Highland Intrigue (Duncurra Book Book 3) (5 page)

“Aye, brother, they are to blame for all this and that is
precisely
why ye should accept the money. It may be the only way to repair a small portion of the damage they did.”

“I will not discuss this anymore tonight.”

Niall shook his head in frustration. “And ye say I’m hard-headed.”

Fingal attempted to change the subject. “So, Diarmad will stay temporarily and I will try to bring on Bran MacBain and Quinn MacKenzie. The question remains, do I leave Eadoin as my commander?”

Niall appeared to consider this for a while before answering. “Give him shared leadership with Diarmad for now so as not to offend the MacLennan’s, but know that Diarmad has yer back.”

“Thank ye, Niall.”

Niall lowered his voice, perhaps not wishing to be overheard by any of the MacLennans who might still be awake. “Spend the next few months assessing the situation here. I suspect the MacLennan warriors that are left need more training and discipline. Malcolm’s father, Laird Kelvin, was a brilliant warrior and trained his men rigorously. From what we have seen in the last year, I suspect Malcolm was not as effective. If it becomes clear that ye need more help, ask for it.”

Gillian tried to get some rest in what remained of the night but it was to little avail. Before dawn pinked the frigid winter sky, she gave up. Although the front stairs were closer to the laird’s chamber, which she had been given when the clan named her chief, she hurried through the quiet halls and down the backstairs. These exited into the back of the great hall, near the doors to the rear bailey and kitchens, her destination.

As she quietly entered the kitchen, she was not surprised to see Jeanne, the elderly woman who still managed the cooking, already at work. When she saw Gillian, Jeanne’s face burst into a wreath of smiles and she opened her arms. Gillian rushed into her embrace. Enfolded in the warmth and love of a dear friend, something crumbled inside her and Gillian burst into tears.

“I-I’m sorry, Jeanne,” she sobbed.

“Och, lass, ye have yerself a bit of a cry now. Ye’ll feel better and we can tackle this together.”

It felt good to cry. Gillian had held it in for so long. She hadn’t even given in to tears when Aunt Meara died months earlier. The clan was in disarray, she was their leader, and she had to stay strong. Jeanne just crooned, “Wheesht, lass,” and held her while she cried.

When her tears were spent, Jeanne motioned her to a chair near the hearth. “Sit here a minute while I fix us a nice warm tisane and we’ll talk.”

Gillian watched the stooped old woman busy herself making the warm brew. The peacefulness of the quiet, cozy kitchen surrounded her and she slowly regained control. After Jeanne poured the fragrant drink into two mugs, she pulled out a small jug and winked at Gillian. “Ye know I only use the water of life for medicinal purposes, but I think a wee drop is called for this morning.” Gillian grinned as Jeanne poured more than a drop into each mug. Jeanne was a great one for discovering all of the medicinal uses of whisky. She handed Gillian a mug before drawing another chair near the fire and settling herself in it. Gillian took a sip and felt the warmth to her very soul.

“Now, lass, let’s talk things through.”

“Jeanne, have ye heard what’s happening?”

“Aye, lass, news like that doesn’t rest long. The king has seen fit to give us a laird and ye a husband.”

“Aye. Fingal MacIan.”

Jeanne chuckled. “Fingal MacIan, the demon.”

“He isn’t a demon, Jeanne.”

“Nay? Well, by the way ye said that just now I thought ye were namin’ one of the devil’s own.”

Gillian gave her a wan smile. “He isn’t a bad man. It’s just—it’s just...”

“Ye feel cornered. It feels as if everything is spinning out of control. Ye miss yer da with every breath ye take and Fingal MacIan’s mother is the one who took him from ye. Not to mention that yer own mother only makes things worse.”

Gillian blinked in astonishment at the accuracy of Jeanne’s summary. “Aye.”

“Well, my sweet lass, this is what ye will do. Ye will rise to this. Ye will marry that young MacIan. Ye will honor the vows ye take before God and ye’ll work to be yer husband’s partner.”

Gillain looked aghast. “His partner? I want as little as possible to do with him.”

“Tell me, what is to be gained by that?”

“I-I-I’ll be faithful to my father’s memory.”

“I see. And that is what yer father wants? For this clan to be divided and fall?”

“Nay, Jeanne. Ye twist my words, but the MacIans have—”

“Don’t tell me what the MacIans have done. The MacLennans are not innocent in this but moreover that’s in the past. Gillian, hear me well. Men live in the past. They hold grudges and fight wars over bygone things. Women must live for the future, for our children and their children. Sometimes we have to set aside old hurts, regardless of how painful they are, in order to ensure a better life for our children.”

