Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes Page 3

  “Mary, that’s kind of ye, but I have delayed ye enough. I’m sure Kristen and I will be fine.” Grace climbed up on the wagon to lift her daughter down as one of their sons handed down the bundle of her belongings. Kristen woke, but not fully. She popped her thumb in her mouth and rested her head on Grace’s shoulder.

  Mary smiled at her. “Well, just in case, we will stop back by here on our way home. If things aren’t working well, ye’ll always have a welcome with us.

  Tears welled in Grace’s eyes. She prayed that her grandmother would accept her, but fear of the unknown prevented her from refusing the offer. “Thank ye, Mary. I truly appreciate that.”

  After saying her goodbyes, Grace followed one of the guards through the gates, across the outer bailey, into the inner bailey, then around to the kitchens. Before returning to his post, the guard opened the door for her, calling in, “Innes, there’s someone here to see ye.”

  The kitchen he showed her to was empty save for a white haired woman who stirred a pot hanging over the fire. The midday meal had been served and cleared. This was the quiet pause in the afternoon, before work began again for the evening meal.

  The older woman smiled. “Do I know ye lass?”

  Grace hesitated a moment, trying to figure out what to say. The forthright approach seemed best. “Nay, ye don’t. My name is Grace Breive and this sleepy lass is my daughter, Kristen. I am Tristan Murray’s daughter.”

  The news stunned Innes. She dropped the long spoon she held. “Ye can’t be. Nay. Tristan—Tristan disappeared years ago. I never heard a word. I thought him dead.”

  Disappeared? Her mother hadn’t made that detail clear. “I’m so very sorry for yer pain but I am his daughter.” Grace slipped a hand in her pocket and pulled out her da’s brooch. “This was his. Do ye recognize it?”

  The old woman burst into tears. “Aye, I do. That was my husband’s and then Tristan’s.” She rushed across the room and wrapped her arms around both Grace and Kristen. “By all the saints, lass, I can’t believe it—after all these years. He left. He was young and so angry. I thought he would forgive me eventually and come home. That was the last I saw him.”

  Grace returned her hug. She didn’t know what to say. “Please, sit down,” she said, gently guiding her weeping grandmother into a chair. “I know this has been a shock. I don’t understand it all myself, but perhaps we can sort it out together.”

  When her grandmother had regained some control, she asked, “Where is Tristan now?”

  The anticipation in her grandmother’s voice caused a lump to form in Grace’s throat and tears prickled the back of her eyes. She took a deep breath. She hated having to break the old woman’s heart again. “I’m so very sorry to have to tell ye this, my father died last October.”

  As Grace expected, this brought on a fresh wave of tears but the old woman recovered a bit quicker this time. “Tell me, child. Tell me everything.”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t know everything. We lived on the Isle of Lewis. I knew my parents hadn’t been raised there, but I thought neither of them had any living family. My father and husband were fishermen. They both died when a gale struck and their boat went down.”

  “Oh, my poor sweet lass, ye are a widow. I was widowed young too. I’m so sorry for ye. I thought it would kill me at the time, but I had Tristan, I had to go on.”

  “Aye, that is just how it was. I had to for Mama and Kristen. Mama had been very ill, ye see. I needed to take care of her. Finally, a few months ago she told me why she and Da had come to the isles in the first place. Apparently her father didn’t want her to marry my father so they ran away together.”

  “But why didn’t he tell me? I would have understood why he couldn’t come home. Why didn’t he just send me a message telling me he lived?”

  Her plaintive tone tore at Grace. She understood her parents’ reasons; still, her heart ached for her grandmother. “My mother said her father vowed to kill Da so they ran away. She feared her father. She wouldn’t even tell me her family name. She didn’t want me to ever seek them out. She made me promise I wouldn’t. Do ye know anything about her?”

