Authors: Victoria Roberts
“Ye lasses wouldnae be venturing outside the castle gates alone now, would ye?” Montgomery leaned against a wooden post in the stable with his brawny arms folded over his broad chest. His boldly handsome face smiled warmly down at Liadain, and with his kilt low over his lean hips, the man was almost as smooth as MacGregor.
Rosalia waved him off. “James, we arenae alone. There are three of us. We only head to the village. Leave off.”
“Without an escort.”
“Aye, without an escort,” Rosalia mocked him.
“Och, nay ye donna. The MacGregor wouldnae like it.”
Rosalia huffed. “We have something to attend to that doesnae require a man’s escort. We willnae be away long.”
“And that is exactly why I will come along. When ye have something to attend to, it usually involves mischief. Wait for me to saddle my horse, Rosalia,” Montgomery ordered, giving Rosalia a glare that would surely make a grown man tremble.
Rosalia rolled her eyes. “Make haste, ye daft man.” She turned to Aisling. “Ye know he will chaperone us whether we allow it or nae. We might as well just allow it. Mayhap he will be less annoying that way.”
“I doubt it,” countered Aisling.
***
Declan was grateful his brothers had taken their leave. It gave him the chance to roam the halls of the castle, exploring in peace and quiet. He was truly blessed to have such a home. He had attempted to memorize every nook when he turned a corner and noticed a large wooden door.
The heavy door creaked on its hinges. He stepped inside and saw that books graced the shelves along the wall. Placing the tip of his finger on one of the spines, he tilted it, briefly studying the title.
De
Magnete
by William Gilbert. Scientific work was not his strong suit. Declan gave the book all of the attention it deserved and quickly pushed it back onto the shelf.
The Campbell library held quite a collection of reading material. He was curious if the healer spent any time in here. Perhaps she had her own selection of books about healing. With one last glance around, he walked out and shut the door.
As he moved about his new home aimlessly, he found himself heading toward the family rooms. He searched for the healer’s chamber, believing it was somewhere down the hall. He opened and closed several doors and did not stop until he found what he sought. Declan perceived it was his wife’s room the moment he crossed the threshold.
A small wooden desk was placed before a stone fireplace. When he spotted an open book upon the desk, he walked over and casually fingered the pages. It was a journal—the healer’s own personal thoughts. He could not resist a peek inside, but he should have tried harder to thwart his curiosity. Willow bark, sage, yarrow, devil’s something or other. Clearly the healer needed more excitement in her life—although, if he ever had an ailment, she would be the first to know.
Declan placed the journal back approximately where he had found it. A bed with tall corner posts graced the far wall with a bedside table to one side. Herbs and plants, some familiar, some not so much, were scattered upon the shelf. He shook his head and wondered if she had any other interests. That was the moment when the idea struck him. He would make his wife a peace offering.
He closed her door and made his way out into the bailey. Granted, he had no stable master, but there should still be supplies somewhere. Declan searched the stables, and it did not take him long to realize nothing remained.
Damn.
“May I help ye, sir?”
A young lad, approximately ten years old, stood about as tall as Declan’s waist a short way off. The boy’s head was capped by a mass of bronze-gold hair. Although the lad was dressed in tattered, dirty clothing, he stood proudly. When the lines deepened along the young boy’s brows and under his brown eyes, Declan walked over and knelt down beside him.
“And ye are?” asked Declan softly.
“John. Mother says I shouldnae speak to men I donna know.” The boy smiled sheepishly.
“Your mother sounds like a wise woman. I assure ye, I mean ye nay harm.” He returned the boy’s smile, giving him a pat on the shoulder.
“Mother says men may voice that as well. How do I know ye speak the truth?” John asked, folding his small arms over his chest. The boy swallowed hard, lifted his chin, and boldly met Declan’s gaze. If John’s hair was long enough to toss over his shoulder, this would surely be the younger male version of his wife.
“Ye are a wise young lad to question someone ye donna know, but I assure ye, I am here by King James’s order. I am the new master of the castle. My name is MacGregor.”
