Medieval Highlands 01 - Highland Vengeance (47 page)

A sense of relief filled him. Once he’d completed this duty, he’d be free to pursue other things. Like finding a place for his sister. She needed to be around women, to wear lovely things and have a chance to wed. She’d lived with Bao since her birth and, although he’d lived a dissolute life in order to furnish them with food, shelter, and clothing—of which she was thankfully unaware—now he would make sure she had the life she deserved to have.

There was another worry, however: Though Branwenn was the sister of his heart, she did not share blood with either Daniel or himself. Bao sighed. The time had come for him to reveal that to her. He hoped the knowledge did not hurt her too greatly. Nay, he would not allow it to do so. He’d just have to make her understand that it mattered not to him that they were not bound by blood. And he prayed it would matter not to her as well.

Branwenn was also unaware that he was kin to Daniel; she believed that they were only here because he must meet with the laird to relay some information about an event in both their pasts. Bao would not disclose his identity to her until after he’d met with his brother, however, and then only if Daniel approved. There was a good chance that Daniel would not want it known that his father had a bastard son, and one of mixed blood as well.

*

“There is a new quietude between you and Daniel that pleases me greatly,” Lady Maclean said to Maryn a few sennights later as they sat at the table in the great hall and planned the feast for Laird Donald’s arrival the next day. With clasped hands, she placed her forearms on the table and leaned forward, a question in her unusually hued eyes.

Maryn smiled, her attention turned on the small tapestry she was trying to finish for her father. “Aye, that there is, and it pleases me as well.” Looking up from her work, she continued, “Daniel finally told me of the massacre and his fears. I understand him so much better than I did before, and we’re working together to try and bring the memory of his father’s death back.” An anguished look came over the older woman’s countenance and Maryn leaned forward, placing her hands over Lady Maclean’s. “I beg you excuse my plain speech. I oft’ times forget that Daniel’s violent father was once your beloved son.”

Her elder drew in a deep breath. “You must not fret over my pain; ‘tis as much a part of me now as my hands or my eyes. I’m glad that we are able to speak of the past, and that you are aiding in my grandson’s healing.” She dropped her gaze to their clasped hands and said, “Mayhap our whole family will be healed by his recovering the memory of that part of his life.”

Wondering at Lady Maclean’s words, Maryn decided the Maclean clan must have been suffering as well from Jamison Maclean’s bloody legacy. Nodding, she replied, “Aye, let us pray ‘twill be so.”

The morning dew on the heather left a damp stain on the hem of Jesslyn’s silver-blue gown as she hurried across the glen. ‘Twas quiet this time of the morn; even the birds were still abed. For the sun’s radiant glow had yet to break the eastern rise and all about her was the purplish-blue haze of pre-dawn wonder. The route she took to enter the wood from the far side of the tract was a long one, but well worth the added steps. For she was set on finding the waterfall from that region of the forest. She’d tried to do so several times now, but had so far been unsuccessful in her venture. Once inside the forest, she would take a different route; one that she’d discovered as she’d departed the wood on her last search. This day would be different; she felt it in her bones. This day she would see Graeme again. This day she would have her love.

Entering the cover of trees, she stumbled along, looking for the path she’d seen before. She looked for signs of Bao’s presence as she went, but found none. And, as had been true the other times she’d come here these past days, her nervous relief at not seeing him was shrouded in regret.

She found the path at last. On swift feet, she made her way through the thicket, then up a steep incline of limestone and woodland debris. The roar of rushing water came at her as she moved ahead. Elated by the familiar noise, she increased the meter of her step, following the sound. She trudged on for several minutes and then, her eyes widening in joyous wonder, she halted and looked around her. “Praise be,” she breathed. This was the place she remembered from her dream, the area from which she’d entered the secluded bower.

Jolting forward, she trotted toward her goal, mindlessly stumbling and righting herself as she went, her heart pounding in anticipation. Would Graeme be there when she came through the overgrowth? “
Please
,
please
,
please
,” she prayed aloud.

