Torrian (The Highland Clan Book 2) (10 page)

Chapter Ten

The next day, Heather brought Nellie to the special healer’s building where Brenna did much of her work for the clan. She was eager for Brenna to take another look at the bairn, and to confirm what Heather felt in her heart—that she was getting better. And there was another issue she wished to discuss with Brenna…one that embarrassed her more than she would like.

“I have never heard of a healer having a separate building,” she said in wonder as Brenna emerged from the front door. The building was made of stone, but she could see Lady Brenna’s warm touches on the outside. There was a small stone path to the door and around to the side with flowers edging the borders. On the right side of the building sat a carefully tended rock garden with herbs and flowers flourishing amongst the stones, a stone bench off to the side.

“My husband had it built for me,” Brenna replied. “Would you like to come inside?” In response to Heather’s nod, she ushered them in through the front door. “I often take up too much space in the keep, so he thought it best to give me my own area. This way—” she swept her arm around the large chamber, “—I can see as many patients as necessary. I have room for five pallets and can squeeze more if necessary.”

“Aye, ‘twas a wise decision. ‘Tis quite clean here. That must be comforting to those who are ill. I know ‘twould be to me, Lady Brenna.” There was a small chamber in the center with several stools, probably for a waiting area. A doorway to the back led to a chamber full of supplies and on each side sat a doorway to chambers with multiple pallets.

“My mother insisted on cleanliness, though every other healer says it matters naught. She raised us to believe otherwise. Even if it does not make a difference in a sick one’s care, I always feel better when ‘tis clean.”

“Why did you have Nellie stay inside the keep?” She held her daughter’s hand as they followed Brenna toward a chamber off the supply room.

“The bairns can be frightened out here, particularly if anyone else is recovering in the building with them. I prefer to treat them inside. She was more comfortable there, and I believe ‘twas better for you, also.”

Heather nodded, deep in thought. Brenna was a gifted person indeed. Only someone with a keen, sharp mind could heal people, let alone design this space. She followed Brenna to the chamber off the back.

“I have two chambers in the back, one for supplies, and one for my surgeries. Are you squeamish?”

“I am not,” Heather replied, “but I’m not sure about Nellie.” As they neared the doorway, Heather caught a strong odor. She glanced at Nellie’s furrowed brow, guessing she was noticing the same.

Brenna stood in the doorway, hesitating, and then shoved against it. “I was doing a wee bit of surgery for Jennet. She is verra curious, so occasionally I practice after the men slaughter an animal, before they butcher it for meat. It helps me understand our bodies when I must cut inside, and she loves to observe. You’re welcome to come in and see, if you’d like.”

Heather glanced at Nellie, who nodded, her face eager. “Aye, Mama. I’d like to go inside the chamber where Jennet is.”

“But there will be blood from an animal.”

“Do not worry. I’d like to see it.” Nellie squeezed her mother’s hand to convince her, but Heather believed her true purpose was to see Jennet.

She hesitated, but Brenna added, “Jennet loves it, but sometimes ‘tis too much for Brigid. I cannot decide for you.”

“We’ll try it. She has seen me gut fish and hunt before.”

They stepped inside, and were immediately hit by the wave of the odor of blood. Jennet stood on a stool, peering over the lamb carcass, a tool in her hand as she pushed into an open wound. “Mama, I think this is where the blood comes from.” She pointed to a section, her eyes bright with excitement.

Heather’s belly turned squeamish at the same time Nellie said, “Mama, it smells in here. Must we stay?”

“Nay.” Heather spun her daughter around and pushed open the door.

Brenna followed them out. “Do not feel bad. I understand. Verra few people comprehend our curiosity. Jennet follows in our family’s inclination for healing. My sister Jennie and I were the same way, and we always liked to watch whenever our grandsire and our mother did surgery. I miss Jennie dearly and named Jennet after her. It seems appropriate she has the same curiosity.”

Heather coughed twice and leaned against the wall, getting her bearings.

“Are you hale?”

“Aye. I will be fine. Nellie?” She checked her daughter. “Better now?”

Nellie scrunched her face together. “Aye, but I do not like it in there. ‘Tis much better here.”

Brenna laughed and ran her hand through Nellie’s thick yellow locks. “I am happy to see the wee one doing so well, but is there a particular reason for your visit?”

“Aye.” Heather cleared her throat again and looked pointedly at her daughter, who was leaning against her and clutching her skirts. “She seems better to you? Should I restrict her from aught?”