  Her grandmother shook her head sadly. “Nay, I don’t. Ye see, as I said, Tristan left as a very young man. He had trained here as a soldier but I didn’t want that for him. I told ye I was widowed, Tristan’s father died at the battle of Falkirk when Tristan wasn’t much bigger than yer wee lass. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him in the same way. I asked Laird Sutherland to release him, to have him work in the stables or on a croft, anything but wield a sword. He was my only child.” She bowed her head for a moment. Clearly these were painful memories.

  “Did the laird refuse?” asked Grace gently.

  Innes shook her head. “Not outright. Laird Sutherland said he wouldn’t force Tristan out, because he was a skilled warrior, but he would talk to Tristan, giving him the option to work elsewhere if he so desired.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would he leave if the choice was his?”

  “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have interfered. When Tristan found out what I had done, he was furious. He said if I couldn’t stay out of his life, he would stay out of mine. He left the next day. He was only twenty. He never contacted me to tell me where he went. Laird Sutherland might have tried to find out for me, but as it had been my interference that caused Tristan to leave in the first place, I didn’t want to risk pushing him farther away.

  “For the first few months I was certain he would return home. Then after a couple years, I simply prayed to hear from him. I just wanted to know that he lived and was happy. Finally, after so many years had passed, I believed he must have died. And, now I learn that he has and I was never able to tell him how sorry I was. How I regretted interfering.” Her grandmother began weeping again.

  Grace was stunned by her father’s thoughtlessness. She offered the only explanation she could think of. “It sounds as if he married my mother just months after leaving home. If my mother’s father was as ruthless as she believed, I can only think my da’s silence was meant to protect ye. Still, I am so very sorry.” They sat in silence for a few moments before Grace said, “I have a letter to ye from my da that my mother wrote for him. Maybe it will explain things.”

  “I can’t read. We’ll go to Father Francis. He’ll read it to us. I could ask the laird but he is away.”

  “I can read it to ye if ye wish. Apparently Da composed it years ago but feared sending it.”

  A look of excitement crossed her grandmother’s face. “Ye can read? Aye, please read it to me. But if ye have had it for months why haven’t ye read it before now?”

  “The letter was written to ye, not me. I didn’t want to read it without yer leave. Would ye hold this sprite for me while I fetch it from my bag?”

  Her grandmother gave Kristen a warm smile that reminded Grace poignantly of Da. “Hold my great-granddaughter? Aye, I’d love to.”

  Kristen was beginning to wake more fully now but she happily snuggled into the old woman’s lap.

  Grace found the small, carved wooden box, producing the letter from it. “Here it is.” She broke the wax seal and the sight of her mother’s beautiful handwriting caused her heart to ache, but she took a deep breath and started reading.

  Dear Mother,

  I have tried to compose this letter so many times. Each time, I have started by explaining why I left so suddenly without ever revealing where I went. I have finally realized the “whys” are of the least importance. So first I want ye to know I love ye. No mother deserves to be treated as I did ye. From the depths of my heart, I am sorry. I said terrible things. I shouldn’t have left angry. But even having left, I should have at least told ye where I went. There are no excuses.

  Why then am I not coming to ye in person, falling on my knees, and begging yer forgiveness? Sadly, I cannot without endangering everyone I love, including ye, my dear mother. I can only tell ye the story and hope ye understand.

  When I left, I work
ed as a soldier with another clan. There, I fell in love with the laird’s daughter and she with me.

  Shocked, Grace stopped reading for a moment. The laird’s daughter? Her mother hadn’t mentioned that detail either but it explained why she could read and write. Grace read on.

  We knew there was little hope her father would allow the marriage. He had plans for strategic alliances that included betrothals for all of his children. Following our hearts meant escaping together, marrying in secret, and living in hiding. I was unwilling to subject my love to this without at least trying to approach her father. Still as unlikely as he was to agree, I could not risk losing her forever. She slipped from the castle and I escorted her to an abbey to wait for me while I met with her father.

