By God's Grace (25 page)
Authors: Felicia Rogers
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Duncan was bowled over with the nonstop litany of words. At this point he was positive there was nothing between Boyd and Arbella. In fact as Arbella spoke, she grabbed his arm. Arbella had done this to others in his presence. Why was he so insecure when it came to her caring for him? The lass had competed in a tournament to win him!
“Arbella, I'm sorry I accused ye. Did ye say ye know what is ailing ye? Are ye going to be all right?”
“Aye, I am going to be just fine, but I really am tired, Duncan.” Her legs buckled, and Duncan grabbed her, slinging her up into his waiting arms.
“Arbella?”
“Duncan, I don't believe I have eaten all day. Could you take me to our room?” She snuggled against his chest and began an immediate struggle to remain awake.
Duncan looked at Boyd imploring forgiveness. Boyd did a barely perceptible nod, telling him all was forgiven.
He left with Arbella and headed to their room. A servant was found and sent to fetch Arbella something of a bland nature to eat.
Lying Arbella down on the bed, she refused to let him go. This was the most she'd touched him in a fortnight.
“Don't leave me.”
“I wasn't planning on leaving ye, lass. I was just going to stoke the fire.”
Walking to the fireplace, his back faced her as she sat propped up in their bed. “Duncan, did you truly believe I was having a secret relationship with Boyd?”
Back still turned, Duncan answered, “I am loathe to admit it, but, aye, I believed ye could be having a relationship with Boyd.” Facing her, he added, “Ye have been acting so strange it seemed like a logical explanation.”
“What was it that would have made me act this way?”
“Guilt.”
“Oh, but now you believe me, that there is no such issue?”
“Aye.” He looked out the window, trying to avoid the disappointed gaze. “I believe ye and Boyd have no relationship beyond friendship.”
“I love you, Duncan.”
“Aye, I know.”
“And I am expecting.”
“Expectin' what?”
“We are expecting a babe, six months hence.”
“A babe?” he muttered as he tumbled to the floor in a huge heap.
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The terrified scream came from outside. Everyone within dropped what they were doing and rushed to the disturbance. Strange things had happened at the keep since Lyall's return, so it was anyone's guess as to what the screaming referenced.
Grant and a few other guards arrived on the scene. The scream came from his personal friend, Darla. Moments before, the lass had been inside arranging a table. How had she gotten outside so quickly?
Shouldering his way through the gathering crowd, he reached a distraught Darla. The lass fell into his arms, a sob upon her lips. “Oh, Grant, it was horrible. I was so frightened.”
Her hands grabbed his tunic; her head buried into his chest. A brief glance around the yard revealed nothing that could have terrified the lass. He asked, “What was it?”
“Grant, I can't even speak of it. It was so terrifyin'.”
“We can hardly go looking to stop something ye can't even describe.”
Lyall now stood beside the couple. “Darla, what did ye see? Was it an animal? An apparition? Perhaps it was the wife of one of yer male friends? Or maybe a child called ye mother, and ye got worried they could be correct? Or did ye just run out here and scream to get Grant away from me?”
Grant's gazed shifted from one woman to the other. On the whole, he was disinclined to believe anything that came from Lyall's lips, but one look at Darla's face proved that this time Lyall might be correct. This being the case, Grant would have preferred to dismiss the gathering crowd but could think of no real reason for doing so. Instead he whispered to the trembling maid, “Is this true?”
Darla's eyes were moistened with fresh tears; a concocted innocent look graced her visage. “Don't ye believe me?”
Realization he'd hitched his horse to the wrong post flooded his mind. What had he expected? Five years or more had passed since his last visit to the Burns's keep. If Darla hadn't been married this whole time, he should have realized she hadn't been faithful to him. But setting all this aside, it was a shock to find the maid jealous of Lyall touching him.
Out loud for everyone to hear, Grant said, “Darla, let us have speech in private.” A steadying hand placed under her elbow, he directed the maid to a large tree. Overhanging limbs afforded the privacy they would need for their conversation.
When they reached their destination, Grant grabbed Darla's arm and swung her around until she faced him. “What were ye thinking?”
“Grant, dearâ”
“Don't ye âGrant, dear' me. Lyall was right, wasna she? Ye screamed out to get me away from her.”
Shaking her head, she smoothed her wrinkled skirt and faced him. “Well, of course I did.”
Brows knitted in concentration, Darla's arm was squeezed until she yelped with pain. “Now we have the truth established, I wish to know why ye would do such a thing.”
