The Summer Star: One Legend, Three Enchanting Novellas (Legends of Scotland Book 2) Page 31

  “’Tis a service I am happy to take upon myself.” He hesitated for a moment, as if he debated something. He shoved his hair back from his face. “I shall return soon.”

  Elspet watched as he disappeared through the open door of the byre, into the midday sun. The momentary disappointment of his departure was replaced with the urgency to take care of the small ailing cow while she could. She began almost silently chanting a healing prayer her mother had taught her long ago, and drawing symbols on the calf’s shaggy forehead with her finger to direct the words where they were needed. She shut out everything but the calf and continued the prayer, over and over, letting the purpose of it build, letting the intention and energy of the words surround the calf with healing.

  She lost track of time until a noise startled her out of the chanting and woke the calf, who struggled to its feet. It stood there as wobbly as a new born, but breathing easily. The mother cow nuzzled it, and the baby quickly began suckling. Elspet was pleased her work was quickly done.

  “It seems you can work magic.”

  Kenneth stood in the door, a basket in one hand, a pile of plaids in the other, and a funny look on his face. She could not decide if he was curious, or doubtful, or…she could not say, but it was not the confident good humor of their time in the garden, nor even the more serious moments here in the byre before he’d gone in search of provisions.

  “Nay,” she said, rising from her place on the floor. She busied herself brushing hay and dirt from her skirts in order not to meet his eyes. “’Tis only an affinity for living things that made it possible to soothe the little one long enough for the healing to happen quickly.” She made sure her face was bright and free of the discomfort that came with lying to him, though ’twas an explanation she had used amongst non-clan members many times before without difficulty. “’Twas Angus did most of the work.”

  Kenneth nodded slowly, but his expression said he was not sure she spoke the truth.

  “The beastie seems completely healed. I have seen calves die from less, yet this one is up and about within a few hours of the purging. I would call that a miracle.”

  So would she. “Call it what you like. Is that food?” She pointed at the basket. “I am famished.” It was useful for changing the subject, but was also an easy truth to speak. Her stomach rumbled, lending veracity to her words.

  He held a large basket up, but did not step close enough to hand it to her.

  “Cook sent the most delicious little meat pies—I was forced to try one while I waited—a wine skin, and a bowl of braised onions I am told came from your garden.” He considered the cows, then the rest of the byre. “I suppose ’tis no longer necessary to eat here?”

  “’Tis not.” She peered through the doorway, only then noticing that the shadows had grown long out in the bailey. “I was here longer than I thought. ’Tis nearly dusk.”

  “I tried to return quickly, but Cook kept sending me on errands for her, most of which were in vain. Every time I came back empty handed she said she’d already found whatever she had asked me to fetch.”

  Elspet tried not to laugh. “Is there enough in the basket for the two of us?”

  “Nay. She said I was to leave all of this with you and come directly back—apparently she has more need of my endless running about.” He grinned then, lighting up his face and filling the byre with a warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature. “I think she means to keep the two of us apart.” The shift from serious to good humor lifted the awkwardness that had arisen between them when he startled her.

  “No doubt. I’m sure our kiss,” she felt her face flush and her pulse speed as the sensations of that moment swamped her again, but did not look away from him, “has been reported throughout the castle and glen.”

  “Your father has been glaring at me from the kitchen door, and Rab almost tripped me as I was coming down the stair with your dinner and these plaids.”

  “I should not have—”

  “Nay, ’twas me that should not have—”

  She stopped him with a shake of her head. “Enough. It happened. The curiosity has been answered. We move on.” She was amazed that she could say that and sound as if it were true. Curiosity had not been answered, at least not hers. Nay. Now that her attention was held by the man again, she discovered it had been fanned to a bright flame.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the twilight-blue of the darkening sky. “Now that we have settled that,” he lifted a shoulder in a partial shrug as if he doubted the truth of her words as much as she did, “’twill be a lovely evening. The Summer Star is already lighting up the western sky. Perhaps you would like to sup while viewing it? I can keep you company,” he added with a wink.