  I returned to the castle before anyone knew she had left. I begged her father for her hand. Not surprisingly, he refused. He saw my request as an insult, believing that ambition and greed rather than love motivated me. He banished me, vowing to kill me if he ever saw me again. If he had realized his daughter was already gone I have no doubt he would have cleaved me in two at that moment.

  I suppose defying ye wasn’t bad enough, I also defied the laird I chose to serve. I left the keep, returned to the abbey, and married the woman I loved, promising to devote my life to her.

  Perhaps it will ease yer heart to know that due to the risk of discovery, working as a soldier with any clan would never have been possible. Nor could I ever lend my sword-arm to an enemy of Scotland.

  We chose another life but in so doing had to sever all ties. I want more than anything for ye to meet my precious wife. I love her more than life itself. I cannot imagine living without her. However, she fears her father. She fears the power he wields and believes his need for vengeance against us could endanger anyone who has knowledge of our whereabouts.

  I realize now that not only have I robbed ye of a son, but of a beautiful, loving daughter by marriage, and of grandchildren. We have a lovely newborn daughter. We also had a fine son who we tragically lost to illness a few days ago. Sadly, I now fully understand how devastating it is to lose a child. If you feel a fraction of the loss I feel for my son, I will never be able to apologize for causing you such pain.

  Perhaps someday, when my wife’s family no longer poses a threat, ye will be able to meet the woman who captured and holds my heart as well as the children born from our love. This is my fervent prayer. Until then, please accept this meager apology for my shameful behavior and believe that I love and respect ye more than ye can ever know.

  With love,

  Tristan

  This was certainly not what Grace expected. She looked up from the letter, her grandmother dashed at the tears coursing down her cheeks. Grace loved her father dearly. She believed him to be generous, strong, and noble. It was hard to read about these things her parents had done, which seemed so very selfish and yet were born of deep abiding love for each other. Clearly that love had pushed aside everything else and thus had caused great pain to others. Duty to one’s family, clan honor, loyalty to a liege lord, none of these things had been more important than the love they felt for each other. It was beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time. She couldn’t help but wonder what choice she would have made. She thought of her beloved Callum. Would she have married him if she had faced the same circumstances her parents did? She didn’t know the answer.

  “I’m so sorry, Grandmother. After these many years, this seems so little.”

  “Child, I thought Tristan long dead. I had given up all hope. Now I know what happened to take him from me all those years ago. I know he didn’t hold a grudge against me, and that he regretted his actions. I wish things could have been different, but to live a life filled with love is a blessing. I would have wanted nothing more for him. These are not small things.” In a brighter tone she added, “also, I now have a beautiful granddaughter and great-granddaughter to dote on. And perhaps someday I can meet the lass who won Tristan’s heart.”

  Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “Nay, grandmother, I’m sorry to say she passed away from her illness in February, shortly after she told me all of this. I have no one left in the world now but Kristen and ye.”

  “Well, my sweet lass, ye’ve found me now and ye’ll have a home here forever. I’ll speak with Laird Sutherland about it when he returns but have no fears, he’ll welcome ye.”

  “I won’t be a burden, Grandmother. I am a skilled weaver, but I will work at anything.”

  “Ye could never be a burden, lass, don’t worry about that. I’m sure the laird won’t object to ye and Kristen living with me. My cottage is inside the castle walls, in the outer bailey. Come with me. I’ll take ye there.”

  Chapter 3

  Sutherland Castle, two days later

  Soaked by the late spring rain and chilled to the bone, Bram Sutherland thought the gates of home had never looked so inviting. It had been a long, wet ride from Castle MacKay. The skies had only cleared in the last hour. They would have been welcome to stay another night waiting out the storm at Naomh-dùn, the MacKay stronghold, but thankfully his father had declined. Bram couldn’t stand the thought of spending another minute there. His betrothed had married Eoin MacKay. Bram hadn’t wanted to linger and be reminded of his loss.

