Her Highlander for One Night, page 8
‘Is there anything else you require?’ he asked of Robert.
‘Nothing else, Iain. Anna. Davidh. I bid you goodnight.’ Robert stood and held out his hand to his wife before leading her to the door. ‘On the morrow,’ he said, over his shoulder.
Iain followed them, needing only to turn in the opposite direction from their chambers at that last corridor to reach his own when the lady’s whisper reached him.
‘Honesty, Robert? Is that what you call honesty?’
The door closed with more force than necessary and Iain was left staring back down the corridor at the lady’s words.
The disagreement between the lord and lady did not bode well for the clan...or for him, from the sound of it.
Chapter Seven
Glynnis would remember the moment when she realised she was indeed feeling improved, both in body and spirit. The more mundane part of it was the return of her unremarkable monthly courses, a relief after the last one. Then, one morning, as Maggie prepared for her now customary walk to the mill, Glynnis wanted to accompany her maid.
Maggie’s response—her eyes blinking rapidly and her hand making the sign of the Cross several times—spoke of how unusual such a desire was. Yet she did not allow her maid’s attempts to dissuade her to succeed. As the day was a warm one even this early in the hours, Glynnis walked out of the cottage without a cloak and with a sense of boldness she’d not felt in a very long time. Her body, strengthened by the miles of walking she’d done since those early days here, moved with ease now.
The path to the mill was known to her, for she spent most of her time avoiding it in her journeys around the area. Stepping on to the road that led directly to it, a tremble shook through her—which Maggie noticed.
‘I can fetch yer cloak, my lady,’ she said, glancing past Glynnis to the cottage still in view.
‘Nay, Maggie.’ Glynnis smiled, waking up muscles in her face that had not stretched in use in too many months. ‘I am not chilled. Just...’ The word she wanted to describe how she felt would not come to mind. ‘Let us go.’
Maggie took her smile as permission to practise her newest habit—to prattle—and so the lass did. By the time the mill came into sight, Glynnis had heard more than she could have imagined she needed to know about the miller, his wife, children and especially about his handsome son. If she did not pay heed, the girl might find something more interesting to keep her here than to accompany Glynnis home.
Home.
A piece of overgrown tree root, sticking up through the mossy ground, managed to get in her way in that moment and she stumbled a bit. Maggie gasped and reached for her, but Glynnis was able to right herself. Walking faster, eyes up, and her first steps resulted in near catastrophe! She needed to have a care for her own actions before she worried over her maid’s. Maggie recovered as well and began to chatter about this and that and who and what as they walked along. While all Glynnis could think about was...home.
And that brought on confusion, for she’d lived in a number of places since she’d been old enough to foster with others and did not have clear memories of the place where she’d been born and raised until her mother had died. So, was home the place she’d been born? Or the one where she’d grown up and developed her skills and fallen in love? Or was it the place where she’d lived with her husband as she desperately tried to bear him children and to live up to the expectations of his family? Or would it be wherever she moved next? Considering the changes in her life and ones that would come soon was a new experience for her. Her thoughts had been so empty for so long. Now it seemed that was changing, too.
At Maggie’s silence, Glynnis looked up and saw the mill and the miller’s house next to it before them. Both buildings were made of stone, the mill larger than the house as it stood astride the rushing stream that powered it. A small group of men stood talking among themselves next to the water, pointing at parts of the grindstone housing now and nodding between themselves.
Her feet stopped and an urge to change direction and flee into the trees filled her. She’d not thought about letting her presence be known to others other than the few who’d had to know, either by Lady Elizabeth’s own arrangements or by necessity. Realising her possible misstep, Glynnis tugged Maggie to a stop and led her into the shadows.
‘Come, I have made a mistake.’ Maggie followed her. ‘Lady Elizabeth ensured my presence here would not be discovered. Without kenning who is there working at the mill, her efforts may come undone and I will be to blame.’
The path through the trees was familiar so they made their way around to the far side of the mill and waited to see if the men would remain there or leave. Most of them did. All but one man. Peeking through the dense branches, Glynnis recognised him immediately. As he smacked James on the back and strode to the water’s edge to examine...something, she could not tear her gaze away.
When he straightened up and began undressing, she gasped loudly enough to gain Maggie’s attention. Waving off the lass, she watched as he pulled off the plaid wrapped around his waist and chest and when he tugged his tunic over his head, the breath left her. His boots were next, leaving only his breeches in place. Iain called out to James, pointing to a part of the wheel that would eventually turn the millstones, and dived under the water.
She found herself counting the moments until he broke through the surface. Words were exchanged between the two men and he disappeared once more. This was repeated several more times, her breath pausing each time. Glynnis gathered her control and forced herself to breathe. A chuckle crept out, laughing at her own reaction to seeing him. She was a married, well, widowed, woman who had seen men thus—warriors training, men working, her husband—so the sight of one man without his tunic should not shock her.
Glancing across the distance once more, she looked upon the muscular back on which she’d rested her face as they rode. The definition of those muscles, the inherent strength there and the way they had felt as he moved as he controlled the huge horse beneath them. Iain walked from the water and Glynnis’s mouth went dry. The water sluicing down his body outlined all his masculine angle and followed the path from his broad chest, across his narrower waist and hips and down again until it slipped into the loosened trews.