Jesslyn ripped through the vines and stood staring at the prospect before her. She had indeed found the waterfall. She bounced on her toes, scanning the landscape for her husband. But there was no sign of him. Tears of overwhelming disappointment welled in her eyes, and on its heels, anger. Anger at herself for believing he’d be here, and anger at him for dying and leaving her alone to raise their son. “Are you truly gone from me forevermore, then?” she asked aloud, to the air, to the sky, to the surrounding forest. Why had every other aspect of the dream turned out to be real, yet not the most important, most hoped-for part? But, of course, there was no answer.

Crumpling to her knees where she stood, she buried her face in her hands and allowed the tears to flow unchecked. A moment later, she was on her feet once more, tearing at the ties that bound her inside her gown and chemise. She ripped the garments over her head and tossed them into the brush. Next came her leather boots. Mayhap this would entice her husband to show himself once more. Naked and a bit exhilarated by her unusual brazenness, she walked toward the waterfall and found the first ledge in the pool. The water was frigid, but she cared not.

She dove into the icy depths and began to swim, her arms and legs slicing through the water as she traveled the length of the pool. At the far end, she grasped onto the jagged stone wall and rested, her body bobbing weightlessly in the crystal green bath. She smiled then. For the sensation of the water sluicing over her skin reminded her of the early days of her marriage when Graeme had taught her the rudiments of swimming. Her smile broadened into a grin as she swiped at the tickling droplets that ran down her cheek with the back of her hand. And he’d insisted that she must be naked in order to learn correctly. ‘Twas truth, the man had had more lustful intentions than she’d grasped at first, for their lessons invariably had turned into lovemaking sessions. It had not been long after a bad beginning in their wedded life and she’d been determined to fight her natural timidity with him.

With a sigh, she used her foot as leverage against the wall to push off once more toward the other end of the pool. Back and forth she went, traversing the length of the pool several more times, until she at last settled to float in the frothy water near the steps.

After a moment, she dove down into the ice-cold bubbling bath once more, emerging up from the depths with her head thrown back, the weight of the water pushing her hair away from her face. Hearing a rustling sound, her heart lurched, and then pounded in utter joy against her ribs. She grinned and opened her eyes, knowing in her heart that ‘twas no other than Graeme. Though the sun shone brightly off the water and into her eyes, obstructing her vision, she saw her husband’s shadowed form waiting on the edge of the pool next to the place where she’d tossed her gown and chemise. There was a mystical look about him. Like glowing amber mail, bright beams of light gleamed off his dark form. Her warrior had returned to her. At last. She swam to the steps then. Slowly, sultrily, she rose from the water and extended her arms in a bid for him to come to her.

Before she could take her next breath, she was in his arms.

*

Laird Donald arrived with much pomp and jubilation, thrilled that he would be a grandpapa come the new year, thus proving that his daughter and Daniel MacLaurin were, indeed, a good match.

His joy increased when he learned of the feast his daughter had planned for him. She’d included his favorite meats, stag and swan, as well as fruit comfits of blackberry.

Meeting Maryn and Daniel outside the great hall that afternoon, Laird Donald said, “Give me your hand, daughter, and I shall lead you to your seat.”

The tables were filled with soldiers and guests, while servants scurried to refill flagons of wine or ale. “I must say this is quite a greeting to give your dear papa. I’ve been anticipating my first morsel of roast swan since you told me you’d added it to the list.”

“I, too, have been eager to sample the fare, for I’ve a great hunger this day,” Maryn replied.

*

Daniel grinned and whispered in her ear, “So
this
is where you got your appetite.”

She stepped down hard on his foot. “Oops, pray pardon me.” There was an evil glint to her eye and a devilish smile on her lips that let him know that ‘twas no accident.

As they made their way between the crowded tables, Daniel listened to his wife and her father eagerly speaking over one another on subjects of mutual interest.

