A Lady's Vengeance Page 8

  Everyone, that is, but Lady Jean. She stayed in her rooms, daughter nearby, plying her needle. She refused to touch the pile of mending. Instead, she worked on the tapestry cushions she’d brought with her. Alana told the servants everyone’s job was to get the harvest in. She expected the recent widow to understand and care for herself. After all, Jean’s legs worked perfectly well.

  A few days after Jean had arrived Alana returned mid-morning to rest. They’d had a particularly enthusiastic bout of lovemaking, which had kept her up late. She heard the maids in the kitchen complaining about Lady Jean’s bell. She quietly entered, standing where she could hear but not be seen. It wasn’t long before she heard ringing.

  “’Tis yer turn, Bessie.”

  The bell rang again, louder and with more vigor. Bessie cursed, then stomped across the kitchen and up the stairs. She was soon back.

  “Laud, canna the woman move her ain footstool?”

  Her guest interrupted people working to have them move a footstool? The slow burn Alana had been feeling from some of Lady Jean’s cutting remarks about her lack of seemly behavior burst into flame. Alana stepped into the kitchen.

  “You didna tell me Lady Jean was interrupting your work.”

  “My lady!” Cook blanched. “We didna wish to bother ye. She’s yer guest, and her first husband was the natural son of King James hisself!”

  “That is no excuse.”

  The bell rang again. Alana held up her hand, stopping them from leaving. The bell rang for a long time, followed by screeching.

  “That is stopping right now,” said Alana.

  “My lady, Bessie has somethin’ to say,” said Cook.

  Bessie shook her head, eyes wide.

  “Tell her, lass. About the stranger ye saw talkin’ with Lady Jean.”

  Alana immediately thought of William and the men he could have hired.

  “’Twas yestiday,” said Bessie softly. “We was all at the garden. I came back fer another basket. I saw a mon slinkin’ into the hall. He were all ragged, like one o’ them broken men. I picked up one o’ Cook’s knives, thinkin’ he was tryin’ to steal sommat. I peeked around yon corner,” she pointed to the doorway. “He were talkin’ with Lady Jean!”

  “And she doesna come down them stairs for aught but food,” added Cook.

  “Could you hear what they said?” asked Alana.

  “Nay, my lady. But they didna act like strangers. She gived him sommat, a coin like, and he laughed. I hid when he passed. I grabbed my basket and went out, but he were gone!”

  Alana nodded her thanks. She would tell Cormac and James about the situation, but she had invited the woman, and she would get rid of her.

  “Lady Jean has outstayed her welcome,” she said. “Once the cart comes back from the field she will ride it back to Castle Girnigoe.” Alana put on the sweet, placid smile she’d perfected to hide her true feelings from her father. “Dinna be too careful cleaning the cart for her as ’twill be needed in the morn. And make sure ye canna find a cushion fer her arse. She can use her dratted tapestry ones.”

  That evening Lady Jean’s complaints drifted behind her as the cart bounced south to the much larger castle of Girnigoe. Auld Rab, who was mostly deaf, walked beside the slow old garron pulling it. There was nothing in the cart but Jean, her daughter, and the tapestry cushions. Alana had tossed her hand bell out the window. One of the lads had found it and brought it to her, grinning. It had a good tone and would be useful, so she’d kept it. She’d only told her men that Lady Jean interrupted the servants and refused to work.

  “I told Auld Rab to take the worst track,” said James, grinning beside her. One wooden wheel of the cart rose over a rut, then fell, hard. The occupants bounced. A screech rang out, barely heard over the birds wheeling overhead and the waves crashing on the rocks.

  “I made an enemy,” said Alana. She bit her lip, feeling a dread from nowhere. “She willna forgive me for shaming her by sending her back.”

  “We’ll have none here who shirk their work.” Cormac pulled Alana to him. “The castle harvest starts on the morrow. If we all work hard ’twill take but a few days. I met some Travelers and invited them to camp. After the harvest is in we’ll have a day to rest, then a night of fun at a fair.”

  “They have wee dogs that will dance and they ride horses, juggling while standing on them,” said James.

