Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (46 page)

Although the wedding wouldn’t take place until Rowan was well enough, the visiting clans left as soon as the mystery of who had attacked Rowan was solved. Lachlan also sent Eara home with a heavy escort. He did not want to risk the fragile peace that had been forged, and her foul tongue and vile temper could do just that. He would have sent Darcy home as well, but his injury was too serious to risk travel right away. Thus, Darcy was lying in a small chamber at Duncurra several afternoons later when Finola slipped silently into the room.

“Well, lass, what are ye doing here?”

“I wanted to check on ye. I was worried about ye.”

“And why would ye be worried about me?”

“I care about ye.”

Darcy snorted. “If ye have come to jest with me, I am not amused.”

“Nay, Darcy, I’m not jesting. I do care.”

“Fiona, lass—”

“My name’s Finola.”

“Fiona, Finola—it matters not. Whatever yer name is, ye are a fool.”

“Don’t say that, Darcy. I love ye.”

“Well, that is rich. I took yer innocence in a stable loft, publically embarrassed ye, practically got ye killed, and I don’t even remember yer name, but ye love me. Oh, and leave us not forget, I attacked yer lady. Twice. And I coerced ye into helping me do it, thus earning yer laird’s wrath. It seems to me ye aren’t a very good judge of character, Fiona.”

“Finola.”

“Finola, then. Leave me be. I don’t love ye.”

“Ye don’t mean that. Ye saved my life.”

“And ye saved mine. We’re even, and I do mean it. Even if I remotely cared for ye, which I don’t, ye are daft if ye think my father would let his heir have anything to do with a Matheson guardsman’s daughter. Not to mention that if ye ever find yerself within my sister Eara’s reach, she’ll kill ye.” Finola stood there stubbornly staring at him. “Did ye not understand me, lass?”

“Nay, I understood ye better than ye think. Ye do care about me.”

Darcy cracked a little. He looked away from her for a moment before saying, “Aye, Finola, I care for ye a bit. Ye are an odd little thing. Ye saved my arse.”

“Twice.”

“Aye, twice. But, Finola, it doesn’t change anything, and I don’t love ye.”

“Ye don’t love me.”

“Nay, lass. Now run on. Yer da will find ye a nice strapping Matheson lad who won’t mind that ye aren’t quite as pure as the driven snow and mine will find me a sniveling laird’s daughter who will overlook my reputation because I’m the Fraser’s heir and will be laird someday. I will keep her fat with bairns and everyone will be satisfied. It’s the way of things.”

She looked a bit hurt, but consolable. She turned and left as quietly as she had arrived. Aye, she was an odd little thing, but she would be better off without him.

~ * ~

Tadhg wasn’t sure how to approach Finola’s transgressions after her ordeal. He let things pass for several days, but they could not be ignored forever. Thankfully, he didn’t have to raise the issue. After the evening meal, David approached him with a contrite Finola in tow.

“Laird, may we speak with ye and Lady Matheson, please?”

“Aye, ye may.”

“Finola has some things to say to ye.” Her head was down and she seemed disinclined to speak, but her father nudged her, saying, “go ahead, Finola.”

“My lady, Laird, I am truly sorry for everything I have done.”

“What have ye done, Finola?” Tadhg asked gently.

“More things than ye know. I was the one who damaged yer harp and left the recorder under the rushes, my lady. I’m sorry.”

“Finola, why?” asked Mairead.

“I was jealous of ye. I—well, I—it’s like Jock said that night. I was hoping the laird would choose a Matheson bride. I was hoping maybe he would choose me.”

“I’m sorry ye were disappointed, lass, but as I explained that night it was never my intention to marry from within the clan.”

“I know ye did. I understand now. It’s the way of things. But I didn’t then. I was also angry about Meriel.”

“Because I made Meriel work in the kitchens as punishment?” Tadhg asked.

“Nay, because Lady Matheson arranged for her to learn weaving after what she had done. I’d been working as hard as ever and no one did anything for me.”

“Did ye want to learn weaving too? Ye need only have asked,” said Mairead.

