Saving Grace (8 page)

“I don’t like timid women.”

Johanna’s shoulders straightened. “I’m not timid,” she announced. “I’ve learned to be cautious, m’lord, but I have never, ever been timid.”

“I see.” He didn’t believe her.

“I don’t like big men, even handsome ones.”

“You think me handsome?”

How had he managed to turn her words into a compliment? He seemed surprised, too, as though he really wasn’t aware of his own appeal. “You misunderstand, sir,” she told him. “Being handsome is a mark against you.” She ignored his incredulous expression and repeated, “And I especially dislike big men.”

She knew she sounded ridiculous. She didn’t care. She wasn’t about to back down now. She looked him right in the eye while she folded her arms across her middle and frowned up at him. Her neck was already getting a crick in it from looking up.

“What think you of my opinion, m’lord?”

The challenge was there in her stance and her tone of voice. She was bravely standing up to him now. He had the sudden urge to laugh again.

He sighed instead. “They’re daft opinions,” he told her, being as blunt as possible.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But it doesn’t change how I feel.”

MacBain decided he had wasted enough time on the discussion. It was high time she understood what was going to happen.

“It’s a fact you aren’t leaving here. You’re staying with me, Johanna. We’re going to be married tomorrow. That isn’t an opinion by the way. It’s fact.”

“You would marry me against my will?”

“I would.”

Hell, she looked terrified again. That reaction didn’t sit well with him. He tried to use reason once again to gain her cooperation. He wasn’t an ogre after all. He could be reasonable.

“Have you changed your mind in the past few minutes and now want to go back to England? Nicholas told me leaving England appealed to you.”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind, but . . .”

“Can you afford to pay the fine your king demands to stay unwed?”

“No.”

“Is it Baron Williams? Nicholas mentioned to me that the Englishman wanted to marry you.” He didn’t give her time to answer. “It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you leave. No other man is going to have you.”

“I don’t prefer Baron Williams.”

“I take it from the disgust in your voice this baron is also a handsome giant?”

“He’s handsome only if you find pigs attractive, m’lord, and he’s a small man in size with an even smaller mind. He is completely unacceptable to me.”

“I see,” MacBain drawled out. “So you dislike both large and small men. Have I got that right?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’m making fun of your daft statements. Nicholas is just as big as I am,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but my brother would never hurt me.”

The truth was out. She’d blurted out the words before she could stop herself. MacBain raised one eyebrow in reaction to the telling statement.

Johanna turned her gaze to the floor but not before he saw her blush.

“Please try to understand, Laird. If a pup bit me, I would have a fair chance of surviving, but if a wolf bit me, I don’t believe I would have any chance at all.”

She was trying so damned hard to be brave and failing miserably. Her terror was real and, MacBain speculated, learned from past experiences.

Long minutes passed in silence. MacBain stared at her. She stared at the floor.

“Did your husband . . .”

“I will not talk about him.”

He had his answer. He took a step toward her. She didn’t back away. He put his hands on her shoulders and commanded her to look up at him. She took her time obeying.

His voice was a low, gruff whisper when he spoke. “Johanna?”

“Yes, m’lord?”

“I don’t bite.”

They were married the following afternoon. MacBain agreed to wait that long so Father MacKechnie could prepare for the ceremony.

It was the only issue he was willing to bend on, however. Johanna wanted to return to the campsite and stay the night in her own tent near her brother, the priest, and her loyal men. Laird MacBain wouldn’t hear of it. He ordered her to sleep in one of the newly built cottages along the hill, a tiny one-room affair with a single window and a stone hearth.

Johanna didn’t see the laird again until the ceremony, nor did she see her brother until he came to collect her. MacBain had posted two guards outside her door. She was afraid to ask if the soldiers were there to keep outsiders from entering or to keep her from leaving.

She didn’t get much sleep. Her mind raced from one worry to another. What if MacBain turned out to be like Raulf? Dear God, could she survive purgatory again? The possibility that she could be marrying another monster made her weep with self-pity. She was immediately ashamed of herself. Was she really such a coward after all? Had Raulf been right to ridicule her?

No, no, she was a strong woman. She could handle anything that came her way. She would not give in to the fear or allow herself to have such low thoughts about herself. She had value, damn it . . . didn’t she?

Johanna had believed her confidence in herself had returned after Raulf’s death. For the first time in over three years, she lived without fear. Her days were filled with blissful peace. Even after King John had dragged her to his court, he left her alone in her own private chambers. No one bothered her. There was a garden directly outside her door. She spent most of her days there.

The peaceful interlude was over, however, and she was now being forced into another marriage. She was bound to disappoint the laird. And what would he do then? Would he try to make her feel ignorant and unworthy? By God, she wouldn’t let that happen. Raulf’s attacks had been so cleverly disguised, and she’d been so young and childishly naive, she hadn’t realized until it was almost too late exactly what he was doing. It was a slow, insidious attack upon her character, relentless too, and it went on and on and on until she felt as though he’d sucked the very light out of her.

She tried to fight back then. And that was when the beatings began.

Johanna forced herself to block the memories. She fell asleep praying for a miracle.

Nicholas came to get her during the nooning hour. He took one look at her pale face and shook his head.

“Have you so little faith in your brother’s judgment? I have told you MacBain’s an honorable man,” he reminded her. “You have no reason to fear him.”

She placed her hand on her brother’s arm and walked by his side. “I do have faith in your judgment,” she whispered.

Her voice lacked conviction, but he wasn’t insulted. He understood her fear. The memory of seeing her battered face when he’d stopped to pay a visit, and Raulf hadn’t had time to hide her away, instantly filled him with rage yet again.

“Please don’t frown, Nicholas. I’m conquering my fear. It will be all right.”