  They both knew there would be as many people watching them as watching the star, so she was safe from her own impulses, her itchy curiosity. What was the harm in spending a little more time in Kenneth’s company now that they had agreed not to repeat the kiss.

  She grinned at the thought of her father and his champion pacing about, plotting how to turn her interest to Uilliam instead of this wandering warrior. He was leaving, so there was nothing for them to worry about, but a tiny part of her thought it would serve them right if they were made to worry a little more.

  “Shall we give them more to gossip about?”

  “I think it would do them all a service to entertain them,” he said.

  She took the basket from him, then looped her arm through his, relishing the peaty, salty scent of him and the feel of his arm against hers as they left the byre and walked into the unusually busy bailey.

  Chapter 7

  Kenneth leaned against the top of the curtain wall, the basket of food for Elspet at his feet. When she had stepped out of the dark byre and into the Bailey where the sun still cast its last light of the day, Elspet had realized just how dirty she had gotten while tending the calf. She decided it would be best to clean up a bit more before she ate. So, as she headed to the tower, he had come ahead to the wall walk, and found himself relishing a few moments of quiet to sort through the events of the past pair of days. Of course he wasn’t entirely alone, and it wasn’t entirely quiet.

  There were plenty of clansfolk taking in the spectacle just as he was, but tonight he did not feel so much like a simple traveler joining them for a few days, as the object of speculation and many sideways glances…especially from the lasses. News of the kiss had clearly sped through the entire castle and it felt like that was on everyone’s minds, and lips.

  He tried to ignore the fact that he was at least as interesting to the MacAlpin clan tonight as the star they were all there to see. He peered up at it, marveling at how much lager it had grown in the sky since last night’s viewing. Was it only last night?

  How had he gotten so off-kilter in such a short time? How had he come to be so distracted from his purpose here? It was not as if he were a young man encountering his first infatuation. He had enjoyed the attentions of women, but he had never…ever…been drawn to one the way he was drawn to the intriguing Elspet. She was beautiful, aye, but there was more to her than that. She was confident and strong, but also serene, and something of an enigma.

  He had been mesmerized when he’d finally returned to the byre with the food and plaids. He could not say how long he’d stood listening and watching as Elspet had repeated the same whispered chant over and over, like a prayer with words he could not understand. Her hand had been restless on the calf’s forehead, though he could not tell what she did there with her fingers. The calf had rested easy, its head still in her lap. Its mother stood near, watching over them, but no longer agitated. He had felt a calm peacefulness drift over him that he did not ever remember feeling before, at least not since before his life had been burned to the ground.

  It wasn’t until he’d forgotten he held the basket and almost dropped it that Elspet and the cows startled out of whatever spell she had woven around them all.

  Spell? Nay, ’twas not that, ’twas more like t
he effect of a mother’s cradle song on a fussy bairn: calming, soothing, healing.

  And yet he had never seen a calf recover so quickly from this sort of malady. He knew, in his bones, that what he had witnessed was more than simply calming the calf. He’d felt the effects himself, like a deep sleep after battle. But she said it was only that she had a way with animals…and plants…and him.

  He wanted to know her better—to kiss her again. He had never expected to feel such strong attraction for a lass, especially not one he’d known only a day. And he knew she felt it, too, regardless of what she said about curiosity being sated. Her eyes spoke the truth.

  He focused on the star above him, bright and sparkling in the sky, the promise of transformation. He did not have need of transformation. His life had been set for him when his village was burned. He’d made a vow that day, and he meant to keep it. He closed his eyes, shutting out the tantalizing possibilities the star offered.

  This attraction was folly. It would do no one any good if he allowed himself to become entangled with the woman; if he allowed her to become entangled with him.

