Bedded by the Laird (Highland Warriors) (4 page)

 Bridie knew
that Morag loathed being in McClelland, as much as Bridie would loathe being
sent to work at the
Glenbarach
castle. She wasn’t
offended by Morag’s silence, just so grateful that day-by-day Gracie grew more
vigorous and more and more Bridie loved her.

‘We’ve found a wet
nurse.’
Mrs
Moffat told her a good week later and
Bridie held Gracie close. ‘And when she’s plumped the Campbell’s are waiting.’

‘No.’

Bridie held her
baby closer, she’d never really expected to keep her, had never really thought
ahead, but all she knew now was that she could not stand to let Gracie go.

‘And how are you
going to support her, Bridie?’
Mrs
Moffat scolded.
‘You haven’t worked, you haven’t done anything….’

‘I will work, just
as soon as she’s well. I promise you that.’ Bridie said and she looked at her
bairn
. ‘I could never let her go.’

‘That as maybe…’
Mrs
Moffat started, but stopped when rarely Morag spoke.

 ‘She needs
her mothers milk for thirteen full moons…’ Morag stared at
Mrs
Moffat till the auld woman’s cheeks were red. ‘So I’ve been told.’

‘By whom?’
Mrs
Moffat huffed, for it was stuff and nonsense she was
sure and yet she feared this woman who sat staring at her now and holding her
pendant. Feared this wise woman who had brought Gracie back from near dead.

‘
’Twas
your people who begged for my knowledge.
Would
you be so foolish now as to question it?’

Of course
Mrs
Moffat daren’t, she flounced off, no doubt to pray and,
as the door closed, Morag actually smiled. ‘I made up the bit about thirteen
full moons.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You should feed
her for as long as she wants though.’

‘I shall.’ Bridie
swallowed and dared to ask her again. ‘How do you know so much?’

‘My mother passed
her teachings on to me.’ Morag said. ‘We have looked after women and their
infants for centuries…
’ 
Her voice trailed off as
the door knocked and Bridie flushed when she saw it was the laird.

‘How is she?’ he
asked.

‘Getting better.’
Bridie said and then she remembered she was draped in his plaid, but the laird
said nothing as he pulled it back and looked at Gracie and then turned to
Morag, but her back was to him. ‘Thank you,’ he said, but Morag said nothing,
just wrapped her purple cloak tighter around her.

The
Glenbarachs
took full advantage of their month of hunting
rights and they emptied many traps too but, soon enough, the debt had been
honoured
and it was time for
Callum
to return Morag.

‘What about my
sugar?’ Morag demanded.

‘It was part of
the deal,’
Callum
explained to Alasdair. ‘Not from
Laird
Glenbarach
, he agreed to send Morag for the
hunting rights but I agreed to her demand for sugar. It was the only way I
could get her to come.’

‘Very well.’ The
laird nodded and Mary was sent to the basement room and Morag given her sugar,
which she took without a word.

‘She’s a strange
one,’ the laird said, when Morag had gone and it was time for Morag and Gracie
to go back down to the servant’s quarters.

‘She saved
Gracie’s life,’ Bridie said to the laird. ‘And so did you.’ She could never
repay him for all he had done. ‘Thank you Laird, I’ll never forget.’

And neither did
Bridie forget her vow to work for her keep. She worked in the kitchen through
the winter where she could feed her baby and keep her warm. Though he was told
by
Mrs
Moffat that only rarely did she speak, a
couple of times at night he heard her singing to Gracie but, apart from that,
Alasdair rarely saw them.

Then, one morning,
a year to the day that it happened, the laird woke with a head pounding, not
from
Candlemas
celebrations but vile memories. As his
breakfast was delivered he braced himself for annoying chatter from Mary, or
the latest report on
Mrs
Moffat’s knees and yet it
was the
sing-song
voice of Bridie that graced his ears
this morn.

