Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (54 page)

As they started the long slog back to the keep, Gillian could not keep from commenting on Rhiannon’s reluctance to see them. “Mother, ye made it sound so urgent that I see Rhiannon today, but she clearly had no time for a visit.”

“Gillian, don’t be petulant. Rhiannon is very busy and she did want to see ye. She was very clear about that. She made time for ye dear. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t want to see ye.”

There was no point in arguing. Gillian had already wasted too much time walking out to see the old woman in the first place. She should be thankful that the visit itself hadn’t taken long. Perhaps if she didn’t make further conversation her mother would take the hint and remain quiet too, but that hope was in vain.

“Gillian, now that ye are married, we have a new laird, and things are settled we should think about Fallon.”

“Things are settled? Mother, I’m barely married a full day, Fingal has been laird ever so slightly longer, and absolutely nothing has been settled.”

“Why must ye always be so contrary? Ye are married, yer husband is laird and that is the main thing that needed settled. It is all the elders have argued about for months.”

Sometimes her mother’s short-sighted view of things was astounding. But again, she didn’t wish to argue. “Fine, if that is how ye define settled then aye, I’m settled. Still, I don’t think we need to worry about Fallon just yet.”

“She is almost eighteen. It is well past time she was married.”

“She won’t be eighteen for several months and I don’t see the rush.”

“Ye wouldn’t. Ye are just like yer father—‘Don’t worry, Lana, everything will sort itself out.’ Now look where we are because of that. Ye must address this with the laird. It is a matter of great importance to the clan.”

Gillian laughed. “Fallon’s betrothal is a matter of great importance to the clan? I’m sorry mother, I don’t think the clan cares about whether Fallon is married or not.”

Her mother frowned, shaking her head. “Ye are far too short-sighted then, Gillian. Have ye already forgotten? Ye are Lady MacLennan. Until ye have a child, Fallon is yer heir. What if something happened to ye? Imagine the state the clan would be in if we had to go through this again.”

“Something would have to happen to both Fingal and I for the leadership to fall to Fallon and that is highly unlikely.”

“Still, I would feel much better and the clan would be more secure if Fallon had a strong husband. We can never risk that uncertainty again.”

“Mother, I really don’t think finding a husband for Fallon is the most important order of business for the laird at the moment.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, but I already know
who
Fallon should marry. I just need ye to get the laird’s blessing.”

Gillian couldn’t quite believe she was having this conversation but she simply had to ask, “Who do ye think she should marry?”

“Rhiannon’s son, Coby.”

Gillian stopped in her tracks, flabbergasted. “Is that what all this was about? Is that why ye wanted me to chat with Rhiannon today? Are ye planning on opening betrothal negotiations?”

“Nay, Gillian, that had nothing to do with our visit. It is as I said to ye, Rhiannon was heart-broken that she couldn’t see ye wed. She just wanted to hear about the wedding from ye. Nay, I have been thinking about Fallon’s betrothal for a long time. Coby would be perfect. He is a respected guardsman. His mother—well, everyone loves her.”

“Mother, now really isn’t the best time for this.” Gillian started walking again, picking up the pace. She did not want to have this conversation and thankfully they were nearing the gate tower in the curtain wall. She would extricate herself from her mother soon.

“There is no better time than the present,” her mother insisted. “I think it would be a wonderful match.”

“What does Fallon think?”

“It doesn’t matter what she thinks. She will do her duty just as ye have.”

They entered the courtyard, but before Gillian could tell her mother exactly what she thought of that notion, Fingal came striding towards her.

“Gillian, where have ye been?”

“My mother and I went to visit an elderly clanswoman. Is something wrong?”

“Ye were seen leaving the village alone.”

“I wasn’t alone, I just told ye I was with my mother.”

“Nay, I meant without protection.”

Gillian laughed. “I don’t need protection just to walk to Rhiannon’s cabin. She lives just a wee bit beyond the village near the edge of the forest.”

“Gillian, I learned from the guards that ye are accustomed to coming and going freely without an escort, but it probably isn’t the best idea.”

