Wishing For a Highlander (32 page)

There was a brief tug of war in which she felt like the rope, but Darcy eventually relented when Constance huffed, “Honestly, it’s just a friendly breakfast. Sit. Have some tea and sausage.” To Melanie, she said, “Meet Ginneleah Keith, my dear.” She led her to the young woman rising hesitantly from the chair beside Aodhan’s. “Darcy’s aunt by marriage and Lady of Ackergill.”

She gaped at the young woman. She was pretty. Very pretty, with flawless, sun-kissed skin, long golden waves pinned back on the sides, and a dress the color of robin’s eggs bound around her tiny waist with a yellow ribbon. She transferred her gaping expression to Constance. She’d been so content at Skibo that she’d forgotten all about her hostess’s plan to bring Ginneleah to Dornoch for an intervention regarding the mysterious rose oil.

She couldn’t believe Constance had done it. She’d actually gotten Ginneleah here without Steafan.

“You’re catching flies, dear,” Constance said.

She snapped her mouth shut. Facing the young woman, she recovered and managed an unsteady smile. “Pleased to meet you.” When Ginneleah only stared at her with caution in her eyes, she bit back the urge to blurt out, “I’m not a witch.” Instead, she took a step back and tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

Darcy was at her side an instant later, Aodhan with him. The men still looked tense, but neither of them were brandishing dirks or snarling threats. In fact, Aodhan’s expression warmed when he looked from Darcy to her.

“Ye look well, lass. ’Tis sorry I am that ye left Ackergill under such unfortunate circumstances.” He drew Ginneleah forward with an arm around her shoulders. “I never did think ye were a witch, and I might even manage to convince Steafan of it one day. I will say I am surprised to see ye both,” he said with a look at Darcy. “I doubt Steafan would have permitted Ginnie to come if he’d kent ye’d be here.”

“That’s why I didn’t mention it in my invitation,” Constance said. “Now, everyone eat before the tea goes cold.”

* * * *

As the servants cleared the breakfast dishes, Constance suggested the ladies take advantage of the warm May sun and walk Skibo’s gardens. Melanie’s stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. Did Constance expect her to jump right in with personal questions? She was still recovering from the shock of the first half of their plan having worked. She wasn’t prepared to force a friendship down this poor girl’s throat if she didn’t want it, and Ginneleah definitely seemed shy, if not downright wary.

“Where Ginneleah goes, I go,” Aodhan said, cutting into her thoughts. He rose from his overstuffed chair to lay a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “The laird made me vow to nay let the lass out of my sight.”

Great. How would she and Constance get Ginneleah alone to talk to her about the rose oil when the girl’s father was sticking to her like wool on a sheep?

As usual, Constance was not without a plan. She herded them all from the breakfast room saying, “Then it’s settled. Aodhan will escort the ladies to the gardens and oversee their talk of babies and gowns and Darcy will find Wilhelm in the practice yard.” Tugging on Darcy’s elbow, she added, “I believe the laird mentioned Ian the Bowmaker would be demonstrating his newest creations this afternoon. Perhaps he’ll arrange a competition for the men. I’m sure Aodhan will enjoy hearing about it at supper.”

Aodhan’s shoulders stiffened.

“Are ye sure ye dinna wish to come, Aodhan?” Darcy had apparently caught onto the fact that Constance wanted Ginneleah away from her father. “How long has it been since ye’ve tried a new bow? It’s been years for me. I wonder if I can still pick a pear off a fencepost.”

Aodhan grumbled a very Scottish sounding harrumph before pulling Ginneleah aside. Father and daughter exchanged a few hushed words. Ginneleah rolled her eyes. She might be the lady of Ackergill, but at the moment, she was every bit a teenager seeking independence from an overbearing parent.

Finally Aodhan cleared his throat and said, “I shall accompany Darcy to the practice field, then seek Ginneleah in the gardens in one hour.”

Constance said, “What a pity. We understand, though, and I shall personally vouch for the safety of Laird Steafan’s Lady.” She took Ginneleah’s arm and gave Melanie a private wink before whisking the girl away.

She followed, but not before Darcy kissed her goodbye and whispered, “Tonight, ye will be telling me what you and Constance are about, lass. I dinna trust ’tis bairns or gowns ye’ll be discussing.”

