Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (56 page)

The year since the death of Gillian’s father had been difficult, but the weeks since Aunt Meara passed away were doubly so. If Gillian had been the daughter of a laird it might have been different. She would have been trained to run a keep and help lead a clan practically from infancy. However, she was the daughter of warrior and had expected someday to marry a guardsman, craftsman, or even a farmer. She could cook, clean, sew, and manage a family. That was all she had ever expected to do.

Aunt Meara had been doing her best to teach Gillian the basics, but running a keep efficiently took great skill. The truth be told, Aunt Meara hadn’t been born to it either. She had only taken on the responsibilities of chatelaine at Laird Malcolm’s request a few years earlier after the elderly woman who had managed the staff and the keep for years had passed away.

Even with all of the upheaval she had experienced recently, the first four weeks of Gillian’s marriage was, without a doubt, the most confusing, frustrating, and oddly disquieting weeks of her life. Trying to keep the household running, a skill at which she was not quite adept, was hard enough. Now she had to pretend to be married to Fingal in every way. Many of her clanswomen teased her good-naturedly about her braw new husband and speculated about everything from the cause of the dark circles under her eyes, to the month in which she would deliver her first bairn.

She couldn’t tell them that the dark circles were because she was so tied up in knots about her feelings for Fingal she couldn’t sleep. She avoided going to bed as long as she could in the evening only to lay awake for ages, disturbed by his nearness. Regardless of what Jeanne had told her the day of the wedding, Gillian couldn’t put aside the fact that he was the son of her father’s murderer. She had good reasons to hate him and she wasn’t ready to let them go. However, any time he was near she felt off-balance. He was unfailingly kind and thoughtful; he seemed to charm everyone around him. Ailsa adored him.

Even those originally most opposed to his leadership were developing a growing respect for him, including Nolan. For the love of God, Fingal asked her for her opinion...
often
. And when she did have a concern, as she had over the decision to focus efforts on rebuilding the wall, he listened to her and explained his reasons.

Of course that only happened when she could manage to keep her wits about her. Sometimes she could barely think in his presence, much less offer anything worthwhile to the conversation. And if all of that wasn’t bad enough, ever since the day after the wedding her mother nagged ceaselessly about a betrothal between Fallon and Coby.

There was only a little more than a week of Lent remaining. Not only was Gillian worried that they were running low on grains and salted fish, staples during the days of fasting and abstinence, there was an Easter feast to plan. Ailbert’s records were usually good, but Gillian needed to double check the inventory. She thought she had found a few minutes of blessed solitude in the cellars and she relished the opportunity to just be alone with her thoughts for a while. However, she had barely started the task when her mother called to her from the corridor.

She thought about hiding, but knew it was pointless. “I’m in here, Mother.”

Her mother’s footsteps quickened until she reached the storeroom where Gillian worked. “Gillian, my dear, I have looked everywhere for ye. I couldn’t imagine where ye had gotten to.”

“I am checking supplies. Would ye like to help?”

“Oh nay, dear, I am hopeless with figures. I’ll just keep ye company.”

Gillian sighed. “Mother, I don’t need someone to keep me company. In fact, I will be able to focus better
without
company.

“Well, that may be, but we don’t often have time alone and I want to know what Fingal thinks of a betrothal between Fallon and Coby.”

“I haven’t asked him yet. There is so much to be done. Really, Mother, it can wait a little while.”

“Ye are thoughtless and selfish, Gillian.”

Gillian couldn’t quite believe her ears. “Mother, I am working myself to exhaustion for this clan. In what way am I selfish?”

“Ye have a new husband warming yer bed every night while yer sister grows into an old maid that no one will want.”

Gillian snorted. “Ye can’t believe that. Fallon is a lovely sweet lass and I sincerely doubt her thoughts at the moment are consumed with marriage plans or fears of becoming an old maid.”

“It doesn’t matter what ye believe or don’t believe. It’s yer responsibility to see her settled with a good husband.”

“And I will, Mother. Please, just give things a few more weeks to settle down.”

“Weeks?” her mother practically shrieked. “It has already been weeks. Nay, Gillian, this cannot wait that long. Mark my words, if ye don’t address this soon, I will take matters into my own hands.” Her mother spun on her heel and marched out of the cellar.

Gillian shook her head in frustration but went back to work. When she had finished her inventory, she made her way out of the cellars. She sought out Jeanne in the kitchens to tell her where their inventories stood. As always Jeanne welcomed her with a hot drink and a rest by the hearth. “Ah, my lady, ye look worn out.”

“Jeanne, please don’t call me ‘my lady’. I’ve always just been Gillie to ye.”

Jeanne chuckled but then sobered. “Gillie, ye are pushing yerself too hard.”

“No harder than usual.”

“Then why do ye look exhausted? Ah...are ye starting to appreciate yer new husband’s charms?”

Gillian couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Nay, Jeanne.”

“Nay? Is he not good to ye lass? There were always rumors about that one. I would have thought...”

“That isn’t what I meant Jeanne. I...that is, he...I...”

Jeanne looked shocked. “Ye don’t mean to say ye have refused him?”

“What? Nay, I...well not exactly.” Gillian put her head in her hands.

“Did he agree to this? To a marriage in name only?”

“It isn’t like that Jeanne. Everything was happening so fast. I didn’t want to marry him but I knew it was the best thing for the clan.”

“But lass, how could ye ask that of him?”

“I didn’t—at least not forever. He just agreed to give me a little time to get used to the idea. Please, Jeanne, no one is supposed to know.”

Jeanne looked at her sternly. “Gillian, ye have been married for weeks now. On the morning of yer wedding I told ye that ye didn’t have to love the man, but ye had to earn his respect and give him yers. I said ye had to focus on the future and yer future was with yer new husband.”

