The Laird of Stonehaven (8 page)

“People see no beauty in me, only evil.”

He set her on her feet. “I see only beauty. I must admit you’re not what I was led to believe.”

She smiled sadly. “Did you think I had a wart on my nose and stringy black hair, and flew about on a broomstick?”

His silence answered her question. She turned away.

“If you’re convinced I’ve brought evil to Stonehaven, go away and leave me to my unpacking,” Blair said, pushing away from him. “My herbs should be hung from the rafters and my unguents and ointments put away in cupboards.”

“So you’re denying us again, are you, lass? Verra well, I willna press you. ’Tis your loss, after all. I will have no trouble finding a willing lass to warm my bed.”

He turned to leave, then spun around, his expression dark and riveting. “Mind what you do in here. I dinna know what magic you wove last night, but it mustna happen again. ’Tis my final warning.”

The aura surrounding him turned dark blue and forbidding. Blair shuddered. Why could she not be like other women?
Because God made you what you are and you canna change it,
responded a small voice inside her. Her mission in life was to heal, and nothing could change the course of her destiny.

After Graeme left, Alyce returned and helped Blair hang bunches of herbs from the ceiling and place everything else on shelves and in cupboards. Then Blair returned to the keep, more than ready to finally break her fast. Graeme sat with his kinsmen, laughing and talking without as much as a glance in her direction. Blair tried to console herself with the knowledge that being ignored by Graeme was best for both of them.

What rankled, however, was the way Glenda fawned over Graeme and how he seemed to bask in her attention. At that moment Blair would have given anything to be like other women.

After Blair finished eating, Jamie arrived to acquaint her with the keep. They started with the storeroom on the first floor and proceeded floor by floor to the parapet. The keep was small compared to Gairloch, but it had many endearing qualities, such as tapestries on the walls to keep the wind and cold at bay and numerous fireplaces. It was well maintained and had glass windows. The hall was spotless, as were the bedchambers and kitchen, due no doubt to Maeve’s vigilance and Jamie’s excellent stewardship. Even the garrison was surprisingly neat and clean.

“How many people live within the keep?” Blair asked, impressed by all she had seen.

“It varies,” Jamie explained, “depending on the number of guardsmen serving Laird Graeme at any given time. The laird’s cousins, Heath and Aiden, live here, as does Stuart, his uncle. And those who serve the laird occupy the third floor. Maeve and I have rooms in the rear of the keep.”

Jamie unhooked a ring of keys from his belt and handed them to Blair. “These are yers now.”

Blair hesitated. She didn’t deserve them. She was a fraud. Though she might be Graeme’s chafelaine, she was not his wife in the true sense of the word. But when Jamie pressed the keys into her hand, she accepted them readily enough.

“I’m not trained to run a keep,” she admitted. “I’m a healer, and my duties have always been confined to the sick and wounded. I would appreciate it if you continue on as you have before I arrived. The keep is running so smoothly in your capable hands, I see little need to change things.”

Jamie grinned. “I shall be happy to continue in my former capacity. But I will still consult with ye when yer opinion is needed. Maeve mentioned that she would like to talk with ye about changes in the menu. She wants to learn what ye like so she can prepare it for ye.”

Blair was touched. It seemed that Maeve was willing to accept her, after all, and even wanted to please her.

Later that day Blair met Heath, a somewhat cynical but polite man about Graeme’s age, who made no bones about his reservations concerning her marriage to his cousin.

“Graeme is a special mon,” Heath told her. “His faith in God was severely tested in France. He was wounded but came back to us. His kinsmen dinna want to see him hurt.”

“Graeme fought in France?” Blair gasped. She knew so little about her husband.

“Aye. Ye’ve heard of Joan the Maid, have ye not?”

“Of course, who hasn’t?”

“Graeme went to France to join her fight against England. He was one of the Scotsmen who made up her personal guard.”

Puzzled, Blair asked, “Why did Graeme leave his home to fight on foreign soil?”

“He felt strongly that defeating the English in France would diffuse the King’s threat to Scotland. Unfortunately, things didna turn out the way he hoped.”

Blair shuddered. She felt as if someone had walked over her grave. “Joan was burned at the stake, accused of witchcraft by her own church. I canna imagine a worse death.”

“Nor can I,” Heath agreed. “Graeme came home a changed mon. Joan meant everything to him.”

Blair went still. “He loved her?”

