Fated Hearts 02 - Highland Echoes (4 page)

When Innes had returned to the cottage the previous evening, Grace told her about her confrontation with Bram.

“Don’t worry so, Grace,” her grandmother chided. “Laird Sutherland is reasonable, as is Bram. When they see the letter, and yer father’s brooch, there will be no question as to who ye are.”

Still Grace worried and hadn’t slept well.

The next morning, she was helping in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast. Innes kneaded bread dough as Kristen stood on a chair beside her, playing with a small ball of dough, imitating her great-grandmother’s actions. “Mama, I’m making bwead.”

“I see, sweetling. Grandmother, let me know if she is too much underfoot.”

Maisie, a large woman in her fifties who was her grandmother’s second in command, laughed heartily. “Grace, love, that wee one could be swinging from Innes’ hair and yer granny wouldn’t complain.”

“Aye, that’s true,” said Innes as she planted a kiss on the top of Kristen’s head. “’Tis glad I am to have ye both here.”

Grace furrowed her brow. “I just don’t want her to be a burden.”

Maisie put her hands on her hips. “What’s the matter with ye today? Ye’ve been brooding all morning.”

“She is worried about meeting Laird Sutherland,” said Innes.

“Well, put that worry out of yer head, lass, Laird Sutherland isn’t all that fearsome. Sure, he can be a bit crusty, but what man can’t? I can’t imagine what he would object to.”

“She ran into Bram last night, and it sounds like he was, what did ye call it? Crusty?” said Innes. “I figure he was on his way to the kitchens.”

Maisie grinned. “Avoiding the hall, was he?”

“After hearing about all that happened, I can well understand why,” said Innes.

“What happened?” asked Grace.

“It seems another man married his betrothed before he could claim her,” said Maisie.

Dear God, if that had happened to Fearchar Morrison, Grace firmly believed a clan war would ensue. “Will there be repercussions?”

Her grandmother smiled. “Nay, I don’t think so. It isn’t as if it was a love match. The marriage was arranged by the laird and her uncle. It seems they all came to an agreement that it was for the best.”

Just then a maid servant stepped into the kitchen. “Innes, Laird Sutherland wishes to speak with ye and yer granddaughter now.”

“Aye, thank ye Ellie. Grace, go fetch the letter and brooch. The Laird will want to see them.”

“Aye, grandmother.” Grace hurried out of the kitchen and to her grandmother’s cottage. Her memories from the last day she stood before a clan laird were not pleasant. She was so nervous now, it felt as if her heart was in her throat. What would she do if the laird turned her away? She hadn’t even considered that eventuality. She was suddenly profoundly glad that Dugald and Mary had offered her a home with them in Durness. When she reached the little cottage, she had allowed fear to overtake her.

What never helps, Grace?
She heard her mother’s sweet voice say the words that she had repeated so often when Grace was small.

Panicking. Panicking never helps, Mama
. She took a deep breath to calm herself, but her hands still shook as she located the box and removed the articles she needed. She slipped them in her pocket before tucking the box away again and rushing back.

When she returned to the kitchen, Innes had brushed the flour from Kristen’s clothes and was just wiping the last of it from her face. She looked up at Grace. “Grace.” Her grandmother’s voice was stern. “Ye must wipe that terrified look off yer face before we meet the laird.”

Grace nodded and took a deep breath. “Aye, Grandmother.” The only experience she had in dealing with a laird was a few short weeks ago when she had paid her rents. Grace’s grandfather was a laird and her own mother feared his power and vengeance. Fearchar’s threats echoed in her brain.
Ye will be living at the keep before the end of the summer and then ye will be mine to use when I want ye. That is my promise. It will be better for ye if ye decide to come of yer own accord, and the sooner the better. If ye resist me on this, I will make ye sorry
. But, she hadn’t told her Grandmother about Fearchar’s threats so Innes surely wouldn’t understand Grace’s fear now.

