A Stockingful of Joy (5 page)

She laughed sweetly, like a small bell. "Well," she said. "I wish they were mine. But they are my cousins, and… they have been orphaned. This is Kenneth Fraser," she told the children. Kenneth nodded, and received sober stares in return.

"This is Patrick MacGhille," she said, touching the tallest boy's arm. Kenneth saw Patrick frown, his beard-wisped cheeks flushed, as if he disapproved of a Fraser in his home. Those of the name MacGhille, Kenneth knew, were loyal to Clan Donald.

"And here are Angus, Malcolm, David"—she touched each lower head as she spoke, like going down a stair—"and Donald, Edan, and Tomas. And their sister, Mairead." Kenneth nodded hesitantly to each; the little girl, he observed, was only a bit older than the two youngest boys, Edan and Tomas.

"Triona, Triona!" Edan tugged at her hand and pointed to Kenneth. "What does he have in that sack?"

"Wonderful things, but you must be patient," she said.

"
Bliadhna Sona
, Triona," the little girl piped.

"And a lucky New Year to you, my Mairead," Catriona said, smoothing her hair. Kenneth saw then that the child's left eye was milky-blue and wandered to the side. This, then, must be the little half-blind girl who had named the cat "Dog."

"Tell me, how did you fare in the storm?" Catriona asked them. The children began to chatter of their adventures as she crossed the dim, smoky room and sat on a bench beside the table, lifting Tomas to her lap. The boys sat, too, on the bench, on stools, on the earthen floor. Kenneth stood while Catriona and the children spoke about the storm.

As he listened, he realized that Patrick and his brother Angus, who seemed to be proud, capable lads, had taken responsibility for their younger siblings. The children clearly loved Catriona, and Kenneth saw that they depended on her for support and friendship.

He glanced around the house. Snug and well made of stone, earth, and thatch, the crofter's hut had one room with a central hearth; the furnishings were simple and few, and he saw two box-beds in the wall. Overhead was a dark, narrow loft, likely with more beds. Behind him, he heard—and smelled—the animals in the byre, separated from the house by a wattle and daub wall.

He looked at Catriona, who gathered the children close to tell them about her New Year's adventure. They gasped as she told them about her first-foot, and turned to stare at Kenneth.

"But he is a Fraser!" one boy said. "He is not lucky!"

"He has dark hair," Mairead said in his defense.

"Why would a Fraser come to see you?" Patrick asked.

"I came as Catriona's friend," Kenneth answered.

"He brought gifts," Catriona said. "I will show you."

"He is the one," Mairead said, nodding. "The lucky one."

The smaller boys tugged at Catriona's skirt. She smiled at them and looked at Kenneth. He handed the bundle he still held to an older boy, Angus, who untied it on the floor.

The younger children exclaimed over the packets of food and spices and goods. Mairead sat on the floor to examine the contents eagerly, while Patrick and Angus watched, frowning, as if too old to be excited by simple things.

Mairead, Edan, and Tomas, the blond toddler, dug their fingers into the sugar sack until Catriona whisked it away. Malcolm, David, and Donald began swordplay with the candles, which Patrick grabbed from them with a fatherly growl.

Ah
, Kenneth thought as he watched; he recognized the items as the Frasers' New Year's gifts to Catriona. So the children were the reason that she had not used the sugar and spices at home, and the reason why she made use of one candle, when she had been given several. She gave whatever she could spare, and more, to them.

"The Fraser brought these things?" Malcolm asked Catriona.

"I did," Kenneth said. "My kin and I are friends to Catriona." The children looked at him in amazement.

"Kenneth and his kin know all about my children," Catriona said. "They wanted to share their wealth and good fortune with you on New Year's Day." She slid a keen glance toward Kenneth.

"That we did." He nodded. "Your good luck is ours."

"This Fraser is a good omen," Mairead said. "He is Triona's New Year's surprise."

"Triona's what?" Kenneth asked her.

Mairead licked sugar from her fingers and nodded. Her left, milk-blue eye appeared totally blind, while her right was vivid blue; she gazed at him in an oddly wise manner. "I told Triona that New Year's Eve would bring her something wonderful. You are her New Year's gift. We can have the other things," she added brightly.

