Lady of Light (33 page)

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Authors: Kathleen Morgan

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Historical, #General, #Romance, #ebook

BOOK: Lady of Light
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“I think, on the morrow, I need to ride to Grand View and pay Mary Sue Edgerton a little visit,” she muttered. “Mayhap if the girl learns firsthand the consequences of a wicked tongue, she’ll think twice before spreading false tales again.”

“Well, I doubt it’d do any good. People like Mary Sue don’t learn what they don’t care to. And besides, that brings up another thing I wanted to talk with you about. A man has returned to Grand View who I want you to avoid. His name’s Brody Gerard, and he hates the MacKays.”

Claire shot Evan a startled glance. Luckily for her, at that moment he was looking down. Surely it was a coincidence, she thought, that Brody Gerard had been brought up. Unless … unless Noah had mentioned something to Evan after all.

“Well, I don’t care to meet any man who hates your family, so I hardly think that’ll be a problem.” As an excuse to avoid her husband’s gaze, she brushed an imaginary crumb off the table. “I won’t be deterred, though, from my intent to seek out Mary Sue, or from visiting the Reverend Starr whenever I’ve a need to. I refuse to hide away out of fear.”

“Suit yourself, but I expect that anytime you leave the ranch from now on, you have a hand accompany you. I’ve already made arrangements for someone to escort Beth, Ian, and Devlin Jr. to and from school each day.”

“And will that hand also be required to chaperone me whenever I visit Noah Starr?” Claire demanded, her voice now taut with irritation. Suddenly, life at Culdee Creek seemed constricted and controlled, and she didn’t like that. Didn’t like that at all.

Evan stared blankly at her. “And why would you … ?” Realization dawned, and his mouth tightened in annoyance. “As long as Millie’s present somewhere in the near vicinity, I don’t see that you’ll need to enlist one of the hands to monitor your visits. All I want is for everything to appear completely aboveboard between you and Noah, until all the talk dies down.”

“And what if I told you I don’t give a fig what everyone thinks? They’re all a bunch of silly old fools anyway!”

“Then do it for me, and for the sake of the family.” Evan’s gaze darkened with anger. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

“Why?” Claire sighed and shook her head. “Because it’s all so ridiculous, and I refuse to play by such petty, mean-spirited rules, that’s why! I don’t care to slink meekly away when my honor is questioned.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten how proud and headstrong you Highlanders were.” With a chuckle, Evan tipped back in his chair. “But this isn’t the Highlands, Claire. This is the United States, and the West. Like it or not, people here live by a somewhat different set of rules, and observing propriety is just one of them.”

She couldn’t believe her ears. Not in all her wildest imaginings had she ever thought Evan would condone such narrow-minded, cowardly conduct! At the realization, a sudden, disagreeable consideration crept into her mind. First, there had been the secret he had long carried about Hannah, and now this prudish, controlling, dishonorable demand. What else didn’t she know about the man she had married?

“I can’t say I’m happy with you or your foolish little town just now,” she said. “Still, I’ll abide by what you say so as not to bring shame upon the MacKay family name.” Claire shoved to her feet. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m verra weary, and wish to head up to bed.”

He grasped her arm as she moved past him. “Don’t be angry with me. I’m just doing what I think is best.”

His gaze was ardently warm and pleading. His firm, sensuous mouth curved up slowly into a most dazzling, heart-stopping smile. For a fleeting instant, as she looked down at her darkly handsome husband, Claire’s anger almost dissolved.

Then she remembered the patronizing way he had spoken of her Highland pride, and something hardened within her. No one—not even one’s own spouse—disparaged a Highlander’s honor. The sooner a certain Mr. Evan MacKay realized that, the better.

Ever so deliberately, Claire twisted free of his grip. “Well, doing what is best has its own price, doesn’t it? I only hope, for your sake, that it makes you a warmbed-fellow.”

The next morning, breakfast didn’t go well. The wood was too green, and Old Bess showed her ire by repeatedly firing up, then dying. The biscuits were raw in the middle, the eggs she had been trying to fry sunny-side up—as most of the hands and Evan liked them—ended up having to be scrambled just to get them properly cooked, and then the bacon burned to a crisp.

During the meal the scent of scorched bacon grease hung in the air, the pots and pans piled up in the sink, and though no one said anything, most left their meals half-eaten. By the time Evan finally filed out with all the others, after shooting her an irritated, questioning glance, Claire was on the verge of tears. Muttering to herself in an effort to hold back her teetering emotions, she filled the sink with hot water from a big pot on the stove, sprinkled in some soap, and began to add plates that she first scraped clean in the slop bucket.

“They all act as if it was an infinitely simple thing to cook a meal on that cursed cookstove, and have everything hot and ready all at the same time,” she spat furiously. “Well, I’m sick of the lot of them. One would think the fate of the world revolved around their stomachs!”

Behind her, Claire was vaguely aware of the back door opening. At that particular moment, however, she didn’t care if anyone heard her or took offense. What did it matter anymore anyway? Besides, it was past time they began, she resolved, to learn a wee bit of what it was like—

“Claire? Is it all right if I come in?”

At the sound of Hannah’s voice, the plate Claire was scraping slipped from her fingers and plummeted into the slop bucket with a sickening plop. She whirled around, hastily wiping her hands on her food-stained apron.

