Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (121 page)

Aidan blanched, truly worried he had offended Connell.

Connell took a drink from his cup to hide the smile fighting to appear. Aidan had been so worried about angering him that he didn’t catch the insult Connell had delivered. He would in a moment. This was how Connell had discomfited the brothers when they were lads.

“I am truly . . .”

Connell lowered his cup slightly and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Wait . . . did ye just call me an old man?”

A second eyebrow followed the first. He was slower than in his youth.

Connell knew he caught the insult the moment his expression changed, and just like in their youth, his first response was to lob another insult in return. “Ye bloody—” His voice rose, but abruptly he looked to Mairi, clapped his hand over his mouth, and started to laugh.

Connell’s lips twitched. Aidan laughed so hard that his shoulders shook and his face turned red, but he remained absolutely silent. That was the most amusing part of it, seeing a full-grown man laugh so uproariously without uttering a squeak.

“Took ye long enough,” Connell muttered.

Aidan’s fit of silent laughter intensified, and he tried to wave Connell off. Instead, he lurched to his feet and hurried out the door, closing it behind him.

Connell studied his cup and waited.

Finally, he heard a howl of laughter down the hall and allowed himself to grin broadly.

Unfortunately, the noise was loud enough to wake Mairi. She jumped and sat up. “What was that?”

Connell quickly moved to her side, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “Dinna worry.”

“It sounded as if someone just killed a cat.”

That cracked it. The chuckle started low but quickly grew into a full-blown laugh. Mairi looked at him as if his head had just fallen off and was now rolling on the ground. But that only made it worse. He was abruptly reminded of his fit of laughter after their argument and lost all control sitting on the bed next to her as tears came to his eyes.

“Connell MacGrigor, what has gotten into ye?”

He gasped for breath, his fit finally easing a bit. “Forgive me, lassie, but what ye heard was no’ a cat meeting an end tae one of its nine lives, but Aidan, who has far more than nine.”

She blinked at him, but then her lips twitched. “Well, whatever happened, I’m sorry I missed it.”

He blinked, and his laughter faded completely, but he thought he saw a glimmer of the precious spark. Could it be? Was it returning?

“What smells so good?” she asked.

“Aidan brought up a tray of food. I dinna ken how yer stomach feels . . .”

“Perhaps I could try a small bite?”

The hope that had taken root in his heart trembled and threatened to grow stronger. “I dinna think a small taste would hurt.” He rose and walked to the table.

“What day is it?”

He paused and listened. “Judging from the noise below stairs, it no’ be midnight yet, so it still be Christmas.”

He fetched the plate he had not finished. His gaze fell on the drawings he had showed Aidan, and his thoughts scrambled. Throughout all of this, Mairi had worked to help him step out of his past and look to the future, to see the potential it held, but that potential would only come to fruition if he reached for it. It was in that moment that he saw the true lesson.

By working on the drawings, he was making a plan for the future. Her courage had inspired him to find his and move forward. Now, he needed to do the same for her. They were both human. Sometimes strength failed, sometimes hope faded, but where one faltered, the other responded. He had witnessed it in all facets of the life they had shared together but most powerfully when they made love. A memory stirred to life.

“Is that what it is?”
he had asked.

“What?”

“It’s amazing, but I feel the same way. The more I see ye enjoying yerself, the more I do as well. Ye have a way of . . . just freeing yerself and being absolutely there in that moment. And when ye do that . . . it . . . inspires me.”

Now, it was his turn to be strong for her, to do exactly what she had done for him so she would no longer dwell in the past but could look to their future as his wife and the mother of his bairn. Both projects would help with that goal, but it was the first that he could share with her now. He picked up the plans he had sketched of the blacksmith’s yard and the house and returned to her.

“Just try a small bite at first, and we’ll see how yer stomach fares,” he said, handing her the plate as he sat once again on the side of the bed.

“It smells wonderful.”

“That certainly be a good sign.”

She picked a small piece of meat with her fingers and tentatively ate it. Connell took the plate from her and placed it on the bedside table. There was a bucket on the floor in case she became sick, but since giving her the medicant, she hadn’t needed to use it.

She swallowed and made a bit of a face.

“Well?”

“My stomach isna quite sure how to react. It wants food, but then again, it doesna.”

“It needs tae make up its mind.”

“It does,” she agreed and focused on the parchment in his hand. “What’s that?”