She pulled her arm out of the tight grasp, massaging the area. In a somewhat angry manner she paced. “All yer men are dumb. Do ye understand me? Dumb!” she screamed the last word. Her voice lowered before she continued. “Do ye not see what she is? She is a witch and a crazy one at that. She killed her stepmother when she was younger and attempted to kill the women's babe as well, but the midwife hid him. Then the day she comes back to the keep, her father is found dead. There is no telling how many others have perished by her hand, yet she roams freely, touching everything and everyone in sight.”
Grant had suspected Lyall of her father's murder and more, but there had been no way to prove it. Maybe Darla was the key to the mystery. “How do ye know she killed her stepmother?”
“I watched her.”
“Are ye so sorry a person ye would watch someone be murdered and not help them?” Grant's disgust with himself for ever having feelings for this woman increased.
“Ye listen here, Grant Cameron. I may be like the woman at the well who Jesus spoke to in my personal life, but I am no murderer. I did watch Lyall, but at the time I didn't know what she was doin'. She made the woman a cup of tea then added an herb to it. I thought nothing of it until I retrieved the dishes, and I smelled wisteria in the cup. I asked some questions to people who know things about herbs, and they told me wisteria is basically harmless, but it gives ye the runs, and ye can't keep anything on yer stomach. So I asked myself, what would it do to a woman recoverin' her strength after birthin' a babe, and the answer was obvious. And that is what happened.”
Grant calculated before saying, “But Lyall couldn't have been more than five.”
Darla laughed. “She was ten.”
Grant stuttered, “B-B-But Rab told Cainneach his bride was a chaste woman of barely twenty years of age.”
“He lied on both accounts.”
It was a good thing Rab Burns was dead, otherwise Grant might have had to kill him. The lying man had caused trouble for everyone, including his daughter and Grant's best friend.
“So she gave her step-mother wisteria and made her ill. No one is in disagreement with ye on Lyall's lack of finer qualities, but what do ye think we should do to her? Maybe tie her to the stake and set it afire.”
“Aye, that is a great plan.”
“Darla, if she was ten, then it could be argued she didn't know what the herb would do to her step-mother. Do ye have any other proof?”
Darla appeared disappointed. Obviously her entire case against Lyall was built on this tiny shred of evidence.
Tapping her finger to her lip, her confidence wavered. “But she is strange. Haven't ye seen her talkin' to herself? She is possessed, I tell ye.”
“I am afraid ye need to return back to yer hut.”
“But I canna do that. She will kill me for sure for my offense.”
“What offense?”
“She knows I have talked to ye.”
“Aye, but she doesn't know what was said between us.”
“Ye don't know her. She does know. She always knows.”
****
Lyall stared at the two as they conversed under the tree's great sagging limbs. The only word understood clearly was ”dumb.” But it didn't matter because she knew Darla was in the process of slandering her. Darla had always been the jealous type. At one time they had been friends, but that was before Darla told about the wisteria in her step-mother's tea. But it mattered not what Darla said, because who would dare believe a mere servant girl over the laird's own flesh and blood. She'd been very convincing that day, if she did say so herself.
Rab had taken her aside and delicately questioned her like a wounded flower. Sori and Lyall laughed for hours over his treatment of her “feelings”. Lyall turned on the tears and explained how Darla was the jealous sort, and maybe she was the one who added wisteria to the tea. As for herself, she was devastated by the loss of her dearly departed mother and brother. Later she'd washed her mouth out with lye soap to get the taste of those words off her tongue, but at the time it had been worth it.
In the end it had all worked out according to her grand design. Father's concubine and illegitimate heir were dead. Darla was ostracized and sent to live in a hut outside the keep walls. And Lyall was once again the object of her father's complete affection.
Lyall frowned. Memories came of how, with time, even this had changed. It seemed her father was determined to spend the best years of his and her life in mourning over all the women he'd loved and lost.
A small voice inside her head whispered,
Stop dwelling on the past. Darla is trying to see ye burned at the stake.
Indeed, Darla had left Grant standing under the huge tree all alone. The nervous lass peered over her shoulder to see if Lyall was watching. Lyall hated to disappoint an old friend and lifted her hand in recognition. Spooked, the maid tripped over her own feet and landed in an unceremonious heap. Lyall attempted to stifle a giggle, but it escaped despite her best efforts. Grant heard, turning just in time to see Darla pick herself up off the ground, dust herself off, and scurry toward her home.
Lyall approached. “What did she have to say?”
“It was nothing. A spider or some such nonsense caused her a fright.”
“Oh, I see. Will she be in attendance at the festivities tonight?”
“I don't know. I didn't ask.”
“Then Sir Grant Cameron, may I accompany ye?”
Shock resonated as he asked, “What?”