“But—”

“Nay, the best way to honor yer father’s memory is to see this clan become great again. The best way to do that is to become yer husband’s ally and see to the welfare of our people. Ye don’t have to love the man, but ye must earn his respect and find a way to give him yers.” Jeanne’s face softened. “Oh, Gillie, I hate to see yer heart ache so. Years ago, I had my own dreams for ye. Ye were such a sweet thing and I wanted nothing more than for ye to marry my grandson.” Tears clouded the old woman’s eyes as she remembered her loss. “He was a good lad and would have made a fine warrior. Still, the good Lord had other plans for him and He does for ye as well. Ye will be the mother of our clan’s leaders to come. Focus on that future now and ignore anyone or anything that drags ye into the past. Do ye understand me, lass?”

“Aye, Jeanne, I understand.”

“Ye know yer own mother is likely to be one of them.”

Gillian sighed. “Aye, sadly I do.”

“Hold strong against that, lass. Maybe she will understand someday. Like it or not, yer future is with yer new husband, not yer mother.”

Gillian nodded. Jeanne was right. Her future was indeed with Fingal MacIan and though she didn’t like it she would do what she had to do.

Jeanne leaned forward and patted Gillian’s hand. “Now, lass, break yer fast with me and then I will see that a bath is sent up to ye.”

“I don’t have time for a bath. I have a keep overflowing with unwelcome guests to see to. I’ll just have a quick wash in the tub in the wash-house.”

“Nonsense, ’tis yer wedding day. I’ll make sure yer guests are fed.”

~ * ~

As Gillian sank into the bath Jeanne had arranged, she was immensely grateful the old woman had insisted on it. It was a luxury she seldom indulged in, preferring to bathe, as most everyone else did, in the wash-house where the laundry was done or behind a screen in the kitchen; it was much less work for everyone. However, having a bath in the privacy of her own chamber was delightful. That was until a swarm of clanswomen, including her mother and sisters, descended on her.

The mixed feelings with which the clan greeted the news of their new laird and the king’s edict were clearly expressed among the women. Some were joyous, others dolorous, but all were intent to see her wed with as much fanfare as possible, under the circumstances. Her friend Alana, plump with pregnancy, did her best to keep the mood light. Ailsa’s continuous chatter also distracted Gillian.

These women who loved her were there to pamper her. They brought sweet herbs for her bath water and helped wash and dry her hair. They pulled out practically every garment she owned and argued over what she should wear. They created a controlled chaos that prevented Gillian from dwelling overmuch on what was to come.

By mid-morning, still only wearing a shift, Gillian sat with a blanket around her shoulders while her sister worked an intricate braid in her hair. The women had decided she should wear her dark blue
léine.
It was made of soft lamb’s wool but had no adornment and apparently that
simply would not do
. Three women sat furiously embroidering scrollwork in yellow thread on the neck and sleeves. Peggy, who diligently worked on one sleeve moaned, “It is a shame we don’t have any gold thread. I know Rhiannon has some but we just don’t have time to go get it.”

At the mention of Rhiannon’s name, a look of horror crossed her mother’s face. “Oh my, how could we have forgotten? Someone must go tell Rhiannon about the wedding.”

Gillian shot her mother a quizzical look. “Why? She rarely leaves her cottage and she never comes to the keep anymore.”

Lana wasn’t the only one who frowned at Gillian. “Aye, she prefers to stay at home but she would be very hurt if we didn’t let her know this was happening. She cares very deeply about this clan, Gillian.”

Gillian didn’t argue. Rhiannon was an old woman who lived in a cottage just beyond the village, at the edge of the forest. Many of the MacLennan women seemed to revere her. They gushed about how lovely and kind she was. Frankly, Rhiannon was rumored to have the gift of “sight” and Gillian suspected that was the reason people courted her favor. Everyone had heard stories about Rhiannon’s wonderful predictions that had come true. Gillian wasn’t sure she believed that Rhiannon was truly a seer but Lana had always considered her a good friend. “I suppose ye are right mother. Would ye mind going? Let her know about the wedding and tell her I would be honored if she would attend.”

“I’m sure she won’t approve, but aye, I will take the news to her.”

“Thank ye, mother.”

Lana turned to leave. “Come, Fallon.”

