Fair Is the Rose (49 page)

When he came upon a newborn lamb struggling to breathe, Jamie grasped it firmly by the hind legs and swung it round him in an arc, expelling the phlegm in its throat by sheer force. The startled lamb wobbled about for a moment before finding its balance and tottering after its mother. “Well done, lad!” Duncan crowed, watching from an adjoining pasture. Jamie waved at him, relieved to have control over something, however fleeting.

Neda dispatched a basket of venison pasties for the hard-working shepherds by way of one of the servant lads, for there was no time for dinner at the mains. ’Twas the gloaming before Jamie staggered back home, exhausted but satisfied. He would sleep with his window open, listening for anguished bleating overnight, the sure sign of a ewe in distress. ’twould be a shame to lose any lambs after such a remarkable day of twin births, all healthy.

Leana greeted him at the kitchen door, bearing Ian on her hip. “Neda tells me Auchengray’s hills are covered with lambs.”

“Aye.” Jamie grinned in spite of his weariness. “We’ve had more than our share of good fortune today.” Moving toward the stair, he extended a familiar invitation. “Come, Leana. Keep me company while I dress for supper.”

A soft gasp sounded behind him. “Jamie, I cannot …”

Och, man!
Could he not think before he opened his mouth? “Forgive me.” He turned back to find a wounded look in her pale eyes. “My fault entirely. Habit, I’m afraid.” A habit he’d enjoyed. Having her near. Seeing her blush as he dressed. Stealing a kiss whenever Hugh looked the other way. How could such simple pleasures be gone forever?

He could not even touch her cheek now to comfort her or brush
the hair from her brow. Instead he bent and kissed their son, hovering over the child’s head nestled against his mother’s heart. For longer than he should, Jamie reveled in Leana’s warmth and the sweet scent of lavender that wafted from her gown.

“Jamie,” she murmured.

How he loved hearing her speak his name. “Aye, lass?”

“You must change your shirt before supper,” Leana reminded him, though she did not move. “And I must feed your son.”

“So we must, on both counts.” Jamie reluctantly lifted his head, glad to see her faint smile. “Will you walk with me up the stair at least?”

They mounted the stone staircase side by side, shoulders barely brushing, as Jamie told her more about the lambing. No sooner had they reached the top than Rose came sailing out of her room, almost knocking them over.

“Oh!” Rose stepped back, palms up. “Goodness, I did not expect …” She lowered her hands and her eyes as well. “That is, I was … looking for you, Jamie.”

“I’m escorting my … my son’s mother up the stair,” he explained, as Leana disappeared into the nursery with Ian. Whatever was he going to call her if not his wife? He could not call her his
beloved
, though she was. Nor his
lover
, for that she was no more. Nor his
friend
, for the word hardly suited. Nor his
cousin
, for he had two of those: one whom he loved and one whom he was about to marry. Again.

The second of the two eyed him now, waiting to have a word with him. “After I’m properly attired, Rose, I’ll meet you in the front parlor before your father rings the supper bell at seven.”

Her features brightened. “I’ll go at once.”

Jamie dressed, though he was in no hurry to join her. Whatever did the lass have on her mind?
A fool’s question
. They had spoken very little of the wedding. Now it loomed before them. It was not the brief ceremony that concerned him but all that would come after.

He found her standing by the front window of the parlor, her thick braid trailing down the back of her embroidered gown. She turned slowly—for effect, perhaps—as candlelight illumined each feature. Rose was altogether lovely; he could not deny it.

“Jamie.” Her soft voice seemed an affectation as well. “Have you thought about our wedding night?”

As little as possible
. But he could not say that. “Only that it will be … difficult. For both of us.”

Her smile faded. “But I love you, Jamie. ’twill not be difficult for me.” When he said nothing, she hastened to fill the silence. “You learned to love Leana. Perhaps you will learn to love me once more.”

“Perhaps.”
Och! What are you saying, man?

As if that single word were an invitation, Rose glided across the room until she stood before him, her forehead almost brushing his chin, so near that he could no longer look into her eyes. Her heathery scent assaulted him instead, and her breath tickled his neck. “Since you are aware that I … I may be barren …”

He stepped back, seeking an escape. “We dinna ken that for certain, lass.”