Her body awakened in that moment from its empty, dormant slumber. Feelings too long absent flowed through her, filling her with a need stronger than she’d experienced in such a long time. As she watched him lift his arms up and twist the water from his hair, Glynnis wanted.
Startled by all of it—her indecorous scrutiny of his half-naked body, the growing awareness within her and the inappropriateness of that—Glynnis turned away and met the somewhat horrified gaze of her maid. Though if asked what the girl was horrified by, Glynnis would be unable to say if the sight of Iain rising from the water or if witnessing her mistress ogling him had done it.
Deciding that retreat was the wisest action to make at this point, Glynnis had taken two steps towards the path leading to the cottage when the miller’s voice rang out, stopping her.
‘Lady...Clara! Good morrow to ye,’ he called out. His hesitation in that last second revealed that he knew her true name. Had his wife or Iain shared it with him?
It was too late to escape or hide, so she inhaled and released a deep breath and turned to face the miller, the mill and Iain.
‘James,’ she said as they approached. ‘Good morrow to you, Iain.’
‘Ah, so ye hiv met the tanist then, Lady?’ the miller asked. He winked as he made a somewhat valiant effort to keep up the charade.
‘Aye,’ they both replied, a bit more forcefully than either probably had planned to and the man’s eyes widened a bit before he lowered his gaze and nodded.
‘If ye are looking for Coira, she is within,’ he said. ‘Maggie kens the way.’
A quick peek in Iain’s direction revealed he was watching her closely, even as he tugged his tunic over his head and down his torso. It had been all she could do not to stare as they’d walked up to the two men and it was almost a relief that he was covered now.
‘Aye. I will seek her out,’ she said, turning away and walking towards the stone cottage. By the time they reached the door, Coira stood waiting for them, drying her hands on a long length of cloth as she greeted them.
‘Good day, Lady. Come in. Come in. I hiv some porridge in the pot if ye hiv not broken yer fast.’
Glynnis turned back just as she stepped inside and noticed Iain still watching her. Had he seen the heat in her eyes as she’d looked at him? The same heat that filled his gaze now? She hurried past Coira, who’d held the door open for her. Being a summer’s day, leaving it ajar would allow cooling breezes to ease the heat that would build from the day’s cooking and chores.
‘A fine-looking man, that one,’ the miller’s wife whispered as Glynnis walked by her. ‘He’s grown up well.’
Glynnis could not help the rusty bark of a laugh that escaped her as Coira joined in. Maggie looked at them both, having not heard the comments Coira kept to only themselves. As one married woman to another.
Of course Coira knew. A brief memory of the kind woman speaking to her during waves of pain reminded Glynnis that the miller’s wife had tended to her in her time of need. And the practical woman missed nothing, not even the impressive changes in the lad who was now a man. Another recently awakened need arose, one spurred on by the aromas wafting through the woman’s kitchen of well-cooked food, and Glynnis’s belly grumbled loudly. She followed Coira to the table. Her appetite, once gone for months, seemed to be firmly back in place and on the increase with each passing day.
‘I have not broken my fast, Coira. If you have enough to share,’ she said.
‘Plenty, my lady. Plenty.’
Soon, a large wooden bowl of steaming porridge—thick and creamy—sat before her and Glynnis savoured the moment when her stomach made it known it was empty. With each spoonful, Glynnis could almost feel her body strengthening from its nourishment. As she scooped the last bit into her mouth and swallowed it, Glynnis felt...
She felt.
That was what made this day different—her senses, her emotions, her body, all began to wake. That was how it seemed to her. She was waking from a long, deep sleep and becoming aware of the world and people around her. And aware of herself.
And in some ways, all the tiny steps towards her recovery felt as though they were building to this.
‘That was delicious, Coira. My thanks.’
‘’Tis the same as I make every morn, but I think it always tastes better hot out of the pot, my lady.’ Coira reached for the empty bowl even while moving the steaming bread and fresh butter closer. ‘Do ye want more?’
‘Nay, I have eaten my fill.’ Glynnis leaned back against the chair and nodded. ‘I had not been hungry in a very long time.’ The sympathy in the woman’s eyes stopped her. ‘My appetite has only recently returned,’ she finished.
‘Yer looking weel this morn and ye walked here, so that is something,’ Coira said, smiling and nodding. ‘Taking wee steps wi’ get ye along the path, too, my lady.’
Coira moved about, clearing the table, stirring the pot and such, as Glynnis realised that the chances were this woman had lost bairns as she herself had. Carrying and birthing bairns was the most dangerous thing women did and not many got through their childbearing years without a loss.
‘You ken?’
‘Aye, my lady. I remember ye from yer time here before,’ Coira admitted. ‘When I saw ye at the cottage, when ye were ailing so, I didna ken ye. But ye are looking as yer old self now and anyone who kenned ye before will ken ye now.’