Once the three reached their destination, Laird Donald aided his daughter as she settled on the bench before taking a seat next to her while Daniel motioned to a passing servant to fill their goblets. Then, turning back to his wife and his father-in-law, who were already avidly partaking of the cheese and bread while they continued their conversation, he told them, “I’ll return in a short while; I promised my grandmother that I would meet her outside her chamber and escort her down to the hall for the festivities.” They had not heard him. He shrugged and stepped off the dais. He’d no doubt return with his grandmother before he was missed.

*

Jesslyn walked with her son, up the incline toward the gate of the fortress. Alleck skipped along beside her, singing a new tune he’d just learned as she distractedly mused on her situation. An unusual heaviness invaded her limbs and she was aware of a soreness in other, more intimate areas, as she trudged along. Guilt assailed her. She’d made love for the first time in almost three years that morn, at the edge of the pool, with the sound of the waterfall drowning out her cries of rapture. Aye, she’d made love.

But not with her husband.

With Bao.

She’d made love with a man that was not her husband, and she’d enjoyed it. More than enjoyed it, reveled in it. It had not taken but a moment for her to realize by whom she was being so thoroughly kissed and only a moment more for her body to respond. Her nakedness and his bare chest, she was ruefully sure, had sealed her fate. She’d had no defenses against her own body’s needs—or his. Her attraction to Bao was so strong that he had quickly kindled her desire to mate with him to a level far outside her ability to refuse its demand.

And her husband had not returned to her, as she’d hoped he would. Nay, ‘twas clear he was truly gone forever, and she must finally accept that sad reality.

Jesslyn sighed, her thoughts once more drawn back to the lovemaking she’d experienced that morn. It had been wonderful and painful and frightening and intense. And afterward, as they lay replete on the cool slab of stone at the pool’s edge, he’d told her his true identity. She’d been amazed, of course, and had immediately insisted he keep his secret vigil no longer. ‘Twas then that he revealed that he had already made that decision and had laid plans to meet with Daniel on the morrow and that she should keep his confidence one more day, to which she’d begrudgingly agreed.

In the hours since their tryst—since his confession—she’d been tamping down waves of hope. Daniel wanted her to wed. She and Bao harbored a fiery passion for each other. They’d made a bond of friendship in the first minutes of their meeting and with time, she could see herself in love with him. He was Daniel’s half-brother and a soldier for William, King of Scots. He cared for her son. He was of marriageable age. There seemed more to hope for than to disallow in regard to his eligibility as husband to her.

And she wanted him again.

She shook her head. Nay, she could not allow herself such an indulgence—until and unless they were wed. It would not do for her to get with child outside of the wedded state. That thought alone struck fear in her breast. She’d likely be thrown out of the village if such a thing occurred. Or worse, he might be forced into the union, which would never do. Nay, ‘twas far better, much more to her liking, that he come to her unfettered by duty and with an open heart. ‘Twas lucky that her monthly courses had just past, so there was no chance of that happening from this morn’s unwise indiscretion.

“Do you not think that’s a good song, Mama?”

Jogged from her thoughts, Jesslyn looked down at the expectant face and tousled pale hair of her son and replied, “Aye, I liked it very much. You must sing it for Grandmother Maclean when we arrive at the great hall. She’ll enjoy the tune, I’m sure.” Reaching over, she combed her fingers through his hair. “Alleck, I just brushed this before we left our cottage, how have you managed to tangle it so quickly?”

*

Alleck shrugged. “I dunno,” he answered honestly. Thinking on the mystery for a moment, he brightened, sure that he’d solved the puzzle. Craning his neck back, he looked up at his mother. “Mayhap a band of wee faeries lives on my head and they use my hair to weave their clothes.”

His mother laughed and rolled her eyes. “Aye, and these same faeries scrub dust into your knees and elbows so they can plant their gardens on them.” Pressing her finger to the end of his nose, she continued, “
You
, I’m sure, have naught to do with the mess.”