Highland Chieftain (19 page)

Bethoc turned to Cathan and carefully crouched down in front of him. There were tears but he was not sobbing. As she looked at his face, something there told her he was fully aware that his mother was gone and would never return. She brushed his curls back from his face and kissed his forehead.

“Ye ken ye will always have a place with me, Margaret, and the lads, aye?”

“Aye.”

Nodding, she let Callum help her up and they started back to the house. As they drew near the gates she heard the sound of horses approaching and felt Callum tense. She turned with him but he nudged her until she stood behind him. Facing him were four rough men. They did not have their swords drawn but they did not look as if they were friendly, either.

“We have come for the laddie,” said one of the men.

“What laddie? I have quite a few running about.”

“Oh, I think ye ken weel which laddie. Cathan. His kin want him back.”

“They have made that clear. E'en killed the poor lad's mother but she had already given me the rights o'er the care of her child.”

“Sarah is dead?”

“Aye, we just had the burial.”

“Weel, she had no right to give over the right to the boy.”

“Nay? She was the lad's mother. The mon who has paid ye killed the lad's father. Now he has hired some fool who beat her to death. So what do ye plan to do?”

“We have been paid naught,” the man snapped. “We are just here to collect the boy and take him home.”

“Ye do ken the one after the boy has already let five of his hirelings die. Then sent the last on a hunt he kenned he would lose, and he did. So, six dead and the one who actually benefits from all this deadly nonsense has yet to reveal himself. Ye, I think, are working for a coward.”

“We are nay working for anyone.”

The man just stared at Callum for a moment then exchanged long looks with each of the other men riding with him. Callum waited patiently, knowing they were considering all he had said. He just had to hope these men were smarter than the last ones. He needed this hunt ended.

Something made him suspect the man was telling the truth, that these were not hirelings, might even be men from Cathan's own clan. “If one pauses to think, killing isnae needed,” he said. “There is a good fourteen years ere the boy would be ready to lay claim to anything.”

“Ye keep talking of killing,” the man began.

“And why shouldnae I? I just buried the child's mother. Since I got the boy there have been several attempts to kill me. His father was murdered.”

“Nay, he wasnae.” The man shook his head and Callum began to be certain he was actually speaking to relations of Cathan's father. “Weel, aye, he was, but t'was by her. And I figure she must have had help. Mayhap the mon who just killed her.”

“Weel met, Cousin Duncan.”

Callum quickly grasped hold of Cathan's hand as the boy stepped close to his kinsmen. He was beginning to question what he had been told and his own assumptions concerning Cathan's kinsmen but he was not ready to trust any one of them near the boy. It was interesting to see that Cathan had no fear at all of the man he called Cousin Duncan.

“Weel met, Cathan, me lad. I have come to take ye back to your uncle Wallace.”

Cathan shuddered then vigorously shook his head and kept shaking it as he climbed up Callum's body. “Nay! Callum said he would keep me here. Aye, ye did. I cannae go back there. I dinnae want to die like my da!”

“What do ye mean, Cathan?” Callum asked as the boy buried his face in his neck.

“Uncle Wallace came to see Da and they were fighting then he hit him and hit him and hit him.” Cathan started crying. “He kicked him too. A lot. So did the other men.”

“Where were ye, love?” asked Bethoc as she stepped closer to rub the boy on the back.

“Hiding in a wee hidey-hole,
Maman
called it, over near the fireplace. I left Tippy there.”

“Tippy?”

“My toy. It was supposed to be a dog. It was my favorite toy too, because
Maman
made it for me. But the men looked for us so we had to stay hiding then we ran and ran until we came here.
Maman
said we would be safe here but she died because she left. Aye?”

“I fear so, love. But ye willnae do that, will ye?” Cathan vigorously shook his head.

“What did those other men look like, Cathan?” asked Duncan.

Callum looked at the man and almost smiled. He, as well as his companions, looked coldly furious. These were definitely kinsmen and ones who kenned nothing about what the current laird had done or had planned to do. He was certain they intended to deal with it and he wished them luck.

“If ye would be so kind as to tell your men to nay skewer me the moment I step down, I would like to have a word or two with the lad,” said Duncan, but his attempt to keep his voice pleasant was not good, the hard tone of his anger leaching into it.

“Nay too far from us,” Callum said as he signaled his men, who then let the man dismount but disarmed him.

“Agreed.”

“Are ye certain?” asked Bethoc quietly as she watched the man walk Cathan a few feet away before crouching in front of him to talk.

“Aye. These men are his kin and they didnae ken the truth. They didnae like it either. I suspicion he is trying to get more information, such as what the other men looked like. I will ken what was said soon enough.”

