The Highlanders Bride Page 12

  Finn wondered if Laurel realized that with every change she made, with every heart she won over, she was solidifying her future—she was here to stay.

  Laurel was excited about the progress of the day. She and Glynis were assessing the keep and, while there was still much to do, it all seemed possible now. She had been saying aloud to one and all that she was doing this for her own benefit, that she would not live in such a disheveled place. But, in truth, she was thinking about Conor. Making his castle comfortable for him, his family and guests was one of the few gifts she could give him in return for his help.

  “May I ask you a question?” Glynis asked as they walked across the courtyard. Laurel jumped, startled. She had been daydreaming again.

  Glynis had been wondering if Laurel was aware she often switched to Gaelic when giving instructions or providing suggestions to clansmen. She had wanted to ask her about it all morning.

  “Absolutely, Glynis. What is your question?”

  “How did you come to be able to speak our tongue so well?”

  Oh no, thought Laurel as she bit her bottom lip. How was she to get out of this one? She hated to lie and knew that she did not do it at all well. “I, uh, was taught by my grandfather. He was taught by his grandfather and so forth. All people on my mother’s side have known the language for as far back as anyone can remember.”

  “Was your grandfather a Scot?” Glynis pushed.

  Laurel’s mind was whirling. How was she going to dodge this inquiry? What if she just refused to answer it? “My home was in Cheviot Hills of Northumberland. It lies right on the border between England and the border clans of Scotland.”

  Glynis wondered if Lady Laurel was going to sidestep all of her questions. “Do you miss your home, milady?”

  “I miss walking along the shores and over the stony fells. There are sandy beaches and pretty fishing harbors to explore and enjoy.” Just then they walked by the guard gate and Laurel was able to see through the opening the rolling waves of grass and mountains topped with snow. She impulsively added, “But now that I have seen your highlands, I will always be able to remember nature’s true beauty.”

  Twice, Lady Laurel avoided answering Glynis’s questions, but the new housekeeper was not fooled by her lady’s evasions. If anything, Laurel’s avoidance of certain subjects just confirmed the housekeeper’s conclusion that her ladyship was indeed part Scottish. Glynis pondered on some of Laurel’s other odd comments. She referred to her home in the past tense, as if she were never returning. Where was her lady going in the spring, then? Glynis guessed to a Scottish relative. As a lover of any and all gossip, Glynis couldn’t wait to pass the word after she finished the castle tour.

  “We are now approaching the stables. Neal is the stable master and is responsible for the laird’s horses. He has been working in the castle stables since our laird was but a wee lad.”

  Laurel stopped to see Borrail and say hello to Neal. Neal had not seen her since she had first come into the keep with her dress torn and dirt all over her face. He could tell then that Laurel was a bonnie lass but he was unprepared for what he saw now. Word had spread quickly that the laird’s lady was exceptionally bonnie, but he had thought the rumors overstatements in respect to the laird being smitten with her. But those rumors had not been exaggerations. The lady who smiled at him and inquired about Borrail was an ethereal creature sent down from heaven.

  “Your horse is happy to see you, lass. He desires to ride and is getting restless in the stalls,” he said as he went to stand by her and stroke Borrail’s great back. Laurel was nuzzling the horse’s neck, caressing his head, and scratching his ears.

  “Oh, Borrail, don’t worry. I won’t forget about you. But I have a lot to do. I promise as soon I can, we will ride. We will ride fast and hard. Will that make you happy?” she murmured quietly.

  Neal went over to Glynis and quietly pointed out, “The lass is speaking Gaelic to her horse!”

  “Aye, she often speaks her language and then ours. Sometimes even in the same sentence. I don’t think she is even aware of it.” Glynis then leaned over as if she had a great secret. “She’s part Scot, Neal. I put my life on it. She has a dandy of a temper, and no English lass can look that bonnie. That’s Scots blood.” She paused, pleased to see Neal was receptive to the idea. “And her speech. Her command of our language only further proves my point.”

