Ian's Rose: Book One of The Mackintoshes and McLarens (2 page)

D
awn came and went
, and still no sign of Douglas Carruthers. Thankfully, the rain had finally lifted as the gray skies moved south. By mid morning, the sun had chased away the fog, leaving the earth to look as though fairies had bejeweled the grass and trees with tiny diamonds. Frederick assured his wife that all was well before kissing her goodbye with the promise to keep her apprised of any word from the Carruthers.

Aggie paced nervously about her chamber, her mind racing from one worry to the next as she absentmindedly chewed on her thumbnail. Her real father, a man she had not known existed until very recently, was due to ride through the gates of the Mackintosh keep at any moment. While she was curious to meet him and see for herself why her mother had fallen in love with him, she still fretted over what he was going to think of her.

No matter what her husband believed or how hard he tried to convince her there was no need to worry, she could not help
but
worry. Would he be disappointed in what he had sired? Was he visiting only to inform her he had moved on with his life and had no desire to have her in it?

As far as she was concerned, it did not matter at all that he had at one time loved her mother. That was twenty years ago. People can change over time; that she knew with certainty.

For days now, she had tried to convince herself that his opinion of her — good, bad, or indifferent — would not matter. She was married to the best of men, with two beautiful children she adored, and a good life that a year ago she’d not have thought possible. Compared to that, Douglas Carruthers’ view was not important. All that mattered was Frederick, their children, and the life they were building together.

’Twas a feeble lie at best. In truth, she wanted the man to like her, to look upon her with a kind father’s fondness and adoration. She wanted everything Mermadak McLaren had never given her. He’d never had a kind word to say to Aggie and his displeasure with her only increased a thousandfold after her mother’s death.

According to her mother’s journals — another recent discovery — the Carruthers was everything Mermadak wasn’t. Kind, generous, with a strong sense of honor. They’d loved one another beyond measure even though her mother had been married to Mermadak at the time. ’Twas enough to make Aggie’s head hurt when she thought about it.

And there was the matter of Rose and Ian. The cur had the audacity to break her best friend’s heart by breaking a promise, a vow. Of all the men she had known in her life, next to Frederick, Ian would have been the last person she thought would break his word. Least of all to Rose, who he professed to love above all else. ‘Twas an unjust deed and Rose deserved far better.

So much was happening and it seemed ’twas all taking place at once.

Still, there was much to be thankful for. Such as her children, the youngest of whom was now happily feeding at the breast of her wet-nurse, Rebeca Mackintosh. Aggie felt she owed a lifetime of gratitude to the woman who had selflessly volunteered to feed Ada when Aggie had been so dreadfully ill and nearly died. It hadn’t taken long for the two women to become friends.

“Yer goin’ to wear a hole in the floor,” Rebeca told her as she smiled adoringly at the babe. “Besides, yer makin’ me tired watchin’ ye go back and forth and back and forth.”

Aggie ignored her and continued pacing. ’Twas impossible to sit still, to focus on any one task, not with her mind working on what she would say to Douglas Carruthers.

Rebeca let loose a heavy breath. “Come take yer daughter,” she said with a smile. “’Twill keep yer hands and mind busy.”

Whenever Aggie held Ada, every worry and dread evaporated in an instant. Such a beautiful, sweet babe, with ginger hair and bright blue eyes. “She is growing well?” Aggie asked for reassurance as she took the babe into her arms.

“Aye, I believe so,” Rebeca replied with an affectionate smile. “She be strong and hearty, considerin’ how she came into this world.”

Aggie did not like to be reminded of that dark, ugly time. Poisoned by her own half-sister, Claire, with a potion meant to kill both she and her babe. The midwife had been forced to pull Ada from her body when Aggie had been too ill to even realize she was giving birth. Days later, she finally woke, with Frederick at her side, proud to announce she was the mother of a beautiful, but very tiny, baby girl.

’Twas also up to Frederick to tell her that Claire had hung herself.

Quietly, she had mourned Claire’s loss. Long ago, they’d been the best of friends.

With Ada in her arms, her thoughts turned happier, and her worries far less significant. Pressing a tender kiss against her daughter’s brow, Aggie whispered, “It matters naught if the Carruthers cares fer us or no’. I have ye, yer brother and father and that is all that matters in this world.”

She’d no sooner spoken the words than Rose came bounding into the room.

Out of breath with excitement and running up the stairs, Rose paused just inside the doorway.

“He be here, Aggie!”

* * *

T
he calm
and peace that came with holding her daughter evaporated all too quickly.
Nay,
she told herself.
Ye’ll no’ cower, ye’ll no’ beg fer his affections.

Rose came to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “He looks verra nice, Aggie. And quite handsome fer a man of his age.”

Whether or not he was handsome was entirely unimportant. The only things that mattered were her husband, her children, and the Mackintosh family who had accepted her as one of their own from the day she married Frederick.