“An idea,” he said softly. He showed her first the sketch of the yard. “I dinna ken if ye heard him, but Ian told me that no matter what happened, no matter how the future unfolded, a forge needed tae be a part of it. If I sell the home I shared with Ina and the fuller’s shop, along with the money the king gave us, I can build this . . . here . . . in Glen Gyle. If ye approve, of course.”

She stared at the drawing, her eyes wide. “Here . . . Glen Gyle . . .?”

“Aye, lassie, unless ye would prefer tae return tae Edinburgh.”

Abruptly, she shook her head. “Nay, I want tae stay here. Ye dinna ken how I fell in love with this place when we were here earlier. It was only a short time, but . . . it be hard to explain, Connell, there be a magic about this place I canna describe.”

He grinned at her, his heart taking wing. “That be the magic of the Highlands, lassie, and once it touches ye, it will ne’er leave ye.”

She looked up at him, and Connell held his breath, but he saw yet another glimmer. Hope. Aye, that’s what it was. The spark was fighting to return, and with it would come the fire he longed to see.

Praying he was not pushing her too far too fast, he handed her the second parchment. “Ronan said we can stay in the castle as long as we need, but I want tae build this for ye, right next tae the smithy.”

Her eyes grew even wider. “This . . . this would be our home?”

“Aye.”

“It’s huge.”

“It’s larger than what we had in Edinburgh, but there be more room here and . . . it would be ours.” He hesitated, hoping he was doing the right thing. “There be more, and it be verra important.”

“What?” Her voice shook a little.

He pointed to a spot where he had drawn a large rectangle next to the house. “This will be the garden. I need ye tae plan every aspect, what ye want tae grow and where. I’ll teach ye the letters so ye can label everything, but I ken nothing about gardening, so I’ll need ye tae tell me.”

“A . . . a garden? How . . . how did ye ken I wanted a garden?”

“A little bird told me. In fact, I got ye a number of gardening supplies for yer Christmas gift today. But I fear it is still at Ian’s smithy.”

She gazed at him, and a single tear trickled down her cheek.

“Nay,” he murmured and wiped it away. “I dinna want ye vexed by this.”

“Nay. This makes me verra happy, but . . . I’m scared, Connell. I canna lose this bairn . . .”

“Ye willna lose the bairn if ye dinna fret over it.” He took both her hands in his. “Ye taught me no’ to dwell in the pain of my past. Ye gave me the courage tae look tae the future with a glad heart, and I am. Now ye need tae do the same. Ye were there for me when I needed ye; now I’ll be here for ye. Lean on me, and we will meet our future together.”

Her tears flowed faster. “But even if I have our bairn . . . something might take him away . . . like Adam.”

“Ye ken I willna let that happen,” he said firmly.

She gazed at him, her tears continuing.

“Mairi, remember what I said after the captain gave ye a fright, after ye dropped the bowl?”

“That ye didna fault me for being afraid.”

“Aye, and I dinna fault ye now, for the danger be before ye just as it was in the past. Ye be facing an old and terrifying memory with this, and ye be facing a newer painful loss, but remember what I told ye. Ye ran, but ye didna run away from me, ye ran tae me.”

“Ye said I didna place ye in danger . . .”

“I willingly stepped into it as the man who loves ye . . . and I always will.” He smiled as he finished the sentence for her. He drew a deep breath, gently brushing her tears away. “I love ye, Mairi MacGrigor, and no matter what happens, no matter what the future holds, ye can always run tae me. I also ken that ye will be there when I need ye.” He gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “And I think that be the future the Almighty has always intended for us. Being a mum and da tae Adam showed us what the future could be, and I want that. I want that with ye and our bairn. But in order tae have it, we had tae make some sacrifices along the way. They were painful, aye, but as long as I have ye, I can meet the challenges of the future with courage.”

She stared at him in surprise, her gaze searching his. Then he saw it. The spark returned to her eyes, vibrant and beautiful and growing in strength. She flung her arms around him and clung to him as if he were her anchor. He squeezed his eyes shut and held her as tightly as he dared.

“I want that too, Connell,” she whispered. “I want the future tae be just what ye have on these drawings, the smithy, and a home for us and our bairn.”

He smiled and pulled away, cradling her face in his hands. “Then it’s decided. Ye work on the bairn, and I’ll work on the smithy and the house.”