“Nay. Let her do as she wishes, just make sure she drinks often. Goat’s milk is fine. Are you eating well, Nellie?” she said, crouching down to speak to her.

“Aye, Cook has made me baked apples and porridge with honey. I like the warm food on my throat.”

“Good. I’m glad.” Brenna straightened and looked Heather in the eye, waiting for her to share her true purpose for the visit.

Heather’s eyes teared up. She thought about Torrian and how sweet he’d been, but her heart broke in two whenever she thought of him marrying another. It seemed like a situation with no graceful conclusion. “What should I do?”

“I think you need to stay here. Nellie is out of danger now, but since she has had this sickness twice, I would advise you to keep her where she can stay warm at night. I did not like the sound of her cough this time. I would advise you to stay until the air warms again. The nights are too cool for her.”

“But with the wedding and all…”

Jennet came barreling out of the surgery. “Mama? May I play with Nellie? I can put her on the pallet and we can pretend, can we not?”

Brenna crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Of course, if ‘tis what Nellie and her mama would like.”

Nellie nodded, peering up at her mother with an expectant gaze.

“Of course, you may. Go play with Jennet.”

“Jennet, wash your hands first, lass,” Brenna reminded her. “Sorry, Heather, ‘tis a wee issue for me. I must insist.”

While the lass set about her task, Brenna waited for Heather to continue.

Heather squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. “I do not know if I can watch the wedding. We have spent some time together, and I have discovered what a fine man he is.”

Brenna took her hand and cocooned it in her two. “Heather, some of us are doing all we can to stop this foolish marriage. If I were in your place, I would stay for two reasons.”

Heather waited, hoping the answers would give her the justification she sought.

Brenna continued, “First, you need to stay to keep your daughter from becoming sick again. A repeated illness can truly drain a bairn’s strength. Second, if you have feelings for Torrian, stay and see what happens. He does not wish to marry Davina, and he will do everything he can to stop it from happening. There are many others who will support him. There are other issues that I am not at liberty to discuss, but we agreed to the betrothal because of these issues. Do not give up hope yet. We all still hope for an end to this match.”

“I’d like to stay hidden, if ‘tis at all possible. I do not wish to be in the great hall to watch her arrival. I do not like crowds and Nellie is unaccustomed to them. Would that be acceptable?”

“Of course. You may stay in Nellie’s sick chamber. Your daughter can sleep with you or with the lassies. They all sleep in one huge bed that Quade built for them. I’ll have Fiona tend to your needs when the large party arrives. Until then, you may go to the kitchens whenever you’d like sustenance. We have the back staircase.”

“If that is agreeable to all, then I accept. I do not wish to risk Nellie’s health.” She glanced over at the two lassies, now playing on a pallet. Jennet had given Nellie a fabric doll to be her pretend bairn. Nellie watched Jennet’s every move with something like worship.

Jennet patted the doll’s arm. “You will be fine. I must sew up your wound, then I’ll cover it with salve. Once I’m finished, I’ll wrap it in linens until it heals.”

Nellie leaned down to her doll and whispered, “Do not cry, wee bairn. Jennet will not hurt you and I’ll hold you.” She kissed her doll’s head as Jennet adjusted her needle and thread, preparing to sew the wound.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Heather whispered, feeling her eyes tear up. “She needed to meet lassies her own age. Look at how much she enjoys Jennet’s company.”

Brenna smiled fondly at her daughter. “Jennet loves to pretend to be me whenever she is able. Lily tries to get her to play more traditional games, but she is not interested. Brigid will do whatever her friends are doing. They are sweet together.” She turned to look at Heather. “So you’ll stay?”

“Aye, and many thanks for all you’ve done for both of us, Lady Brenna.” She hugged Brenna, but only one thought echoed in her mind.

Please, Lord, do not let this be a mistake.

***

In a clearing halfway between Cameron and Ramsay land, four people sat whispering about their plans. Ranulf, chieftain of the MacNivens conferred with the Buchans—Glenn, Dugald, and Davina. Cormag sat off to the side, but said naught.

Glenn, the current—but not permanent, if Ranulf had any say in it—chief of the Buchans, said, “You are all being foolish. Aye, I’m all for taking land from our neighbors, mayhap stealing some sheep, but you overestimate your power. You’ll never conquer them.”

