Authors: Felicia Rogers
By God's Grace (23 page)
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Months had passed, and the Sinclair men were antsy to return home. None of them had wives, but that didn't mean they didn't have women pining for them. Of late, the men admitted the Burns's keep was becoming an exciting place. Once Lyall had come out of her room and to her senses, it was like a butterfly emerging from the cocoon. On a meeting with the new Burns's laird, ex-captain of the guard and her secret half-brother, Lyall explained a desired to stay at the keep a while longer. Never was one word mentioned about her father's murder. In fact the young mistress seemed oblivious to the regime change. A smile graced her rosy lips; her dark eyes shimmered with delight as she went through every day like nothing had changed.
Alan had an obligation to protect his family and had refused to take chances by waiting to gather information. When a Burns's scout had told Alan men were spotted within sight of the Burns's keep, the young man had hidden his wife and baby son in the woods outside the castle walls. At the time, the identity of the visitors had been unknown.
The decision was not regretted. To this day, Lyall was unaware Alan had already produced an heir to inherit the keep, and as far as he was concerned, this was how it would remain.
The returning Burns's daughter had stayed in a closed room, incapacitated for a length of time. Once the woman began to wander the halls, it would only be a matter of time before she would acquire his acquaintance.
Alan was in his father's study when Lyall barged in unannounced. A hasty introduction was given. A gloved finger ran along the desk, picking up a glob of dust.
“Oh truly, Alan, ye must do something about these lazy inept servants.”
“Mistress Sinclair, this room has been closed since the incident. I opened it today on my own, and no one has yet been allowed to come in and clean.” Alan lowered his head, staring at the books scattered on the desk before continuing, “They might clean away a trace of the killer.”
Under hooded eyes, Alan watched for any sign of recognition or revelation. There was no indication made that what he said disturbed her in the least. With her hands clasped demurely in front of her, she walked toward him. “Truly Alan, âMistress Sinclair'? It just makes me seem so old! Couldn't ye call me Lyall?”
“Nay, it wouldn't be appropriate,” Alan answered, shifting uncomfortably.
Cynical laughter rolled from Lyall's throat. “Why not? We are both free people.” Feet glided over to the desk; she leaned over, giving him a view of her ample bosom. Elbows rested on the table, her hair wrapped around one finger in a coy way.
“We are both able to do what we wish. And do ye know what I wish?”
The young twenty-five-year-old man gulped, his eyes placed over the top of her head. “Nay.”
Lyall laughed at the innocent display. “What I wish is for us to become better acquainted.” Raising herself off the table and standing up, she walked around her father's private sanctuary. With a glance over her shoulder, her mouth twitched into a broad grin. Fluttering her hands to nearby objects, she picked them up and put them down as she spoke. “Ye know I could contest yer right to inherit the keep, but I have a better plan.”
Alan didn't answer, a frown spreading the full width of his youthful face.
“We could get married.” Lyall didn't notice the look of disgust that crossed Alan's visage before she continued, “That way, not only would ye have the piece of paper my father gave ye, but ye would also have legal rights by marrying the only living Burns's heir.”
Alan was aghast. The words were poised upon his lips to tell Lyall she was out of her mind when her eyelid twitched. Without warning, she grabbed the sides of her face and ran from the room.
That incident had been weeks ago, and thankfully Alan had been able to avoid Lyall for the most part since that time. Of course, she was always around at mealtime, but Alan made sure to invite Grant and several others to dine, so he wouldn't be alone with his sister again.
Alan needed to see his wife. At this rate, his son would be toddling before Lyall left the keep. With a heavy heart, Alan sat in the study in his father's chair.
Outside the window grew beautiful blooming flowers. Rab had explained at length how his first wife had a green thumb and could make anything grow. Their marriage had been one to unite clans, a marriage of convenience. Yet their love had grown over time. Rab was determined to please his new wife. When she asked if she could grow a garden, his answer had been, “Only if it is outside my study window.”
After the garden was planted, and pleasing odors wafted through the air, his wife told him she thought the request was so he could enjoy the garden. But Rab explained to her the garden was put outside his window so he could watch her.
Talking to his father about Lyall's mother had been a saddening experience. Rab had loved the lady dearly, and upon her death, a part of him died as well. The part he should have given to Lyall was no more.
Alan wasn't in the mood to reflect on Lyall. The crazed woman had turned his world upside-down. In fact if he could discover the current whereabouts of his sister, he was tempted to visit his wife and son. But just as Alan had these thoughts, he heard a voice calling his name, the one voice he didn't wish to hear.