“MacGregor? The MacGregor killed the Campbell. His Majesty would ne’er give ye the castle. Ye speak with the devil’s tongue. I am going to tell Mother about this. She will come and ye will wish she hadnae. Ye better run, sir.”
Declan put the matter aside with sudden good humor. “John, why donna we both take our leave and seek your mother? Tell me, where can I find her?”
Taken aback, the boy glanced up, obviously weighing his options. Cautiously, he stepped away from Declan. “I suppose it would be all right for me to take ye to Mother. Come with me.”
Declan followed the boy, who consistently gazed back at him over his shoulder. Though he understood the lad’s behavior, it unnerved him that John believed he would do him harm. As they circled the castle, they came to a small, crumbling building detached from what Declan remembered as being the kitchens. A woman emerged, her hair pulled into a tight, unflattering bun. She wiped her hands on her apron and her eyes widened.
“John! Come here at once,” she called, her voice trembling with concern.
Declan raised both of his hands. “I mean ye nay harm.”
John ran to her side and the woman held her son in a protective embrace. “What do ye want?” As he slowly approached, she shooed her son inside.
“I mean ye nay harm,” he repeated, stopping a short distance in front of her.
“So ye have said. State your purpose,” she replied.
“Per His Majesty’s orders, I am the new master of Castle Campbell. I am Declan MacGregor.” When there was an uncomfortable moment of silence, he continued. “Could ye tell me your name?”
Pursing her lips in thought, the woman finally answered. “I am Anna. I believe ye already met my son, John.”
“Aye, he is a good lad. Do ye live here?” asked Declan, nodding to the building behind her.
“Aye, I was the cook for the Earl of Argyll. When he was killed, my son and I had nay other home or kin. Will ye be expecting us to take our leave then?” Anna asked with uncertainty.
Declan broke into an easy smile. “My wife will be arriving soon and I find myself in desperate need of staff, primarily a cook. Ye and your son are welcome to stay for as long as ye wish. Unless, of course, ye are a dreadful cook or ye donna want to cook for a MacGregor,” he added. “Besides, I believe ye already know my wife. She would probably welcome some faces that are familiar.”
“And who is your wife, m’laird?” Anna asked hesitantly.
“The earl’s sister.”
Anna’s smile broadened in approval. “I assure ye nay one has ever taken their leave from the table hungry, m’laird. It would be a pleasure to have her return. Liad—…er, Lady Campbell was sorely missed.”
“Lady MacGregor,” Declan clarified.
“Of course, my apologies. If there is anything ye require, please ask.”
“Why do ye nae live in the servants’ quarters in the castle?”
Reaching up, Anna fixed a piece of hair that was already securely fastened. “Umm…The Campbell didnae want my son about. He didnae favor children, m’laird.”
Declan studied the building, which was small and in desperate need of repair. A strong wind or rain would surely collapse the roof. “Ye and your son will move into the castle at once. If ye need assistance with your belongings, let me know.”
Her eyes lit up in surprise. “Thank ye, m’laird.”
“There is something I would ask of ye. Do ye know where there are any supplies for building?”
“Depending upon what ye seek, there is a cart in the woods with a few wooden planks. I am nae sure what else is there.” She walked toward him and gestured into the trees.
“Thank ye, Anna. I am fixing to make something for my wife. Do you know her well?”
“Well enough, m’laird. Lady Camp—…er, MacGregor often tended to the garden and dallied in the kitchens upon occasion. She said it soothed her soul.”
“I am sure it did. Did ye find it difficult with the blood—…er, the Campbell?”
Anna shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable. “I cannae speak for everyone, but the Campbell wasnae a kind man. John and I tried to remain out of sight. I believe Lady MacGregor attempted the same, but it didnae always work out that way.”
That revelation did not astonish him. Declan had figured as much and gathered that the bloody earl never really concerned himself with anything that did not impact him. Declan turned and gave Anna a winning smile. “I hope to change that. I am naught like the Campbell.”
