Kilgannon (32 page)

He was as I had dreamed he would be, an attentive and husband, and if I could have changed anything, it would have been to have more time with him. Wherever we went someone was at him for a decision or complaint, and I often grew weary of waiting for him at night when some of the crofters or tacksmen from the outlying areas would arrive with a problem. He never told them no, he. always listened, and there were times I resented that. He listened to my complaints as patiently as he had listened to theirs, and I grew ashamed of adding another burden to his duties. If he thought me silly or annoying he never said it. I vowed to be more independent.

And then there was the baby. Or the lack of one. I had conceived, then miscarried. I'd known very early that I was pregnant and had told Alex at once. He had been delighted with the news, and when I had to tell him later that there would be no child, he had been as despondent as 1.1 resolved to wait longer the next time to be sure. The depth of my sorrow at the miscarriage had startled me. I had not even particularly wanted a child, but the loss of it had struck something very deep inside me and I mourned silently. I told myself that it was not unusual to miscarry and then have a healthy baby.

I had pondered it often that summer and had realized, which I never had before, that my mother's mother had only two children, my mother only two, and Louisa none. Perhaps there was something wrong with the women in my family. I had never questioned that I could have children, but now the doubts crept in at night and at odd moments like this one, when I was surrounded by women with babies on their hips or with little hands grasped in theirs. Now, standing in the middle of the boisterous clansmen at the games, I smugly smoothed my skirt over my stomach. Perhaps I would have some news for him soon. Perhaps this time I would be more successful. I fought against my fear, then reminded myself that I already had two sons. Ian and Jamie had been wonderful, and after the first tentative weeks we had all relaxed and become the family I had hoped we would. The thunderstorm and the stories had sped that process, I believed, as well as the fact that they were so in need of a mother. I smiled to myself as I recalled the morning I knew I had been accepted by them.

The boys had been sitting on a bench in the courtyard arguing as I walked by, and I had stopped to ask them what was wrong. Ian held Jamie's hand out to me. "Look at his hand," Ian demanded. "He has a great splinter in it and he won't let me take it out."

"Not with that." Jamie gestured to the dirk on the bench next to Ian, his eyes dark with fear. He looked very small, sitting on the bench, one hand cradling the other.

"I wouldna take it out with that, idiot," Ian said in disgust, and stalked away. We looked after Ian and then I smiled at Jamie.

"Let me look at it," I said, sitting next to him and examining the grubby hand. His dog, Robert the Bruce, now huge and perpetually curious, stuck his large nose in my lap and I pushed him away as I concentrated on Jamie, "lan's right, you know," I said, looking up from his hand. "It needs to come out or it will grow infected. How did you get such a large splinter?"

He shrugged but did not pull his hand back. "Will it hurt?"

"For a moment. If you do not take it out it will get infected and hurt much worse later. What do want to do?" I looked into his eyes, so like his father's, and so fearful now.

"I want it not to hurt at all."

I laughed and nodded. "I understand that, silly, but look at your hand. Do you want it to hurt more later?" He shook his head, his eyes huge as he studied his hand. "Then let's take it out," I said, and he nodded. "I'll get my sewing basket, and you go and wash your hand. With soap." He was waiting on the bench when I returned, though I'd half-expected him to have disappeared, and he gave me his hand, watching my actions with rapt attention. "I will be as gentle as possible," I said, watching his eyes and the way the sun caught the copper in his hair. He nodded. I cleaned the area and then showed him the needle. "Let's pretend it's a great war wound," I said, and he grinned.

"Aye," he said, warming to the idea. "And
I'm verra
brave."

"You are." We smiled at each other, but just a few moments later I frowned at him in defeat. "Jamie, you must sit still. I cannot get this out if your hand is moving."

"It hurts."

"It will hurt for a longer time if you keep moving your hand."

His blue eyes were defiant, and I was considering what to do next when Alex's voice came from behind me.