Lyall entered the study as if on the edge of a whirlwind. Words shot from her mouth like an arrow leaving the bow. “There ye are, darling. I have been looking everywhere for ye.”
An inquisitive eyebrow rose, “Here I am.”
“I have the most dreadful news.”
Alan couldn't imagine what Lyall would consider dreadful. Initially hesitating, he gathered his courage. “Aye?”
Lyall became dramatic with arms and hands flailing. “The Neal keep is throwing a celebration in honor of a wedding, and we weren't invited.”
Alan's eyebrow lifted. “That's not a surprise. Since we are their sworn enemies, I don't expect them to invite us to their celebrations.”
Petulant lips scrunched upon her face. “Can't enemy status be postponed so we can attend the wedding? There is never anything entertaining here.”
“Then maybe ye should travel to Aberdeen. I hear the place is rife with entertainment.”
“Ye know, that isn't a bad plan.”
“It isn't?”
“Nay, in fact ye have just given me a splendid idea.”
“I have?”
“Aye, ye have,” Lyall said, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek before bounding out of the room and bouncing down the hallway.
Alan's only thought was,
What have I done now?
****
Lyall beamed all day as the arrangements were made. Parchment, an inkwell, and a quill were found. A list of all those “important” people worthy of an event planned by herself was made. Teeth chewed the tip of the quill as she pondered the length of the pitifully short list, then scratched through the names.
“Oh, this will never do.” The only way to appear to know a lot of people would be to just invite the villagers. Of course the celebration would lack the debonair and flair she hoped to achieve, but maybe â just maybe â some of these sad-looking people would cheer up. Why, you would think someone had died. After the thought passed through her mind, Lyall's hand covered her mouth, allowing a giggle to escape. A look of “Oops, they did” crossed her face.
Speaking to no one in particular, Lyall said, “Father grieved for years, and what good did it do him? None, I say.”
“Nay, but it helped ye find me.”
“Aye, Sori, this is true, but sometimes I wonder if that was a good thing.”
Sori pouted.
Lyall abandoned the list of nobles for the party and conceded to inviting the villagers. Next a list of supplies was written, then a list of chores the servants would need to complete before the party could occur. All afternoon she worked, head bent over the table in concentration. Leaning back in the chair and stretching, she happened to glance out the room window. Next to the gate stood a familiar figure. His head rotated this way and that as he appeared to check for something. Perhaps he wondered if he was being followed. When he believed safety was ensured, the young man slid through the gate and walked out of the keep.
Now where was Alan going outside the keep walls at this time of day? What could the new laird be doing which would call for sneakiness? Lyall thought about following, but she was too far away to catch up. But rest assured, next time the new Burns's laird tried to secretly exit the keep, Lyall would be waiting to follow along right behind him.
With a shake of her head, she cleared her mind of everything but the celebration planning. Now if I have the servantsâ¦
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Arbella arrived at Tamara's family home around the afternoon meal. Her stomach rumbled in protest at the smells coming from the table. She hoped to find Tamara alone, but it wasn't to be. The room was filled with Tamara's family, even Filib was in attendance.
As she entered the room, everyone stood.
“My lady, what brings ye to our humble abode?” asked Tamara's pa in a worried tone.
“I must apologize for barging in on your meal unannounced, kind sir. I only wished to have a private word with Tamara.”
Immediately everyone but Tamara began to exit the room, but Arbella raised a hand to stop them. “Oh, don't leave. I didn't wish to ruin your meal.” Facing Tamara, she said, “Do finish. Then if you would come to the keep and speak with me, I would be most grateful.”
Arbella bowed and walked out.
****
The whole family sat back down. Tamara's father was silent for a moment before looking at his daughter and saying, “Ye can eat later, lass. The lady appeared to be in dire need of yer assistance. And we don't need to keep the lady of the keep waiting.”
“Aye, Pa, she did indeed,” Tamara was already up with her cloak wrapped around her shoulders and walking out the door before she finished the statement.
Not that far behind Arbella, Tamara expected to spot the mistress in front of the keep doors, but instead saw her heading elsewhere. Arbella was headed toward the stables, a hand was covering her mouth, and although not running, the lady was definitely moving faster than a walk.
Tamara arrived in the stables shortly behind Arbella. The lady of the keep was found in an empty stall, bent over at the waist, retching. When she finished, her body continued to try and expel food that was no longer there. Arbella's body moved in a jerking motion. Tamara went back outside and found some water. Ripping a portion of her gown and wetting the fabric she took it back to the stables. The cool rag was placed on Arbella's forehead.