Her features became far more animated. “I already know that. Come. Let us see what we can find for your lady wife,” Anna said, walking toward the cart in the trees. “John!” she called over her shoulder.
When the lad darted out of the door, Declan chuckled, remembering the countless times he and his brothers spied upon their father. He smiled at the memory of innocence lost. “Ye know, John. I could use a strong lad like ye to help me.”
The boy became instantly wide awake and glanced up at him, his infectious grin setting the tone. “I will make ye proud, m’laird.”
“Ye are fitting me for what?” Liadain gasped.
Aisling rolled her eyes. “Declan will love it.”
Liadain’s voice raised an octave. “He isnae the one who has to wear it.” She took a deep breath, but it did not soothe her nerves the way she had hoped. If she could have made herself disappear, she would have. As casually as she could manage, she asked, “Why even wear anything at all?”
Aisling and Cylan exchanged a silent glance with a hidden meaning. “Ye arenae thinking upon this the right way. Such a gown is meant to entice your husband, to give a promise of what is to come,” said Aisling with a grin.
“Praise the saints. This wasnae what I had in mind when ye said we were traveling to meet Cylan in the village. And this is by nay means a gown,” said Liadain in exasperation. Cylan held up the thin fabric to her frame but she promptly ignored the seamstress. “Ye cannae be serious. MacGregor and I are already wed. What is the point?”
Aisling tapped Liadain’s arm with her finger. “The point is to capture your husband’s attention.”
“And what if I donna want his attention?” Liadain asked with an air of indifference.
“Every woman wants to keep her husband’s interest, and if ye think upon it, ye will realize I speak the truth,” said Aisling.
“Truth or nae, ye donna have to worry upon that. I am sure MacGregor doesnae have an interest in me, Aisling. The man can barely look at me without snarling like an angry boar.”
Aisling shook her head in disagreement. “Surely ye cannae be so daft as to think that Declan has nay interest in ye. Why do ye think ye rile him so?”
Rosalia giggled. “Declan doesnae know what he wants. He ne’er did. Ye need to tell him or show him. And whatever ye do, donna make him guess. For a start, why donna ye call him by his given name? He is your husband.”
Liadain shrugged her shoulders. “He calls me ‘healer’ and I call him ‘MacGregor.’ ’Tis the way of it.”
“Aye, he is a MacGregor—and a stubborn one at that. Yet Rosalia is right. Why donna ye start by calling him Declan?” asked Aisling.
“I understand what ye are both trying to do, I
think
, but the man simply doesnae want to be shackled. In fact, I verra recently called him ‘husband’ and he corrected me, his feelings perfectly clear. He doesnae want this and I cannae force it upon him.”
“Ye are going about this the wrong way,” Aisling said. “The secret is to make Declan realize that he wants ye. He does, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. He will in time, but I suggest ye make it on your own terms. I donna think even the gods would know how long it would take the rogue to recognize something on his own accord. He is a man. Make him see.”
Liadain did not need Aisling to remind her. She was painfully aware of MacGregor’s masculinity. Her husband’s maleness was not the problem. It was everything else that came with that.
“Ye are aware if I don this…
gown
, I may only further provoke my husband’s anger.”
Rosalia and Aisling laughed at the same time, and Rosalia nudged Liadain. “Ye will provoke Declan all right, but nae his ire.”
Aisling reached out and touched her hand. “Do ye want to make this marriage work? Will ye do anything to see it so?”
There was a heavy silence before Liadain could convince herself to speak the truth. “I want my husband to be able to gaze upon me without spite.” She paused and then relented. “All right, I will do as ye suggest.”
Aisling glanced at Rosalia and Cylan. “And I think we all agree that Declan will not look upon ye the same way again.”
The women cast scheming grins and Liadain prayed the plan would not fail. Since her previous attempts at peace had not worked, she was perfectly willing to try something new. She was not asking for miracles, but it would be nice if MacGregor was not scowling at her all of the time. As the women took their leave from Cylan’s, Montgomery was pacing.