Lana put her hands on her hips. “What utter nonsense. Gillian knows this land and our people better than anyone, certainly better than ye. She is perfectly safe and always has been.”

“I’m sorry Lana but I have to disagree. I have learned today that there have been persistent small raiding parties attacking MacLennan land for the last year.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Gillian said. “We suspect the Grants are behind it. Aunt Meara sent raiders to recoup our losses and I increased patrols as much as I could.”

“I know ye did, and that was prudent. But ye are Lady MacLennan now. Ye would be an extremely enticing target if the Grants wished to take ye and hold ye for ransom.”

Lana huffed. “They wouldn’t stroll into Brathanead village during broad daylight.”

“Nay they probably wouldn’t,” Fingal agreed, “but ye left the village and ye were near the edge of the forest. That is a little too far away to be completely safe. Can ye not see the risk it might pose?”

Her mother pursed her lips and didn’t answer but Gillian had to admit she had never considered it. “I didn’t really think about it. As Mother said, it has never been a worry before.”

“It certainly wasn’t,” Lana added hotly.

Fingal did not seem remotely bothered by her mother’s agitation. “I suppose it wasn’t, but Gillian, do ye understand why it is now?”

She hated to admit it but he was right. Their defenses were spread rather thin. Although it might not be likely, it could be possible for raiders to avoid detection and get as close to Brathanead as the forest. She had never thought of herself as a valuable target, but if captured, aside from the horror of it, the Grants could demand a huge ransom. “Aye, I suppose I do. I really never looked at it that way. But by the same token, I can’t stay locked up here in the keep.”

He grinned. “I don’t expect ye to. I would just like for a guardsman to accompany ye if ye leave the walls.”

Her mother bristled. “Even just to go to the village? That is simply ridiculous.”

Gillian absolutely agreed. However, taking the opposing view to her mother on this very trying morning was too much of a temptation. “Nay mother, he is right. It isn’t likely that anything could happen so close to the keep, but if it did, if we had to forfeit a ransom because of something that could have been so easily prevented—well, that just can’t be allowed to happen.”

“Bah, I never thought I would see the day when my daughter wouldn’t be free to roam anywhere she wished to on her own lands.”

“I’m sorry Lana, but the rule also applies to ye, Fallon, and Ailsa. As Lady MacLennan’s mother and sisters, ye could be targets too.”

“Ye do not have the right to tell me where I can and can’t go.”

Gillian cringed. Malcolm would not have tolerated such disrespect but to her surprise Fingal remained calm. “I’m sorry, Lana, perhaps I have made a mistake.”

Triumph shone in her mother’s eyes. “Clearly ye have.”

Fingal went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I could have sworn ye swore fealty to both of us yesterday.”

“I did, but-but that has nothing to do with this.”

Fingal’s voice became deadly calm. “I disagree. I am yer laird and ye will never again presume to tell me what rights I do or do not have. I absolutely have the right to dictate yer movements in so far as they impact the well-being of this clan. Is that clear?”

“Gillian, are ye going to let him—”

Fingal didn’t let her finish. “Lana, I asked ye a question. Have I made myself clear?”

She gritted her teeth. “Aye, Laird.”

“Good.” His serious tone left immediately. “Then do ye also understand that I don’t want ye or yer daughters to leave the castle walls without an escort?”

“Aye, Laird.”

“Excellent. I’m glad we understand each other.”

Her mother looked as if she had swallowed something foul tasting. “Excuse me, Laird, I have work I must do.” Lana gave a curt nod and walked off.

When her mother was out of earshot, Fingal smiled. “I’m sorry, Gillian. I didn’t wish to upset her, but this really is in the best interest of yer family as well as the clan.”

“I understand. I really never gave it much thought. So much has changed since...”

He took her hands in his. “It will get easier, Gillian. I will do whatever I can to help, it will just take time.” She nodded and he squeezed her hands. To her surprise, he continued to hold one hand as he turned to walk with her towards the keep. “So ye were visiting an elderly clanswoman?”

