Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes Read online

  “Mother, that was six years ago. I was one and twenty and took no notice of a lass of twelve.”

  His mother pursed her lips. “Well, she was a bonny lass of twelve. Her sister Joan, God rest her soul, was an extraordinary beauty.”

  “Now her, I remember,” said Ian. “At the time, I thought Andrew MacLeod was the luckiest damn man in the Highlands.”

  “Mind yer language, Ian,” his mother scolded. “Their mother is a very attractive woman too. I expect Annice is every bit as lovely as Joan was.”

  “It is an alliance, Mother. I don’t see how her appearance matters,” said Bram irritably.

  His father shook his head. “It doesn’t. She could have the face of a pig and it would still be worth pursuing the betrothal. The fact that she is attractive is an added boon which I thought ye might appreciate.” Eanraig took a long pull of ale from his tankard. “If everything goes well, we might still be able to hold the wedding at the end of the summer.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” gushed Rodina.

  “I don’t see a reason to rush things,” said Bram.

  “Rush things?” Eanraig was incredulous. “August isn’t rushing things. Political climates change, Bram, and potential brides grow older. If we want this alliance we must move quickly. If Sinclair wants ye married immediately, ye will be married as soon as the banns are announced, make no mistake.” Although Eanraig didn’t say it, he prayed Sinclair did want the wedding soon. Perhaps it would put to rest whatever daft notion Bram had of love.

  *

  Eanraig sent the messenger the next morning, as planned. The more he thought about it, the more confident he became that an alliance with the Sinclairs through Bram’s betrothal was an even better choice that Fiona MacNicol had been. After all, there still was a MacNicol lass who Boyd could marry. Sinclair only had one daughter left.

  He was still chuffed about this fortunate turn of events later that day when he entered the stable in search of the stable master. Several men in his garrison were tending their horses, evidently preparing to go out on patrol. He overheard one of them say, “Aye, she is quite a bonny lass.” He smiled and stopped to listen.

  “God’s bones, bonny doesn’t begin to describe her. I was on the gate the day she arrived. Breathtaking she was and that was travel worn.”

  “That hair,” said another one. “I wish she’d leave off wearing the kertch. She’s a widow anyway. By the Rood I’d like to see her cloaked in nothing but that hair.”

  “As if ye’d be looking at her hair if she had nothing covering her other assets,” said another man, who laughed heartily at his own jest.

  Eanraig grinned. If he wasn’t much mistaken, they were talking about Grace Breive. His son wasn’t the only one whose head she turned. Maybe this little problem would work itself out.

  “Don’t waste yer time imagining her assets.” Eanraig recognized the voice as belonging to Michael MacBain, one of his guardsmen. “I have my sights set on winning that lass and I don’t want to have to kill any of ye for having impure thoughts about her.”

  “Don’t waste our time? The way I hear it, ye might be wasting yer time, unless ye don’t mind taking Bram’s leavings,” said the first man.

  “And what is it ye hear?” asked Michael.

  “Moyra told me Bram demanded that Grace attend the feast at Pentecost.”

  “I doubt Bram demanded anything of her. It isn’t like him,” said Michael.

  Calder, another guardsman with a deep rumbling voice, said, “I don’t know, Michael. Una said Bram seemed rather taken with the lass.”

  “And how would yer wife know that?” asked Michael.

  “She saw them together in the afternoon on Pentecost and she assures me women know these things.” Calder’s tone suggested he didn’t take Una’s comments too seriously.

  Another man said, “Well, Peggy told me when the lass finally did make an appearance during the dancing, Bram never let her go and was seen leaving with her.”

  Michael snorted. “Well, lads, this is what I know. Bram will never be allowed to pursue the widow Breive beyond a casual dalliance.

  “And ye won’t have the same problem?” asked Calder.

  “Calder, I am the youngest of ten and the seventh son. My father is dead and frankly, when I decided to stay here after completing training, I think my oldest brother, who is laird now, completely forgot about me. I have sworn fealty to Laird Sutherland, not my brother. And while I don’t particularly like the idea of taking Bram’s leavings, as ye suggested, I would consider it where that beautiful woman is concerned. If he breaks her heart, I am more than happy to be the one to pick up the pieces.”