“How?” She looked where he nodded and sighed as she saw all her boys and Margaret standing close to the man. “Oh.” She grimaced as Margaret marched over and took Cathan by the hand.

“My wee spies.” He kissed her cheek, causing her to blush since there were so many people seeing him do it.

Several moments later the man delivered Cathan and Margaret back to Callum. His face was stern but there was laughter in his eyes. “Nay verra private.”

“Ye could have shooed them away,” Callum said.

He glanced at Margaret and then at the boys. “Och, nay, I dinnae think so. I will let ye ken how it falls out,” he said as he collected his sword and remounted. “Ye should hear from me within a fortnight. If nay, then ye can assume it didnae go weel and continue to guard the lad. And watch that wee lass. She will be trouble,” he called back as he and his men rode away.

Callum glanced at the fierce face Margaret was making as she stood next to Cathan and just laughed.

“What did he mean?” Bethoc asked as she watched the men ride off.

“About Margaret?”

“Nay, that was just rude.” She ignored him when he laughed.

“That if I dinnae hear from him in a fortnight, the men who wish to hurt Cathan will still live.”

“Oh. And he will probably be dead. Aye?”

“Aye, but I suspicion we soon hear that young Cathan is free.” He took her by the hand.

“And then ye will let them take him home?”

“Then we shall see what Cathan wants to do,” he said and she nodded. “Now let me get ye back to your bed. Ye are beginning to look weary.”

She felt it too so did not argue. It would be good when Cathan was no longer in danger but she hoped he would ask to stay. In such a short time with them, he already felt like part of her family. Men fostered their sons out all the time. They would just offer to foster Cathan, she thought, and inwardly nodded, pleased she had that settled. Now all she had to do was get her own life settled, she thought with a peek at Callum. Unfortunately, she knew it would not be so easy.

Chapter Nineteen

“Are ye sure about this, Callum?”

“Verra sure. Ye are healed, we got word that the kinsman responsible for trying to kill Cathan is quite thoroughly dead as are several of those who worked with him. They even sent Tippy back to Cathan. Ye need to speak with a Murray, Bethoc. Payton said Gillyanne might be visiting too. Ye can learn a lot about your gift.”

Bethoc smothered a sigh as she rode beside him through the streets of the town with Margaret settled comfortably in front of her. She was not sure why he thought she needed to learn about her gift. It was something she had always had and she understood it as well as anyone could. She also usually had enough sense to not tell anyone about it. Something she had slowly learned, especially when she had spoken so freely about it in front of him and Uven, but Kerr's horrified reaction had started her on the path of caution. Uven and Callum had had good reactions but had told her quite clearly that that was decidedly unusual.

She glanced at Callum and started worrying again, just as she had consistently since her stitches had been taken out. That had been almost three weeks ago and he still had not made love to her. Bethoc was increasingly afraid he had lost all desire for her. She knew it could be that his hesitation was all due to her being stabbed but that excuse did not hold back the hurt any longer. There was only one other reason for him to not make love to her. He was done with her but did not know how to say so.

It was the hardest thing she thought she had ever done but she pushed that unhappiness aside as they halted before a big town house. It had a surprisingly large piece of land around it. She would find out whatever Callum felt she needed to know about what he called her gift and then they could go back to Whytemont via her home so that she could see Colin and Bean and perhaps even Robbie and Laurel.

Margaret patted her hands and Bethoc suspected she was clenching them. Her body had gotten taut as well. Bethoc took a couple of deep breaths and let them out slowly. It helped only a little as Callum came to help her and Margaret down. He took her by the hand and led her up to the door only to have it open before he knocked. A young man stood there grinning at him.

“
Jesu
, David, cease growing,” said Callum as the two hugged.

He laughed then turned to look at her and Margaret. Callum took Bethoc by the hand and brought her closer. “This is David. He was one of us rescued by Kirstie and is now Payton's man, Strong Ian's and his wife, Wee Alice's son. David, this is Bethoc Matheson and her sister, Margaret.”

Bethoc shook the young man's hand and watched as he shook Margaret's hand, delighting her with the adult treatment. Then they were escorted inside. She was impressed. It was not overtly rich but it was elegant. When they entered the great hall all of her nervousness returned.

The man at the head of the table stood up, his reddish-gold hair gleaming. There was interest in his golden-brown eyes and she had an urge to hit Callum for not telling her what the man looked like. The other man who rose was also breathtaking, big, blond, blue-eyed, and harshly handsome. The two women were a definite contrast. The one next to the man at the head of the table was of a build like hers, slender and short, but she had thick black hair and gray eyes. The other had hair that was a reddish brown and eyes that did not match. She, too, was a small woman, made to look even smaller by the size of the man beside her.