Would ye like me to take Ada fer ye?” Rebeca asked.

Aggie debated on whether or not to present her children to their blood grandsire at this, her first meeting with him. The instinct to protect her children was strong. “Aye, I’d like Rose to take her.”

If it turned out that Douglas Carruthers was not the kind, generous man her mother wrote about in her journals, she did not want either of her children to witness this meeting. “Would ye also make certain Ailrig stays away?”

As she handed Ada to Rose, Elsbeth, Aggie’s mother-by-law, floated into the room. She was as fierce as she was beautiful and Aggie admired her greatly. “Ye need no’ worry about Ailrig,” she said with a fond smile. “He is with his grandfather and uncles.” A moment later, she was kissing the top of Ada’s wee head.

“Please, tell me they be no’ playin’ with dirks again,” Aggie said. “The last time they tried teachin’ him, John nearly lost an eye.”

Elsbeth laughed and shook her head. “Nay, no’ dirks. I believe they’ve moved on to swords. But do no’ worry it, they all be usin’ wooden swords.”

Aggie could only hope her nine-year-old son would not cause anyone any harm, wooden swords or nay.

Elsbeth took Aggie’s hand in hers. “Come, let us go below stairs and meet Douglas Carruthers.”

* * *

A
t Aggie’s request
, Rose took Ada to her own room across the hall while she met with Douglas Carruthers. Rose was all too happy to oblige her friend. She’d never turn down the chance to hold a babe, especially wee Ada.

’Twas a small room with a small window that faced south and one arrow window that faced east. There were multiple tables heaped with all manner of fabrics. Once Elsbeth had learned what a talented seamstress Rose was, she immediately selected this room for her and began filling it with fabrics. Rose was all too happy to create beautiful gowns and dresses for Elsbeth, her daughters, and Aggie.

Now she sat next to the arrow window with Ada cooing and gurgling happily in her arms. Rose loved the way the tiny babe smelled of lavender soap and clean linens. While it was a wonderful feeling to hold the tiny babe in her arms, her heart ached with wanting one of her own. “Ada, I be about to share a secret with ye and I’ll thank ye kindly no’ to tell another soul,” she whispered playfully.

Ada looked up at her and cooed, as if she understood completely what her Aunt Rose was telling her.

“I was almost a mum meself,” she told her. “Three times.” A sense of longing slowly crept in at the memories. “Three times I got with child with me husband, Almer Gray. I lost each one before I could reach me fourth month.”

Though the miscarriages had happened many years ago, the pain was as fresh and intense as if it had happened only that morn. Those had been the most difficult and tragic of times, as a young bride wanting nothing more than to give her husband a child. The disappointment at losing the first was something she believed she would never get over. The agony after the third was unbearable. Almer had done his best to assure her he loved her all the same. ‘Twasn’t until he lay on his deathbed that she realized he had meant it.

’Twas then she experienced an epiphany of sorts. Was this the reason Ian had broken the troth? On more than one occasion, they had discussed her inability to carry a child to term. He had been adamant that he cared not if she could never give him a child of his own.
’Tis ye I love, lass. I care no’ about bairns, only that I am able to spend the rest of me life with ye.

There had not been any doubt in her mind at the time that he meant what he said. Never had she met men so honorable as the Mackintosh men. Their word was everything to them.

Just when she thought she had shed her last tear for Ian Mackintosh, new droplets began to fall. The more she thought on it, the more she believed it was her inability to carry a child that had changed Ian’s opinion of her. Mayhap, after seeing Frederick holding his first babe, it triggered something in Ian’s heart, leading him to realize that he did in fact want children of his own.

Suddenly she found she no longer hated him with the ferocity she’d held only moments ago. How could she hold his desire for children against him? If anyone understood the ache of wanting something you could never have, ’twas she.

Looking down at Ada, whose eyelids were growing heavy, her sorrow increased tenfold. For years now, she had convinced herself she would be happy helping other women look after their babes. Now, as Ada sighed sleepily, she realized that was not true. Nay, she wanted a babe of her own. In truth, it mattered not if she birthed the babe or adopted, she wanted a child, not only for precious moments such as these. She wanted a child she could help grow into a fine person and see his or her dreams someday come true.

Ian had told her he was not opposed to adoption, if the chance ever arose. Something had to have happened to make him change his mind. But what? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to that question.

* * *

A
ggie stood tall and proud
, waiting for the moment Douglas Carruthers would enter John Mackintosh’s private study. Two chairs sat facing one another in front of the fireplace. Over the mantle hung the Mackintosh crest with the words
Touch not a cat without a glove
carved around the image of a cat-o-mountain. On the opposite side of the room, in front of two tall, narrow walls, was the long table John used as his desk. ‘Twas all neat and well organized, much like the man himself.