  Eanraig left the stable having forgotten why he went in the first place. The conversation concerned him. Clearly, Bram’s infatuation with Innes’ granddaughter hadn’t gone unnoticed by the clan. Kitchen staff, members of his garrison, and villagers had all evidently seen enough to convince them of something. Considering what Eanraig himself had seen and the way Bram was currently behaving concerning his betrothal, it was likely that at least some of the speculation was true.

  On the other hand, Michael was absolutely right. Bram had responsibilities to the clan that did not involve Grace Breive. Eanraig needed to do everything in his power to encourage Michael. Michael was a strong, reliable man and he would be an excellent husband for Grace. Aye, this could solve the problem. Of course, it wouldn’t hurt to discourage Bram too.

  After the midday meal, Eanraig said, “Bram, I’d like to speak with ye privately about a few matters. Join me in my solar.”

  “Aye, Da,” Bram agreed, but he looked less than happy.

  When they were seated, Eanraig didn’t mince words. “I’m worried about ye, Bram.”

  “What worries ye, Da?”

  “I saw ye on the headlands yesterday with Innes’ granddaughter.”

  “And that worries ye? I saw her walking with her wee daughter and was concerned for their safety. They are new here and could have been hurt.”

  “When I saw ye, ye didn’t appear to be warning her of dangers, ye seemed to be sitting having a cozy conversation.”

  “By all that’s holy, father, I was just being friendly. She is alone here. She needs friends.”

  “And that’s it. Ye are just friends.”

  “That’s it.”

  “And it was just because ye are friends that ye danced all evening with her on Pentecost?”

  “I certainly did not dance with her all evening. I was in the hall most of the evening, ye saw me there.”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t all evening, but ye were seen dancing with her.”

  “Aye, I danced with her. I went out for some fresh air very late in the evening. She was alone and I danced with her. I’ve danced with a lot of clanswomen over the years, Da, and it has never bothered ye before.”

  “Nay, and if that’s all it is, it doesn’t bother me now. But ye have responsibilities to this clan.”

  “I understand my responsibilities perfectly, Da.”

  “Good. As long as ye do.”

  “I do. Is that all ye wished to discuss?”

  “Aye, ye can go.”

  Bram stood and bowed slightly, saying, “Then I’ll bid ye good afternoon.”

  *

  It took every bit of Bram’s control to keep from slamming the solar door. He was angry and frustrated. Had he not just had a conversation with his father the day before about his responsibilities to the clan? Bram knew what was expected of him.

  He also knew that he had just lied to his father. Grace was more than a friend to him, or at least he wanted her to be. Damn.

  He strode down the hall, intending to go out to the lists and vent some of his frustration, but as he passed his mother’s solar, she called to him. “Bram, lad, could ye come here for a moment? I need ye to get some things down for me.”

  He sighed. “Aye, mother, what can I do?”

  She pointed to the top shelf inside a wooden cupboard. “Could ye pass me
down those lengths of fabric? I can’t reach them.”

  He was easily able to reach the shelf and handed her the fabric. “Do ye need anything else?”

  She cocked her head and looked at him. “Nay, but ye seem irritable. What’s bothering ye?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Yer da asked to speak with ye alone and I see ye striding down the hall afterwards, looking murderous. Do ye expect me to believe nothing is wrong?”

  He smiled at her. “Well nothing important. Da just wanted to remind me of my responsibilities to this clan.”

  “Regarding what?”

  “Regarding my betrothal.”

  “I thought that was all but set? Last night yer father said he was sending a message to Laird Sinclair.”

  “Aye he did. I suppose that is why I was frustrated. I know what my responsibilities are.”

  She smiled warmly at her son and caressed his cheek. “I know ye do, Son.” She turned back to the fabric, shaking out one of the lengths to examine it. “But something seems amiss.”