  “Our first harvest fair!” She smiled up at Cormac. “Thank you for allowing them to camp. I always enjoyed the fairs held by Laird Fraser.”

  “We ken what it’s like to have naught and be spat on.” James shrugged as if it was nothing but she saw the pain in his eyes. “They’re harming none.”

  “About harm,” she said. She paused. She suddenly had both men’s rapt attention. “I didna wish to tell ye until she was gone but Bessie saw what was likely William’s broken man meeting Lady Jean in our hall.”

  She explained what little she knew. Cormac’s fury made her glad she’d waited to tell him. Lady Jean was far too powerful for what Cormac wished to do to her.

  “Ye said ye made an enemy,” he said. “If she was meetin’ with broken men in our home she were already one.”

  “Did they see Bessie?” asked James. She shook her head. “Then we ken they are here, and they’ll think we dinna.”

  Cormac cursed. “’Tis the worst time, with all coming here to harvest. We willna ken who is friend or foe.”

  “Our people will ken it,” said James. “Spread the word William may be up to his tricks. They’re that pleased to be rid of him, they’ll watch for trouble.”

  “Polly said how afraid they were William might become laird,” said Alana. “They wouldn’t be able to escape him, or protect their women.”

  “‘Twill soon be winter,” said James. “Or as close to it as it gets here. We’ll keep a special watch. Once the harvest is done and the fair is over we’ll be staying close. I canna see them attacking then.”

  “So it will be now, during the harvest.” Cormac nodded abruptly. “Alana canna be alone. And ye and I will wear our dirks as we work.”

  Alana would wear her dirk as well, and her wee bag of poison. She would not be caught unable to defend herself.

  * * * *

  “’Tis too wet to work today,” said Cormac as he and James watched the rain fall.

  It had been raining since they stopped the day before. The fields were wet and people were tired. They'd expressed shock and delight at James and Cormac working beside them. The food and ale they’d provided had been much appreciated as well.

  “A good day to work indoors,” agreed James.

  Cormac absently scratched at his chin. They’d all been too busy to take care of things such as shaving. With winter coming on he wouldn’t mind the protection to his cheeks and neck a beard provided. It had grown long enough that the hair was soft and so would not irritate the tender skin between Alana’s thighs. His cock rose at the thought. He could take his time playing with her clit, licking and flicking it until she begged him to let her come. Maybe he’d better tie her down this time so she couldn’t take over the task.

  “Makin’ our wife scream isna work,” he said.

  James grunted agreement.

  “Have ye been in yon broch?” Cormac tilted his head toward the beehive-shaped pile of rocks. “Methinks the three of us could stretch our legs.”

  “Alana willna go in. She fears—”

  “Bein’ locked in the dark. Aye.” Cormac nodded. “As ye fear falling o’er the cliff and smashin’ yerself on the rocks. ’Tis time ye both put yer fears behind ye.” He gave his younger brother the same look he’d given as a lad. “Ye ken that ye give power to what ye fear if ye hide from it. Ye canna e’en look out the window to the sea as ye fear ye’ll tumble out onto the rocks below.”

  James swallowed. His fingers tapped on his thigh. “And are you so mighty that you fear naught?”

  Cormac leaned a shoulder against the stone. “I fear,” he finally admitted. “I fea
r that William may harm Alana and our babe. I fear a father who might take six years to slowly starve us as he did his own son, leaving Alana with none to protect her. I fear the Campbells may convince King James that Duncladach is rightly theirs, as well as all the other MacDougal holdings they’ve stolen.” He solemnly nodded. “I do what I can to stop evil but my fears are caused by things I canna control.” He looked at the rain, blown by the wind. “The weather may give us bountiful sun and drought, or flood us. The sea could storm and dash a ship against the shore, even against the cliff on which Keiss stands. And I canna stop a fever sweeping the land.” He slumped. “No matter how much we all wished Mary to live, we couldna save her, or her wee babe.”