Introductions came next and Bethoc began to relax. Gillyanne was the one with the large, blond husband and she knew that that woman was the one Callum felt could tell her the most about her strange skill. Then she met Payton and his wife, Kirstie. She could see where Callum got his strength and wished she could openly thank the man for all he had done for Callum the boy. The way they all greeted Margaret in much the same way they did Callum pleased her almost as much as it did Margaret.

Once food was served, she listened as Callum told Payton all that had happened to him. Gillyanne hurried to Callum's side and insisted on checking on his leg. Before she did so, she looked at Bethoc. Bethoc readily nodded for she still worried she had committed some error, that Callum might not be telling her about some ache or pain he had.

“'Tis fully healed,” said Gillyanne, smiling at Bethoc as she stood up. “Ye did a fine job.”

“I told ye it was fine,” said Callum.

“Aye, but 'tis good to have it confirmed as men can be, weel shy about admitting something hurts.”

“Och, I always tell Gillyanne when something hurts,” Connor said, then shrugged when everyone looked at him. “Why shouldnae I? She fixes it. Of course, I whisper it and only when we are alone.”

Bethoc joined the other women in laughing. A few moments later, Gillyanne stood and gently encouraged the women to come with her. Although uneasy, Bethoc collected Margaret and followed Gillyanne and Kirstie into the gardens. Margaret pulled free of her hand to explore and then she sat on a bench next to Kirstie. It was then that Bethoc suddenly realized the woman was with child.

“Oh, Lady Kirstie, congratulations,” she said.

Kirstie smoothed down her gown, which made the rounding of her stomach even more noticeable. “Our last, I am thinking. I am also praying it will be a girl.”

It was faint but Bethoc could smell lavender. She had discovered that, if a woman was with child, a scent of lavender meant a girl. It was difficult to say nothing, but she kept quiet. This might not be the right time to reveal herself.

“What is it, Bethoc?” asked Gillyanne.

“'Tis naught. Really.”

“Callum told me what ye can do. I have my own wee gift, ye ken, as do many in my clan, though I think smelling a person and being able to tell something about them is one I havenae heard about. So, what did ye smell on Kirstie? Naught bad, I hope.”

“Nay! I just smelled a hint of lavender. It is there, beneath her normal scent.”

“What is her normal scent?”

“The ocean. I smell the ocean. I fear I dinnae ken what that means though as 'tis new to me.” She frowned. “I have only e'er smelled it with Uven, Callum's cousin.”

“The ocean? The water? Is that what ye mean?” asked Kirstie.

Bethoc sighed. “This is where I have trouble. Think of what the ocean smells like if ye were on a cliff above it. A fresh, clean smell yet distinctive.”

“Weel, that isnae bad then. I wonder what it means?”

“I have only come to understand a few, mostly bad. 'Tis a struggle. Sir Connor smells like the earth. I have figured that one out. It means he is a good mon, that he will always stand firm. Strong and steadfast.”

“That is my Connor,” Gillyanne said, and smiled. “What does Payton smell like?”

Bethoc grimaced. “I am nay sure. 'Tis nice, verra nice, and nay flowers yet I am nay sure what it is. Just that it is nice. Ye simply want to stand there and breathe it in.” She could not help but smile when Kirstie began giggling. “I am sorry I cannae give ye a name for it. 'Tis probably just something I have ne'er had a sniff of.”

“We will just call it Payton,” she said, and grinned. “Fool had too many women who just wanted to stand and breathe him in so it probably warrants being given his name. The smell of Payton.” She laughed again but then abruptly grew serious. “So what is this hint of lavender ye smell under my ocean scent?”

It felt oddly freeing to speak so openly about what she could do, yet she hesitated for a moment. “I was rarely amongst people outside of home, ye ken, so I am nay skilled in this. And the mon I called Father hated it, called it witchery and a curse.”

“Tell me what ye do ken or can guess.”

“The few times I have scented it beneath another like this was when a woman carried a girl child.” Kirstie's face lit up and she hugged her belly. “I am just nay sure ye can trust me in this.”

“How do ye stop?” asked Gillyanne.

“Stop?”

“How do ye stop smelling people? I can sense what a person feels or e'en thinks. At times I can e'en hear snatches of what someone thinks but I dinnae have to. So, how do ye stop smelling?”

“I am nay certain. I do think of stopping and it often happens but mostly 'tis just that I ignore it, make it simply part of what is around me.”

“Then ye are shutting it off. Ye just need to try and ken how ye are doing it.”

“I shall really have to study the matter. It would be good to ken how to do it exactly when I wish to.”

“What does Callum smell like?” asked Gillyanne quietly.

“Oh, I am not sure. He is much like Payton in that. But sometimes he smells like cinnamon.”