“Later,” she breathed near his ear and sent him off with the Keith war chieftain to play with weapons.

“It seems you’re surrounded by protective men,” Constance said to Ginneleah as they emerged into the kitchen garden.

The fresh scents of rosemary, parsley, and dill eased her nerves. So did Constance’s confident manner. At least one of them seemed to know what to do.

“Aye, but they mean well,” Ginneleah said diplomatically. She had a soft alto voice that probably had a soothing effect on Steafan. What kind of effect might Steafan have on Ginneleah? The girl didn’t look depressed. Maybe because she was away from him for a time.

“Then you must consider yourself blessed,” Constance said. “As I do, dear. I have a protective husband as well. And from what I’ve observed, so does Melanie.”

Ginneleah glanced at her and some of her wariness thawed. She stopped short of smiling, however. “’Tis glad I am that Big Darcy is wed. And sorry I am that my husband thought so poorly of ye as to force his nephew to run away to keep ye safe.”

The sentiment appeared genuine, though Ginneleah obviously harbored some reservations where she was concerned. She thanked the girl and smiled warmly, hoping to put her at ease. It seemed to work, because soon, they were talking freely about how Darcy’s mill was running and how Edmund and Fran were faring up at Fraineach.

When they’d wandered deep into Skibo’s manicured paths of blooming bushes and trees and were surrounded by nothing but fragrant nature and warm sunshine, Constance settled herself on a stone bench and said, “Ginneleah, I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, dear. Ever since Wilhelm received a note of gracious thanks from Steafan for a gift of rose oil.”

Ginneleah’s tan cheeks took on a hint of pink. “We’re verra thankful for the gift.”

“Lovely, dear. But I have a confession to make. Neither Wilhelm nor I sent that oil to you, and I fear whoever did has misused our name and may mean you harm.”

Constance was no mincer of words. Melanie cringed in sympathy as Ginneleah blinked in surprise and then paled.

“Harm? What do ye mean?” Her blue eyes darted around, as if looking for protection from the father she’d so confidently dismissed a little while ago.

Constance pulled a small velvet pouch from a pocket in her dress and carefully unwrapped two glass vials protected within. One had a clear stopper, the other a blue one. The contents of both vials looked indistinguishable from ordinary olive oil, pale gold in color and mildly viscous.

“I ordered these from Inverness when I sent for you,” she said. “One is a lubricant meant to assist marital relations. The other is used to prevent a woman getting with child. They both smell of roses or whatever perfume the maker chooses, and they both can make joining more pleasant, but–” Constance tipped the vial with the blue stopper to moisten the tip of one finger. She placed her finger to her tongue and made a face. “The one with quinine in it has a bitter taste while the other tastes only of perfume and oil.”

She held the vials out to Melanie and said, “Take a taste. It’s perfectly safe taken orally, and can, in fact, be given in quite high doses, even to pregnant women, to treat malaria.”

She raised her eyebrows, impressed as always with Constance’s knowledge. She inspected the vials under Ginneleah’s worried gaze and dabbed a drop of each oil on her tongue to compare them. The one with the clear stopper dried her tongue and sent sharp notes of rose scent straight to her nose. The one with the blue stopper did the same, but when she closed her mouth to moisten her tongue and swallow, a bitter taste made her wrinkle her nose.

The anxiety in Ginneleah’s eyes vanished as she watched. Her eyebrows lifted with curiosity, then furrowed. “Do ye mean someone might have sent the oil as a gift meaning it as a curse?” When Melanie handed her the vials, she didn’t hesitate to sniff and taste them for herself.

“I’m afraid so,” Constance said. “Although you won’t know for sure unless you taste a drop of the oil you have at Ackergill. That’s why I invited you to Dornoch. Not to give you more oil, unless you’d like the one in your right hand.” She nodded at the vial with the clear stopper. “But to warn you. I wouldn’t use the oil you have at home again, or trust any more that comes in Wilhelm’s name.”

Ginneleah made a face and shivered at the taste of the quinine oil. She searched Constance’s face with wide eyes. “But who would do such a thing?” she said in a voice so vulnerable it melted her heart. Tears pooled behind the girl’s lashes as she looked down at the two vials. “Steafan wants an heir so badly, and I want to give him one. To think of all the time we’ve wasted.” Ginneleah loved Steafan. It was clear from the sorrow in her voice and the disappointment etched on her young face.