Fallon continued to braid Gillian’s hair. “Mama, I can’t. Gillie needs me.” Gillian noticed Ailsa had become quiet and sidled out of her mother’s line of vision. Gillian smiled. Obviously her littlest sister didn’t want to go either.

“Nonsense,” said her mother. “Alana or one of the other women can do that.”

Alana stepped in, taking the strands of Gillian’s hair from Fallon, whispering, “Go, Fallon. Let’s not push things today.”

Fallon sighed, but followed her mother. Once they had left and it was clear she wouldn’t be dragged along too, Ailsa flopped happily on the bed and resumed her chatter.

~ * ~

It was well after noon and time for the wedding before her mother and Fallon returned. Gillian was already dressed in the newly adorned
léine
. It was cinched at the waist with a braided leather belt and she had to admit that the yellow embroidery at the neck and sleeves added a beautiful touch. Around her shoulders she wore a red plaid with green and gold stripes. Alana had woven a wreath of ivy for her which held a fine woolen veil on her head.

The clan’s healer, Agnes, brought her a small bouquet of herbs. “Gillian, lass, I only have dried herbs at this time of year, but this contains b
urnet for a merry heart. My lady, I know this is hard, but try to keep yer heart light. The clan loves ye and will always support ye. I have also put in lavender for devotion and luck, sage for long life, marjoram for joy, and yarrow for everlasting love.” Gillian tried not to roll her eyes at this. She didn’t believe any amount of yarrow would help bring everlasting love to this union. “I have also added a bit of mint for warm thoughts because it is a bitter cold day.”

“Thank ye, Agnes. Ye have all been great friends to me. I understand that some of ye are not happy about this wedding. I can’t say he would have been my first choice either. However, I swore to ye, when ye made me yer chief, that I would always consider the good of the clan first. This is what our king has asked of us and I can only believe it will help stabilize us and once again give us strong allies.”

Her mother clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a tight line, but everyone else offered their good wishes.

A knock sounded at the door. Alana opened it to Daniel, who stepped into the room before exclaiming, “My lady Gillian, ye are beautiful lass. Yer da would be so very proud of ye.”

“Thank ye, Daniel. I hope so. Are they ready for me?”

“Aye, my lady, they await ye on the steps of the chapel. I would be honored if ye would allow me to escort ye.”

She hadn’t had enough time to think of who would give her away. It should have been her father with her today. The pain caused by the memory of his loss nearly took her breath away. She took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened. This was political. This was to protect the clan. She would not give in to sentimentality. “Of course, Daniel. Thank ye.”

Ailsa frowned. “Ye said that Fallon and I would stand with ye?”

“And ye will, pet. Daniel is just going to do what Da would—would have done were he here.” Gillian paused a moment in order to maintain her control. When she saw tears well in Ailsa’s eyes she pulled her into a hug. “I need ye and Fallon to stand with me when I take my vows. Run now and get yer mantle, it is bitter cold out. Then ye’ll walk ahead of me to the chapel doors.” With Ailsa still on the edge of tears Gillian leaned down and whispered. “I need for ye to be strong with me, pet. Da would want it and I can’t do it without ye.”

Ailsa nodded. Releasing her and swiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she hurried from the room. The rest of the women followed, each giving Gillian a hug and wishing her well as they went. Fallon and her mother were the last to leave. Fallon, who also looked close to tears, hugged her silently for a long moment.

“That’s enough, Fallon. Let’s get this over with and by the saints stop crying. At least it isn’t ye.” Lana pulled her away and out of the room.

Daniel arched an eyebrow at Lana as she left, but said nothing until the sound of their footsteps faded. He stepped close to Gillian, taking both of her hands in his. “Gillian, I know the leadership of this clan has weighed heavily on ye these last few months. Ye have done very well. Ye do not belong in a convent, ye belong here with us and ye made the right decision in marrying Fingal MacIan.”

“I’m glad ye think so, Daniel, but I wish there was another way.”

“I know ye do, but ye’ll be fine, lass.” She nodded. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Are ye ready?”

She smiled. “Not really, but time won’t change that.”

He chuckled. “Nay, it won’t.” He took Gillian’s elbow and walked with her down the stairs and through the deserted hall. Fallon and Ailsa waited just inside the doors. When they reached her sisters Daniel stopped for a moment and grinned. “Are we ready, lassies?” Both Fallon and Ailsa nodded. “Then I suppose we shouldn’t keep them waiting. Go on now and part the crowd. We will be right behind ye.”