“Cinnamon?” Gillyanne grinned when Bethoc blushed. “Oh-ho! I understand. 'Tis a wondrous thing ye can do. And aye, I suspicion the bad smells are horrifying but what it tells ye is verra useful.”

“I suppose. I certainly ken who I must avoid.”

“Ye may nay be able to shut out the bad. 'Tis a warning, aye? I cannae always shut out the bad thoughts I catch, no matter how much I may wish to.”

Kirstie looked at the two women and shook her head. “I think I may be glad I am nay one of that bloodline. What does Payton do? I havenae noticed any odd gift in him nor has he spoken of one.”

“The men in the family are nay always so blessed,” drawled Gillyanne. “They may have a wee one, like seeing danger. I always thought Payton's was the way he drew the ladies. But I think 'tis a charm he has, an ability to win people o'er. People, especially children, just trust him, e'en before they truly ken who he is.”

“Aye, they do,” said Kirstie, “although Callum took a few days.”

Bethoc suddenly saw Margaret walk by clutching a handful of flowers. “Oh, nay, Margaret.” She caught hold of the little girl's skirts and tugged her close. “Those were nay yours to pick.”

“For mon. Pretty mon.”

Gillyanne choked on a laugh and Kirstie said, “'Tis all right, child. I dinnae mind.”

Bethoc let go of the child, who started back into the house. Gillyanne grabbed Kirstie by the hand and tugged her to her feet. “I must see this.”

Following the women, Bethoc watched from the doorway with them. Margaret marched over to Payton and tugged on his sleeve. He turned to smile down at her and she held out her flowers, nearly hitting him in the face with the small bouquet.

“For me?” he asked, and when she nodded, said, “Thank ye, Margaret.”

She reached up to touch his cheek. “Pretty.” Then she touched the flowers. “Pretty, too.”

Gillyanne laughed as she sat next to Connor. Kirstie's smile was wide as she returned to her seat by Payton's side. Bethoc found she could not resist smiling as she collected Margaret and sat down.

“Ye are a wee flirt,” she said to Margaret who giggled and reached for a honey cake.

“She is a wee darling,” Payton said, smiling at Margaret before looking at Bethoc. “Did ye talk to Gillyanne about gifts and all that?”

“Aye, and she told me a great deal.”

“So what is it?” When Bethoc stared at him in confusion, he added, “Your wee intuition, gift, thing ye must hide from all others.”

“She can smell people,” said Gillyanne as she refilled her tankard.

Bethoc found herself trying to explain all over again. It was not easy but it warmed her to see no hint of disbelief, fear, or disgust. Here was acceptance and she reveled in it as they talked until she felt a weight settle against her side. She looked down to see that Margaret had gone to sleep.

“Let me show ye to your rooms,” said Kirstie as she left her seat.

Bethoc picked up Margaret and followed Kirstie. The room she showed her to was beautiful. The small room connected to it with a little bed for Margaret was even better. She allowed Kirstie to put the child to bed and then went back to the larger room to wash up. When she turned around it was to find Kirstie laying out a night shift for her.

“Oh, ye didnae need to do that,” she protested.

“Nay trouble and I wished to speak to ye, away from
pretty mon
.” She smiled. “Margaret is adorable.” Kirstie sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her. “Come, sit.”

Sitting down Bethoc tried to push aside her sudden tension. Kirstie was a sweet lady. There was nothing to feel nervous about, she assured herself.

“What do ye wish to talk about, m'lady?” Bethoc asked.

“How much do ye ken about the life Callum suffered through ere he came to us?”

“It was horrible and the mon who made it so deserved to die. Many times over.”

“Ah, so he told ye.” Kirstie smiled faintly. “That is interesting.”

“M'lady, I dinnae mean to be rude but I am nay good with subtlety and such as that. Mayhap it would be best to just say, or ask, what ye want to.”

“Then I will be direct. I dinnae ken exactly what is going on with ye and him but dinnae hurt him.”

“Hurt Callum? I would ne'er hurt Callum.”

Kirstie patted her hands and Bethoc realized she had clenched them together in her lap. “I didnae really think so but Callum is verra dear to me and I felt a deep need to say that.” She sighed and her eyes darkened with memory. “Ye didnae ken him as a child, how hurt he was, how broken in so many ways. And, aye, he would be most angry with me for speaking with ye but I couldnae stop myself.” She laughed softly. “Mayhap protecting him is a habit I cannae shake free of.”

“Ye didnae need to explain. My lads havenae suffered as he did but they were worked hard and beaten. They get old enough to run after lassies and I will feel the same. 'Tis hard to shake that need to protect once it sets in hard. All I can say is, I have no intention of hurting Callum in any way. Of course, I am nay sure I am the one ye should worry about.”