She touched Ginneleah’s knee. “Someone must have a grudge against your husband,” she said gently. “But we’ve found them out. As long as you don’t use that oil any more, you’ll get the better of them, whoever they are.”

“All this time, I thought…I thought...”

“That you couldn’t conceive,” Constance offered, her voice more tender than she’d ever heard it. “It’s possible. But I’d test that oil if I were you before you go thinking anything is wrong with you.”

Ginneleah sniffed. “What shall I do without the oil?” she said so quietly she might have been talking to herself. She turned imploring eyes to Constance. “I fear using anything now,” she said, thrusting the vials into Constance’s hands. “But–” She looked down again, her cheeks pink.

“I’ll go see how lunch is coming along,” Constance said, wrapping the vials and tucking them away. “If I see your father, I’ll point him this way.” She gave Melanie an encouraging nod.

As Constance disappeared down the path toward the castle, she had the urge to take the despondent Ginneleah into her arms to comfort her. But they’d only just met. Instead, she said, “Here we are, me pregnant without meaning to get that way and you having tried so hard and been disappointed time and again.” She gave a mirthless chuckle. “My grandmother used to tell me you can never count on life to be fair. I guess she was right.”

Ginneleah attempted a smile. “Mayhap things will change for me and Steafan now. Oh, but I shallna enjoy telling him of this discovery. He will be furious. Anger comes so easily to him.”

She didn’t know what to say. Was Steafan abusive to her? As soon as she had the thought, she dismissed it. Ginneleah didn’t give the impression she was mistreated in any way. But from her quiet plea from a few moments ago, Melanie doubted Steafan was as talented a lover as Darcy had proven to be. She decided to get right to the point, hoping to say everything she needed to before Aodhan found them.

“Do you find it necessary to use oil?” She winced at the bald question, but she wasn’t sure how else to start.

The girl’s cheeks pinked up again. “Aye. As you must with Big Darcy.” She met her eyes with no small difficulty. “I may be young, but I’ve heard the rumors. If what the lasses say about your husband is true, ye have it harder than I do by far.”

She smiled gently. “Never trust a rumor. Especially one started by a spurned woman.”

Ginneleah gave her a curious look, so she shared with her the tale Darcy had told her one quiet night. Holding her in his arms, he’d told her about Anya, the woman who’d laughed at him in that most vulnerable moment of first showing himself to a potential lover, the woman who’d outright lied to make him think he was too large.

The bitch. She hoped she never met the woman, because she’d never been so tempted to slap anyone before.

“Oh, that’s awful.” Ginneleah’s face was free from her earlier wariness. “Would ye believe that one tried pushing herself on poor Steafan while he courted me? I dinna like the woman, and nor does Steafan. In fact, she’s the reason my husband took such umbrage to ye. She’s the one who told him of your wee box. To hear Steafan tell it, she found it in the stables and described it perfectly. She was the one to call ye a witch, and once the word was uttered, Steafan…well, he is verra protective of the clan. Mayhap too protective. But he’s a good man. In his heart, he wants to do what’s right.”

Clearly, the girl–no, the young woman, for Ginneleah had wisdom in her eyes that spoke of girlhood being past–was devoted to her husband. That was good. If she was afraid of him or disgusted by him, no amount of sex-ed would help them.

She stored away the information about Anya for later consideration. At the moment, Ginneleah desperately needed some encouragement in matters of intimacy.

“You love him, don’t you?” Surprisingly, she was glad Steafan had such a sweet, positive influence in his life. Without Ginneleah, he might be even crankier.

“He is my husband,” she said modestly. “’Tis my duty.”

Love wasn’t always part of marriage. Not in her time, but especially not in this time. But she didn’t bother Ginneleah with the observation.

“You wear your duty well,” she said, nudging her arm and smiling a little wickedly. “I can tell you care for him, and I’m glad. I might not be in a hurry to ever see him again myself, but I can appreciate that he’s an attractive man, and if he’s good to you, and you care for him, then I wish you both every happiness.”