‘Good morning,
Laird.’ She put down his tray and he stared at the snowdrops she had picked for
him, looked at the frail, tiny blooms that somehow pushed through the icy hard
ground and
marvelled
at their resilience
-  they
would forever remind him of Bridie, but with
kinder memories now, for he looked to where she opened the drapes and smiled
out to the morn.  ‘And what a bonny day it is, Laird.’

‘Bridie?’

He looked at her,
a woman now, so different in appearance from before – that once skinny
body had rounded out now in soft feminine curves. When she turned to him, those
once innocent eyes were a touch more guarded now but her smile was bright as
she greeted him.

In the days, weeks
and months that followed, Bridie carried on as if the last year had never
happened – just chatted as she always had, although the tales she regaled
were often now about wee Gracie, but each and every morning, somehow she made a
fierce laird smile.

Bridie was back.

McClelland, September 1297

Thirteen Full Moons Later

‘Come to me,
Gracie…’ Bridie knelt on the kitchen floor and held out her arm. ‘Come to your
Ma.’

Gracie had turned
one and Bridie was worried that she wasn’t yet walking.

‘She’ll walk when she’s
ready,’
Mrs
Moffat said. ‘She should be asleep, come
on now Bridie, take her to her crib, she needs--’ but she halted talking then,
a smile splitting her wrinkled face as Gracie took her first faltering steps to
her Ma.

‘Come on, Gracie,’
Bridie was ecstatic, watching as Gracie’s wee fat legs toddled towards her,
buckling at the knees and then, just short of Bridie, she started to tip
forwards but Bridie caught her and scooped her up, kissing her red face and
curls over and over and making little Gracie squeal and giggle in delight.

‘Did you see….
’
Bridie turned, but her voice trailed of, because
Mrs
Moffat had stopped smiling. ‘Put her to bed Bridie,’
Mrs
Moffat said, ‘and then you’re to come back down here. I
need to speak with you.’

‘I’ll just feed her.’

Bridie took Gracie
over to the sleeping area, held her to her breast and cuddled Gracie in. Once
asleep she placed Gracie in her crib and wrapped her warm under the blanket and
popped her thumb in her mouth and as she gazed on her daughter, Bridie thought
her heart might burst.

Not once did she
think badly of that time when she gazed on Gracie.

It had happened.

Without Gracie,
she would still be sitting mute staring at the loch.

Or
floating face down upon it.

So dark had been
that place and it was Gracie who had brought her back and now, she knew,
Mrs
Moffat wanted to talk about sending her away.

Bridie had
resisted even thinking about it, ignored it really, but she couldn’t any more.

 ‘I’ll not
lose you Gracie.’ Bridie vowed. ‘I’ll not. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep
you with me.’

She wrapped a
shawl around her and headed back down to the kitchen,
Mrs
Moffat was busy kneading bread for the morning and did not look at her as she
spoke.

‘I spoke with the
priest yesterday.’

Bridie just sat.

‘The Campbell’s
are ready for Gracie.’

‘No.’ Bridie said
but one word.

‘You’ve had your
thirteen full moons.’

‘I’m still feeding
her at night.’

 ‘It’s time
for Gracie to go to her new family, They’re good people,’
Mrs
Moffat said and Bridie closed her eyes, for Lara Campbell was a sister to the
priest and everything they wanted was taken as already theirs.

‘I’m Gracie’s
mother,’ Bridie reared. ‘I’ll not let them take her.’

‘You’ll do as
you’re told,’
Mrs
Moffat warned, and the bread would
be well risen tomorrow for her hands were extra busy as they worked the dough
and she looked over to where Bridie sat defiant.
Och
,
she would not hand that
bairn
over without a fight
Mrs
Moffat knew. She was like a wee vixen defending her
cubs and she’d spoken to the priest about the trouble Bridie might cause.

‘The priest says
that it’s shameful of you to be raising her out of wedlock…’ Bridie just
shrugged, she’d take the shame rather than part with Gracie. ‘And he says it
shames the laird too, to be housing an
illegit
.’ She
saw Bridie blink.