Kenneth raised his brows in astonishment. Catriona blushed and gave him a faltering smile. "Mairead did say that New Year's would bring me a lucky omen. She has the Sight."

"My cousin Elspeth has the Sight," he told Mairead. "She sees visions that come true. You must meet her one day."

"Is she a Fraser, too?" Mairead asked.

"She is," Catriona said, "and a very nice woman, too. Come here to the hearth, Mairead, Patrick, Angus—I will show you how to make New Year's bannocks with oats, sugar, and spices. But you must promise not to let Tomas eat sugar from the sack. Store it up high, where he cannot get to it."

They gathered around Catriona as she knelt by the hearth and made several sweet cakes, which she cooked on a flat griddle over the fire. Then she made a thick soup with onions and beef, and prepared a hot, watered, spicy wine. When the meal was ready, the children helped Catriona serve the food in wooden bowls.

Kenneth shared their New Year's meal, eating as lightly as Catriona did while the children ate with enthusiasm. He answered the boys' curious questions about the feud between Frasers and MacDonalds, and about hunting, herding, and winter care of livestock. The older boys soaked in whatever Kenneth told them, nodding and asking more, as if thirsty for the knowledge and guidance he offered.

Later, while they gathered near the peat fire, David, Donald, and Malcolm began to sing Gaelic songs traditional to the New Year. Their voices were high and pure, and filled the room with peace and serenity. Kenneth watched their faces shining in the warm light, and thought of his own childhood.

Lachlann Fraser had fostered fifteen Fraser children after their fathers had died in a battle between Frasers and MacDonalds. Although Kenneth had been an orphan, he had never felt isolated or unwanted under Lachlann's generous care.

He looked at Catriona, who held Mairead and Tomas in her lap. She glanced around the room at each child while the boys sang, her blue eyes full of kindness, pride, love. Kenneth was fascinated by the depth of spirit that he saw in her.

When she dipped her head to kiss Tomas's sleepy head, he felt some lost, forlorn part of his soul stir. In that moment he felt the strength of her love for these children, and felt as if she included him, too, in the warm circle created by her gaze.

But he was sure that wine and firelight and good cheer created that sense. In truth, she regarded him as a Fraser who did not keep promises. The rare privilege of Catriona MacDonald's love was not meant for him. The thought made him infinitely sad.

He shook his head to clear it, and listened to the song.

Later, he watched as Catriona said farewell to each child with a soft word and an embrace. Kenneth bid them good fortune and peace in the new year, and he and Catriona led their rested garrons outside to ride back to her shieling hut.

"How long have the MacGhille children been alone?" he asked as the horses waded through snowdrifts.

"Their mother died when Tomas was born three years ago," Catriona said. "She was my second cousin. Their father was a farmer. He died a few months past, when he went out on a cattle raid with my uncle Hugh."

"And you alone are helping them?"

"I am their only kin here, except for Uncle Hugh. But when I asked him to see to their welfare, he refused—he said that they would be far too much trouble, and someone else should do it." She sighed, shook her head. "Patrick is fifteen, and he and Angus think themselves old enough to watch over the younger ones. They have hunted and fished for their food and protected the children, and they have done well so far, but—" She shrugged.

"But the winter will be hard for them," Kenneth said.

She nodded. "I have offered to take the youngest ones to live with me, but none of them want to be separated."

"Your little house is not much bigger than theirs."

"Nor do I have the means to care for several children." She looked directly at him, her eyes snapping blue. "I want to bring them to Kilernan to live. Hugh will not allow it."

"Ah. So that is why you want your castle so desperately." He gazed at her thoughtfully, realizing that she considered the children's welfare more important than her own.

"It is my rightful home, after all." They rode in silence until the shieling hut appeared on the next hill.

In the yard they dismounted, and Catriona looked up at him. "Thank you for coming with me," she said. "Perhaps your first-foot into the children's house will bring them good luck."

He moved closer to her, his breath misting the air between them. "And will it bring luck for you?" he asked. "You said Mairead predicted a good omen for you this New Year's Eve."

She looked up at him, holding her horse's bridle. "That I do not know," she said. "Tell me, Fraser, was it good fortune that you set first-foot in my house, hurt and bleeding and in need of shelter? Or will the whole year be shadowed by that moment?" She turned away.