“What took ye so long?” he snapped.
Rosalia tapped him playfully on the chest. “If ye must know, my monthly courses arrived and I had to—”
Montgomery shook his head, waving his hands in the air in front of him. “Cease. I donna want to know.”
When Liadain cast a puzzled look at Rosalia, the woman raised her brow and returned a smile. Leaning in close, Aisling whispered in Liadain’s ear. “Rosalia taught me that as well. The words ne’er fail to get said reaction. Ye must admit, ’tis somewhat humorous seeing men discomfited upon occasion.”
Liadain tried to suppress a giggle as Aisling circled around to grab her mount. In an apparent attempt to escape Rosalia’s open declaration of womanly burdens, Montgomery walked hastily toward Liadain.
“’Tis good to see a smile upon your face.”
She was not about to tell the man that her joyful expression was at his own expense. Who would have thought that mentioning monthly courses would make a grown man into a bumbling fool? Liadain placed her newfound knowledge in her mental arsenal. She could learn a lot from these women. When she cast her eyes downward, mainly to keep from laughing aloud, Montgomery gently touched her shoulder.
“My apologies. I didnae mean to make ye uncomfortable.”
“Ye didnae make me uncomfortable.”
He dropped his arm and bobbed his head as if he did not believe her. “Did your husband tell ye then?”
She raised her hand and smoothed her tresses in a nervous gesture. “Tell me what?”
“He asked me to be the captain of his guard. I will be escorting ye to Castle Campbell.”
Wonderful.
Now she would have two rogues under the same roof. Her husband had become surprisingly protective when Montgomery approached her in the great hall. Why would he ask the same man to be the captain of his guard? Men and their games.
Liadain looked up at Montgomery with an effort. “Nay, he didnae. Congratulations. Ye must be verra proud.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Surprised mayhap.”
“I trust my husband made the proper decision.”
“I was the captain of Armstrong’s guard for years. Rest assured, ye are safe in my hands, my lady.”
She returned a warm smile. “’Tis verra good to know I have so many brawny men watching over me. I have the utmost faith in your abilities.”
“James.”
“Pardon?”
Montgomery’s eyes lit up like summer lightning. “James.
Is
mise
James. I would have ye speak it upon your rose lips and grace me with such a gift.”
She was momentarily speechless. “My husband—”
“Has naught to do with ye calling me by my given name. I am afraid I must insist, my lady.” He winked when he caught her eye.
“Praise the saints. Would ye cease pestering Liadain and get onto your mount?” Rosalia bit out.
“Pray excuse me but a moment.” Montgomery turned on his heel and approached Rosalia. He patted her horse on the flank and then cast a wooing smile at Rosalia. “I see being wed to the MacGregor hasnae stayed your tongue, wench. Mayhap I should have a word with your new husband about your insolence.”
Rosalia nodded briefly. “And mayhap I should have a word with Ciaran about ye, ye beastly man. My husband only waits for ye to mess things up so he can toss ye out of Glenorchy with naught but the clothes upon your scrawny back. ’Tis bad enough Ciaran wants to run ye through. Donna display your open affections to his brother’s wife, ye daft fool.”
Liadain untied her mount and feigned an interest in the thickness of the reins. For the second time, she suddenly wanted to disappear.
“I am the captain of his guard, Rosalia. I would ne’er dally with his wife,” Montgomery said as if he stated the obvious.
“Aye, and that almost sounded convincing. Like the time when Lord Humphries threatened to cut off your manhood for bedding his wi—”
Montgomery held up his hands. “Enough. Ye made your point. Let me get my horse.”
“Donna fret over them,” said Aisling. She positioned her horse beside Liadain and smiled. “Rosalia and James are constantly at each other’s throats. Ciaran would love to remove him from Glenorchy. In truth, there is naught he wants more, but I know Rosalia would ne’er permit it.”