So, her time here unknown in her shelter in the forest was over? She should speak to Lady Elizabeth before more discovered her. Discretion was something important to both of them.
‘Would you be able to get a message to Lady Elizabeth for me, Coira?’
‘I can give your message to the lady.’
Glynnis turned to find Iain standing in the open doorway, now fully dressed. His hair, yet damp from his time in the water, hung loosely around his neck and shoulders. Before she could say more, Coira spoke first.
‘Come in now,’ Coira said around her. ‘Ye must be hungry after all yer work this morn.’ Coira placed a new bowl, one easily twice the size of the one Glynnis had eaten from, in front of a stool at the table and another on the other side. ‘Is my James behind ye?’
‘Aye, my love, I am.’ Glynnis’s gaze caught Iain’s for a scant moment at the endearment spoken so freely.
‘Well, sit ye down and eat. There’s more work to be done.’
Cups of ale and more bread were placed before the men, who wasted not a moment or a mouthful devouring the thick porridge—that she already knew was delicious—and drinking the ale. Coira busied herself around the kitchen. Glynnis tried not to stare or look too intently or too long at Iain, but realised he was simply too close to her to avoid it. So, she stood and walked nearer to the hearth and though now not watching, she listened none the less.
‘Have ye finished the repairs?’ Coira asked as she filled their cups from a pitcher. ‘All of them?’
‘We have,’ Iain said. James joined him in a laugh. ‘After weeks of work, correcting the damage and then correcting our mistakes, ’tis done.’
‘So now Iain returns to his duties at the chieftain’s side and I go back to milling grain,’ James added. Maggie had explained that James had seen to milling extra flour for weeks in anticipation of these extensive repairs. Now Iain would go back to his usual schedule and pace.
As tanist. Planning his future. Preparing to lead the clan some day.
Even as she prepared for whatever future her father would plan for her. Without the bond of bairns to keep her, she had no place with her husband’s family. And with that history, little place anywhere a man needed an heir.
As tanist, Iain would need to marry and have heirs.
That sudden realisation made her suck in a breath and glance over her shoulder at him. Through her weeks here and their many encounters, she’d never once asked him the obvious questions. In the dark fog of despair, she’d not even thought of the questions. Now, others began crowding into her thoughts.
Obvious ones—was he married or betrothed yet? How did he come to be named tanist over his older cousin Tomas? How had he risen? What had he learned? Did reading come easier to him now than it had three years ago?
Subtle ones—what were his favourite experiences in the journey he’d taken so far? Had he travelled with Robert to other places, other clans?
And finally, even personal ones—was his mother proud? Did she offer counsel in the same way she always did? What did his stepfather think of him stepping into what should have been his father’s place? How had Robbie reacted to all of this, being the catalyst for much of it?
Glynnis excused herself as the closeness of the walls and other people seemed to press in on her as these queries exploded in her thoughts. Overwhelmed, she fled to the edge of the stream and watched the wheel catch up water and deposit it into the opening that fed the gears and stones. Over and over, consistent and smooth, moving with the flowing force of the stream, it allowed her to find her balance. She did not have to look to know that the crunching sound of boots on the leaves and twigs brought him to her.
‘I have been asleep, Iain. For many weeks, months even, asleep while moving through life.’ She turned and faced him, even as the questions fought against her control. ‘Unable to face the challenges that met me. Unable to accept the constant barrage of living and unwilling to end it.’
‘Glynnis,’ he whispered. She’d shocked him with an admission she’d shared with none but him. He reached out to take her hand, but she shook her head and stepped away.
‘Would you let Lady Elizabeth know that I would appreciate speaking to her at her convenience?’
He studied her face, looking for more, more that was yet impossible to say or explain despite this momentous step forward. ‘That is the message you wish given to her?’
‘Aye.’ Her godmother would understand that just sending the message was the message in and of itself. An acknowledgement of change.
He turned and walked back inside without another word. She heard him take leave of the miller and his wife. The sound of his horse galloping away. When Coira called to her, Glynnis went back inside and watched as Maggie gathered up foodstuffs Coira had made for them into a sack to bring back to the cottage. Soon, the two were back on the road leading away from the mill.
It would be days before the lady could arrange for them to meet, so there was time for Glynnis to prepare herself for the questions her godmother would have.
At least she hoped there would be.
Chapter Eight
‘You look so much better than when I saw you last, Glynnis,’ her godmother said. ‘And I am glad of it. Heartily.’ The older woman sat in the chair next to her and patted her hand. ‘But looking better does not always mean feeling well.’
‘I am feeling better,’ Glynnis admitted. ‘I’m able to walk to the loch and the mill and back now.’ She stood and paced across the small space. She stopped before Lady Elizabeth. ‘Allowing me to stay here, undisturbed, has done that.’
‘You’ve had visitors.’
‘Aye. The miller and his family. They have taken good care of my needs.’ But Glynnis sensed the lady meant someone else.
‘Iain visits you here.’ Not a query. A statement.
‘He has. He discovered my presence here when I was...ill and Coira called Anna.’ Glynnis met the woman’s knowing gaze. ‘He is much changed in these last years.’ She sat once more on the chair.
