Legacy of the Mist Clans Box Set (104 page)

“I think,” Mairi said, watching them, “that he was wanting ye today, no’ me.”

“How so?”

“As I said, he was fussy today, but I didna ken why. Nothing I did made him happy, but now . . .” She gestured to the bairn, now comfortable and quite. “He seems quite content.”

Connell slid his arm around her and surprised her with a kiss on the cheek. “Truth be told, I’m the one being spoiled with such a warm welcome when I come home. I feel like I was actually missed.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes vibrant with emotion. “Ye are missed.”

He smiled down at her and lowered his head to capture her mouth but heard the hiss and spit of a pot boiling. Mairi squeaked and darted to fetch it before it boiled over. “Forgive me, but I’ll have supper done shortly.”

“Dinna worry over it,” he said and took Adam to the other room so they wouldn’t get in her way.

Adam remained quiet while Connell sat on the divan and told him about the work he had done today. He knew the bairn couldn’t understand a word and that it was the sound of his voice that he listened to, but Connell told him nonetheless.

But as he spoke, his gaze fell on Mairi’s chair. He had noticed lately that she didn’t seem as comfortable sitting in it as she once had been. In fact, it looked a little crooked. Still holding Adam, Connell rose and pushed on the chair. It teetered and shifted oddly. Connell put Adam on his blanket so he could examine the chair.

Adam took a breath as if to start wailing again, but Connell sat on the floor next to him and he stopped, watching curiously.

Connell still couldn’t see what was wrong with the chair and stretched out on his side next to it, looking up at the supports. Adam made a soft burble and promptly grabbed Connell’s braid and yanked.

Grabbing a full braid was far different than Adam catching a small handful of hair in his fist and yanking. It didn’t hurt at all. Connell turned his head only slightly, able to see Adam out of the corner of his eye. The action pulled the lad forward, and he refused to release the braid. He giggled and did his best to pull back. Connell chuckled as he found himself in the midst of a strange tug of war.

Well, Adam was happy, and Connell could still look at the chair. He immediately spotted the problem. One of the supports had come loose and had shifted slightly from its proper place. Using both of his hands and a bit of muscle, Connell popped it back.

The noise startled Adam. He dropped Connell’s braid but didn’t cry. Connell quickly sat up before he could grab it again and looked at the bairn. “Dinna tell yer mum. Let’s see if she notices.”

Adam grinned and clapped his hands as if agreeing.

“Supper be ready,” Mairi announced from the kitchen.

Connell scooped Adam into his arms and carried him back to Mairi. He was starving and quickly said grace. The venison was quite delicious, and he busied himself eating, but soon he noticed that Mairi seemed unusually quiet. Usually she told him about her day and asked him about his. Instead, she picked at her food, feeding small bites to Adam but not eating much herself.

“Mairi?” Connell asked as he took a drink of watered ale. “Ye all right?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Ye be awful quiet tonight.”

She shrugged.

“Usually ye tell me of yer day or about what mischief Adam has been into.”

“Well, ye saw his mischief today, but . . .”

“But . . .”

She shook her head. “’Tis something I wanted tae talk tae ye about, but it can wait until after ye eat.”

Connell cringed. “That bad?”

She laughed, and he immediately felt better. “Nay. Dinna worry over it. Eat.”

He returned to his meal. Mairi’s words made him feel better, but the fact that she didn’t eat hardly anything bothered him the most. She wasn’t falling ill again, was she?

Finally, supper was over and he helped Mairi with the dishes. He then took Adam back to the divan, knowing he didn’t have much time before Adam would be sleepy enough to be put to bed.

Mairi picked up her mending, and he unobtrusively watched her sit in her chair. She looked down at it, startled, tentatively rocked, then looked at Connell. “Did ye . . .?”

“Aye,” he said.

“Thank ye,” she said with a warm smile, but it quickly vanished, and to his concern, she looked even more troubled.

“Will ye please tell me what vexes ye, lassie?”

She lifted her mending again then promptly put it back down. “I saw Fiona in the market today.”

“Aye. She keeps asking if ye will come to the shop and visit when she be there, but I keep forgetting tae tell ye.”