Heath cleared his throat and looked away, as if realizing he had spoken too freely. “I dinna know, lass. Ye’ll have to ask my cousin about that.” Suddenly his expression turned hard, his gaze probing. “What I’m trying to tell ye is that Graeme needs no more witchcraft in his life. He wed ye to repay a debt to yer father, he is that honorable. But I will do all in my power to protect him against ye.”

Stunned by the vehemence of Heath’s warning, Blair said, “I wouldna harm Graeme even if I could. Excuse me, I must attend to my duties.”

Blair hurried off, only to bump into Alyce.

“Blair, what ails ye, lass? Ye look pale.”

“Naught is wrong, Alyce.”

“Dinna lie, lass. I know ye better than anyone. Did Laird Graeme upset ye?”

“Did you know that Graeme fought in France? He was one of Joan the Maid’s guards. She was accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake, if you recall. ’Tis no wonder Graeme holds witchcraft in such contempt.”

“Worry not, lass. Ye are a Faery Woman, not a witch.”

“They are one and the same to Graeme.”

“But we know better, dinna we?”

Little comfort that was, Blair reflected. “Are you headed to the kitchen? I am going to confer with Maeve about the menu.”

“Go along with ye, then, I am off to the stillroom to mix up a batch of burn salve to add to our dwindling supply.”

After Blair conferred with Maeve, she joined Alyce in the stillroom. She found the older woman grinding herbs with a pestle. The scent of yarrow root and mallow permeated the air, reminding Blair of home and her father. She’d not had time to mourn him, and she ached from her loss. Perhaps later she would go to the chapel and pray for his immortal soul. There did not seem to be a resident priest at Stonehaven, but she needed no one to assist her in her prayers.

Blair and Alyce worked together in companionable silence until the supper hour approached.

Alyce placed her hands behind her back and stretched. “The hour grows late. Ye’d best change yer soiled gown before ye join yer husband in the hall.”

“You’re tired, too, Alyce. Return to the keep. I will follow in a few minutes. I want to put these jars in the cupboard before I leave.”

Alyce nodded and left. Blair finished her work and was preparing to leave when a loud knock sounded on the door. Surprised, Blair hurried to answer the call, guessing that someone was in need of her healing powers.

A lass of about twelve years, with tears streaming down her cheeks, fell to her knees before Blair and grasped her hand. “Please, my lady, I heard ye were a healer. Can ye help my mother?”

Blair raised the child to her feet. “What’s wrong with your mother, lassie? I have to know what ails her before I can help her.”

“She is in childbed, but the bairn willna come. She’s in terrible pain. I dinna know where else to turn.”

Blair closed her eyes. The vision that formed behind her eyes showed a tiny girl child struggling for life inside her mother’s womb.

“Where is your father?”

“Papa went to Inverness. He said he’d return before the bairn arrived, but something must have delayed him. Will ye come, lady?”

“Of course,” Blair said without hesitation. “Where do you live?”

“In the village.”

“Give me a moment to gather what I need.”

Moving swiftly, Blair placed several pouches of dried herbs, various jars and bottles and clean linen cloths into a basket. Briefly she considered telling Graeme where she was going but decided against it. Her first duty was to the suffering woman. Explanations could wait.

The girl, whose name was Carla, lived with her mother, Mab, and two younger brothers in a cottage in the village. Blair heard Mab’s pitiful moans before they reached the rowan tree planted at the front door to ward off evil spirits. Inside, Mab wasn’t alone. Several neighbor women and the local midwife were gathered around the bed, each trying to help Mab in her own way. Everyone fell silent when Blair entered the crowded bedchamber.

The air inside was fetid, nearly stifling, and the first thing Blair did was to fling open the shutters.

“Here now, what are ye doing?” a woman challenged. “I’m Gunna, the midwife, and I dinna need yer help.”

“Aye, she
is
needed!” Carla insisted. “I brought her. Mama’s suffering has been going on for two days.”

“Two days!” Blair gasped. “Please move aside. Mab needs my help.”

“ ’Tis the witch,” someone murmured. Others picked up the whisper, until the small chamber was abuzz with the word. The women backed away, their expressions wary, even fearful. But the midwife refused to budge.

“Who gave ye leave to interfere?”

Blair saw no help for it. In order to save Mab and her unborn child, she would be forced to exert her authority. “As your laird’s wife, I need no authority save my own. Leave, all of you, except you.” She pointed to an elderly woman who appeared less judgmental than the others. “What is your name?”