  “Aye, the laird has chosen well,” Neal confirmed.

  “Aye, he has. But you wouldn’t believe it to listen to her. She thinks she is leaving in the spring.”

  Neal shook his head. The lass may believe she was leaving. Even the laird may still believe he would let her go. But Neal knew better.

  “You ready to go on, milady?” Glynis asked.

  “Yes, but just one more moment. Neal, how many horses are you responsible for?”

  “The laird’s and his main guards’.”

  “That is a lot of work. Does someone help you when everyone is home?” Laurel could tell by his stance and the frown on his face that the answer was no. Stable work was hard labor. Neal should be given support so that his knowledge would be passed to the next generation.

  “I have no need for help,” he replied sternly, not knowing whether or not he should be insulted. Did she think him incapable? Weak?

  Seeing his pride had been pricked, Laurel quickly interceded. “There are several young men around the castle who need to learn how to manage horses. It would help Finn during his training if the boys had already mastered the skill of taking care of their mounts. Do you suppose you could do this? Just one or two boys at a time? They need to understand what it means to care of a horse. It is not a simple job that can be done when convenient.”

  He just stared at her. Ever since the laird banished help from the keep, Neal had watched the knowledge of the elders vanish. Only fighting and battle strategy were passed on now. It seemed that McTiernay Castle was in for some changes, and Neal would do whatever he could to support them.

  “Aye, milady. It would be a true pleasure,” he answered, his eyes twinkling.

  “Onward, Glynis. We need to let this man continue with his work,” Laurel grinned and hooked her arm with the woman who was fast becoming a close friend.

  The next place Laurel inspected was the chapel. It was a simple, rectangular room covering two stories situated next to the Star Tower. A nave divided the room horizontally separating the laird’s sitting area in the upper part from the rest of the clan in the lower half. The majesty of the building came from its large round, arched ceilings, heavily embellished by a traveling artist who had visited the castle several generations ago.

  The ornate ceilings were balanced with simple decorations below. The aisles had rows of stone pillars supporting the timber roof and the room was lined with benches that looked sturdy, but dusty. The pews set aside for the laird and his family were padded, but in severe need of repair. The altar looked as though it had been unused for some time.

  “Glynis, do you not have a priest?”

  “Aye, we do. He just hasn’t been here in some time.”

  “I wonder why,” Laurel murmured to herself sarcastically. “Once the men are done with the lower hall have them clean this chapel.”

  “Aye, milady.”

  “Do you have material here? The curtains, the padded seats, and the altar coverings all need to be redone.”

  Glynis artfully guided Laurel out of the chapel and changed the tenor of their discussion. “There are several bolts of material in the North Tower. If I may suggest, you should take some for your gowns.”

  Laurel’s first reaction was to refuse, but then she realized that would be foolish. “I suppose you are right. I cannot wear this same outfit every day, now can I?” She looked down at her gown. Despite her repairs, it was severely worn. “Are you sure that no one is using the cloth? It is serving no purpose?”

  “Now would I be telling you about something that is forbidden to use?” After spending a morning with her lady, Glynis was becoming comfortable in speaking her mind. It seemed that her lady responded better to frank talk. Laurel was open to suggestions, but was at ease making decisions. McTiernay Castle was going to bloom again with her in charge of household affairs.

  Glynis observed Laurel for a few moments and changed their direction as she declared, “Now, it is time for you to return to your room before dinner. I will have Brighid draw you a bath and bring some fabric to your rooms.” It was only then that Laurel grasped she was in the Star Tower at the bottom of the corkscrew staircase. Glynis was ending the day’s tour.

  “Not yet, I would like to see…”

  “No, I think you will go now. Laird McTiernay would have my neck if he found out how hard you was working, milady. Remember, I know of your ribs, and I see how hard you are breathing after climbing the stairs in the chapel.”