“Well, she was delighted tae see Adam. But she told me there be a feast coming up next month.”

“A feast?”

“Aye. Saint Clement’s feast.”

Connell almost dismissed it with a shrug, but then he looked at her sharply. “Clement? Ye mean the patron saint of blacksmiths? That Clement?”

“’Tis the only patron saint of blacksmiths that I ken with a feast in November.”

Connell groaned. “And if I ken Smith and his wife, this feast will be a massive one.”

“Aye. It starts in the early morn in the square and goes until late at night. Everyone in this quarter takes part. They collect donations, and Hamish gets a huge boar tae roast. It marks the beginning of Christmastide for everyone here. Ye along with Smith—”

“Will be the center of attention, the brunt of everyone’s jests, and paraded around like bloody fools,” he growled.

“Nay,” she said quickly. “It isna like that at all. It be truly a celebration. Ye work hard over the forge. Smithing is a verra important trade, and the people ken that.”

He muttered under his breath. Saint Clement’s Day could grow quite rambunctious.

“Connell, please,” she said softly. “Ye ken we will have tae go.”

“We dinna have tae do anything.”

“I dinna understand ye. Ye worked so hard tae become a part of the community, tae make friends. Why did ye do that only tae turn away when they wish tae celebrate?”

“I like celebrating just fine as long as it has nothing tae do with me.”

“What do ye think they’ll do, cover ye in honey and feathers?”

“Or worse.”

She stared at him, her jaw slack, and he knew it was because she was jesting, but he was serious. Damnation! He didn’t want to have any part of this bloody festival. In Glen Gyle, Saint Clement’s Day had always been boisterous and lively, but he had grown weary of seeing his father the brunt of jests. By the time he grew into adulthood . . . well . . . needless to say, Ronan usually found a duty for him to attend far away from Glen Gyle when Saint Clement’s Day approached.

“Do ye no’ patronize the Saint of yer craft?”

“I . . .” He stopped, trying to think of a way to explain. The problem was he had never truly seen himself as a blacksmith. In his youth, he had found a talent for swordsmithing that had interested him far above being a village smith. He had proven his talent when he created his sword by himself, but his da refused to allow him to travel to a larger village where he might find an apprenticeship with a swordsmith. Da had been an excellent smith and had given Connell a solid foundation, but Da could not teach the specifics that Connell’s heart desired to pursue. Upset with his da’s refusal, he had never truly devoted himself to the trade.

Connell frowned. His life had become something far different than he had expected. But in truth . . . just what had he expected? To be a husband and a father, aye. But he winced as he thought of William and Ina. He was a husband and father no longer. Without conscious thought, Connell looked down at Adam in his arms. Or was he?

Adam relaxed against him, battling with all his might to keep his eyes open. His eyelids would droop then snap open, but only for a moment before they would droop again. Distracted from his thoughts, Connell could not help but smile.

“Ye be fighting a losing battle, laddie,” he murmured.

Adam’s eyes snapped open and almost immediately drooped again. He yawned mightily.

Connell’s grin grew.

“Bless,” Mairi said softly. “Let me put him tae bed. If I dinna do it before he actually falls asleep, he’ll wake up and we’ll have the opposite problem.”

Surprisingly, Connell found that he didn’t want to give him up. He almost told her he would put the lad to bed but decided against it and handed him over. Adam grunted, sucking on his fist noisily, but otherwise didn’t rouse. Speaking softly to him, Mairi took him into the bedroom.

Connell tugged his hand through his hair, removing it from its braid. He didn’t want to worry about a foolish festival tonight. He caught his thoughts and sighed. He didn’t want to worry over it, but it was important to Mairi, otherwise she wouldn’t have mentioned it, and the fact she had been hesitant to do so told him she had already known how he was going to react.

He had absolutely no desire to be the center of attention of anything, but because of Adam’s identity, being a guest of honor at a feast bordered on foolishness.