Liadain raised her brow. “What do ye mean?”
“Rosalia and James are as siblings. He had known her since they were bairns. The two of them are inseparable. James is her family as well as her friend. Granted, it makes for a dangerous combination and an unhappy husband, but Ciaran loves Rosalia. In truth, he would allow Montgomery to stay if only to see a smile upon her face.”
“’Tis quite obvious in the way he gazes upon her with such love.” Liadain could not help but wonder if she would ever be blessed with such a gift.
***
“Hold it right there and donna move. That is it, John.” Declan pounded the nail and swore when he moved the board.
John laughed. “I didnae move. It was ye, sir.”
Grunting, Declan shoved the wood back into place. He drove in the nail once again, and this time the board held right where he wanted it.
“Ye did it! Do ye think it strong enough to hold her plants?”
Declan chuckled and attempted to wiggle the board, which did not budge. “Aye, it will hold.” Taking a step back, he studied his handiwork. He ran his hand over the wood and thought the shelf was not too bad for something he had basically just thrown together. With the last shelf in place, the healer should have enough space to organize her plants and add a few more if she so desired.
“Now we must move the plants and herbs. Do ye still want to help?” Declan asked John.
“Aye, but there is something I donna understand.” John’s forehead furrowed.
“And what is that?”
“Why would ye move your lady’s plants in here when she already has a chamber of her own?” John asked, casting a puzzled look.
“She is my wife now and this is the lady of the castle’s chamber. That is why.”
John’s eyes came up and studied Declan’s face. “But she already has a room. Donna ye think she will be upset when she enters her chamber and finds naught is there?”
He reached out and placed his hand upon John’s shoulder, trying to stay the smile that played on his lips. “She willnae be distraught. She is the lady of the castle now. This is where she belongs. Besides, we are only moving her belongings in here. We arenae throwing things out. Do ye understand?”
John shrugged. “Do ye think we can eat first?”
A lad after his own heart. “Of course. Let us find your mother.”
When they entered the kitchens, Anna was preparing the evening meal. She wiped her hands on her apron, then glanced up and smiled. “Pray tell me my son hasnae been underfoot,” said Anna.
Declan rubbed the top of John’s head. “Nay. He has been my helper. All the shelves are up in my wife’s chamber for her plants and herbs. I donna know what I would have done without his assistance.”
John stood tall and puffed out his thin frame. “I did help him, Mother.”
A warm smile lit Anna’s features. “Ye are a good lad, John, and ye make me verra proud. Now take your leave and wash up.”
“Ye didnae have to do that, but my son enjoys the male companionship.” As John walked off, Anna pulled out a loaf of warm bread and placed it on the table.
“He is a good lad,” Declan said.
“Thank ye for spending time with him.”
Declan pulled out the bench tucked under the rough table and sat down. “Anna, what of John’s father?”
She glanced uneasily over her shoulder, then poured mulled wine into a tankard. She handed him the mug and turned away from him before she spoke again. “His father is dead. We donna speak of him.”
“My apologies for your loss. John has nay other men in his life?”
“Only a few who still remain from the village,” said Anna, smiling sadly as if deep in thought. “When the Campbell was here, John was attached to some of the men. But after the earl died and most of the men took their leave, my son had only me.”
John bolted into the kitchens. “All done, Mother.” He flew into the seat next to Declan. “After we sup, I am to help the master move his lady’s plants into her new chamber. He said that she willnae be upset when we move her belongings since we arenae throwing anything out. His lady must move into a new room because she is now the lady of the castle.”
Anna giggled. “That is right, John. His lady wife must stay in a new chamber.”
Declan sat contentedly and listened to the conversation flow between mother and son. He wondered if the gods would ever grace him with such a gift one day. He had never thought of bairns—basically because he was not the most favorable of men. It was Ciaran’s responsibility to see to an heir of succession anyway.
Declan mentally shook away the cobwebs when he heard Anna ask the question again. “My apologies. Nay, I willnae be returning to Glenorchy.”