  “Nothing is amiss, Mother. I guess…well, did ye ever wish ye could have chosen yer own husband?”

  She harrumphed. “That could never have happened. It isn’t the way things are done. Ye know that, Bram.”

  “I know, but have ye ever wished it were different?”

  She looked pensive for a few moments. “Nay. I’ve never found any value in imagining ‘what might have beens’. My fate was determined by my birth, just as yers was. As yer da reminded ye, we have obligations to our clans.”

  “Ye never imagined what it would have been like to marry for love?”

  “I grew to love yer father, and he me. What more could I want?”

  Bram knew his parent had a congenial marriage, better than many noble marriages. But he had never witnessed the kind of love he had seen between Fiona and Eoin, or which Grace described between her parents.

  At his silence, Rodina canted her head and said, “That isn’t the answer ye were seeking, |Son?”

  He smiled. “I guess it was. After seeing the love Fiona held for another man—well, I don’t think I could bear being married to someone who pined for someone else.”

  “Ah, ye are concerned about whether Annice will be happy or might have fallen for someone else as Fiona did? Ye have a kind heart, but ye worry too much, Bram. Ye are a good man. The two of ye will find happiness together. I haven’t seen Annice in years, but she was a lovely child, raised to do her duty. She would have to have been. Old Laird Sinclair would have tolerated nothing less. He was not a man to cross. As I recall, he approached father seeking a betrothal to me for Ranulf. Yer grandfather Urquhart politely refused him but I remember him telling mother that he would never send a child of his to live with that devil.”

  Bram frowned and his mother smiled indulgently at him. “Ye see? Ye are a good man. Ye are already worried about her welfare and happiness.”

  He wasn’t as good a man as his mother believed. He hadn’t been thinking about Annice’s happiness as much as he had been his own.

  Chapter 11

  Grace had been living at Sutherland castle for two weeks and she had fallen into a comfortable pattern. She helped her grandmother some in the kitchen in the mornings, through the midday meal. In the afternoons, Grace worked her wool or wove linen ribbon.

  Today she stood spinning in the main room of the little cottage while Kristen napped in the bedroom. The door was open to let in the breeze. She was left to her thoughts as she spun. It occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Bram since Sunday afternoon on the headland, four days earlier. She had enjoyed his company more than she cared to admit, and now she missed it. She remembered her prayer asking God to protect her from loving a man who was out of her reach. Perhaps God had finally started hearing her again.

  A knock at the door shook her from her musings. She looked up; Michael stood on the threshold. “Good afternoon, Grace.”

  “Good afternoon, Michael. Innes isn’t here.”

  He laughed. “’Tis ye I was looking for. Ye have visitors.” He stepped aside so Mary and Dugald could enter.

  Grace beamed and opened her arms to her friends. “Thank ye for seeing them here, Michael.”

  “’Twas my pleasure,” he assured her before leaving.

  “Grace, ye are looking well,” said Mary.

  “Aye, ye are, lass. Have the Sutherland’s welcomed ye?” asked Dugald, going straight to the point.

  “They have. I had to prove that I was Innes’ granddaughter, but once I did, I had no more trouble.”

  Mary gave her a sad smile. “I know I shouldn’t have wished it, but a bit of me hoped ye wouldn’t want to stay here.”

  Grace hugged her. “Oh, Mary, ye were so kind to me. But my grandmother is extremely happy we are here. She spent so much of her life alone, I couldn’t leave her now for anything.”

  “And it’s right that ye should stay here with her,” said Dugald, “but if anything should change, ye know ye always have a home with us.

  “Aye, ye do. We’ll be back this way near Michaelmas, just in case.”

  “Thank ye, Mary, Dugald. I believe my life is here now, but I would love to see ye anytime.”

  They chatted with her for a little while. When Kristen toddled sleepily from the bed room, Grace said, “I would love to take ye around to the kitchen to meet my grandmother.”

  “Oh, nay,” said Dugald. “I fear we have stayed too long already. We left the lads with the wagon, in the village.”