Ranulf’s eyes narrowed as he glowered at Glenn. “Old man, do you not listen? We’ll not do it all at once. ‘Twill take time, Dugald and I both know ‘tis true. If we gain land from my neighbors the Menzies and the Camerons and acquire some of the wealth of Lochluin Abbey, we can hire another four score guards to take to battle. Each time we win a battle, we’ll add more men to our force.”

“‘Twill take more than four score to do battle with the Grants and the Ramsays. I know you’re not addled enough to believe otherwise. Are you, son?” He stared at Dugald.

Dugald shifted on the log where he sat. “We’ll adjust our plans as we go. The first is that we must be insiders at the Ramsay keep. Then we’ll have plenty of ways to build our coffers and spread our guards’ influence. Davina is key to this plan.”

Davina flung her plait over her shoulder. “I’ll do my part, you do need not worry. Just none of you forget you’ve promised me fine gowns and jewels. And many maids to take care of my needs.”

Ranulf chuckled. “I know many who’d beg to take care of your needs, lass.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, but stopped as soon as her sire interrupted.

“You talk to my daughter like that again, Ranulf, and I’ll cut your ballocks off. You’ll respect her. She’s to be the mistress of the Ramsays once her husband’s sire is dead, and it won’t be long before that happens. Mind your tongue.”

“Your pardon, my lady,” Ranulf ground out. How he’d show them all. It would not be long now. If Davina did her part, everything else would fall into place, and he would gain the respect he deserved. All the power he had ever wanted would fall into his lap. The Buchans knew not who they were dealing with. “Just do as you promised.”

“She will,” barked the Buchan. He moved closer to Ranulf, pointing his finger in the lad’s face. “You just do as you’re told. Do not allow yourself to be so caught up with our scheme that you try to go off on your own. You’ll regret it if you do. You’re young and foolish. Ease off.”

Ranulf got up from his place and stalked off into the forest. Shite, but he hated it when that bastard shoved a finger in his face. Aye, he needed him at present because he was Davina’s sire. But he would not need him for long. In another year, he’d have everything in place, and they’d all be answering to him.

Chapter Eleven

Torrian rode his horse outside the gates and fell in line between his father and his uncle. They had received a message that the king’s contingency had reached their land, so they were traveling to greet them and offer their guards as additional protection.

Quade spoke under his breath as they approached the king’s caravan of horses. “You understand what is expected of you, aye?”

“Aye, Da. I’m to be agreeable to everything, and say naught.”

His sire narrowed his eyes at him. “I know how you feel. You agreed to be open-minded. Since the king is here, I’m sure you will have the opportunity to speak your mind. I just hope you realize the importance of doing so behind closed doors and not where wagging tongues can overhear your comments.”

“I know ‘twas different for you. But can you not see my point of view?” He just refused to believe his sire would so willingly relinquish his happiness by insisting he keep this engagement. Quade had been a man of reason for all Torrian’s life. Why was he deserting him now? He loved his father more than anything because of all they’d been through together.

“Aye, I do. I loved your mother, but not everyone is so lucky. An heir to a chieftain does not always get to choose their partner. Should you choose to go against our king, you’ll pay the consequences of your actions, not me. You are old enough. Trust in me and in your uncle. We will find a way, but we must be diligent and aware. Please do your best to assist us in this endeavor by not angering our king as soon as you greet him. We need time.”

They continued on in silence. As they drew near, his sire whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “Try not to look as though you’re visiting the dead, would you?”

Once they met the king’s men, their guards surrounded the contingency to offer an additional layer of protection and escorted them toward the Ramsay castle. Quade moved his horse up to ride by the king’s side.

King Alexander tipped his chin toward the gray sky, a touch of mist in the air. “‘Tis a most lovely day. Do you not agree, Ramsay? Your land is glorious, Quade.”

“Aye, and ‘tis a beautiful spring day, my king. Blue skies are on their way.”

“Good afternoon, young Torrian.”

“My king.” He forced himself to smile.

“Are you looking forward to the upcoming nuptials?”

“Aye.” He couldn’t expand upon that word though; the small lie had almost killed him. He thought of sweet Heather instead of Davina, of how much he’d prefer for her and her wee lassie to be by his side for the rest of his life. But he knew this was not the time to discuss it with King Alexander. His father let out his breath as though he’d been holding it in fear. But when Torrian glanced at his father, he was surprised to see a smirk on his face.

“What has you smiling?” Torrian said to his sire.

“A good reason for you to hang back.”

Torrian glanced at him from the side, puzzled.