  Laurel could not argue about her breathing. It was labored. She felt like such an invalid, but knew that if pushed too far, too fast, she would truly then be bedridden. “Just for tonight,” Laurel acquiesced and proceeded up the stairs to her room.

  She was sitting in the settee near the far window relaxing looking at the view when someone knocked.

  “Come in,” she said expecting Brighid to answer. Instead the youngest two McTiernays plunged into the room.

  “Why, hello!” Laurel exclaimed. “I thought you had gone with Conor to Laird Schellden’s.”

  “Nah, we weren’t allowed to go,” said Clyde, climbing up on his mother’s bed just like he used to when he was younger. Conan jumped up beside him and fanned out spread eagle staring at the ceiling.

  “I love this room. Mother let us play in here all the time,” Conan remarked.

  “Those must be good memories. When was the last time you were here?” Laurel asked.

  “Oh, when Mama died, Conor locked the room and forbade anyone to use it. He only opened it up again when you came,” Conan explained.

  “Conor must really like you. Are you going to marry him?” Clyde asked innocently. “I hope so. You sure are pretty and nice. Just like Mama.”

  “Why, thank you, Clyde. I like you, too. But I don’t think I am going to marry your brother. He’s an important man and needs to marry someone worthy of your clan.”

  “You’re important! What’s more, you’re smart!” defended Conan, thinking that being intelligent and quick-witted were the most important attributes anyone could have. “Most people think it is wonderful that you are cleaning up the castle. That it was time someone got our brother to agree to changes. Only a few people can’t believe you are defying Conor and are scared of what’ll happen.”

  Clyde giggled and fell back on the bed hard. “Wait till they see you throw a knife!”

  Laurel ignored the silly laughter erupting from the young boy. “Conan, why would cleaning up the keep be defying Conor?” The idea did not make sense. Conan must have misunderstood his brother’s intentions.

  “Conor said that we were…we were…unappreciated,” Clyde said, bunching his forehead trying to remember exactly what Conor had said. The remark had been made several years prior when Clyde was just past six years old.

  “Unappreciative,” Conan scoffed, flaunting his intellect and vocabulary.

  Laurel furrowed her eyebrows. “Hmmm, and was he referring to the clan or to his brothers?”

  “Us, I believe. Although not Clyde and me in particular. It was the twins and Cole who were the worst of us. He just got really mad one night and sent everyone home and said that until we could learn to appreciate help, we shouldn’t have any.” Conan shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we haven’t learned it yet.”

  Laurel smiled in understanding. Poor Conor. He tried so hard to do the right thing, and it just backfired on him. She walked over to sit down on the bed between Clyde and Conor and took hold of their hands.

  “Well, the help has returned, along with manners and gratitude. This I can assure you, for your brother is right. If you cannot appreciate the assistance of your clan, you should not have it. However, unlike Conor, I do not intend on depriving everyone from a well-established and clean keep just because of some unruly, unappreciative boys.”

  “Laurel? What do you mean by unappreciative?” asked Clyde, still puzzled by its meaning.

  A deep voice came from the doorway. “She means that if you are not thankful or do not recognize the work someone is doing for you, you don’t deserve their help.” Finn startled everyone as he entered the room. “I’m overseeing getting your bath water.”

  “Finn! That shouldn’t be your responsibility!” exclaimed Laurel.

  “Seeing to your welfare is part of my duty while the laird is away.” He didn’t add Conor’s emphatic order it was Finn’s responsibility to manage all tasks associated with her. His laird did not want anyone assisting or working with Laurel on personal matters—such as drawing a bath.

  “That is ridiculous. I shall go down to the kitchen to bathe. No one is going to be hauling water up and down stairs on my account.”

  She got up and started towards the door. Finn stepped in front of her. The man was huge. She expected he was near Conor’s height, although he lacked his muscular structure. Conor was the perfect balance between height and strength. She wished he was there right now, if only so she could argue with him.