“Rona, mistress.”

“Have you ever helped birth a bairn, Rona?”

“Oh, aye, mistress, many times. I assist the midwife.”

“Good. Are you willing to help me?”

“Aye, mistress.”

“Now see here,” Gunna said pugnaciously. “I have birthed bairns in this village since long before ye were born.”

“I am not trying to usurp your position, but you’ve had your chance. As you can plainly see, Mab needs more help than you can provide.”

“Let the laird’s wife help me, Gunna,” Mab said weakly. “I dinna want to lose my bairn.”

Hissing her disapproval, Gunna stormed from the chamber, taking everyone but Rona with her.

“Can I stay?” Carla asked.

“Nay, child,” Blair replied kindly. “See to your young brothers. They have need of you now. Rest assured that your mother is in good hands.”

Blair rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Since Mab appeared to be weakened by long hours of labor, Blair decided the poor woman needed something stronger to dull the pain than a stick to bite on. Rummaging in her basket, she retrieved a pouch of dried leaves.

“Raspberry leaves,” she said, handing them to Rona. “Heat some water and brew the leaves into a strong tea. The tea will ease Mab’s labor.”

“Can ye help me, mistress?” Mab asked, writhing in pain as another contraction contorted her body.

Once she was alone with her patient, Blair placed her hand on Mab’s heaving stomach and closed her eyes. Immediately a picture of the bairn inside Mab formed before Blair’s eyes. The tiny girl was turned wrong and trying to present herself feet first. Blair felt a faint heartbeat vibrating through her arm to her own heart, and she smiled. The tiny mite was a fighter, but she was in deep trouble. The birth must be hurried along.

“Close your eyes, Mab, and try to concentrate on your bairn,” Blair said in a soothing voice. “Dinna think about the pain. It will soon be gone.”

Silently imploring the spirits to ease Mab’s suffering, Blair relied on her powers, willingly taking Mab’s pain into her own body. A jolt of pain shot up her arm, so excruciating she cried out. Then she felt Mab relax beneath her hand, and, as she knew it would, Mab’s pain passed through Blair’s body, leaving her drained.

“What happened?” Mab asked. “The pain is gone. Oh, lady, ye are a miracle worker.”

Rona chose that moment to return, bringing a mug of steaming tea. “Is Mab . . . is she . . . Her wailing stopped, and I feared the worst.”

“Mab is fine,” Blair said, “but we must hurry if we are to bring a healthy bairn into this world. Help Mab drink the tea, then fetch me a basin of hot water and soap.”

Rona held the mug to Mab’s mouth until the cup was drained. Then she hurried off to fetch the hot water and soap.

Blair’s hand was still on Mab’s abdomen when Rona returned, but now Blair was frowning. She sensed the bairn’s distress and worried over her survival. Turning away from Mab, she washed her hands thoroughly and sent Rona out again for a fresh basin of warm water to bathe the bairn and swaddling clothes to wrap her in. Then she set to work to deliver the child.

Blair glanced at Mab, saw that she was still relatively pain free but somewhat dazed, and decided that was a good thing. “I’m going to turn the bairn so she can be born,” she told Mab. “Clear your mind and think of naught but holding your little girl in your arms.” Her voice flowed slow and smooth as she stared deep into Mab’s eyes. “You will feel naught, Mab. I have taken away your pain. Relax until I tell you to push.”

“Aye, my lady,” Mab said, her glazed eyes never leaving Blair’s face.

Blair set to work. Slowly, with an expertise gained from knowledge passed down through generations of Faery Women, she turned the bairn.

“Push, Mab.”

The child was delivered into Blair’s capable hands moments later, but Blair saw that the babe was in dire straits.

“You have a daughter, Mab,” Blair said as she tied off the cord. To Rona, who had just returned with the basin of warm water, she said, “Deliver the afterbirth and see to Mab. The bairn needs my attention.”

“The babe isna crying,” Rona said, worry coloring her words.

“Is my bairn dead?” Mab cried.

Blair ignored their questions. She was now fighting against time and had much to do if the bairn was to live. The babe’s lips were blue and her skin was ash gray, and Blair could scarcely detect a heartbeat in the tiny chest. Lowering the babe into the basin of warm water, Blair washed her and cleared mucus from her mouth. The babe did not respond. Blair closed her eyes, invoked God’s grace and began to massage the thin chest above her struggling heart.