“Nay. I didn’t want to learn weaving. I didn’t want to learn cooking. I just wanted to be noticed.”

“And ye thought destroying Lady Matheson’s instruments would get ye noticed?” Tadhg asked, unable to keep the anger from his voice. Mairead laid her hand gently on his arm.

“I don’t know what I was thinking, Laird. I’m sorry. Truly I am.”

He took a deep breath before saying, “That is behind us now. But what on earth possessed ye to do what ye did here?”

She was quiet for a moment before saying, “For the first time ever, someone seemed to notice me. Darcy said I was pretty and he wanted to dance with me and kiss me. He was so handsome and a laird’s son. He seemed interested in me. I thought he was wonderful. I liked him and I thought he liked me so I let him—I mean, we—well, we—”

“They know what ye did with Darcy, Finola.” Her father looked ashamed.

“Aye, well, after that I thought he loved me. I believed him when he told me ye knew him, my lady. I thought ye loved him and he said he only wanted to talk to ye. I guess part of me thought maybe now I had taken the man ye loved away from ye. I also thought that if ye did love him and the laird found out, he would be angry with ye.”

“Oh, Finola,” Mairead said, dismayed.

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

“I understand ye are sorry, Finola, but do ye understand the danger ye put Lady Matheson in?”

“I do now, Laird.”

“Do ye also understand that while I can forgive ye, I cannot risk having ye in a place where yer poor judgment could do that kind of damage to my loved ones ever again? Ye cannot live and work in the keep at Cnocreidh.”

“Aye, Laird. Da told me.”

“Yer father and I have decided the best thing is for ye to be married. Ye will have a husband and family to occupy yer time.” She nodded but still didn’t look up. “I was thinking perhaps Angus’ son, Seoras, would be a good husband for ye.”

“Really?” For the first time that evening, she looked up. “Do ye mean it? Seoras has always been nice to me. His children are lovely.”

“I haven’t spoken to him yet, obviously, but yes, I will make the suggestion. If he is willing and ye believe ye can be a good wife and mother to his children, then ye can marry.”

She looked down again, dejected. “He won’t want me. Not after what I have done.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Finola. Let’s wait and see. I believe he will be pleased to have ye as a wife.”

Just over a week after Rowan MacKenzie’s wedding to Eara Fraser was to have occurred, he married Sine Fraser instead. To his delight, he learned Fraser’s “little dove” was forged from steel. No one, not even his mother, could bend her when her mind was set. A quiet evening wedding ceremony, followed by a small meal, was all she would allow.

“Both my brother and sister have disgraced my family. It is not the time for a celebration. I just want to be married and put all of the ugliness behind us.”

So he stood at the door of the chapel and watched the lovely girl he was to marry pick her way across the wet courtyard on her father’s arm as a light drizzle fell. Her reddish gold hair frizzed in the mist, her nose and cheeks reddened in the chill air, and her damp dress clung provocatively to her curves. She was beautiful and he was happier than he thought possible.

After the wedding dinner, he slipped away quietly with his new bride and carried her across the threshold of the small cottage in Duncurra’s village that Laird MacIan had given them.

~ * ~

After Rowan left the great hall with his bride, Tadhg, too, slipped away with Mairead. The Mathesons would be returning to Cnocreidh the next morning and he said he wanted to be sure Mairead was well rested. However, Mairead didn’t really have resting on her mind. He had treated her gingerly for days and it was going to stop. He closed the chamber door behind them and when he turned around, she launched herself at him. She couldn’t help but giggle when the soft ‘oomph’ escaped him as his back hit the door.

“What are ye doing?”

“I’m ravishing ye.”

“Are ye?”

“Aye. Do ye object?”

“Hmm. Ye’re sure ye have recovered?”

“Days ago.”

He chuckled. “Well, I guess I can’t object, then.”

~ * ~

As they lay together in the quiet, dark room, Mairead lightly stroked the planes of Tadhg’s face.

“Tadhg?”

“Aye, sweetling.”

“Have I ever thanked ye?”

Tadhg chuckled. “For what?”

“For everything. For listening to Flan and asking for my hand, even knowing what had happened. For believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself and helping me learn not to let fear rule me. For giving me courage.”

