Highland Sanctuary (14 page)

"Are ye nervous?" Cara dumped the clean tunic in a woven basket. "I'd be. But ye have such fine manners and all the learnin' yer mither taught ye. I think ye'll be like a princess."

"Far from it. I don't even have a decent gown to wear. I canna even make anything. I've naught but scraps of fabric from previous gowns—work garments, really. I was hoping to find a wee bit of satin so that maybe Kyla could improve one of my other dresses."

"Did ye ask Kyla if she has some fine bolts of fabric? Of anyone in the village, I'd think she'd be the one to have it. Don't ye think?" Cara raised a dark eyebrow.

"I thought of that, but who around here would have requested Kyla to make such elegant gowns? Besides, I couldn't possibly afford such material." Serena sighed and shrugged. "I'll simply tell the laird I canna go. I wouldn't want to shame him." Her chest felt like a heavy stone.

"From what ye've told me about the laird, I doubt he would feel that way. He's verra much aware of yer poverty. He knows where ye live and what ye wear each day."

"But he's a man. I doubt he's even thought much of it." Serena finished rinsing the plaid and wrung out the excess water, twisting it as best as she could. "Which is why I must tell him today that I canna go." Serena dropped the garment in a basket with the other washed clothes. She dried her cold, dripping hands on her blue and green plaid skirt. "Are ye ready? We'd best be getting back. I'll need to hang these to dry and hurry to the castle."

"Aye." Cara felt around for her basket, grabbed it, and climbed to her feet.

Serena hooked her own basket under one arm and looped the other through Cara's. That way it would be easier to guide her friend.

"Gunna said that Gavin MacKenzie offered to give ye dance lessons for the laird's celebration. Is that true?" Cara asked.

"He did, but now it won't be necessary."

"I think it was thoughtful and romantic." Cara tightened her grip. "How many men in our village would have offered to do such a thing?"

"Cara, most of the men in our village are auld, married, or wouldn't know how to dance."

"True. Mayhap that is why God has brought these other men to our village. To give us a chance at having our own families some day." Cara inhaled deeply and slowly released the air. "I confess, I'd almost despaired at finding a husband. Having a blind wife could be quite a burden to a man. But Craig, he doesn't treat me like that at all. He talks to me as if I matter." She smiled with a dreamy expression. "He even asks my opinion on things. He comes by and visits us often in the evenings."

Alarm bolted through Serena's heart. Cara had never confessed these secret desires. She got along so well in life with her blindness that Serena assumed Cara had accepted her limitations, as she had her shameful fits. Had they not jested about being two elderly maids, living together as sisters once their parents were gone? Serena had always believed it to be true. To now discover that Cara had been hoping and praying for a husband—a family of her own, stunned Serena. But why shouldn't she? Cara was a comely lass, intelligent, compassionate, and loyal. She would make a wonderful wife and mother. A sense of loneliness surrounded Serena.

"I haven't had much of an opportunity to talk to Craig, but if he has set his eyes upon ye, Cara Grant, then he is a man of excellent taste," Serena said.

Cara gasped. "I didn't mean to imply that he feels more than friendship. But I must admit, his attention and behavior toward me have awakened a new hope—that my blindness may not be the hindrance I've always feared. God works through people, Serena, even when they aren't aware of it."

"I confess—I've wanted them to leave, but it's only because I worry one of them might witness my fits."

"And that's what I mean." Cara tightened her grip on Serena. "If one of them does finally see a fit, it may prove to ye that someone other than us villagers might accept ye as ye are."

Serena felt like weeping. None of them had witnessed that woman being burned at the stake like she had. Most of the villagers were laughed at and teased, but none of them feared being murdered like she did.

G
avin and Craig stood outside Serena's home. The weathered door stood ajar, but he felt uncomfortable barging in. What if one of them was dressing? It was merely a one-room cottage with a small loft where Serena slept. The design didn't provide much privacy.

It was about half past dawn. Surely they would be up by now, but wouldn't he have already heard conversation? He thought about the murdered cow and the kirk fire. Fear slithered through him.

He glanced at Craig, who shrugged his shoulders and nodded his blond head. "Ye might as well knock," Craig whispered. "Ye've come this far."

"Who's there?" Evelina appeared at the door, wearing a simple brown gown and a plaid shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She held a lit candle, the wax dripping on a brass holder. Her concerned frown relaxed into a welcoming smile as she held up the light and recognized Gavin.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise. Come in. Come in." She opened the door wider and waved them through. "Both of ye." She gestured to the table. "Please . . . sit down and break yer fast with us."