Nicholas smiled. He couldn’t believe his sister was actually trying to comfort him now.

“Aye, your marriage will be all right,” he said. “Do you know, if you would just look around you, you’d catch a glimpse of your future husband’s character. Where did you sleep last night?”

“You know very well where I slept.”

“It’s a brand-new cottage, isn’t it?”

He didn’t give her time to answer. “I can see three others from here, all looking freshly built. The wood hasn’t weathered yet.”

“What is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“A selfish man would consider his own comforts first, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see a new keep?”

“No.”

“Calum is MacBain’s first-in-command over the MacBain warriors, Johanna, and he told me the cottages are for the elderly in the clan. They come first, for they are most in need of warm fires and roofs over their heads at night. MacBain puts himself last. Think about that, Johanna. I found out there are two bedchambers on the east side above the stairs in the keep proper. Neither was disturbed by fire. Yet MacBain hasn’t spent a single night there. He sleeps outside with the other soldiers. Doesn’t that tell you something about the man’s character?”

Her smile was all the answer he required.

The color came back into her face. Nicholas nodded with satisfaction.

They had almost reached the edge of the courtyard when they stopped to watch the crowd of men and women working to prepare for the ceremony. Since the chapel had been gutted by fire, the wedding would take place in the courtyard. A makeshift altar consisting of a wide, flat wooden board was propped on top of two empty ale barrels. A woman spread a white linen cloth over the board. Father MacKechnie waited until the covering was in place, then put a beautiful golden chalice and plate in the center. Two more women were kneeling on the ground in front of the barrels, arranging bouquets of flowers in front of the wood.

Johanna started walking forward again. Nicholas took hold of her hand to stop her.

“There is something more you need to know,” he began.

“Yes?”

“Do you see the child sitting on the top step?”

She turned to look. A little boy, surely no more than four or five summers, sat all alone on the top step. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head was propped up by his hands. He was watching the preparations. He looked terribly unhappy.

“I see him,” Johanna said. “He looks forlorn, doesn’t he, Nicholas?”

Her brother smiled. “Aye, he does,” he agreed.

“Who is he?”

“MacBain’s son.”

She almost toppled over. “His what?”

“Lower your voice, Johanna. I don’t want anyone to overhear this conversation. The boy belongs to MacBain. There’s speculation he might not be his son, of course, but MacBain has made it clear he accepts him.”

She was too astonished to speak.

“His name’s Alex,” Nicholas remarked for lack of anything better to say. “I can tell I’ve given you a bit of a shock, Johanna.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “How long was MacBain married?”

“He wasn’t.”

“I don’t understand . . .”

“Yes, you do. Alex is illegitimate.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t know what to think about that. “The boy’s mother died during childbirth,” Nicholas added. “You might as well know it all, sister. The woman was a camp follower. There are at least three other men who could claim the boy.”

Her heart went out to the little one. She turned to look at him again. He was an adorable child with dark curly hair. From the distance separating them, she couldn’t see the color of his eyes. She wagered they were gray, like his father’s.

“Johanna, it’s important for you to know MacBain acknowledges the boy as his son.”

She turned to her brother. “I heard you both the first and the second time you mentioned that fact.”

“And?”

She smiled. “And what, Nicholas?”

“Will you accept him?”

“Oh, Nicholas, how can you ask me such a thing? Of course I will accept him. How could I not?”

Nicholas let out a sigh. His sister didn’t understand the ways of their harsh world. “It’s a bone of contention among the Maclaurins,” he explained. “MacBain’s father was the Laird Maclaurin. He went to his deathbed without ever acknowledging his son.”

“Then the man I’m marrying is also illegitimate?”

“Yes.”

“Yet the Maclaurins made him their laird?”

Nicholas nodded. “It’s complicated,” he admitted. “They needed his strength. He does carry his father’s blood, and they’ve conveniently forgotten he was born a bastard. The boy, however . . .”

He didn’t say another word. He would leave the conclusions to her. Johanna shook her head. “Do you suppose the little one’s upset about the wedding?”

“It would appear he’s upset about something.”

Father MacKechnie drew their attention by waving to them. Nicholas took hold of Johanna’s elbow and started forward. She couldn’t take her gaze away from the child. Lord, he looked pitiful and lost.

“They’re ready,” Nicholas announced. “Here comes MacBain.”

The laird walked across the courtyard and took his place in front of the altar. His hands were at his sides. The priest moved to stand next to him. He again motioned Johanna forward.

“I can’t do this, not without . . .”

“It’s going to be all right.”

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, smiling. “Wait here, Nicholas. I’ll be right back.”

The priest waved to Johanna. She waved back, smiling. Then she turned around and walked away.

“Johanna, for the love of God . . .”

Nicholas was muttering to the air. He watched as his sister made her way around the crowd. When she headed for the steps, he finally understood what her errand was.

Nicholas turned his gaze to MacBain. His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.

The priest craned his neck to watch Johanna, then turned to MacBain and nudged him with his elbow.

Johanna slowed her pace when she neared the steps, for she didn’t want the little one to run away before she got to him.

The news that MacBain had a son had filled her with joy and relief. Finally she had her answer to the question that plagued her. MacBain obviously didn’t care she was barren because he already had an heir, illegitimate or not.

The guilt she’d been carrying dropped away like a heavy cloak from her shoulders.

MacBain couldn’t contain his frown. Damn, he hadn’t wanted her to find out about the boy until they were married and she couldn’t change her mind. Women were peculiar in their attitudes, he knew, and he was certain he was never going to understand exactly how their minds worked. They seemed to take exception to such odd things. Most, he’d heard, didn’t accept mistresses, and some of the wives of the other warriors he knew didn’t acknowledge bastards. MacBain had every intention of forcing Johanna to acknowledge his son, but he’d hoped to get her settled in first.