“Mairead, my love, I didn’t give ye courage. It was always there. I just helped ye find it.”

“Well then, thank ye for helping me find it.”

“Ye are welcome, my love. Now go to sleep. You need yer rest.”

They lay in silence for a few more minutes before Mairead whispered, “Tadhg?”

He chuckled. “Aye, sweetling.”

“I love ye.”

“I love ye too, Mairead.”

The following November, not long after their first anniversary, Mairead’s baby was due. In spite of her mother’s insistence, she refused to travel to Carraigile for the birth, so her mother and Lily had come to her. The day she went into labor Tadhg was beside himself with worry. She had labored for hours and although Ian’s wife, Katy, was an excellent midwife and assured him all was well, he was nearly in a panic by evening. Cathal had practically dragged him from his study saying, “Ye are far too close here, lad. Ye don’t need to hear what’s going on. Trust me, I’ve been through this seven times. Actually, sixteen times, if ye count the grandchildren who have been born at Carraigile, and why wouldn’t ye? That last one took ages to arrive and when he did, he let the whole of the Highlands know. Screams louder than any bairn I’ve ever heard. Terran the Terrible, I call him. Och, now I’d appreciate it if ye wouldn’t repeat that.”

“Cathal, she is so little.”

“Aye, but she’s tough. Don’t worry, lad.”

It was nearly midnight when Katy finally appeared in the great hall looking spent. “Laird, it has been a rough evening, but ye can go see them now.”

Tadhg didn’t wait to hear more but flew up the tower steps, taking them two at a time. He paused outside the door. It was so quiet, he expected to hear a babe’s cries. A crushing fear gripped him. He took a deep breath, preparing for the worst, and opened the door. Mairead lay in their bed, dozing, clearly exhausted but with no baby in her arms. He rushed to her side and she opened her eyes sleepily.

“Sweetling, are ye well?”

“Aye, just tired. It took a while for the wee lass Mama is holding to make an appearance.”

“We have a daughter?” He glanced to where Brigid sat near the hearth, for the first time noticing the baby she held.

“Aye, we do,” said Lily from across the room. “And a son. He, on the other hand, gave his mama no trouble.”

“Twins?” he asked, astonished.

“Aye, twins. It’s been known to happen in our family. Perhaps ye didn’t know this but I myself am a twin,” Lily teased before crossing the room and putting the sleeping baby boy she held into his father’s arms.

“Nay, Lily, take him back. I’ve never held a bairn before.”

“Well, seeing as how ye have two now, it’s high time ye started.”

“Nay, really, I might break him.”

Mairead laughed weakly. “And people called me a mouse? Ye won’t break him.”

Perhaps sensing his father’s unease the baby scrunched up his face and started to fret. Tadhg jiggled him a little and crooned, “Ah, there, lad, don’t embarrass yer poor da by screeching at him.” The baby rooted against him briefly before settling again. Tadhg stared in amazement at the perfect tiny person in his arms. When he looked up at Mairead, she seemed to be dozing again. “Mairead, ye’re shattered, I should let ye rest.”

“Aye. I need to rest, but I would rest much better with ye here beside me.”

“But, the babies—I can’t.”

“Mairead is right, lad. She needs ye right now. Lily and I can manage these two rogues for a while.

Brigid and Lily took the sleeping babies quietly from the room and at Mairead’s insistence, Tadhg slid into bed beside her, holding her gently. He thought she was asleep and started to doze himself when she asked, “What shall we name them?”

“I don’t know.”

“I have always liked the name Ann. A lass named Ann is a good, solid friend. Someone ye can count on to be there for ye, like my sister Annag.”

“Ann Matheson. It is a strong and noble name. I like it.”

“So do I.”

“Then it is settled, we shall name her Ann. Now, what about that strapping lad?”

“I was thinking we could name him after yer brother, Robert. Robbie.”

“I’d like that, sweetling.”

“Then Robert and Ann it is. Now, ye really must let me rest.”

He chuckled. “Aye, my brave wee lass, rest. We might have a few busy days ahead of us.”