  But he could wish their situation was different, that there might be some chance at a future. He did not see how it could be possible, but the star beckoned.

  He cast his wish up to the Summer Star just as he heard a commotion in the bailey.

  Kenneth peered over the wall into the now starlit bailey. People were coming in through the gate tunnel: a tall man leading a pony with someone riding, plus several guards. The way the guards moved spoke of familiarity, but there was something agitated about the man as he stopped the pony in the middle of the bailey and helped down the rider.

  Even in less starlight than they had this evening, he would know that man by the way he moved. He’d know his brother anywhere.

  “Drostan!” he shouted as he pelted down the stair, skidding to a stop just beside the well.

  “Kenneth? The guard said you awaited my return but—” A low moan stole Drostan’s attention and it was only then that Kenneth shifted his to the petite, fair woman who leaned against his brother. Drostan lifted her into his arms. Elspet was right. Kenneth could see the woman’s large belly, and the way she cradled it with her hands, as if she could not bear the weight of it without that support.

  “By the rood!” Elspet was rushing toward them from the tower. She pointed at the guard standing nearest the couple. “Fetch Morven, and my mum!”

  The guard took off at a run for the great hall while Kenneth looked quickly from the pregnant woman to Elspet and back. The resemblance was startling—long hair the identical flaxen-blonde, pale blue eyes, a straight nose—though Elspet was taller.

  “Lily has been trying to bring this bairn into the world for nigh on two days,” Drostan said to Elspet, as if Kenneth were not even there. “The first day I tried to convince her to let me fetch the midwife, but she would not. This morning she finally agreed to come here, but I fear the rapid journey may have harmed them both.” Kenneth had never before heard the tremor in Drostan’s voice. “Two days, Elspet. You must help her.”

  “Of course,” Elspet said. “Can you carry her to the tower?”

  “I can.” Drostan moved rapidly across the bailey. Lady Mariota arrived at a run, talking to Lily even before she reached Drostan’s side.

  “If the pains begin again before we get you settled, we will stop. Elspet and I will help you through it,” Kenneth heard Mariota say as he fell in behind them.

  Lily didn’t seem to hear Mariota, but a whimper turned quickly into another moan.

  “Stop, Drostan,” Mariota said. “Let her stand and lean against you until the pain passes.”

  He did as instructed, letting Lily lean back against him, her hands still cradling her huge belly. Elspet and Mariota coached the girl through the contraction, taking her attention off of what was happening to her as best they could, until Lily slumped, almost sliding out of Drostan’s grip.

  “Drostan.” Lily’s voice was raspy with great fatigue as he lifted her back into his arms. “Stay with me.”

  “I will not leave you, love,” he said, laying a kiss upon her forehead. “I promised you I would not. Have you ever known me to break a promise?”

  In the starlight, Kenneth saw his brother glance his way, wince, then quickly return his attention to the woman. He may not break promises to Lily, but he certainly had broken his promise to Kenneth. When all was well with the mother and bairn, Drostan would have to answer for that.

  Another pain took Lily before they could even move.

  “I cannot, not again…” Her long wail echoed off the castle walls. Drostan looked like he was about to crumple to the ground, so great was his distress. His brother’s fear and the clear bond between him and Lily felt as high and wide as the castle wall, shutting Kenneth out in a way he had never experienced with Drostan before, keeping him at a distance. He pushed the childish thought away. Drostan was rightfully concerned for his wife and child.

  “It has passed,” Drostan whispered to his wife, who once more sagged in his arms.

  A woman who appeared quite old but moved as if she were Elspet’s age, hurried to the group and began giving orders to two young lasses following in her wake, sending them scurrying—one towards the kitchen, one sprinting through the tower door.

  “You,” the old woman said, pointing a bony finger at Kenneth, “fetch a bench for the father before his knees give way. Make sure you set it outside the tower. ‘Twon’t do to have him interfering every time the lass cries out.”