“But the only way to be certain is …” She had the decency to blush. “The only way is for us to … try.”

’Twas clear she had no inkling of what
trying
entailed. “If it is a child you want, we already have Ian to raise.”

“And I
love
your son,” she was quick to say. “I
do.
”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He had no reason to doubt her; Leana had said the same.

“But I want children of my own, Jamie. Your children.” She rested her hand on his coat sleeve, her fingers plucking at a loose thread. “When we come home from the kirk on the Sabbath eve, might we retire to … to my room rather than yours? ’Tis awkward to think of sharing the same bed where you … where my sister …”

“Fine.” He would not defile so sacred a place.

Her tone grew more uncertain. “You will … do your duty by me, won’t you, Jamie?”

“Aye.” Heat crawled up his neck. “As long as you understand ’twill be duty, not pleasure.”

She gave a small shrug. “Call it what you like, as long as it might … as long as I …”

“
Wheesht.
” He wrapped his hand round her forearm, making very sure she was listening. “If you do not bear children, Rose, ’twill not be because I fail you as a husband, but because God chooses not to bless your womb.” The supper bell punctuated his sharp words as Jamie released her and strode out the door. Was it a husband she wanted or naught but a tup to give her children?

When they entered the dining room in tandem, both bristling, Lachlan ignored them, while Leana aimed her gaze at her empty pewter plate. Ashamed at his outburst, Jamie could not look at Rose. Nor could he look at Leana, who seemed embarrassed for him. He bowed his head instead and begged for mercy.
Two more days
.

Lachlan spoke a brief grace over the table, then ordered the meal served. Annabel and Eliza swept into the room with steaming dishes of barley broth thickened with peas, carrots, and turnips. “Barley bannocks, too?” Lachlan muttered. “Have we naught in our cupboards but barley?”

Neda stood by the door as usual, directing the servants. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir. I’ll see we have mair variety at table supper next.”

Rose sat up straighter, as if she’d just thought of something. “Neda …” Her tone was sweeter than syllabub. “Might you serve hare soup on our wedding night?”

Neda looked at her askance. “Aye, if that’s what ye’re wantin’, lass. I’ll send ane o’ the lads tae hunt doon a brown hare by the light o’ the moon. ’Tis the best time tae catch them.”

Hare soup?
Whatever was the lass up to now? Jamie looked up from his plate to find Lachlan staring at him.

“Nephew, I trust things are in place for Saturday.”

Jamie held his frustration in check “There’s little to be done. Our vows will be repeated at the kirk door, our union blessed by Reverend Gordon, and the session record book signed by our witnesses.”

“Have you no plans beyond that?” Lachlan tossed his napkin aside. “A bridal week perhaps?”

Is the man daft?
“ ’Tis lambing season, Uncle. I can barely take time for the trip to the village.” Jamie stared hard at Rose. “There’ll be no
bridal week. None whatsoever. Any moments I can spare the next few days will be spent in the pastures.”

Rose pulled her braid over her shoulder, smoothing her fingers over the ribbon that held the plaits tight, her eyes downcast. “I intend to spend Friday getting ready for our wedding.”

“And I will spend the day with Ian.” Leana gazed across the table at Jamie. “Working in the garden.”

Jamie nodded ever so slightly.
I will come, Leana
. His ewes needed him. But Leana needed him more.
God help us both
.

Fifty-Five

For every rose a thorn doth bear.

R
ICHARD
W
ATSON
G
ILDER

O
ne day
. ’Twas all that remained before Jamie was hers.

Rose perched on the edge of her box bed, staring at the neatly pressed gown hanging before her. ’Twas one of the dresses she’d hoped to take to Carlyle School in the spring. Her month in Dumfries seemed a distant memory, clouded by the saddest of endings. And now this, a wedding that was anything but proper. Though her gown was a lovely jade green, she’d worn it many times before. The wedding ring on her finger had graced Leana’s hand for more than a year. Since their vows had been spoken before, the couple would not be permitted to stand inside the kirk. And she would have no bridal week; Jamie had made that verra clear.
None whatsoever
.