“Aye, I know ye did.”

“Weeks, Gillian! Honestly, that young man has shown ye great respect in this. Much more than most men would have. Ye need to thaw yer heart lass or ye will remain firmly rooted in the past.”

“I’m trying, Jeanne.”

“Nay lass, by the looks of things ye are trying with all yer might not to.”

“But—”

“Nay, don’t argue with me. I see how ye are around him. Ye find him attractive, I know ye do. Any lass would. And when he is near ye, well I’ve never seen ye so flustered.”

“But, Jeanne, he’s—”

“Don’t tell me he is Eithne’s son! That is the past.” Her tone became gentle. “Lower yer guard, lass, and let him in. Ye might find him more than just attractive. Ye might find someone ye can trust and learn to care for and who cares for ye as well.”

“It is all so confusing.”

“Honestly, I think ye need to stop worrying about what ye think ye
ought
to feel and give in to what ye
want
to feel. There is no going back now, Gillian. If ye keep doing what ye have been doing, ye will keep being miserable.”

Gillian sighed. Maybe she had been causing her own turmoil. She knew Jeanne was right but she didn’t know how to break the pattern she had started. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t think so much about it, lass. It is the simplest thing in the world.”

“Where do I start?”

“Just let it happen. Let him woo ye. He seems to be doing a pretty good job of that. Let yerself enjoy his attention without feeling guilty about it.”

“I guess I can try.”

Jeanne laughed. “Lass, if I were forty years younger, I wouldn’t have to try to enjoy that young man’s attention.”

Gillian left the kitchen feeling no less confused. She thought of their conversation all afternoon and knew her old friend was right. Although she had promised Fingal she would try not to hate him, she had actively been working to keep her hate alive. She had to try and let her guard down where Fingal was concerned. Maybe if she made an effort to get to know him better it would be easier.

In spite of her good intentions, as she sat beside him during the evening meal, she felt as awkward and unsettled as she always did. She decided not to try to resist the strange warm feelings that rose in her but it didn’t help. If anything, she found the attention he paid to her, even his very presence, more disconcerting when she wasn’t trying to resist his charm. She also felt the stark disapproval of her mother and a few other clan members. One thing was clear; she couldn’t do this with an audience.

When the meal was over, she noticed the determined look on her mother’s face. Fearing that she might bring up the topic of a betrothal for Fallon again, Gillian thought it best to escape. “Fingal, I am very tired tonight.”

“Aye, ye look tired. Everyone has been working hard of late. Perhaps we should say our goodnights.”

“Would ye mind terribly?”

“Nay, of course not.” He rose from his chair and to those who remained at the table said, “please excuse us, Lady MacLennan and I will retire early.”

“But Laird, there were some things I wished to discuss with ye,” Owen said.

“I will address them with ye first thing in the morning, Owen. I think some rest could do us all good.”

Hand in hand, they exited the hall. A quick glance back at her mother told Gillian that Owen was not the only person who was irritated by their early departure. Lana’s jaw was clenched and her eyes narrowed. She was clearly not happy at missing the chance to speak directly with Fingal.

~ * ~

Gillian’s sudden desire to retire early had surprised Fingal. She usually waited until the latest possible hour to leave the crowded hall. Then, she would curl up on the edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could possibly get and
wouldn’t
go to sleep. He knew this because, while he too tried, it was no easier for him to fall asleep with her lying beside him, knowing he couldn’t touch her. He took a small amount of pleasure in the fact that he disturbed her as much as she did him.

He didn’t have to wait long to learn the reason for the change in pattern tonight. After they were out of hearing distance of those left in the hall she said, “I thought maybe we could get to know each other a bit better. We have both been working so hard and haven’t had much time together.”

Get to know each other?
She had done her level best to avoid time alone. While he wondered at her change in attitude, he wouldn’t question it. They did need time alone if the barriers between them were ever going to come down. “Aye, I’d like that.”

He thought it best to let her take the lead, so when they reached their chamber he unfastened his sword belt, sat in one of the chairs at the table by the hearth, and stretched out his legs, warming his feet near the fire. It was no surprise to him that she stood awkwardly in the center of the room. “Ye know, sometimes it is easier to get to know each other by doing something fun together.”

The look of shock on her face caused him to laugh heartily. “Although there are many fun things we could do together. I was only suggesting that we play a game. Do ye have a board for fox and geese, or maybe chess? If ye don’t know how to play, I could teach ye.”

Her look of relief reminded him of just how far they had to go. “Aye, chess would be good. My grandfather taught me to play. He died when I was still very young. I tried to teach Fallon, but she didn’t like to play. When I was a little older I played with Eadoin some or with my da.”

Fingal worried that this might not go as planned. It could remind her too intensely of her loss, thus causing her to withdraw more, but she was already digging in a chest, evidently searching for a chess set. “Ye played with Eodoin?”

“Aye, when we were children. We have always been friends. His wife Alana is my closest friend. We taught her to play but she wasn’t very good and always preferred to sit by Eodoin and watch.” She grinned and confided, “Alana said it was so she could learn to play better but I knew what her real game was.”

Fingal laughed and was relieved. Thankfully she had other wonderful memories of playing chess.

“Here it is,” she announced when she found the board. She set it up on the table, fingering the pieces lovingly. “This was my grandfather’s set.” Before sitting across from him she asked, “would ye like me to call for someone to bring us some ale or wine?”

“Nay, I think I may need to keep my wits about me in this game.” She laughed. Fingal hadn’t heard much of that but he loved the rich sound of it and the way her face lit up.