Perhaps he could get Mairi to see reason, and together they could think of an excuse to tell Smith and his wife. That thought didn’t sit well with him at all. Smith and his wife were kind people; Connell counted himself lucky to know the man and blessed to work for him. Work? Nay, the smith called Connell his apprentice. Some might think it just a term, but there was meaning behind it, and those who taught a craft and those who learned it understood that meaning.

It had been what he had most desired in his youth. Now, he had a chance to achieve it. He had selected Ian Smith because one look at the man’s shop and the unfinished swords in view from the street told Connell this was the man he needed to talk to.

His da had angered him when his pleas to find a master swordsmith fell on deaf ears. Now Connell had the opportunity he had always wanted, and he’d be best served to give it his all. Especially since he relied on the profession for income.

Connell no longer had a laird paying him good coin to perform various duties. Aidan no longer paid him to guard his back and protect his birds. He hadn’t worried over a trade because after losing William and Ina, no one depended on him.

Until now.

Even though Mairi was not his wife and Adam was not his son, they both depended on him to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table all the same. He had not only given his oath to protect her and Adam, he had promised her he would not abandon her in Edinburgh.

She didn’t have anyone else but him.

Injuring his back and being unable to work for a sennight had vexed him greatly. He not only fretted about being dead weight but he worried over having enough coin to last until he was able to return to work. Luckily, the brigands had been well paid, and Connell still possessed plenty of coin, but he did not miss the warning. What would have happened if the injury had been more serious? What if he hadn’t been able to return to work, or what if Smith had not been so understanding and found another apprentice?

Connell needed to work not just for himself but because . . . and it was long past time he finally admitted it to himself . . . he had a family to take care of . . . his family.

He sat back on the divan and rubbed his eyes. “Ye are no longer alone, Connell MacGrigor. When will ye get that through yer thick skull?”

“Pray pardon?” Mairi said as she returned.

Connell nearly jumped out of his skin then gave her a rueful grin. “Nothing, lassie, I just be barmy again.”

She looked at him archly and he chuckled, catching her hand and tugging her to sit next to him.

“I was just considering yer words,” he said and reached up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I dinna wish tae be a part of this. Because of Adam, the fewer people who take note of ye or I, the better. I just want tae appear as . . . normal as possible tae those who live and work here.”

“I understand,” she said and nodded. “But I fear we will attract undue attention by no’ attending the feast.”

“Aye, ye have a point. All right, we’ll attend, but ye may have tae keep a close eye on me.”

“Why?”

“If some drunken fool doesna mind his place and insults me, I might kill the bastard.”

She laughed softly and wrapped her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Oh, Connell, ye have been on the trail too long. Yer manners have fled. Ye canna go around shoving yer sword into people who happen tae displease ye.” She paused and looked up at him, giving him a wink. “Ye can get yer point across just as effectively with yer fist.”

Now that had been the last thing he had expected her to say. A chuckle bubbled within him and quickly turned into a full-blown laugh. “Ye are a bloodthirsty little thing,” he said as soon as he could breathe.

“That’s because I’ve been in yer company too long.”

His laughter renewed. He wrapped an arm around her, tugging her to his chest as he leaned back on the divan. “Verra well, I shall endeavor tae mind my manners at the feast.”

She giggled, snuggling closer.

His humor faded, but his pleasant mood did not. He discovered himself quite comfortable partially reclining on the divan with Mairi next to him, her head on his chest. Silence descended for a long moment. Connell absently ran his fingers through her hair, gradually freeing it from the braid she always wore.

He felt her draw in a deep breath, and she sighed softly.

“Now that be a worrisome sound,” he said, his fingers still working gently through her braid. “Dinna tell me there be more tae this.”

“No’ about the feast, but there be something else that I want tae ask ye.”

“And that is . . .?”

She sat up, thick locks of her hair falling out of the braid Connell had almost loosened completely but not quite. She refused to look at him. Her cheeks were stained with a touch of red, and her teeth worried her lower lip. Suddenly, everything within Connell came alive, and the blood roared through his body.

He wasn’t sure exactly what it was that provoked him so . . . her expression? The soft blush on her cheeks? It really didn’t matter. All that he knew was that his body was coiling so tightly he worried his back might protest, even though he was fully recovered.