A coil of fear tightened in her stomach. He had promised to do his duty by her; indeed, the Buik required it.
Let the husband render unto the wife due benevolence
. Whatever that meant. The words did not sound painful, yet that was all she’d heard:
’Twill hurt
. Jane had shared a few sordid details in the confines of their sleeping room at school, leaving Rose more uncertain than ever. What might Jamie expect of her? Or she of him?

“Jamie would ne’er hurt me,” she consoled herself. She’d seen how gently he handled the lambs, how carefully he shepherded the ewes. Surely he would treat her more tenderly still. Please God, in time she would have what she desired: a child of her own. She’d seen the way Ian looked at his mother. Pure adoration. Nigh to worship. And a bond that could not be broken. Whether ’Twas selfishness or simple honesty, Rose could not say; she only knew she wanted a child who would love her completely, for it seemed of late that Jamie might never do so.

Tears stung her eyes. Was it so wrong to want to be loved?

Moments later when Annabel knocked on her door, Rose stood, suddenly at loose ends. Where might she go while the maid gave the room a thorough cleaning? In the morn’s morn she’d have much to accomplish: new linen sheets scattered with rose petals, her best cambric nightgown hung out to air, and candles placed about the room to banish the shadows. But now, with Jamie busy on the hills, Rose had nothing to do but wait. And worry.

“Yer sister’s in the gairden wi’ Ian,” Annabel said. “She’ll nae
dout
walcome yer company.”

Aye, and she might not
.

Hugh, a basket of clean laundry in his hands, stood at the foot of the stair as she hurried down. “Whaur are ye bound, miss?”

“Off to the garden to visit Leana and pick some flowers for my room.”

“Too early in the season for flooers, mem,” he said as she slipped past him. “The trees in the orchard are fu’ o’ blossoms, but ye’ll not find meikle bloomin’ in yer sister’s gairden.”

There must be
one
flower. Wasn’t spring nigh to a week old? Yet when she stepped out the kitchen door and into Leana’s domain, Rose realized she’d paid little attention to pernickitie notions like growing seasons. Row after row of freshly turned soil and tiny green shoots were all the eye could see. Even her mother’s beloved roses were little more than brown sticks covered with buds. ’Twas lovely out of doors though. A light breeze from the southwest heated the air, as did the late afternoon sun pouring across the land, painting the fields and pastures a vivid shade, greener than her wedding gown.

She spied Leana kneeling at the far end of her physic garden, her unbound hair falling to her shoulders, the mark of an unmarried woman. Ian sat by his mother’s side on a thick plaid, gleefully slapping a porridge spoon against the wool. Rose called out to them, then lifted her skirts and made her way down the grassy expanse between the rectangular gardens. “Are there no flowers to be found on such a fine day?”

When Leana looked up, her smile was strained. “Naught but wild-flowers. Field pansies and forget-me-nots sprouting along the lanes. I’ve
been planting seeds this morning though. You’ll have flowers in your garden before long.”

“
Your
garden,” Rose corrected her. “You ken verra well I have nae interest in plunging my hands in the dirt.” She looked about the tidy grounds. “If you ever left Auchengray, these plots would go to ruin, I’m afraid.”

Without warning, Ian tipped forward beyond the edge of the plaid, plunging his fists into the loamy soil. “Careful, lad,” Leana said, putting aside her spade. “You’ll uproot my valerian.”

Her sister’s warning came too late. The child grabbed the herb by its hairy stem and yanked hard as he fell back on his bottom, pulling up the plant by its roots. “Oooh!” he cried, waving the mass of thick, ivory-colored shoots about like a rattle.

Rose wrinkled her nose. “Whatever is that ugsome smell?”

“Valerian root.” Leana reached for the plant, but Ian was too quick for her. He twisted away from her grasp, then toppled over on his blanket, shrieking with joy. Leana sighed, shaking her head. “I suppose it can’t hurt the lad. If he pokes it in his mouth, which is what he does with most things, he will find the taste very disagreeable.”

Rose gaped at her. “What if ’tis poisonous?”

“Valerian? Few plants have more to recommend them.” Leana kept a watchful eye on Ian as she resumed her digging. “ ’Tis so useful some call it All Heal. Haven’t you noticed it in past summers here at the end of the garden? It grows quite tall in our rich soil, with pale pink flowers come June.”

Rose nodded, unwilling to admit how little she understood about growing things. “So what malady is this miracle plant supposed to cure?”