Kenneth stepped after her, ready to reply. But Catriona stopped so quickly that he nearly knocked into her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"The poor luck may have already begun for the year," she said grimly. "Look." She pointed toward the front door.

Kenneth saw the flattened, trampled snow near the doorway, saw the troughs made by large feet and deep hoofprints. "We did not make those marks," he said slowly.

"Parian MacDonald has been here, I think." She sent him a worried glance. "He may come back."

Kenneth shrugged. "If he does, I am here with you."

"If he finds a Fraser here, there will be trouble. You are forbidden to fight with MacDonalds."

"We are forbidden to
begin
a fight with MacDonalds," he explained. "But if they start a dispute, we certainly can defend ourselves."

She reached up, her fingers muffled in a thick stocking, and brushed his tender lower lip. "Who took you down on the ice?"

He could not hold back the truth when he looked into her deep blue eyes; her gaze was too serious, too perceptive. "Three men," he said. "MacDonalds. One of them was a huge blond man."

"That," she said, pulling on her horse's bridle, "was Parian. Your fight with MacDonalds has already begun, Fraser."

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Catriona peered out the window often, and listened for the thud of hoofbeats, but heard only the whip of the rising wind. She tried to ignore her apprehension by attending to simple tasks: sweeping the floor, repairing frayed woolen stockings, and stirring a thick soup in a kettle suspended over the hearth fire.

She and Kenneth talked, softly and leisurely, of snow, and sun, and the Highland hills, which they both loved in any sort of weather; they spoke of food, and hunting, and the best weave for a good plaid, and went on to share events from their childhoods. Neither mentioned feuding clans, or the disputes and pledges that lay unsolved between them.

Kenneth told her some amusing adventures he had experienced with his cousins, while she shared a few comments about her childhood, spent with her mother as her closest friend, isolated in Kilernan Castle from Hugh MacDonald's masculine world of raids, drink, and hunting.

Finally, seeing Kenneth yawn, his beard-shadowed cheeks pale, she told him to rest for a while. When the last of the daylight faded to blue dusk, she lit the beeswax candle.

"New Year's Day is not yet over," she said when he sat up from his rest and looked at her. "Candlelight attracts good spirits to a house."

"Ah," he said. "That must be why I came here last night."

She turned to scowl at him, but he grinned at her, boyish and charming, and she laughed. Setting the candle on the windowsill, she turned back and caught his somber gaze.

His brown eyes gleamed deep, dark, and rich. She remembered the warmth and comfort of his arms last night when they had shared the narrow bed. Blushing at the thought, she reminded herself sharply that he was a Fraser. He and his kin had denied her what she most needed. Any comfort she sensed in him was surely false.

A week ago, even a day ago, she would have believed that easily. Now she found it harder to hold on to the hurt and anger that the Frasers' refusal had roused in her. He was more than a Fraser to her; she had come to consider him a friend.

After supper, Kenneth sat on the floor with Cù, dangling a woolen stocking for the cat to snatch, and rubbing the cat's head and stomach. Catriona laughed when Kenneth dropped to his hands and knees and faced the cat, making growling sounds.

Kenneth glanced at her. "If he is determined to carry a proud name like 'Dog,' " he drawled, "he should learn to behave like one." The cat batted at him gently, and tangled his claws in Kenneth's long hair. When Kenneth's playful growl turned to a howl of genuine pain, Catriona sank to her knees to rescue him, chuckling softly as she freed the glossy strands.

"Ah, but some dogs have claws, I think," she said.

Kenneth slid her a look of chagrin. The cat leaped away as Catriona sat close to Kenneth, her fingers wound in his warm, soft hair. She sensed the heat of his body, and could smell an intriguing blend of smoke and leather and maleness about him. Looking up, she met his brown eyes directly.

"Triona—" he murmured. Her gaze dropped to the dusky curve of his mouth, to his chin, sanded with black whiskers. She was keenly aware of small, fascinating details—the sooty thickness of his lashes, the spicy scent of wine on his breath, his strong, warm fingers resting beside hers on the floor.

"What?" she asked him. Inside, her heart pounded like a drum. She lowered her fingers from his hair.