  Letting Fiona MacNicol go had been the right thing to do but that didn’t make it less disappointing. Until yesterday he hadn’t even met her. But once he had, he found her not only beautiful, but strong, loyal, and possessed of a loving heart—a heart that was, unfortunately, deeply in love with Eoin MacKay. Even though Bram had been tempted to force the terms of their betrothal contract, her heart would never belong to him and he couldn’t bear to see her unhappy.

  They slogged into the courtyard. His father gave his mount to the care of a stable hand. “Son, I expect supper is nigh on the table. Leave yer beast to one of the lads. We’ll fill our bellies with good food and ale and try to put this mess behind us.”

  Bram generally preferred to care for his own horse and while he had been looking forward to the warmth of hearth and home for hours, arriving at the start of the evening meal had disadvantages. He was less than anxious to face the onslaught of questions about what had happened and why they didn’t have Fiona MacNicol with them. “I’ll see to Goliath myself but I won’t be long.”

  “Bram, ye could have had her. The law was on our side.”

  “Nay, Da, we have been through this. It would have been wrong. Fiona and Eoin love each other.”

  “Bah. Love. Kentigern MacKay would never have stood for this.” His father’s tone of voice clearly conveyed how unimportant that detail was.

  “Perhaps not, but he is dead. Eoin is laird and in spite of being solid allies for years, if we had forced the issue, he would have become a mortal enemy to the Sutherlands until either I lay dead or he did. Not to mention the fact that I would be married to a woman who would have hated me forever. This was the right course.”

  “Whether it was or wasn’t, it’s done now and we’ll need to find another way to ally with the MacNicols. I think I must consider Bhaltair’s daughter for Boyd, and the sooner the better. We need to get that sorted while they are young—before either of them gets any foolish notions about love in their heads.”

  Bram just shook his head at his father’s utter dismissal of the emotion. Bram had understood from an early age that he would marry a woman of his father’s choosing, a woman who strengthened clan ties. He hadn’t thought much about love and perhaps had discounted its importance as thoroughly as his father had. That was until he saw Fiona and Eoin together. He didn’t want to admit it, but he envied them.

  His father must have taken his silence for agreement, because he continued, “Aye, the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced. I will take care of it as soon as Laird MacNicol has recovered. And we will find a bonny bride for ye too, Bram. That young Anna MacKay is quite a pretty thing, even if she is a bit too bold for her own good.”

  “A bit too bold? That is an un
derstatement. Whoever marries her will have his hands full. I’m not sure I’m up to the task. Besides, she is very young.”

  “Seventeen is not that young. But there is also Annice…”

  “Nay, Da, please, can’t this wait? I don’t wish to discuss another betrothal at the moment and I need to see to Goliath.”

  “Fine, we won’t discuss it now. It can wait…a few days. Don’t dwell on this, Bram.”

  “Aye, Da.”

  His father turned toward the keep, calling as he went, “Don’t be all night. Yer mother will want to hear every detail of what happened and I don’t have the patience.”

  By all the saints, Bram loved his mother but he didn’t have the patience for an inquisition tonight either. Bram led Goliath into the stable, removed his tack, rubbed him down, and fed him an extra portion of oats. When he had finished, he was still not anxious to face the crowd certain to have formed in the great hall. He could avoid it by going straight to the kitchen. Innes would give him food and ale and he could slip up the backstairs, avoiding the great hall altogether tonight. He actually might be able to get through this day without having to rehash everything yet again.

  Bram walked from the stables through the outer bailey heading to the rear entrance to the inner bailey, near the kitchens. As he passed one of the small dwellings located within the outer bailey, a woman’s voice, perhaps the most beautiful voice he had ever heard, drifted toward him on the breeze. He stopped to listen. The tune was unfamiliar and he couldn’t quite catch the words, but it was delightful.

  He followed the enchanting melody, drawing close enough to the source to understand the lyrics.

  Hush my sweetling, hushaby,

  The sun sets slowly in the sky,

  Tis time to sleep for evening’s nigh,

  Hush my sweetling, hushaby.

  Hush my sweetling, little dove,