“Och, it’s you, Hannah,” she babbled, embarrassed color flooding her cheeks. “I didn’t expect you … I thought it was …”

At the look of loving concern in the other woman’s eyes, something inside Claire crumbled. All the barriers she had erected over the past weeks against Hannah crashed down. A need for understanding, for someone to share all her fears and worries with, swelled with such force Claire was unable to withstand it. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

Hannah quickly closed the door and hurried over. “Claire, whatever is the matter?” she asked, slipping an arm about her shoulders to help her rise, then guiding her to the table. “Sit,” she said, pulling out a chair, which Claire blindly found and sat upon. “There’s nothing so horrible that family and the Lord can’t sort it out.”

“Och, H-Hannah,” Claire wept. “If only you knew the m-muddle I’ve made of everything since I’ve come h-here! I can’t do a-aught right.”

“There, there now.” Hannah pressed a finely embroidered lace hanky into Claire’s hand. “Surely it’s not as bad as all that. Why, I’ve heard talk that your meals are quite tasty nowadays, and served on time. I know Evan’s proud of how well you seemed to have adapted to life here.”

“E-Evan! Och, I can’t see how he could be proud of me.” Claire wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I near to ruined this morn’s breakfast, though I well know it was mainly Old Bess’s fault. That and the green wood Ian brought in to start the fire. And then there was the fight Evan and I had last night …” She glanced up at the other woman. “I made him sleep elsewhere.”

“So you’ve had your first lovers’ spat,” Hannah observed mildly. “It was bound to happen. It’s not like Devlin and I haven’t had a few, as have Abby and Conor.”

“He just doesn’t understand me,” she sniffed, then blew her nose again. “Mary Sue is spreading horrible tales about me and Noah, and now Evan doesn’t want me to be alone with Noah for any reason. Och, it’s so unfair, not to mention a stain on my honor.” Claire laid the hanky on the table. “I know I should avoid any appearance of impropriety, but I suddenly feel as if I have a father, or some taskmaster, rather than a husband.”

Hannah inhaled a deep, considering breath. “Evan means well. It’s just that he’s trying so hard to prove himself to his father—and to Devlin, too—that he’s trying too hard at times. And, somehow, he has also, in all the confusion, inadvertently lost sight of his proper role as a husband. But he loves you, Claire. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

At the recollection of her recent doubts about Evan’s love and her secret animosity toward Hannah, freshened shame engulfed Claire. “I must ask your forgiveness, Hannah,” she whispered. “I’ve harbored some verra uncharitable thoughts of late about you, too.”

The blonde-haired woman leaned back in her chair and tilted her head. “Let me guess. You found out about me and Evan.”

“Aye, but it wasn’t from Evan that I heard the news. It was from Mary Sue.”

“Oh, poor Mary Sue,” Hannah said sadly. “She can’t seem to ever let go of her hatred of me. But to risk hurting you and Evan to get back at me—well, that’s the meanest thing she’s ever done.”

“Why does she hate you so?”

Slowly, thoughtfully, Hannah shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because she, a girl from a respectable family, has yet to find herself a husband, while I, a fallen woman from the dregs of society, have. I also think, in some fashion or another, she had set her sights on every MacKay man, then lost each and every one. I’d imagine, deep down, she was none too pleased when you waltzed in with Evan’s wedding ring on your finger.”

“Yet she seemed, at first, as if she wished to be the best of friends” puzzled Claire.

“Mary Sue’s a most unhappy, confused young woman. We must pray for her. Pray that the Lord will open her eyes and touch her heart.”

“But she has caused so much trouble, spread so much pain!” Claire protested. “For you, me, Evan, and now the Reverend Starr. When will her cruel lies end?”

“In God’s own good time. In the meanwhile, He asks us to be people of great love, and to let that light of love shine for all to see.”

Listening to Hannah, seeing the heartfelt truth of her words in her glorious eyes, Claire knew that she spoke from a deep conviction. Admiration for the woman who had endured so much pain in her life filled Claire. Her own troubles seemed to pale in comparison. Even her current troubles with Mary Sue Edgerton.

If Hannah could come through such a fierce testing and find peace and joy, so surely could she. Claire reached out and clasped Hannah’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I don’t know if my faith—or courage—is a match for yours, but you’ve given me renewed hope.”

She smiled at Hannah with shy uncertainty. “I’d like to try anew to be friends, if you’ll have me.”

The blonde-haired woman’s lips trembled, and her eyes sparkled now with unshed tears. “I never stopped being your friend, Claire,” she said softly. “You’re family, after all. A cousin in marriage, but, even more importantly and blessedly, a sister in Christ.”

19

See that none render evil for evil unto any man; but ever follow that which is good.

1 Thessalonians 5:15

The retching finally ended. Claire wiped her mouth and damp brow, then climbed unsteadily to her feet beside the chamber pot. Though the episodes of morning vomiting had begun to subside, they had continued far too long—off and on now for almost six weeks. And then there was the matter of her woman’s fluxes, which had been absent for over two months.

She was carrying Evan’s child.

The consideration filled Claire with joy. A child … a wee bairn. She would be a mother, and Evan, a father. Och, but Evan would be so happy when she told him the good news!

The only question remaining was when. Since they’d had their talk a week ago, they had once more been like two newlyweds, stealing quick kisses and loving touches whenever they could throughout the day, and eagerly anticipating each night to come. Claire wanted the announcement of her being in a family way to be equally special.

She had time. She knew from talking to some of the young wives of Culdee that a first babe wouldn’t start to show for four or five months. And talk had it that Abby and Conor would be home before Christmas. By her calculations, that would make her not quite four months along by then.

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