away from their childhood homes. As ye’ll surely do someday, when ye find a braw man to wed.”

“Nay.” Molly shook her head with firm resolve. “I don’t want ever to leave Strathyre House. And I don’t want ever to wed.”

Regan chuckled softly and stood. “Well, that may be for now, but let’s see how ye feel in another ten years or so.” She looked up the hill to where everyone still waited. “Now, I think it best we finish our walk back to Strathyre. It also isn’t polite to keep guests waiting.”

As they turned back to the path, Molly grabbed Regan’s hand and held it tightly. Iain joined Regan on her other side, and they were soon striding up the hill together.

Walter and Niall awaited them before the steps leading to Strathyre’s main door. Their escort, which consisted of Niall’s as well Iain’s men, remained mounted. Regan, still holding Molly’s hand, and Iain finally drew up before the two men.

The Campbell chief gave Regan a long, considering look, then rendered her a curt nod. “Ye look well, madam,” he said. “Like my Annie, ye appear to carry bairns with little difficulty.”

“My health is good, m’lord,” she replied, still able to manage a half curtsy without losing her balance. “And, now that Iain’s returned, I’m certain it’ll improve all the more.”

“Well, leastwise yer mood’s bound to improve,” Walter offered, smiling. “Ye must admit ye’ve grown a bit testy these past few weeks.”

Regan arched a slender brow. “Indeed? I hadn’t noticed.”

Walter laughed then. “Be that as it may, I’ll wager yer husband soon will.” He paused and looked around the group. “But forgive my poor manners. Please, come inside so I may offer ye something to drink. And the meager hospitality of my house is also yers for as long as ye wish to remain.”

Niall glanced at Iain. “Ye’ve found Regan hale and hearty. Have ye further need of me?”

Iain shook his head. “Nay. Ye wish to be heading on out then, do ye? Back to Annie and yer wee bairn?”

His cousin grinned. “Aye. Now that ye’ve returned to yer lady, I’ve a great need to do the same.”

“Then go, with my deepest gratitude for all ye’ve done.” Iain extended his arm, and they clasped, hand to elbow.

“Send me word then, when yer bairn comes.”

“Aye.” Iain looked deep into Niall’s eyes. “Ye can be certain of it.”

They stepped back from each other then, and after another perfunctory nod to Regan, the Campbell chief turned and strode over to where his men and horses awaited. In one lithe move, he swung up onto his mount, reined it in, then paused to wave his farewell. Iain and Regan waved back. An instant later, Niall signaled his horse forward. Followed by his men, he rode away.

Iain was the first to turn back to Regan and Walter. “The day draws on, lass. It’s best we, too, were on our way.”

“Och, nay.” Walter held up a hand in apparent protest. “There’s no need for ye to depart so soon. Indeed, I was hopeful ye might stay on for a wee visit. In a sense, we’re family now, Regan being a MacLaren fosterling. Though ye and I’ve had a few tense moments in the past, I’m all for setting old disagreements aside and starting anew.” He offered Iain his hand. “If ye can find it in yer heart, that is, to do so.”

Iain’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. Regan sensed her husband wasn’t predisposed to lower his guard against Walter. Why there was such animosity between the two men, she didn’t know, but whatever it was, it was past time to do as Walter suggested and set it aside.

“He makes a fair request,” she said, meeting Iain’s gaze. “Not to mention, it’d please me greatly.”

“And exactly how long a visit would it take to please ye, lass?” Iain asked.

He was still reluctant, but at least he was willing to concede, and that was the first step. “Och, but a few days would suffice,” she said. “We can always return at a later date for a longer stay.” She turned to Walter. “Would that suffice for ye as well?”

“Aye. Three days should be a most pleasant length for our first visit.” He bent down and picked up Molly, holding her close. “Now, my stablemen will see to the care of yer horses, then help yer men find adequate lodging. And tonight we’ll have a grand feast in the Great Hall in yer honor,” he added, meeting Iain’s gaze.

Iain nodded, his expression inscrutable. “I thank ye for yer hospitality.”

“Och, think naught of it,” Walter said as he turned and headed over to the steps. “The pleasure’s all mine.”

“Would ye mind telling me why ye’ve taken such a dislike to Walter?” Regan asked later that evening after they had retired to bed.

Iain turned on his side to face her. For an instant, she was distracted at the most pleasing sight of her husband’s broad chest and muscled arms. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of looking at him or fail to experience a thrill at the thought of being his wife.

“It was that apparent, was it?” he asked, his deep voice wrenching her back to the matter at hand. “My dislike for Walter?”

Regan rolled her eyes. “Aye, and well ye know it.”

He reached over, took up a lock of hair that had tumbled over her shoulder, and twisted it about his finger. “I’d much prefer,” he replied huskily, his gaze fixed on the candlelit strands in his hand, “spending our first night back together discussing more pleasant matters and, even more so, engaging in them.”

“And why’s that? Are ye afraid ye’ll anger me by speaking ill of my foster brother?”

Iain finally glanced up. “The thought had crossed my mind. Yer continuing affection for him is quite apparent.”

“And do ye fear it’s stronger than my affection for ye then?”

“When I finally returned to Balloch and found ye’d come here,”