She giggled softly, her eyes shining as she gazed up at him. His heart rejoiced. The fire was there, burning as brightly as before, and he reveled in its warmth.

A loud cheer rose from below stairs, and Connell’s smile grew. “Christmas Day comes tae a close. But ye have given me yet another gift. Learning I am tae be a da again is the best present I could ever receive.”

“I’d best be careful, or I will spoil ye.”

“Too late,” he whispered and brushed his lips softly over hers. “Happy Christmas,” he murmured and kissed her with all the love he held in his heart.

“Those who arena Highlanders dinna understand what it means tae touch the sky, tae listen tae the heartbeat of the Earth Mother and have it become yer own, tae gaze upon the purity of the land around ye as yet untouched by man. I am a Highlander and here I will raise my family.”

~
Connell MacGrigor

Glen Gyle, the Scottish Highlands

Christmas Eve, 1322

T
he church bells rang for Nones as Mairi stepped onto her porch and looked to the vast blacksmith’s yard next to her home. Connell, his long blond hair streaked with a bit of gray, pulled a large piece of metal from his forge and held it while their eldest son hefted the sledge. Connell tapped the metal with a small hammer, and the lad brought the sledge down in the exact spot. Connell continued, and they fell into a rhythm, the blows from the sledgehammer ringing over the village. The work kept Connell as fit as his three sons, who were turning into braw lads as they learned to handle the sledge. The lads also shod the horses and made repairs while Connell, now a master swordsmith, worked the highest grade of steel in his forge. He created the finest of weapons for nobles across Scotland who had heard of his talent and vied for a coveted commission slot no matter how long the wait.

Glen Gyle was growing, but it was not yet large enough for two smithies. Connell still had to assume the role of the village smith, even though he specialized in swords. He used the variety of labors to teach his sons and seek out their talents. Their eldest seemed the most like his father, torn between learning a trade and performing duties for their laird. Connell encouraged him to follow his heart, but the lad was still young and often didn’t know what his heart truly wanted. For now, he was happy with smithing, but that could change in an instant, Mairi knew.

The clouds were gray and cold overhead, and snow covered the ground. Christmas was only a day away. Holly and ivy decorations adorned the house and the blacksmith’s shop. A yule log burned in their hearth.

There was a lull in the hammering, and Mairi drew a deep breath. “Connell MacGrigor,” she called, “’tis Christmas Eve. Dinna make me haul ye out of there by yer ear.”

He looked over his shoulder and grinned brightly at her. “Ye heard yer mum, Ian. Lock the front gate tae the smithy yard; we be closing early.”

“Aye, Da.”

Mairi’s smile grew as she watched Connell put everything away, close the vents on the forge, then stride to the split-rail fence separating their home from the yard. He vaulted over it easily.

Their second son, Angus, and their third, Dugal, followed him.

Mairi studied her eldest at the front gate to the smithy yard, who would be turning fifteen next year, and noted that he was growing up to be just as tall and strong as his da, as were the rest of their lads.

Through the door behind Mairi sprinted their daughter, five-year-old Fiona. “Da!” she cried as she ran to him.

He scooped her into his arms and laughed, settling her on his hip as if he had been born to the duty.

After Mairi had given birth to Ian without complication, they had resided for a brief time in the castle. Connell had done exactly as he told her on Christmas day fifteen years ago. He had sold the home he had shared with his first wife and done the same with the fuller’s shop. He used the money, along with the large amount of coin the king had given him, to purchase the blacksmith’s business in Glen Gyle. He tore it to the ground and rebuilt everything, expanding the yard so it rivaled the one he had worked at in Edinburgh, and he built for Mairi a new home next to it, one large enough to easily house a growing family.

Ian Smith’s words of Connell’s talent had been prophetic. Connell continued to perform duties to serve his laird, but these duties were before the forge here at home. Ronan MacGrigor had a clan to watch after and arm during Edward II’s war against Scotland. But Edward was not his father and had lost most of the land Longshanks had gained. They lived in tumultuous times. But their laird protected his clan and led them well. He could not always keep them out of the war, but Clan MacGrigor prospered under his leadership.

Ronan and Lia’s daughter, Maeve, had followed in her mother’s footsteps, becoming a fine healer. Ronan and Lia now also had twin boys, who Connell said were even greater hellions than Ronan and Aidan in their youth.

“Da, I helped Mum make dinner,” Fiona said.