"Have we missed Serena?" Gavin glanced around the dark cottage and didn't see her. Snoring floated across from the bulky form on one of the box beds.

"Nay. Gunna isn't feeling herself today. She has a fever and so Serena did her laundry. She's out back hanging clothes. I just came in from collecting the eggs and milk. Ye're in time to join us. I hope Serena will eat before she leaves."

"We didn't mean to interrupt," Gavin said. "We're heading to town and wanted to stop by and see if ye needed anything."

"Thank ye for yer trouble, but we're fine," Serena said, standing on the threshold, an empty basket tilted to the side in her hand. She bristled as all eyes turned toward her. Gavin couldn't tell about the manner of her tone, but something seemed amiss.

"That's verra thoughtful of ye." Evelina awarded him with a smile. "I do believe there are a few items I'd like." She lifted her gaze to her daughter who still stood behind Gavin and Craig. "Serena, I hope ye'll stay long enough to eat. I was about to warm up some bread cakes and cook a few eggs."

Serena glanced at Gavin and then Craig. She chewed her bottom lip. "I'm already running late from doing the laundry."

"The laird is a reasonable man." Evelina bent, placing the bread cakes in a warming pot over the fire. "I'm sure if ye tell him about Gunna he'll understand."

"I agree," Gavin said. "Even though I haven't known him as long as ye, I've the same impression."

Gavin glanced at Craig and nodded toward the table. He strolled over and pulled out a chair, knowing Craig would follow his lead. "I thank ye for the offer of some bread cakes. Save the eggs for yerselves. Gunna may need the nourishment when she wakes."

Sighing, Serena strode over to the milk pail and picked it up. "I'll prepare the milk. We like to sweeten ours a wee bit."

Evelina pulled an iron pan from the fire and broke the eggs into it. "Are ye sure bread cakes are all ye want?" She asked, placing another pot in the fire. "I'm warming some stewed apples from last night's dinner."

"That sounds good." Craig rubbed his hands together.

Gunna rolled over and the rhythm of her snoring changed. Serena smiled before covering her mouth. Gavin enjoyed her amusement.

"I do not intend to be rude." She said to Gavin in a lowered tone. "But ye're always trying to do things for us. We already owe ye a debt of deep gratitude as it is."

Gavin pressed his hand against his heart with a thump, turning to his friend. "Craig, the lass has mortally wounded me. I thought my chivalric attentions would have been more appreciated." He glanced up at her mother.

"A young lass often needs a wee bit of time to make up her mind about things." She smiled as she turned over the bread cakes, her gaze sliding to her daughter's with purpose.

If only he could break through Serena's walled fortress. "There are plenty who could vouch for my fierce prowess on the battlefield if that would gain yer admiration." Gavin pretended to puff out his chest and lifted his chin.

"Oh, hush!" Serena said, rolling her eyes and covering her mouth to keep from laughing, but a prevailing smile broke through to Gavin's delight. It was as if his heart sang a ditty. How he loved to see her smile.

"I'm only trying to lighten yer mood." Gavin scratched his chin, wondering what had dampened her spirits so early this morning. It encouraged him to know he had succeeded in cheering her—if only a bit.

Evelina brought over a steaming bowl of stewed apples that teased his nose until his mouth watered and his stomach rumbled. He and Craig exchanged a wide-eyed look of excitement. Craig wiggled in his chair like a small lad, while Gavin linked his hands tight in his lap under the table to keep from digging in.

Serena brought them wooden cups and poured the milk. She leaned over his shoulder, her black hair draping over his arm. He inhaled the feminine scent of heather and juniper, closing his eyes to savor the moment. As she pulled back, her elbow brushed his arm. His eyes popped open.

"I'm sorry." Serena's voice softened and her cheeks stained to a rosy glow. She stepped around Gavin to Craig's side and filled his cup.

Evelina set out the bread cakes before them on a wooden platter. Steam rose in the air as the smell of butter enticed them. Gavin realized he was licking his bottom lip like a man who had never tasted a warm cooked meal. He clenched his jaw and waited for the women to settle in their seats across the table.

Making the sign of the cross, Evelina bowed her head. Serena did likewise, preventing him from reading her expression. Gavin and Craig peeked at each other. He shrugged, touched his forehead, chest, and each shoulder before also bowing his head.

"Heavenly Father," Evelina said. "I pray that ye bless this family and our guests. Make Gunna well. Bless this meal for our nourishment. Please protect Serena as she walks to the castle and the villagers as they are out and about. We give ye thanks. In Jesus' holy name. Amen."