“Aye, she wasn’t able to come to the wedding.” In a whisper she added, “why are ye holding my hand?”

“We are meant to appear married,” he whispered back. “Is she ill? Does she need anything?”

Gillian was once again flustered by his nearness and the simple intimacy of him holding her hand. “What? Does who need anything?”

He laughed and raised her hand to plant a kiss on the back of it. “The clanswoman ye visited. I believe ye called her Rhiannon.”

“Nay, she isn’t ill. She just keeps to herself.”
By all the saints get a hold of yerself
.

“Perhaps she shouldn’t live so far from the village on her own.”

“She has a grown son who lives with her. Perhaps ye’ve met him? His name is Coby. He is one of the guardsman. Are ye going to hold my hand all day?”

“I’m going to hold it until I get ye inside the keep where it is warmer. Yer hand feels like ice. And aye, I know Coby. But as a guardsman he isn’t exactly with her all of the time. I’m sure we can find a home for them in the village.”

Gillian sighed. There was no way around it; she had to consciously stop letting him befuddle her. “Fingal, I don’t think she wants to live in the village. Mother thinks it is because she misses her husband so she doesn’t want to leave their home. I think she just likes to keep a bit of distance. Perhaps it adds to her mysterious air.” Fingal arched an eyebrow at her and she laughed. “People have always whispered that she has the Sight. I suppose if the local seer is seen to be just like everyone else, emptying her slop bucket or hanging out her wash, it makes her seem, well...ordinary.”

Fingal laughed. “Surely she is ordinary. Has she always been a seer? Even as a child?”

“I don’t know and I suppose no one else does. She isn’t a MacLennan, or at least she wasn’t born one.”

“Then how did she come to be here?”

“As I understand it, she was a MacRae and was widowed as a very young woman.”

“Ah, then she came here when Nuala MacRae was married to Malcolm?”

“Exactly. Rhiannon was Lady MacLennan’s friend and confidant. Eventually Rhiannon married a MacLennan guardsman named Olghar and had Coby. Olghar passed away years ago.”

“Well, whatever the reason is, I will try to find an opportunity to discuss it with Coby. I can’t imagine he wants his elderly mother to live so far away from the security of the village. Perhaps we can talk her into moving closer. Then ye can visit as often as ye wish and everyone will be safer.”

They had reached the keep and Gillian decided not to tell him that visiting Rhiannon wasn’t one of her favorite things. As they entered the great hall Ailsa ran headlong to her. “Where have ye been? Jeanne was looking for ye to discuss meals.” Ailsa turned her attention to Fingal. “Laird, have ye met Jeanne yet? She runs the kitchens. She makes the very best honey cakes in the Highlands. Well, I guess I can’t say that for sure because I haven’t tasted every honey cake in the Highlands, but I’d like to. I love honey cakes. Do ye like honey cakes? I’m sure she would make them for ye if ye do—maybe even today.”

Gillian laughed. “Ailsa, ye little weasel. Ye just want an excuse to ask her to make honey cakes for ye.”

Ailsa looked contrite. Fingal grinned at her which oddly restarted the fluttering in Gillian’s belly. “Aye, lass, I do like honey cakes. But if ye like them so well, maybe ye should ask Jeanne to teach ye how to make them.”

“Oh, maybe she would. Gillian, do ye think she might?”

“Aye, sweetling, I’m sure she would but she may be too busy today. We’ll go talk to her just as soon as I put on a dry
léine
.” She held up her skirt to show Ailsa the snow encrusted hem.

“That is a good plan,” Fingal said. “Ye will catch yer death if ye stay in those wet clothes.” He let go of her hand and as much as she told herself she shouldn’t care, she missed the warmth of his touch.

~ * ~

Fingal watched as Gillian hurried out of the hall and up the stairs. When he learned that she and Lana had left the curtain walls without an escort he had wanted to pound some sense into the men-at-arms guarding the gate. Instead, he remained calm and asked why. It had apparently never been the practice at Brathanead, so he couldn’t very well hold them accountable this time. The relief he felt when he saw them entering the gates surprised him.