What was wrong with men? “Ye heard me. Would ye be my male companion at tonight's festivities?”
“Nay, Lyall,” left his lips without a second's hesitation. Backtracking to cover his reasoning, he explained, “It wouldn't be right, ye see. The men would think it mighty interestin' to see me with Cainneach's widow.”
“Ye make a good point. Besides, why should I limit myself to just one, when I can have all of ye?” With those parting words, Lyall spun on her heel and walked back to the preparations while humming a happy tune.
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The thud from Duncan's heavy form hitting the wooden floor was echoed down the hall. Filib had brought Tamara back to her rooms. The loud thump was heard as they passed by. A noise of alarm escaped Arbella's lips, causing Filib and Tamara to rush inside unannounced. They found Arbella cradling Duncan's head in her lap.
“I guess ye told him,” said Tamara.
“Aye, I did.”
“I didn't expect Laird Duncan to react this way.”
Arbella sighed deeply, “Neither did I.”
“Never fear, I am sure he'll be happy in time.”
Filib stood back and took in the condition of his laird while paying attention to the ladies ensuing conversation. What they said remained unclear. “What are ye two prattlin' about? Why is the laird stretched out on the floor?”
Before the ladies could explain, Duncan roused. A glance of concern was sent toward Arbella. “Did I just swoon at the thought of becoming a father?”
Arbella lips twitched with mirth. “Aye, I believe you did.”
Filib gasped. “A babe? In truth, is the keep going to be filled with a babe?”
Arbella, Duncan, and Tamara all grinned, speaking in unison, “Aye.”
After the incident, news carried all over the village that the laird and his lady were expecting. Ladies organized a time to sew and make clothes. No babe in the whole village had been anticipated this much since Duncan's sister.
All the women rooted for a girl. They claimed Alison had been the only girl child in the laird's family in hundreds of years, although this wasn't exactly provable. On the other side, the men were rooting for a lad. They feared there would be no male heir to take over the keep. Some of the elderly men speculated that once the lady had one babe she might not want another. A new babe was so much work, or so they had been told, they couldn't foresee the lass wanting more than necessary.
Arbella was content either way. Women from the village would cluck their tongues and rub her belly. Why one woman even had the audacity to try and measure her behind! When she told Duncan, he just smiled and laughed. Several times she caught him staring at her, a dreamy expression on his face.
The laird of the keep wouldn't let her do a thing. He treated her like a fragile flower, and although the attention had been nice in the beginning, it was now grating on her nerves.
One day while waddling around the keep, she sensed Duncan's distress. In such a good mood of late, Arbella couldn't imagine what was bothering him.
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A seat was placed in front of the fireplace. She walked behind him and rubbed his shoulders in a relaxing motion.
“Ah, that feels nice.”
“Is something bothering you?”
A piece of parchment was crumpled in his fingers. “This is bothering me.”
“What is it?”
“A missive from Grant. I fear it has been late in reaching us. He says Lyall's father, Rab Burns, was murdered on the day of their arrival. Then he spends a considerable amount of time explainin' some of Lyall's strange behaviors.”
“Like what?” questioned Arbella, unconsciously rubbing her round, protruding stomach.
Duncan watched in fascination before answering, “Oh, he says Lyall has been running through the cemetery at night screamin' that someone stole her babe.”
Arbella's hand stilled. “Stole what babe?”
Duncan shrugged. “Grant isn't clear about why he thinks she is doing these things, or what babe she might be talking about. He mentions other details about the men bein' anxious for home and asks what I wish for him to do, but that is all he says.”
“What do you think?”
Duncan sighed. “I believe the lass is disturbed. Cainneach claimed she was a bit of an odd bird.”
“Are you going to tell Grant to come home? He and the others have been gone so long they don't even know we've married or that we're expecting.”
“Aye, I guess I should. I would like everyone here for the celebration.”
“What celebration?”
“Oh, love, when ye have the babe the whole village is going to burst with festivities.”
Arbella smiled broadly. “Is the babe really so important to everyone?”
“Aye, it is. A male child means another leader for the clan.”
“And what if it is a female child?”
Duncan tapped his head before expressing a sly look. With his hands grabbing her around the waist, he gave her a tight hug. “That just means we have more work to do to get it right.”
She worked to wiggle away. “Humph. I will have you know, a girl child is being anticipated just as much as a boy.”
“I was only jestin'. Some in the keep would just as soon see a lass. In fact some of them would even let her lead the clan.”
Arbella smiled. “Now that's better.” After a moment of silence, she added, “Duncan, tell the men to come home. It is past time.”
Duncan nodded. “Aye, I agree.”