Evelina and Serena passed the food to Gavin and Craig before serving themselves. Once everyone had a full plate, they ate in silence for a few moments.

"This is verra good," Craig said, biting into his second bread cake.

"Thank ye. We're glad ye're here to share it with us." Evelina smiled, glancing between Gavin and Serena. "Will ye be giving Serena more dance lessons?"

The innocent question hung in the air. He met Serena's gaze. Her green eyes flickered before she glanced down at her plate. It wasn't like her to avoid eye contact, but she seemed to be doing so now. Gavin swallowed before turning to her mother. "I thought I might show Serena a few more dances this evening."

"Nay." Serena's voice carried across the table. "There's no need. I won't be going."

"Good morn, lass!" Philip greeted Serena with a warm smile buried in a gray bushy beard. His soft brown eyes averted one's attention from his yellow teeth. The wrinkles in his weathered face gave him a look of tenderness that Serena adored.

"Aye, it's an excellent morning. I must say, ye look bright and cheerful." Serena stepped under the raised gate. She never liked walking under the iron spikes. If Philip lost hold of the rope the heavy gate could crush down upon her.

"Aye, my wife is feeling much better. She hurt her back a few days ago and took to her bed, but this morning she rose with the sun." He laughed as he let go of the rope. The gate rattled, rolled, and crashed to the ground. "Does my heart good to see her up and about. I've reached the age where I don't know how many more years the good Lord has in mind for us. I treasure every moment now."

Serena tilted her head, regarding him with a new respect. It must be a wonderful feeling to love and be loved like that—to have one's life with someone so special.

"I had not known she was feeling poorly. Please tell her I'm glad she's better."

"She'll be 'appy to hear it." His grin broadened.

Serena hurried through the courtyard. She had tarried long enough. By the time she reached the main hall, she breathed heavy from her vigorous haste. Slowing to catch her breath, she paused as a door closed. Booted footsteps echoed toward her. Realizing the laird would be coming to break his fast, she pulled a stick from the mantle, lit it from the fire burning in the hearth, and carried it to the dais.

The laird entered as she lit the two oiled lamps in the center of the table. He wore a dark tunic that matched his hazel eyes. A plaid draped over his shoulder, fastened by a silver pin with the MacBraigh crest. When he smiled, she realized his auburn mustache had been trimmed. His jaw bore a fresh shave, and he smelled of lye soap and musk.

"Good morning, Serena. Ye certainly brighten this dreary hall. I wonder if I could have them put in a few windows?" He looked around as if contemplating the idea. "Mayhap up there. ' Twould be nice to have light from the ceiling. I've seen it done at other castles in England." He pointed to the top of the wall facing the front.

"I've never seen aught like it." She tried to imagine such a thing. "I think it would be interesting." She carried the burning stick to the wall candelabrum on each side of the dais and lit those as well. Waving the long stick, she blew out the flame. Lingering white smoke curled in the air as the smell of burnt wood drifted past her nose.

"I'll see what the MacKenzie brothers recommend." Iain walked around the table to his chair, but he didn't pull it out and sit down. Instead, he watched her replace the stick on the mantle. "Is that a new gown? I don't recall ye wearing purple before."

Serena glanced down at the material flowing over her figure like an elegant tapestry of plaid with dark blue and purple lines.

"Nay, I was looking for some fabric to make a decent gown for yer feast. I found an auld gown my mither had discarded years ago and altered it." She lifted the hem from the floor. "This is the result. Unfortunately, I couldn't find aught better. I don't wish to shame ye, so I've decided not to attend. Please forgive me."

Iain's lips dropped in a frown and his eyebrows wrinkled in concern. "Of course, how remiss of me. I didn't realize—" He rubbed his forehead.

"Please, it isn't yer fault." Serena twisted her hands in distress. "I'll make certain that ye have what ye need, that the cook prepares the proper food, and musicians arrive early, and I'll be here beforehand to direct the servants."

He grinned and stepped around the table toward her. "Lass, ye're always so eager and willing to serve others. I don't host many celebrations such as this. I want this to be an enjoyable event for ye as well. Ye've worked hard and deserve it."

"I don't understand." She was a mere servant. What should he care about her joy? A shiver of fear climbed up her spine like a foreboding shadow. "Ye said it's a welcome celebration for the MacKenzie brothers. Might I ask how I'm to be involved?"

"If truth be known, I was hoping to dance with ye, and I don't know any other occasion in the near future." Iain stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I hear ye've already promised the first and last dance to Gavin MacKenzie. Will ye save one for me as well?"