“I’m sure ye did,” Connell replied, giving Mairi a commiserating grin. He returned her to her feet. Fiona had been something of a surprise, born five years after their youngest son, Dugal, now ten, had been born. But as with all the others, Lia had guided Mairi through her breeding, and their only daughter was the baby of the family, her three braw brothers standing over her like guardian angels.

Mairi watched the lass scamper back into the house. “I feel for her.”

“How so?” Connell asked, pulling her under his arm as Angus and Dugal also trooped inside.

“Any lad who wishes tae court her will have tae get through ye and her three brothers.”

Connell laughed. “At least the laddie will have certainly proven himself if he can do that.”

“Lia and Ronan wish us tae come tae the keep tonight for the feast.”

Connell nodded, “Aidan and Kenna will be there too.”

“Good, I look forward tae seeing them again.” She smiled and looked to the front gate of the smithy yard. Ian was speaking to a young man about his age. It took a moment, but then Mairi blinked. “That be Aidan’s eldest lad.”

“He must be running for his da again. Rory!” Connell barked. “Come in, share a meal with us.”

“Uncle Connell, Aunt Mairi,” he called and waved. “I canna right now, I have messages tae deliver tae the keep for Da and Uncle Ronan. If I’m late, Da will have my head.”

Connell chuckled and drew another deep breath. “Rory, be sure tae go through the barbican tae get into the castle, no’ over it, or ye will find yer mum and Aunt Lia after ye instead.”

“I almost caught Uncle Ronan last time,” Rory called back with a laugh. “Called me a bloody codswallop,” he muttered loud enough for them to hear.

Connell laughed heartily.

Mairi laughed with him. “Aidan’s nests of birds will be in good hands with him.”

“Aye.”

Ian took a parchment from Rory, bid him good-bye, and strode toward them, also vaulting the fence. “Da, are ye ever going tae put in a side gate from the smithy yard tae the house so we dinna have tae keep jumping the fence?”

Connell’s laughter renewed. “I’ve been meaning tae do that.”

Ian grinned, and Mairi shook her head. He was the epitome of his father with his blond hair and blue eyes, along with his warm smile.

“Mum,” he said and handed her the parchment. “Rory stopped by tae give this tae ye. He apologized that it be a bit late, but his da had business for him tae attend in Edinburgh, and it took him longer than he expected.”

“Edinburgh?” she asked, startled. “Fiona?”

“Aye.”

“Mum?” her little girl asked.

“Nay, no’ ye, lassie, yer namesake.”

Connell had long ago taught Mairi how to read. Thanks to Aidan’s birds, and more recently his eldest son, Rory, they had been able to keep in touch with Ian Smith and his wife, Fiona. But as soon as their bairn, Ian, had been old enough to travel, they had made a point of going to Edinburgh to visit Ian Smith and Fiona and introduce him to his namesake. Since then it had been an annual trek.

Unfortunately, Smith had passed a year ago, and their last annual trek was to attend his funeral. One of his sons had taken over his smithing business, and although Fiona missed her husband, she was quite happy to spend her remaining years with her grandchildren.

Mairi broke the seal and began to read, pleased to note Fiona and the grandchildren were doing well. Then she hit the next lines and had to read them twice.

“Oh,” she gasped as her eyes filled with tears. She had not expected this news, and it caught her completely off guard.

“Mairi, what is it?”

“Nay, it canna be,” she choked. Suddenly, she couldn’t read any more and handed the letter to Connell.

“Mairi?” he enveloped her in a warm embrace and read the letter aloud, his voice growing more unsteady with each word. “Adam FitzRoy joined his father, Edward II, in the Scottish campaigns this year but died on September eighteenth. He was laid tae rest on September thirtieth at Tynemouth Priory. Fiona—” His voice broke, and he fought to steady it. “Fiona thought ye should ken and sends her condolences.” He carefully folded the letter and put it in his belt pouch.

Mairi buried her face against Connell’s chest, feeling the tears stream down her cheeks.

“’Tis all right, my sweet,” he whispered, holding her tightly.

“Da? Mum? What is it? What’s wrong?” Ian asked.

“Forgive me,” she whispered, struggling to control her tears. She didn’t mean to upset her family. But she looked up and saw that Connell also had tears in his eyes.

“’Tis all right,” he whispered “I loved him too. ’Tis all right tae grieve for him.” He kissed her brow.