"Sit still, Jamie," he said as he climbed over the bench. "Here, I'll sit with ye." He pulled the boy onto his lap. "This is what ye do," he said, grimacing and turning his head away. "Ye give her yer hand and ye bellow." He let out a terrible noise. "She'll like that." Jamie looked at his father and then at me, his eyes twinkling. He thrust his hand at me again, and when I started at it with the needle, he did exactly as Alex had said. I ignored the noise and extracted the splinter. And looked up from the small hand and into my husband's eyes.

"Thank you, Alex," I said dryly. "
I’m so
glad you were here to assist me." I handed Jamie the tiny piece of wood.

Alex laughed. "Yer welcome. Jamie, say thank ye to Mary."

"Thank ye, Mama," Jamie said, and bounced off, examining his wound. I felt my eyes fill and turned to Alex.

"He called me Mama."

Alex nodded as he watched his son leave, and then turned to me. "Aye, that's what he calls ye to me. Ian does the same. He told Angus he couldn't remember what Sorcha looked like."

"Oh, Alex, that's terrible!"

Alex shook his head. "Lass, we canna change that their mother is gone. They have her portrait and the sketches I've done to look at. They ken yer not their real mother, but they want you to mother them. Sorcha can't, and it's lovely that ye will, Mary Rose." He kissed my forehead as I wiped my tears away. We sat for a moment in silence and then Alex stood. "And now...." He reached out a hand to me and I met it with mine. "Now, Mary Rose, I want to show ye something. Come."

I put my basket on the bench and let him lead me across the courtyard and through the outer gate. He stood at the threshold and pointed to the loch and I followed his gaze, thinking he wanted me to admire the view on this glorious day. The mountains on the far shore were purple, the trees on their sides green with new growth, the light breeze rippling through the branches like water. The summer sun was shimmering on the loch, sapphire in the way only deep water can be, and in the loch were the four MacGannon brigs. I blinked and looked again, shielding my eyes. Four brigs. The Katrine, Gannon's Lady, and the Margaret were moored offshore. And a fourth was tied to the dock, with a crowd milling from the dock to her decks. I felt Alex watching me.

"Alex? Is it the new ship?" I asked, turning to him with pleasure. "Already? She's here?"

He nodded, his excitement visible as he led me down the terraces. "Aye, lass, here she is. Calum just brought her in. She's beautiful, no?" He kissed my ringers.

"What will we name her?"

He gave me a sidelong look. "She has a name already, and one very fitting. Look at her: black sides and snow-white sails and a touch of brass visible now and then. She's a beauty!"

"Alex," I said. "You said I could name her."

He stopped and turned toward me, his voice quiet. "That I did, I know, but, Mary, when I saw her I thought only one name fitting." Annoyed, I pulled my hand from his and slanted a glance at him. He ignored my look and, placing his hand at the small of my back, propelled me forward. We stood at the end of the dock, looking into the excited faces of the crew and the crowd of MacGannons admiring her. Alex turned to me with a lopsided grin.

"Mary Rose, meet the Mary Rose."

I looked at the beautiful ship in front of me, every surface gleaming. "You named the boat after me," I whispered.

"Aye, lass. When I saw her I thought of ye with yer dark hair and light skin."

"And a touch of brass visible now and then," I said, remembering his words.

He grinned at me and nodded. "Aye. But look at her, Mary. Isn't she a beauty? And I ken she'll bring us luck."

"You named her after me," I said, warming to the idea.

"It's only fitting,
Mary
. It's yer money that built her. She's yers."

"Ours, Alex. Our money and our ship." I looked at the Mary Rose's sleek lines and shining fittings while Alex watched me.

"Mine only in that I was wise enough to marry ye, Mary Rose, and I want the world to ken it. Now, come aboard yer ship." He showed me every board and detail of the ship, and I was properly impressed. The crew was giddy with excitement and joined in, explaining the sails and the wonderful new anchor. Calum, who was to be her captain, was visibly delighted. By the time I was on land again, I felt as though I'd spent a week on board, but as we walked away along the dock, I turned to look back at her. The Mary Rose. I turned the name over and over in my mind. The Mary Rose. I was thrilled.