  Just then Brighid rounded the corner laden with fabric, ribbon and lace. Her eyes widened at the number of people in her lady’s chamber. Conor and Clyde were still on the bed, grinning and watching the commander of the guard and her lady arguing about something.

  Brighid’s stance turned to one of timidity. “Uh, I’m sorry. Should I come back, milady? Glynis told me that I should bring these up, but if you are in the middle of something…” she trailed off, clearly perplexed.

  Glad for the interruption, Laurel exclaimed, “Wonderful! Brighid, I assume that is the fabric Glynis told me about?” The young maid nodded. Laurel walked over to the bolts and started shaking her head.

  “Oh, no. These will not do at all. I wanted sturdier fabrics for chairs and curtains. Only the plaid looks appropriate, but there is not nearly enough.”

  Brighid found her tongue. “I was to tell you, milady, that the other fabrics would not be found until at least five new gowns had been made for you.” She looked wide-eyed at her lady now. Brighid had been nervous on her way up here to deliver the message. But Glynis had been clear that no matter how much Laurel argued, cajoled or demanded, Brighid was not to give in. The laird’s desires outweighed everyone else’s, and the new housekeeper was adamant that this was his wish.

  Laurel considered arguing, but did not wish to put Brighid in an awkward position of choosing between her and Glynis in front of Finn.

  “All right. I am not agreeing, mind you. I just know that I will have to take my arguments up with Glynis on the morrow.” Brighid looked relieved.

  “Aye, milady. Should I put these bolts over here?” she asked, indicating with her chin towards the settee. Laurel didn’t want to give up her favorite sitting spot in the room. She looked around and found an unused ottoman pushed towards the corner. She went to go drag it out between the chairs in front of the hearth when Conan jumped up and did the deed for her.

  “Thank you, Conan. You have been a great help,” she remarked, remembering her promise to Neal.

  “Brighid, please lay those down here. Finn, before you leave, may I make another request?”

  He arched his eyebrows in response, curious to know what other changes she had in store. “Aye.”

  “I would like Neal to have one or two revolving apprentices to help him. He is getting older and the care of all the mares is difficult for one his age.” She put her hand up to stop his comment before it was uttered. “No, he did not complain. Of course he wouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean he could not use the help. But mostly, he is a fountain of wisdom from which no one is drinking.”

  “Whatever are you talking about, lass? Conor is right. You do talk in circles.” Finn stood looming with his hands on his hips.

  Laurel was exasperated. “I do not talk in circles.”

  “Aye, lass, you do. You could rival my wife in stirring a man’s head into a blur. Aileen speaks just the way you do. It’s either a riddle or some hidden example to get her point across. And with the baby coming it has only gotten worse. Never does she just say what’s on her mind.” He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “So, what do you mean, lass, about Neal being a fountain without water?”

  Laurel shook her head, wondering how something so simple could be so easily misunderstood. “I meant that Neal knows a great deal about horses. He knows good stock from bad. He knows what horses need in all types of weather, can cure them when ill, and can train them for riding. This knowledge will be lost if there is no one to teach.”

  This time Finn consented and promised to procure two lads to begin their education in the stables. He also agreed that the job should rotate among the boys, improving the preparation they would have before they reached him for training. The only unexpected outcome of the decision was Clyde begging to be the first one trained.

  Laurel couldn’t sleep. The day had been so satisfying. It was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time. Being appreciated, needed, and, oddly enough, liked were things she hadn’t realized she missed.

  Her mind kept wandering to Conor. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was he sleeping? She had no idea how many times she told herself to start being sensible. Conor had probably stopped thinking about her the second he had left the castle walls. She wished it were as easy for her to forget about him.

  She got up and went to go put on her bliaut and grimaced as she remembered it was wet from washing. She was going to have to add a robe to the list of clothing items she and Brighid had started earlier that evening. She paced the floor a few times and decided that the chemise she was wearing would have to do.