Thorn in My Heart (58 page)

She felt her chest rise and fall in an imaginary sigh. It was no use hoping such things.

Lachlans voice had fallen into a pounding rhythm. “A time to get, and a time to lose.”
A time to bse, Father.
And a time to cast away her dreams.

Lachlan had called her into the spence after she'd come running through the house, calling Jamie's name like a banshee. “Rose, you are not to carry on like a spoiled child,” he'd cautioned her, his expression more dour than usual. “You're a young woman of means. I'll find you a proper suitor when the time is right.”

“When would that time be, Father?” She'd not meant to sound flippant but couldn't take it back once she'd said it.

“A time of my choosing,” was all he'd said. Which meant no time soon, she feared. She'd spent the balance of the day in her room, pretending to read, while Leana was off spinning wool at her wheel, and Jamie stomped about the barnyard, to hear Duncan tell it, angry with God and all of creation. Rose glanced at Jamie, his dark hair taudy knotted at the nape of his neck, his smooth brow facing her. How serious he looked! Not her lighthearted, laughing Jamie at all. But braw as any Scotsman who ever walked the Galloway hills.

He was seated next to Leana. A bit apart from her sister, Rose was gratified to see, though it would not be long before they climbed into the same bed in the room next to hers. Aunt Meg's description of what to expect on her wedding night had been most unsatisfactory. Perhaps it was best not to know. Leana had known, and that knowledge had ruined her life.

No, Rose. It ruined yours.

She gritted her teeth as her father closed the Buik with the last line of the passage. “A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a
time of peace.” Rose felt more hate than love and no peace at all. The worst six months of her life loomed before her. If she was doomed to suffer, she would see to it that the entire household suffered with her.

“I chose this passage for a purpose under heaven,” Lachlan said, his gaze moving around the room. “ ‘Tis a day in which two lives are truly joined and a third is anticipated.” He paused, staring at Leana and Jamie, as they all were. Leana was blushing. Jamie was sullen. “The McKies will remain with us through Lammas. Longer, if I can convince them to make their home at Auchengray for another season.”

Another breeding season, he means.
Rose saw Jamie's eyes flicker and guessed he was thinking the very same.

“We will have a time of peace in this household,” her father said, his meaning clear. “Let us call upon Almighty God and ask his Holy Spirit to reign over us all.”

Lachlan prayed, using words like a hammer, driving home sharply pointed truths until no tool could remove them. For a man bent on having his own way, by any crooked means necessary, her father spoke of righteousness and forgiveness with authority. Perhaps he was required to know only how the words were pronounced.

Rose kept her head bowed, proud of herself for doing so, and dutifully prayed for peace. Yet inside her heart, a war was raging. She loved her sister; she hated her sister; she wanted happiness for Leana and Jamie; she wanted Jamie McKie for herself.

The deepest rivers make least din,
The silent soul doth most abound in care.

W
ILLIAM
A
LEXANDER,
E
ARL OF
S
TIRLING

L
eana waited for Jamie in their darkened bedroom, just as Jamie had waited for her on their wedding night. He, however, had been fast asleep, and she was more awake than she could ever remember, her heart dancing a fiddlers jig.

Odd to be nesded inside the box bed that had changed her life forever. She'd expected him long before this, but poor Jamie had been through a very trying day. Duncan had hinted about a scene in the barnyard after she'd left, and Rose was inconsolable at dinner and supper both, feeling sorry for herself, making everyone miserable. Neda had done what she could, serving Rose's favorite syllabub, patting Leana's shoulder in passing, seasoning the air with grace—all to no avail. Family worship had been blessedly short, for Neda's hotchpotch did not sit on her stomach as well as she'd hoped. They'd all dispersed on the last amen, Rose to her sewing—a task she only faced when she was already in wretched spirits—Jamie to read, and Leana to prepare herself and their bedroom, praying the next part of their married life might begin on a happier note.

The bedding had been aired, fresh candles were lit, and she'd dressed in the same nightgown she'd worn for her bridal week, neatly pressed by Eliza. Hours earlier the quiet, dark-haired servant girl had left behind her life in the scullery to serve as lady's maid to her mistress, according to the terms of Leana's tocher. The babe in her womb had forced her father to acknowledge the marriage at last.