AUTUMN WAS UPON US BEFORE I REALIZED SUMMER WAS over, and as the days grew shorter the tasks grew more hurried. Alex rode far afield as the shielings were closed for the winter and the cattle gathered to be herded off to market. At one time the MacGannons had sold timber and linens to England, but British markets were closed now to those Scottish products and Alex had turned to other commodities. Cattle were a large and lucrative part of what Kilgannon sold over the border. If they could arrive at the selling place. In order to get the cattle to market they had to be driven through MacDonnell and MacGregor lands and dangerously close to the Campbells, so Alex went on the drive, grumbling about cows and rivers. Angus placidly watched his cousin complain, while he made sure all the men were well armed. Matthew was thrilled to be included, and Ian, six now, had tried to convince his father that he would be an asset as well, but Alex only shook his head, pointing to the newly arrived tutor.

Gilbey Macintyre had come to live with us just after the Games, fresh from Edinburgh. He was as tall as Alex, thin and bony, his hair lank, his features craggy and mismatched, but he was young and curious. He asked endless questions, following Alex and Angus around while Ian and Jamie followed him, and he absorbed everything. His tall gawkiness hid a quick mind and a ready wit, both always welcome at Kilgannon, and I suspected that he regarded his assignment with us as a great adventure. In just a few short weeks we had grown used to his company, and now he was a fixture here, assisting wherever needed.

Deirdre had left two weeks after the Games, staying longer than planned to show me how to prepare for winter. She'd instructed me as she moved at high speed from kitchen to garden to bedrooms. Nothing missed her notice, and though I wrote it all down I had doubts I'd manage it without her. I sighed as I tried to remember it all, but Berta—stolid, solid Berta—was unfazed and smiled at me encouragingly. "We'll do fine, Lady Mary" was all she'd say, and after a while I believed her.

Ellen was, as always, a welcome companion. She had grown to love it here, she told me, and I watched with amusement as she studied the men, knowing she was considering which would be the best husband. She was very popular with men and women alike, wee Donald most of all. Calum brought a letter from Louisa saying they would have to postpone their visit and hoped to come at Christmas, which was a terrible disappointment to me, for I still missed them very much. I was forlorn then and roamed the halls, the boys and their infernal dogs at my heels, and now Gilbey trailing in my wake as well. But sometimes I was alone.

One evening after a particularly long day I climbed the stairs of the keep to watch the sunset and came upon Gilbey sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of the rooms, a boy on each side of him, the three engrossed in a map as Gilbey traced the battles of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce. They neither saw nor heard me, and I stood in the doorway as the boys asked question after question. From listening to Gilbey one would think Wallace and the Bruce to be the greatest heroes ever born and theirs the only noble cause. Feeling very English and very much in a foreign land, I crept down the stairs and walked instead along the loch, pausing beside the indigo water and wondering what I was doing here. But as the sun set and I watched the workers leave for their cottages and the lights begin to appear in Kilgannon's windows, a calm peace came over me. I am happy to be here, I told myself, and it is only because Alex is gone that I feel so lonely. If I were in London I would be preparing for another social evening, where, no doubt, Robert would be in attendance, or Rowena, or Edmund Harriett with his waspish remarks. If Alex had never come to London I would be there as well. But I doubted that I would have been happy much longer in that world. I took a deep breath and smelled the pine resin from the stand of trees behind me. I am glad to be here, I told myself, and turned to see two little figures bounding along the shore toward me, waving and yelling, the dogs barking as they ran alongside. / am needed here, I thought. Jamie threw himself into my arms, and William Wallace jumped on my skirts while Ian circled me with whoops and Robert the Bruce barked furiously.

"You're captured, Sassenach!" they yelled, and Jamie planted a wet kiss on my cheek triumphantly.

"That's your forfeit," he shouted, and Ian pulled him down.

"No, no, ye did it wrong, Jamie," Ian laughed. "Ye must get a kiss from her, not give her a kiss!"