She picked Kristen up and they walked to the large square tower keep. Grace hadn’t been inside it yet. For that matter she had never been inside any keep. When they entered the hall she was awestruck. The ceilings were vaulted stone. She had never seen anything but timber or thatch. Three men sat at what was obviously the laird’s table. One was Bram and she assumed the older man was Laird Eanraig Sutherland. The other man looked so much like a younger version of the laird that he too must be a son.

When they reached the table, they both curtsied, Grace a bit awkwardly because she held Kristen.

The older man said, “Good day to ye, Innes.”

“Good day, Laird,” her grandmother responded pleasantly.

“Is this the young woman who claims to be yer granddaughter?”

Grace cringed inwardly.
Claims to be?

But Innes seemed unbothered by his choice of words. “Aye, Laird, this is Tristan’s daughter, Grace, and her bairn.”

Grace’s said, “Good day, Laird.”

Kristen echoed, “Good day, Waird.”

The laird’s lips twitched. “Good day, lass. Ye have very nice manners for such a wee one.”

Kristen grinned and nodded. “I know.”

The laird laughed outright.

Grace whispered, “Kristen the nice thing to say is ‘thank ye, Laird’.”

“Fank ye, Waird.”

“Ye are welcome, lass. What is yer name?”

“Kwithten.”

“Kristen. That’s a bonny name.”

Kristen smiled shyly before burying her face in Grace’s neck.

“Grace, yer daughter is lovely.”

“Thank ye, Laird.”

He turned his attention to her grandmother. “Innes, thank ye for introducing us to yer guests. Now, I would like to speak with Grace alone. I’m sure ye won’t mind taking this lovely wee lass back to the kitchens with ye for a bit?”

For the first time, a look of concern crossed Innes’ face. “Laird, Grace is my granddaughter.”

“And I’m yer laird. I’ve asked ye to leave us for a bit.” His voice lost some of the warmth it had when he had been speaking to Kristen.

Innes cast a worried look at Grace. “Aye, laird. Come with grannie, poppet.”

Grace put Kristen down. The little girl happily took Innes’ hand and walked towards the door with her. Kristen asked, “Wiww we make more bwead?” as the pair left the hall.

Grace stood stiffly, waiting for the laird to address her, acutely aware of the three men scrutinizing her.

Laird Sutherland considered her in silence for a long moment before speaking to her. “Grace, these are two of my sons. I believe ye’ve met Bram.” He inclined his head to the tall, blond man on his right.

She had only seen him in the evening light and hadn’t noticed his crystal blue eyes or what a fine looking man he was.

The laird gestured to the man with dark hair and brown eyes who sat on his left. “And this is Ian.”

She curtsied, lowering her eyes for a moment. Perhaps she should have said,
pleased to meet you
, but she wasn’t sure she could force the untrue words across her lips.

“And ye, lass, purport to be Tristan Murray’s daughter.”

“I
am
Tristan Murray’s daughter.”

Now the laird’s voice lost all hint of warmth. “Are ye now? We believed he died ages ago. And here, ye show up with a bairn, no husband, and a farfetched story about him living for years as a fisherman on the Isle of Lewis. Have ye any proof?”

Grace became increasingly more uncomfortable as she stood there. Aye, she had proof. The letter was her strongest evidence, but now she wondered about the wisdom of showing it to them. As her father couldn’t read or write, they might not believe the letter was actually from him anyway. Furthermore, given that they were none too welcoming, she worried about how they would react to the information about her mother. If somehow they learned Catriona’s identity, they might contact her clan. Her mother had warned her never to do this. Nay, she wouldn’t show them the letter unless she had to.

“Aye, I have proof.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the brooch, leaving the letter safely tucked away. She handed the old silver fastener to the laird to examine. “This belonged to my father. My grandmother says it was originally my grandfather’s.”