Now Leana waited, almost breathless to see her husband, her hand smoothing over the wooden box bed walls, remembering.

Jamie, come to me!

He did, at last, stepping into the room with a taper in one hand and his book in the other. “Leana?” he whispered. “Are you still awake?”

“Aye.” She tried not to laugh. “I am.” As though she could sleep after weeks in a tiny hurlie bed, after weeks without Jamie! “Quite awake.”

As Jamie undressed in the flickering candlelight, she watched him without apology, letting the sight of him awaken a desire she'd feared might never see daylight again. He was her husband now—not for a day or a week but for the rest of her days.
Jamie, oh my Jamie! It
was good, it was right, for her to love him in every way she could.

He slid beneath the covers and pulled the bed curtains shut behind him, wrapping them in a world without shadows or sound. They simply breathed together for a moment, their bodies warming toward each other.

She'd thought all day about what she would say when she had Jamie to herself, but now the words were gone. There were only feelings, emotions so close to the surface of her skin that if he touched her, she might ignite and burn to ashes.

“Jamie.” She loved saying his name. She would begin there. “Jamie, my love.”

He touched a finger to her lips. “Leana, don't. Don't ask more of me than I can give you.”

She kissed his fingertip, then pressed his hand against her cheek. “You've already given me a child in my womb, and for that I'm grateful. I promise I'll be patient.”

When he withdrew his hand, her cheek cooled. The strain in his voice was palpable. “How patient?”

“Very patient, Jamie.” She smiled in spite of the tension between them. “Its one of my few virtues, or have you forgotten?”

“I have not forgotten.” He turned to lie on his back and folded his hands beneath his head, his jutting elbows holding her at bay. “And you have many virtues, Leana.”

“I'm glad,” she murmured, longing to know what those qualities might be. But she was not Rose. She would not insist he flatter her and
list them. If Jamie had found some good in her, that was enough. “By patient, do you mean that you prefer we not…”

He sighed heavily and turned his face toward the bed curtains. “By patient I mean good night.”

The night was far from good. She tossed and turned, unaccustomed to Jamie's presence, her stomach queasy, her thoughts troubled. In the wee, dark hours, when she was certain he was well asleep, she drew close to him, curving herself around him like spoons in a drawer, praying he would not awaken and push her away. Warmed by his body, she finally slept, only to wake in the morning and find him gone and his pillow cold.

It was not the beginning she'd hoped for, but it was a beginning nonetheless. She would be patient. And perhaps he would be merciful.

Jamie spent the day in the farm steading, working hard, as always. Her father had accused him of being lax in his labors, but all of Auchengray knew better. When he returned to the house before supper, covered in muck and sweat, his efforts were obvious. Leana greeted him at the back door, where he was discarding his filthy boots for Eliza to tend to. “Jamie, I've had Willie put a pitcher of hot water in our room,” she told him. “And there's a clean shirt waiting for you in the clothes press.”

He regarded her evenly. “Very thoughtful, Leana.”

“Shall I send Hugh to see you? Might you want to be shaved for supper?”
For later?

Jamie headed for the stair without looking at her again. “Aye, send the man up in a few minutes. The melting snow has made a muddy mess of the sheepfolds and of me as well.” Leana would never tell him that she found him every bit as handsome fresh from the fields as she did fresh from a bath.

He came to the table at seven looking the part of a country gende-man again, taking his seat next to her and offering her a perfunctory nod. His mood was sober all through their meal of roasted snipe, his attention taken with picking through the bird's tiny bones. She feared they would spend another cold night together, and she was not wrong.
Patience
, she told herself, watching him sleep, pulling the bedcovers closer to keep her warm.

Saturday brought the first clear sky in many days. “In honor of Saint Valentine, I ken,” Neda said at breakfast. “Will Jessie be bringin wee Annie round for sweets?” The fourteenth of each February the neighborhood children came knocking on doors, begging for sweets or money or fruit. At Lachlan McBride's door, it would never be coins they took home in their pockets. Meanwhile Rose was already off to the Elliots’ house in Newabbey, where the young people of the parish were celebrating the day in the traditional way, with much merriment capped off with a Valentines Dealing. Leana prayed some young man might draw Roses name from the hat and draw her eye away from Jamie. A selfish prayer, she knew, but a prudent one.