“Why are ye crying?” Dugal asked. Suddenly, her three lads stood over her, and she realized her daughter wasn’t the only one with guardian angels.

“Someone your mum and I loved very much has died,” Connell said. “His life cut short. He was only a year or two older than ye, Ian.”

The lads looked at each other in confusion. “Who?” Ian asked.

“His name was Adam FitzRoy. Go inside and we’ll talk.”

The lads did so, and Connell guided Mairi to the divan. “Have a seat. I’ll only be a moment.”

She nodded, and Fiona immediately crawled into her lap, looking up at her worriedly.

Connell returned, carrying a box a little larger than his hand. He sat next to Mairi and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

“Da,” Ian said, “I remember ye telling us of yer first wife . . . of yer first son, William. But I dinna remember ye ever mentioning an Adam FitzRoy. Who was he?”

“There was a reason why I ne’er told ye of Adam. He no’ be related tae ye by blood, but in all the other ways that counted.” He drew a deep breath. “But it be time ye learned his story.” He handed Mairi the box. “It seems ye will be getting yer Christmas gift a day early.”

Mairi’s tears still trickled down her cheeks as she looked at him in confusion.

“Open it, Mum,” Fiona said.

She lifted the lid off the box, and the breath caught in her throat. Inside was a book, a real book, bound in leather. The binding alone must have cost a fortune. “Connell, what is this?”

“Go ahead, open it.”

She opened the cover and saw that Connell’s neat flowing script filled the page.

All she wanted was peace in her life. All I wanted was tae give it tae her. There be a story in that, and it began far from Glen Gyle, near Glen Trool Proper.

March 1307

The weather was terribly wicked that night when she staggered into an inn
, a wee bairn crying in her arms . . .

Her eyes misted even more, and she looked up at him in shock.

“I wrote it down, Mairi, all of it.”

“You mean . . . us . . . Adam?”

“Aye,” he said and nodded. “When ye carried Ian and Lia restricted ye tae bed, I started it. It took me awhile tae complete, but by the time I finished it, things were insanely busy for both of us. Ian had just been born, and I was trying tae finish the house for ye. I put it away and honestly forgot about it for a time. I was cleaning out that old storage chest a few months ago and found it. I realized Christmas Eve this year would mark the fifteenth year since we came home. So I had James, the scribe at the chapel, bind it into a book. Since it was Christmas Day that I learned ye carried Ian, I thought it an appropriate gift.”

“This is what ye were working on when ye sat with me all those hours? I thought ye worked on plans for the blacksmith shop.”

“I did that too. But this was important. Lia didna want ye vexed. I kenned ye loved Adam, and I remembered what ye said—that speaking of those we have lost can help allay the grief. But talking about Adam . . . remembering him then would have only vexed ye, and that wouldna have be good for ye or yer breeding. I wrote everything down so ye could remember him later, so we could remember him together.” He reached out and gently caressed her cheek. “But most of all, I wrote it because I wanted ye tae remember the happiness we shared with Adam, no’ just the pain of loss.”

She remembered when she had told him those very words when he grieved so terribly over Ina and William. Tears flooded down her cheeks anew. She flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, Connell, thank ye.”

“I love ye, Mairi,” he whispered in her ear.

“I ne’er kenned what happiness was until I heard ye say ye loved me, Connell MacGrigor.”

“Are ye going tae tell us a story?” Fiona asked.

Mairi smiled down at her. “Aye, lass.” She carefully pulled the book out of the box but handed it to Connell. “We’ll take turns reading it, but I think it’s only right that yer da starts.”

He gave her an arched look. “There may be some parts I’ll need tae skip considering the audience and all,” he muttered so softly only she could hear him.

She winked at him. “Ye and I will read those together . . . later.” She knew exactly how that conversation would go after they attended the revel in the keep.

I have my own gift waiting for ye at home.

Well
, when ye put it that way . . . what are we waiting for?

As if Connell knew her thoughts, he smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. “Verra well, then.” He took the book, and Mairi curled next to him, her head on his chest, Fiona curled against her.

As Connell read, Mairi was grateful for his strong arms surrounding her. She loved him so very much. She was so happy with him, her children, and the life he had built for them. All she had ever wanted Connell had given to her and so much more. She had found the man buried beneath the pain, the man who loved her so much he had been willing to sacrifice everything. She and Connell had made their future together, and she would never, ever trade it.