  “By the tavern,” added Mary, giving Grace a knowing look. “If we don’t go soon, we’ll never get them away and we need to get a bit further along today.”

  “We’ll walk with ye to the gates then,” said Grace.

  When she had seen them off, with repeated hugs and a few tears from Mary, Grace started to go back to the cottage, but Michael stopped her. “Are they relatives from yer mother’s family?”

  “Nay. They are friends. Actually, close friends of my father’s dearest friend. We stayed with them in Durness briefly just after we left Lewis. Dugald is a merchant. He and his family escorted me here on their way to Inverness.”

  “And they stopped on the return trip to make sure ye were happy, or to talk ye into leaving with them?”

  Grace laughed. “They wanted to be assured that I was well. But, aye, they would have been happy enough for me to go with them.”

  “Well, I’m glad ye decided to stay.”

  Grace smiled at him. “Thank ye, Michael. Having been separated from Innes my whole life, I don’t think I could ever leave her.”

  *

  Bram had taken Goliath out for exercise. He needed time alone to think. After the discussion with his father, and then his mother, Bram had tried to stay away from Grace. He had obligations that didn’t include her. It was better if he set all thoughts of her aside. He spent hours convincing himself that this was the right path.

  But in the end, despite it being the right path, he just couldn’t follow it.

  When he was with her he felt…complete. It was as if he had found something that he didn’t realize he had lost, but once found he couldn’t live without. How could he let that go? He simply could not imagine a future without Grace in it—or worse, with her there, but out of his reach.

  As he rode to the gates, there she was, the woman who had consumed his thoughts for days. She stood at the gate chatting with Michael. Although she was likely just passing the time of day with him, seeing them there together made Bram realize that there was something even worse than her being out of his reach. He didn’t think he could bear seeing her in the arms of another man.

  “Good afternoon, Michael, Grace.”

  “Good afternoon, Sir Bwam,” chirped Kristen.

  “Good afternoon, my lady,” he said, grinning at Kristen.

  She giggled. “I’m not a wady.”

  “Are ye not?”

  “Nay. I’m just a wee wassie.”

  “Well, my wee lassie, where ar
e ye and yer mama going?”

  Kristen looked up at Grace. “Where are we going, mama?”

  Grace smiled. “Well, we came to the gate to say goodbye to some friends and now we are going back home.”

  Bram dismounted. “I’ll walk as far as the stables with ye.”

  Grace shrugged. “If ye wish.” She turned to Michael. “Good day, Michael.”

  “Good day, Grace. Good day, sir,” Michael answered.

  Bram frowned for a moment. He was rarely addressed so formally by the guardsmen and wondered for a moment why Michael had done it.

  Grace took Kristen’s hand and walked toward Innes’ cottage. Bram walked beside her, leading Goliath. “Ye had visitors?” he asked.

  “Aye. Friends.” At his questioning look she added, “the merchant who brought me here and his wife. They stopped by on their return from Inverness.”

  Before he could find out more, Kristen asked, “What’s his name?”

  “Who, pet?” asked Grace?

  “Sir Bwam’s horse?”

  Bram smiled at her. “His name is Goliath.”

  “Gowiaff,” echoed Kristen. “He’s vewy big.”

  “Maybe he just looks big to ye because ye are so very small,” said Bram.

  Kristen shook her head. “Nay, he’s vewy big.”

  Bram laughed. “I guess he is. Would ye like to see what it is like to sit on his back?”

  Kristen’s eyes grew big. “Nay. He’s too big. I might faww off.”

  “Ye won’t. I promise I’ll keep ye safe. Do ye want to try?”

  Kristen nodded, her eyes still wide.

  Bram swung her up onto Goliath’s saddle. She held onto the edge of the saddle for dear life. “Don’t wet go.”

  “I won’t.” He kept his right hand at her waist. When he sensed her relax a little he asked, “would ye like to ride?”

  Kristen shook her head.

  “Not even one step?”

  Her little brow furrowed as if she considered a very weighty issue. Finally, she gave him a slow nod. “One step.”

  He smiled at her and urged Goliath forward one step.