Leana ate her porridge quickly, wondering in which corner of the cellar she'd hidden her best apples. “I suspect we'll have quite a bit of company with the weather so fair. Suppose I wash and polish the fruit, Neda, while you keep an eye on the door. Jessie is always up before the sun.”

Neda eyed her, a knowing grin on her kind face. “Unlike a certain married woman I ken who's been sleepin later than usual.”

Leana's cheeks heated. “It is not what you think. ‘Tis the babe, wearing me down before he even shows himself.” She glanced down at her flat stomach, still amazed at the thought of Jamie's son growing inside her. Was he not awed by it as well? If so, his joy was a closely guarded secret, for his face registered none of it.
Patience, Leana.

Eager to prepare for their small visitors, she poked around in the dank cellar until she found the basket she was looking for and filled her apron with two dozen firm, red-skinned apples. Cold water, a bit of salt, and a vigorous rubbing polished them to a high sheen. “Have we a nice tray to put them on?”

“Aye.” Neda produced an oak tray Duncan had fashioned for her years ago. “I think I hear someone knockin already, and the wag-at-the-wa’ not showin nine o'clock yet!”

Leana laughed, her spirits buoyed by the thought of her red-haired
friend come to call. “That would be Jessie.”
And Annie, dear Annie.
Both women hurried to the front of the house and swung open the door to find the mistress of Troston Hill standing on their doorstep, her babe on her hip.

Annie squealed the moment she saw Leana, and Jessie's smile was brighter than the winter's sun. “Have you a treat for my wee one on this Saint Valentine's Day?”

Leana held up the tray of russet apples. “Aye, and a cup of tea for the mother, if she'll join me.” Their guests were ushered in and made at home by the hearth, where Jessie lowered Annie to the floor, kissing her soft curls in passing. Leana discarded her tray and pulled off Annie's many wrappings. “I need to see how you've grown, litde one, and I cannot tell with you bundled up so. Look at you, standing up all by yourself! And are you walking now and giving your mothers back a rest?”

As though she understood every word, Annie toddled about the room while Leana clapped, fighting tears. How quickly children grew! She could barely wait to see her own sons chubby legs in motion like Annies. Would he be fair, like her, or have darker hair, like his father? Eyes of sky blue or moss green? If Jamie was not careful, he would miss all the anticipation of becoming a father and all the joy that came with it.

Jessie watched her with Annie, grinning shamelessly. “You've a babe growing inside ye, don't ye, lass?”

Leana stared up at her friend in astonishment. “Jessie, however did you guess?”

“ ‘Twas written all over your face the minute you saw Annie.” Jessie tipped her head to the side, eying her closely. “This babe of yours, is he giving you trouble in the morning?”

“Nae.” Leana stood, brushing off her skirts. “I've been able to keep my breakfast down.”

“And Jamie, is he pleased to wake and find you next to him?”

“Jessie!” Leana shook her head as though that might cool her cheeks. “Is it your red hair that makes you say such braisant things?”

“That's what my Alan tells me nigh to daily.” Jessie's expression stilled. “Truly, Leana, we are happy for you. All your neighbors who saw
you ride to the kirk on your wedding day have come to think well of this match. “Iwas clear it was the Lord's doing, however it came about, and this bairn he's blessed you with is proof of it.”

“May God be praised for it then.” Leana bent down to hand Annie a shiny apple and watched the child's eyes grow round with delight, even as she prayed in silence,
And may God look upon my sorrow and change Jamie's heart.

Endure, my heart:
you once endured something even more dreadful.

H
OMER

R
ose did not return home from her Valentine festivities until after supper, and Leana was grateful. To have Jamie to herself all evening without wondering if his gaze was fixed elsewhere was a blessed relief. She'd taken particular care with her dress and pinched her cheeks until they hurt. Neda had twined a red ribbon through her hair, pinning it up in a becoming twist high on the crown of her head, the ribbons dangling behind.