  Mary had been the only mother the youngest of them had known. Her parents had hidden her pregnancy, caused by rape, to keep their good name. Mary had given birth to a healthy child but, as she slept after, they killed the boy they considered a result of evil. When she heard that Laird Dougal’s wife died after birthing Duff and Malcolm she went to Duncladach as a wet nurse for the twins. Shortly after, the randy laird got a pair of sisters pregnant. By then Mary had taken to his bed. The sisters produced Dougal and Finn only a few months before Mary gave birth to Altair. The sisters kept their sons until they were weaned, then dropped them off at Duncladach with the rest of the boys. Mary produced Zander two years later.

  They all thought their father would be content with Mary but his randy eye kept him roving. When the eager widow he was bedding had her much older husband unexpectedly return their father leaped out a second story window, falling to his death. Six months later Mary got a fever, dying before she could give birth. The healer tried to save the child but, though perfectly formed, the lassie was too small to survive on her own.

  They called the child Fia, which meant “dark one of peace.” She would have been the first MacDougal daughter born in over a century. None but their brothers and the healer knew of the girl. She was wrapped in her mother’s shroud and soon buried. They’d planted flowers over her grave and an oak tree beside it. Thinking of wee Fia, Cormac and James had fallen for the active, smiling lassie named Alana when they arrived at Castle Girnigoe so many years before.

  “Alana puts me in mind of Mary,” said James. “The children love her, and she cares for them all.”

  “Just like Mary did us.” Cormac chuckled, then thought of how exhausting the village children could get. “When Zander was born, Artair, Dougal, and Finn were all two, Duff and Malcolm were three, and Gillis was four.” He counted them on his fingers. “That’s seven boys under four, plus another nine of us, with Somerled and Niall just twelve years.”

  “Mary gave birth to only two of us yet treated all sixteen as her own. The woman was fearless.”

  Now that James had brought the subject back to the topic at hand, Cormac cleared his throat.

  “Mary feared for the lives of all of us. She couldna stop fevers or raids, or her fear of them, so she hid her worries and laughed with her bairns.” He poked James with a finger. “Yer fear can be conquered, as ’tis yerself what be the cause of it.”

  James flinched, then stepped close, furious. “I be the cause of it? I didna slip o’er that cliff, Cormac. I was pushed by the same one who tied a rope there to trip me!”

  “Aye,” replied Cormac calmly. “And is the man here now?” He looked out into the rain as if searching for someone. “I canna see a soul.”

  “What are you playin at?” demanded James.

  “I walked along the cliff looking for rope. I found none. Nor is William anywhere near. So ’tis not likely ye will be pushed off the cliff. Yet ye are still afeared.”

  James grumbled but didn’t deny it.

  “I ken a way to stop yer fear.”

  “What, climb o’er the top and hope I dinna slip?”

  “Och, nay,” said Cormac cheerfully. “The rocks be different here than at Girnigoe. Ackergill lies flat to a beach.”

  “Aye, ‘tis sure that the Keiths willna mind me clambering on their shore.”

  Cormac swatted him on the back of his head. “Ye dinna go that far, ye fool. Find where ye can clamber down without it making ye shake with fear. Then walk along the shore to a cliff. Start at the bottom and look up. See the places you need to put your hands and feet, and then put them there. Each time go a wee bit farther, a wee bit higher. One day ye’ll find yerself climbin’ o’er the top. And then.” He jammed his finger into James’s shoulder to make the point. “Then ye will be the master, nay yer fear.”

  A gust of wind whipped around the corner, slapping them with cold water.

  “Enough,” said Cormac with a shiver. “I’ve got a warm bed with a wife who needs wakin’ by my cold hands.” He tilted his head in welcome. “She could wake to four hands as easy as two.”

  Chapter Eleven

  A week later, refreshed after another rainy day spent mostly in bed, sleeping between bouts of play, Alana was eager for the fair. These were her people and she would care for them well. She would not be as her father, selfish and demanding. She was sure by now she, and her husbands, had met everyone. She’d spend her time during the harvest with the old women, taking care of the wee ones as the others worked the fields. She encouraged the women to talk. They had wisdom and were eager to pass it on. They were pleased to have a lady at Keiss, especially one who cared for more than herself.