  “No! He stays with me!” The fear in Lily’s voice was clear and strong. “You promised me.” Tears began to pool in her eyes.

  “I did, love,” Drostan said, lifting her chin with a finger so she had to look into his eyes, “and I am staying with you, just as I vowed. ’Twas the only way I could get her to agree to come here,” he said to the midwife. “I will not break my vow to her.”

  “Of course not,” Elspet said. “Come. Let us get Lily as comfortable as we can, and let Morven take care of her and the bairn. I think we do not have much time before the next pain is upon her.”

  Kenneth spied a bench near the cow byre, and grabbed it anyway, setting it just outside the tower door. There might not be anything he could do to help right now, but he would be here. He would not allow Drostan to be alone if the worst happened. Kenneth remembered all to well what it was like to lose a loved one, though Drostan did not remember that time clearly. He prayed Drostan would not have to experience such loss today.

  Elspet stepped into the tower doorway, following the rest of the women and Drostan, and stopped.

  “Do you still have the basket with my dinner?” she asked Kenneth.

  It took him a moment to figure out what she was inquiring about and then he realize he had left the basket on the wall walk. “Aye, I shall fetch it.”

  “Bring that, then ask your friend,” she raised both eyebrows at him and grinned, “Cook, for more food, along with some broth. Tell Cook the broth is for Drostan’s wife.”

  Kenneth nodded, though he knew Elspet did not see him for she was already gone.

  He continued to stare at the door for a long moment until the understanding that his brother had arrived in Dunlairig, that Kenneth had finally found him, settled slowly into his mind. The idea of his brother being married also began to take root. Somehow it had not seemed possible, had not seemed real, but now that he had seen, if not exactly met, the woman in question, and it was very clear that she was with child, and that Drostan was the father, he could not pretend it was not true. He had seen the worry on his brother’s face, the total focus on what Lily and their bairn needed, and the not-at-all-happy surprise to find Kenneth waiting for him at Dunlairig.

  And just that suddenly, Kenneth realized that perhaps Drostan hadn’t wanted to be found. Perhaps he was happy where he was. Perhaps he hadn’t wanted to return to Kilstrae right from the moment he decided to leave. Perhaps the broken promise was never truly meant.

/>   Kenneth stood in the midst of a bailey bustling with people curious about the arrival of the couple, yet never had he felt more alone.

  Chapter 8

  Kenneth had arranged for food, as Elspet had requested, but wasn’t even allowed in the room to deliver it, so once that task had been handed over to Cook and her helpers, he’d settled himself on the bench just outside the tower door, wanting to stay near in case Drostan needed him.

  But his brother hadn’t come.

  Each time someone had come or gone from the tower, women fetching things, Kenneth had startled awake, never even knowing that he’d fallen asleep until he wasn’t sleeping. Eventually, he’d given up even that pretext of keeping vigil, wrapped himself in one of the plaids he’d originally collected for Elspet, and stretched out on the bench.

  “’Tis glad I am to see that someone got some sleep this night.” The voice was barely above a whisper.

  Kenneth cracked open an eye to find Elspet peering down at him. She appeared exhausted, but happy.

  “I have someone here who wants to meet her Uncle Kenneth.”

  She waited for him to sit up, then sat beside him, near enough that the warmth of her seemed to reach for him, wrapping him in a cocoon of peace, like a hug. She looked down and it was only then that he realized she had a tiny bairn cuddled up in her arm. He could just make out a sweet rosy face and a shock of MacGregor-red hair to match her da’s. The wee one was a MacGregor for sure.

  “This is your niece.” Elspet ran a fingertip down the baby’s cheek. “She and her mum worked hard to get her here.”

  Kenneth found himself wishing his mum was here to meet her granddaughter, to run her fingers on the bairn’s cheek. She would have been so pleased for Drostan and Lily, so happy to welcome a new generation of the MacGregors of Glasarnan into the world. Odd that he had never considered that might happen.