The Laird turned it over in his hand before handing it to Bram to examine. “I accept that this is Tristan’s pin, but that doesn’t necessarily make ye his daughter. Perhaps someone gave it to ye with a story about a dead man. Ye decided to be his long lost daughter and show up with a bairn at his mother’s door. I do not believe a warrior the likes of Tristan Murray suddenly left everything he knew to live the humble life of a fisherman. Who are ye, lass? I want the truth!”

His raised voice and the angry tone scared Grace. “I have told ye the truth. I am Grace Breive. My parents were Tristan and Cat Murray.” At the last second she decided only to reveal the familiar name people used for her mother. She repeated her parents’ story and the details of their deaths.

“So Innes told me, but ye have no proof of that. Ye have nothing but a dead man’s brooch. And, while it’s been a long time since I’ve laid eyes on him, ye don’t look anything like him, or like Innes for that matter.”

“I looked like my mother. Everyone said so.”

He harrumphed.

“Why is that so hard to believe? Only one of yer sons resembles ye.”

He frowned at her. “Well aren’t ye a bold, lass? Actually, my son Boyd looks like me as well. Still, that’s a fair enough point. But why was it Tristan never told his mother where he was, that he had a family, or even that he lived? Innes was broken hearted. I know he was angry when he left but I wouldn’t believe him to be so callous.”

Facing the disapproving stares of the men, Grace wasn’t sure what to say. The fact was, she too had thought it callous but she had seen the fear in her mother’s eyes and therefore understood her reasons. She sighed. “I don’t know all of the details. I know they feared my mother’s father. She told me that before she died.”

“As I have already told ye, Tristan was a good warrior. When I knew him, with the hubris of youth, he feared no one. Who was the formidable man that could make Tristan Murray tuck tail and run?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. My mother feared him even on her deathbed. She wouldn’t tell me and made me promise never to try and find her clan.”

The Laird frowned. “I just don’t believe it. I don’t believe he would cower before anyone. I would sooner believe him dead.”

“Laird, I can’t explain what I don’t understand myself. I’m certain he must have been a good warrior. He taught me…things…about weapons.”

“What things?” asked Bram.

“How to care for them and how to use some of them. I can shoot a bow, but not as far or as accurately as he could. He said the best skill a woman could learn was how to handle knives because it took less strength. He was particularly skilled at throwing knives. He could pierce an apple thrown into the air.”

The laird gave her an odd look. “Aye, he could. I’ve never seen anyone else do that.”

“I can.” She couldn’t keep a note of pride out of her voice. “He taught me. I can hunt small prey with only a knife.”

All three men looked as if they didn’t believe her.

“Really?” asked Bram, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “I believe ye, thousands wouldn’t so I fear ye’ll have to prove it.” He walked around the table and handed her his small dirk, a look of challenge in his eyes.

“If I do, will ye believe me?”

The laird looked at her appraisingly for a moment before answering. “Aye. If ye can pierce a thrown object with a knife, I will believe that Tristan Murray taught ye how and that he is yer da. Mind ye, there’re no stores of apples left from the fall harvest, so ye’ll have to take aim at a neep. Ian, send someone to fetch us one and meet us outside. Yer mother would frown on throwing knives in the hall.”

“Aye, Da.” Ian nodded and left the hall.

Grace weighed the knife in her hand to get a feel for the balance. She ran her thumb along the blade, feeling the point. She frowned. “Laird, neeps are much harder than apples.”

“Aye, but it is fairly safe to claim ye can pierce a thrown apple, when there aren’t likely to be any around to throw.”

“Nay laird, that’s not what I meant. I can hit a neep, but the blade needs to be very sharp. This one isn’t. May I have a sharpening stone?”

Grace took the tiniest bit of pleasure at the look of surprise on his face.

“Aye, of course ye can. Bram, fetch her a stone.”

Bram too nodded and left the hall on his errand.

Laird Sutherland motioned toward the door. “Shall we go outside?”

“Aye, laird.”

She walked with him to the outer bailey. Once there, the laird frowned at the activity. “There are too many people here. I don’t want to risk anyone being hurt by a lass hurtling knives.” He ordered some of his men to clear the bailey.