‘I’m not letting
her go.’ Bridie said.

‘Well, if you
insist on keeping her, then you’re to wed,’
Mrs
Moffat said. ‘There’s no other way around it.’

‘No one will have
me,’ Bridie said. ‘You told me that, you said that I’m damaged goods and that
no man with sense will take on another mouth--’

‘Aye, well the
priest thought of that.’
Mrs
Moffat interrupted. ‘And
he says if you’ll not hand Gracie over to God loving people who will raise her
well, then you’re to marry
Dougal
Blaine.’ She
watched the
colour
flood from Bridie’s cheeks. ‘He’s
a gentle soul and he
hasnae
a wife.’

‘The laird said I
could stay here…’ Bridie’s breath was coming out of her nostrils as panic
started to build.

‘The laird is to
marry soon, he’ll be choosing his bride at the ball in a few weeks,’
Mrs
Moffat said. ‘Maybe the new lady won’t want the shame.’
She knew she was being harsh, but
Mrs
Moffat was
worried, there was much trouble - any time now the men would be heading into
battle. Bridie had grown too used to the laird’s generosity and it feared her
what might happen if the English hold took. ‘The
Campbells
will take good care of Gracie…’

‘No!’ Bridie took
a deep breath, she could feel her heart pounding in her chest, for she could
think of only one thing worse than being wed to
Dougal
Blaine and that was losing Gracie.

 ‘I’m not
giving my baby away,’ Bridie said and revealed a little of the pain she kept so
deeply locked in. ‘I’m not doing to Gracie what my own mother did to me.’

‘Bridie, you don’t
know what happened to your Ma, you don’t know why she did what she did--’

‘Exactly,’ Bridie
fiercely interrupted. ‘But I know the little I do – that I was found at
the burn, but do you think the
Campbells
will be
filling wee Gracie’s ears with tales of me? No, she’ll grow up never knowing
that I’m her mother. I’ll have to stand in church and watch my daughter and she
won’t even know that it’s me.’ Bridie took a deep breath. ‘You can tell the
priest I’ll be marrying
Dougal
…’

‘Bridie!’ The auld
woman was shocked, she’d never expected Bridie to agree, but there were few
choices.

‘I’m away to my
bed.’ Bridie called over her shoulder as she left the kitchen.

‘You get back here
lassie.’

But Bridie ignored
her, worried to speak in case she break down. She checked the blanket around
Gracie, and simply refused to cry, for Gracie was worth it.

Bridie slid into
bed beside Mary and closed her eyes, desperate to sleep, but the face before
here was
Dougal’s
and in the end, she woke up a
sleeping Mary. ‘I’m to be married,’ Bridie whispered.

‘When?’ Mary’s
eyes lit up with glee.

‘The banns will
start to be read soon.’ Bridie said.

‘Who are you to
marry?’

Bridie did her
best to keep her voice even. ‘
Dougal
Blaine.’ The
smile was wiped from Mary’s face and it was Bridie who did her best to reassure
her friend. ‘
Mrs
Moffat says that he’s the only one
who will have me.’ Bridie said.
‘Because…’ she would not
blame it on Gracie.
‘Because of what happened.’

‘But,
Dougal
Blaine?’ Mary said. ‘He’s a simpleton.’

‘He’s kind.’
Bridie tried to be practical. ‘And I’ll have my own home and maybe some day
sisters and brothers for Gracie…’ but then her voice wavered, for she had to
speak to a friend. ‘I’m fine being wed and everything, but I’m scared of the
nights, Mary. I’m starting to remember what happened…. ’ She saw her friends
frown of confusion, did not want to scare her with details. ‘I’m not scared to
be
Dougal’s
wife; I’m scared to be any man’s wife.
I’m scared how much it’s going to hurt.’

‘It might not be
so bad,’ Mary attempted. ‘Kissing is nice.’