Arbella had sunk down on the floor of the stall, head thrown back against the rough wooden wall. When Tamara placed the wet cloth upon her flushed skin, her eyes opened. The orbs were beaded with moisture. With a glance at Tamara, she asked, “What's wrong with me?”
Tamara studied her. Perhaps she should return for her ma? Nay, Arbella had come to her because they were friends. Just because the lady felt comfortable with her didn't mean she would feel the same with Tamara's mother. Tamara reasoned,
H
ow would my mother figure this out?
Then she asked, “Tell me more of what is happening to ye.”
Arbella swallowed, embarrassed. “Well, you already know about the throwing up.”
“Aye, I do. And?”
“I'm very moody. I'm snapping at Duncan all the time now over the silliest of things. I find myself weeping at everything. A servant forgot to wipe the dust from my desk, and I wept! I'm hungry all the time, but I can't keep anything down. I even had to have the seamstress let out some of my dresses!” Leaning in conspiratorially she added, “My breasts are also very tender.”
Tamara didn't comment on anything Arbella said, but she was beginning to get the picture. “Anything else?”
“This is a tad embarrassing to me, and I'm not sure it means anything, but since I was around twelve, I bleed some each month, and about three months ago it just up and quit.”
Tamara restrained her laughter. How could Arbella be so ignorant about womanly matters? It was little wonder the lady didn't know the basic things, since she'd never had a mother to share it with.
The joyous news she would give Arbella had her lips sliding into a smile. But before Tamara told the lady, she had to ask some questions to see why she didn't know the basic womanly issues she should know. “Didn't ye tell me ye lived with yer aunt when ye was thirteen?”
“Aye, I did.” Arbella made a noise deep in her chest. “Nay, it can't be! Nay, I can't have it! Duncan and I are so happy. Why did it have to happen to me? It is so unfair!” Arbella burst forth in tears.
Tamara was worried. What did Arbella believe she had? Surely she wasn't this upset about a babe? Placing a comforting hand on Arbella's arm, she asked, “My lady, what has upset ye?”
“You are trying to make it all right, and I understand. My aunt's illness was hard to watch.” Arbella's eyes widened, a hand covered her open mouth. “I have infected your family and everyone in the keep. How many will perish because of me?”
A moan escaped her lips as she jumped to her feet, a crazed look of desperation entering her eyes. Under her breath she mumbled, “God, please choose to take only me. I don't know if I can take it if I'm responsible for the death of so many innocents.”
Tamara grasped Arbella a little more roughly than intended and shook her. “My lady, ye are not dying.”
Arbella leveled her eyes at Tamara. “But you saidâ”
Tamara sighed. How fast things could go array when one made a stray comment. “My lady, I just meant I find it hard to believe ye lived with yer aunt all them years and ye didn't have an understanding of certain things.”
An expression of dejection crossed Arbella's visage. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks.
Tamara waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn't really matter that ye didn't know these things.”
Arbella swiped the back of a hand across her eyes and cheeks attempting to hide her shame. “We â we didn't talk much. I don't think my aunt knew what to say to me. So I don't have the illness my aunt had? How do you know?”
Tamara studied Arbella, grasping her hands between the two of them. “I know ye don't have her sickness because I know what is really wrong with ye.”
Arbella's face changed to one of hopefulness. “You do?”
“Aye, I do.”
“Well Tamara don't keep it to yourself. Tell me what ails me. Better yet, tell me how long it will take me to get over it?”
“It lasts about nine months, but judging from yer list of ailments, I would say ye have about six months left.”
“Six months!” wailed Arbella. Grabbing at the maid, she pleaded, “Please tell me there is a way to speed this up. I can't be like this for six more months. Duncan will leave me.”
Tamara's head shook, a smile tugging the corners of her lips. Arbella shook with fury. “How can you be happy at a time like this? I'm going to be an ogre for six more months, and you are smiling. I thought you were my friend.” Immediately, Arbella showed regret for the statement, hanging her head low.
“Oh, my lady. This is not a bad thing. It shall bring ye and Duncan much joy. This is a glorious thing. In six months or so ye will have aâ”
Arbella had sunk back to the floor and buried her head in waiting hands. Sorrowful weeping occurred with the impending doom. How would the lady make it through these next six months? Tamara squatted down and attempted to pry the hands away from the lady's face while she talked of the end of the six-month period as something glorious, something that was sure to bring long-lasting joy to Duncan and her. The words sent shockwaves through her body, as Tamara came to the end of the speech and said, “A babe.”