His father tipped his head back. “The contingency behind us is flying Grant banners. I’d appreciate it if you would greet the next group. As chief, I will escort the king into the bailey.”

Torrian’s face lit up as he peered past the huge group traveling with the king. “Aye, ‘tis the Grants.”

“I suspect you’ve some support for your wedding. Word travels fast, even in the Highlands. Can you tell who has come? My eyes are failing me at this distance.”

“I can just make out Alex’s sons Jake and Jamie at the front of the group. Mayhap Brodie and Braden? I think I even see a glimpse of wee Kenzie. But I do not see Loki.” He flashed a grin at his sire as he flicked the reins. “I’ll find out for you, Da. See, I can do as I’m told sometimes.” He rode off without stopping to look at his sire.

He shouted out a greeting to the oncoming group, and they responded with the Grant war whoop, just as he’d expected. The arrival of his cousins changed his entire outlook in regards to the week ahead. He loved the Grants, every one of them. Some more than others, but they felt as much a part of his clan as the family members who lived in the Ramsay keep. His stepmother’s clan was the strongest in the Highlands, so when they traveled, everyone around them knew it. Aye, he could enjoy this week even if he was supposed to be married within a sennight. And he would not give up all hope of changing his fate. Having his cousins here gave him a great feeling. For certes, some of them would be on his side, he was sure of that.

Torrian’s time with the king would come, and he’d speak his mind.

***

Heather moved toward the balcony just to gain a quick peek at the guests in the great hall. Under no circumstances would she risk being seen, but her curiosity over the young bride-to-be had gotten the best of her. She had to see her just once.

She glanced down at the dais and managed to catch her from the side. Davina of Buchan was not just pretty, she was a royal beauty. Dark thick waves flowed down her back unplaited, a bit unusual, but she had no doubt the lass got her way about everything.

She could tell from the way Davina laughed, a phony lilt that carried up over the railing and seemed to act as a siren’s call to most of the men in the hall. At least half of the male gazes were focused on her. She was dressed in a dark red velvet kirtle, decorated with gold threads and black ribbons. Red ribbons were also woven through her hair, which cascaded almost to her waist. She had the body men dreamed of, ripe with curves everywhere, full red lips parting at just the right times. She could tell even from this distance. Davina leaned her breasts down toward Torrian often, though she did not need to because they were on full display with the deep cut of her bodice. If she’d ever wanted a lesson on seduction, there it was directly in front of her.

Fortunately, the only one immune to this woman’s wares was Torrian. Now that she knew him better, she could see all of his smiles were forced. He was most uncomfortable next to Davina.

“Do not be jealous of her. She has none of the fine qualities you possess.”

She jerked her head around to find Gwyneth Ramsay off to the side, out of view of everyone.

Heather stepped back to talk to her. “There’s no denying her beauty, and she knows how to show off her assets to their best advantage.”

“Verra true. It tells me she’s quite experienced. I highly doubt Torrian’s proposed bride is a virgin, much as she tries to pass herself off as one. Whether that can be used in his favor, we know not. May we chat in your chamber?”

“Aye, but allow me to check on Nellie first. The lassies are playing healer at present in their chamber. There are three of them, which is perfect. When last I checked, Jennet was the healer, Nellie was the helper, and your daughter was the patient.”

Gwyneth followed her to the door, and they both peeked inside.

“We must do surgery right away,” Jennet said, her serious little voice audible from the doorway. “Nellie, please bring my satchel of tools.”

Nellie ran to the side of the room and brought a small satchel to her, her eyes full of eagerness. “Do not worry, you’ll be all better and then we’ll sing to you.”

Brigid moaned as they prepared their tools.

“Nice moan, Brigid,” Gwyneth called out. “Sounds true. Now Jennet, you’ll not use any real daggers?”

Jennet’s eyes grew wide. “Nay. I would never practice on a person with a knife, Aunt Gwyneth. That would hurt her.”

“Good. Just be sure you are playing.” Gwyneth closed the door and whispered, “That lass is too bright for her own good. I use to worry about Gavin and Gregor spending so much time together. But with those two, you never know what they’ll be up to next.”

“They are not like the usual lassies, are they? I’ve never seen them pretend to be mommy or mistress of a keep.”

“Nay, but that suits me fine. We raise our lassies the same as we do our lads. They must know how to protect themselves.”

“Would you take my Nellie with you when you teach Brigid how to use a bow? I’d like her to know those skills, as well.”