  While they appreciated their laird’s efforts to get the harvest in, Cormac needed to prove he had more than one type of strength. A good laird had to know his people, and judge them. They’d had no one to solve their disputes, petty or major. The first few days of the harvest he was continually interrupted. Someone had taken another’s sheep, or looked at a cow and made its milk turn or chickens to stop laying.

  Once or twice he told them they’d have to wait while he thought on it. He then spoke with the old men, and sometimes the women. He made it very clear that they were to speak freely. None would know what they said, and the decision would be his. His solutions made neither side happy but they could grudgingly agree.

  One decision in particular had brought great unease to all at first. Anything that brought marriageable lads and lassies together was eagerly looked forward to, especially for those living on isolated crofts. For the last few years females had stayed close to home because of William’s depredations. This harvest was their opportunity to find a husband.

  From the first morning a very pretty lass living near the castle had flirted with the young men. Eva knew how to keep their attention on herself. Other lasses had little chance of being noticed. Cormac saw what was going on and sent her to work in the castle kitchens, and to sleep there. That nooning he had all the young men and women blindfolded by their parents. They were confused until Cormac ordered them into two circles, the lasses on the inside.

  He told them to hold the hands of the person across from them, then kiss until he told them to stop. Though many gasped and blushed at his order, no one refused. Cormac made sure they took their time before he had them take a step to the left. He had them repeat the kissing until all had touched.

  That afternoon and the next morning there was a lot of looking, whispering, and blushing. The parents had seen who their children kissed most eagerly. The next day they didn’t tie the blindfolds very tight. Some pairs kissed eagerly while others held back until reaching the one they wanted. Cormac had them work in pairs that afternoon, with the lasses choosing their lads. The numbers weren’t even but all were amiable enough. He kept the troublemaker inside Keiss and ensured no one told her what was going on. Each evening more couples walked hand in hand from the supper, watched over by their parents.

  Eva would be at the celebration tonight. She would not be happy to watch eager couples jumping a broom. No doubt the night would have many of them working on their first babe.

  Would Cormac and James tumble her in the grass under the moon? They’d been too tired the last few days to play. She decided at the last minute to put on braes under her skirts
. They would have to work to tup her!

  Alana wanted to dress as Lady Sinclair of Keiss, yet be approachable. She decided on a dark gown with a green overskirt and a bright arisaid of green and red for the chill. Her silk bag from Biddy the healer went around her neck. She strapped her dirk to her thigh, then added something new. It was an ingenious wee dirk with a tiny scabbard made to fit in a woman’s braid, under her kerch. It was big enough to slide between the ribs into the heart, or to pierce a throat. It had been a gift, presented to her by a wee Traveler lass who’d said it would go in her hair. She’d scampered away before Alana could thank her. Alana had thought the gift was a pin for her kerch, which she could use to stab, until she looked closely.

  William would have preyed on the Travelers thinking none would care. No doubt many of his acts had been blamed on them as well. That alone was enough reason for Cormac to give them a place to camp. Though some of the crofters grumbled at having them near, all had helped in the last few days. Though none would see it, she would wear this practical gift with pride. She hoped never to use it, on William or any other man, but knowing it was there, unseen, helped her relax.

  It was a wonderful night, chilly with a hint of winter but nothing like what it would have been at Lovat Castle, or even farther west. Ale flowed, the dancing got wilder and so did the laughter. She found a spot on the edge to watch. Her people were enjoying themselves. It was far different from how her father and Laird Fraser did things, but this was a small holding.

  “Are ye ready to bless the new brides?” asked Polly. She pointed at Alana’s growing belly. “Ye caught yer laird’s babe quickly, aye?” She waited for Alana to nod. “They think if they touch yer belly for luck they will soon be carrying one of their own.”

  “They’ll have to do more than touch my belly,” she replied, smiling.

  Polly laughed. “Aye, and with some ale, some dancing, and some rutting in the fields, they’ll be swelling by the new year.”

  “What’s this talk of rutting in the fields, wife?” demanded a rough voice behind her. Cormac swept her into his arms. He’d had a fair bit of ale, and likely something stronger. He nuzzled her ear. “We’ve nay done it in the fields under the moon,” he said.