“Of course, I’d love to take Nellie along.”

Heather held open the door to her chamber while Gwyneth stepped inside. “Why are you not down at the dinner?”

Gwyneth snorted. “Logan knows such grand occasions are not for me. I’ve tried to attend feasts like this at the royal burgh, but my tongue oft gets me in trouble. He’s happy to leave me here with the bairns. Besides, I serve a better purpose here.” She sat next to Heather on the small bench in front of the hearth.

“What do you mean?” Heather smoothed her skirts, hoping her nervousness did not show. She wasn’t accustomed to being around this many new people.

“Well, you know Logan and I have worked for the crown many times.”

“Aye, you’ve said.”

“I do not trust the Buchans. All of us will be alert while they are here, but sometimes ‘tis best to be in the background observing, not in the middle of the festivities. ‘Tis where I prefer to be—watching. And now there are others who will help. Many of our Grant cousins are here, and they will assist in our venture. We have some verra talented people here.”

“Why did they come?”

“They heard about the upcoming wedding and sent a contingency. ‘Tis what we do when we hear about major life events with the Grants. The lads are all close. As soon as Torrian tells them he does not wish to marry Davina, there’s no doubt that Jake and Jamie will be watching for aught they can dig up on the Buchans.”

“Do you think they’ll discover aught?”

“Aye, if aught is wrong, they’ll find it. Wee Kenzie is especially wily. He’s just like his sire. When Loki was his age, he’d always know exactly what was going on.”

“I hope Torrian has the chance to tell them his true feelings soon.”

“Logan does not know for sure, but he thinks Torrian told them on the ride in. You just need to be patient.”

“I need to be patient, but I wish someone would slow Davina down. She’s quick, too. She knows just what she’s doing.”

“And I know just how to slow her type down.” Gwyneth winked at her and left the room.

A wee glimmer of hope started in her heart.

***

Torrian did not know how much longer he could stand talking to the lass. Aye, she was pretty, but was she interested in aught besides jewels and gowns? The urge to roll his eyes at her every word was becoming harder and harder to repress.

His father had said the fiddlers would be in later, along with a couple of minstrels, and he could not wait. It would be rude for Torrian to dance only with Davina, would it not? He desperately hoped it would be an escape from her—at least for the moment.

“Do you know what my most favorite thing of all is, my lord?” Davina asked with glimmering eyes.

Torrian decided he preferred her mode of address to his real name, although he’d never felt that way with anyone else. “I do not. Please share.”

“Emeralds. The way they shimmer and shine in the light fascinates me.”

“Aye, they are beautiful. I saw the king’s jewels not long ago.”

“Truly?” Her eyes lit with excitement. “Were there emeralds? How large were they? What shape?”

Torrian forced himself to contain the deep sigh begging to get out. “There were many emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and diamonds.”

“Tell me more, please. Where are they now? Do you have aught here I could see?”

“Nay. We returned the gems to the king. They were his.”

“But were the emeralds more beautiful or the sapphires?” She leaned closer, her gaze on his lips.

“They looked about the same to me.”

“Oh,” she tapped his arm with her fingers. “Men. Can you not see how important they are to a lass?”

Torrian said, “Nay. As far as I can tell, they are not important to my stepmother or any of my aunts. Why are they so important to you?”

“Because I love how they reflect the light. I like to wear many gems. Can you imagine…” Davina fluttered her lashes and turned her head away in a practiced move that seemed intended to convey bashfulness.

“What?” He decided to give in to her whim for the moment.

“Picture me in your mind wearing naught but jewels.” She closed her eyes. “Picture me with a sapphire ring, an emerald necklace, and mayhap a tiara of diamonds…and naught else but bare skin.”

Davina’s eyes remained closed for several moments.

Not eager to play her game, Torrian changed the subject. “Would you like to know what my favorite thing is?”

Her eyes flew open, and he caught a quick flash of fury in them before it disappeared, similar to a look he’d seen before. My, how his betrothed was skilled in certain areas. Cunning, spoiled, and vain were the words that popped into his mind.

“Of course. What is your favorite?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

“Puppies.”

As cunning as she was, she could not hide her shock. “But puppies are wee dogs, and dogs are wicked scavengers that drool and bite. How could a puppy be your favorite thing?”

“Because when I was young, my best friend was my dog, Growley.”

“That is preposterous. How could a dog be your friend?” She almost laughed aloud, but caught herself just in time, turning a bit pink over her near mistake.