With the agreement that they would wait a few weeks to marry— or as long as it took Muriel to grow more comfortable with the idea — they settled into an odd courtship of sorts. ’Twas by no stretch of the imagination a romantic endeavor they were on. Nay, ’twas more of a situation where two like-minded people took the time to get to know one another.

Muriel began to come out of her own shell as well as her hut far more often. During the day, whilst Rodrick trained with Ian and the other men, Muriel would go to the keep to help Rose and Aggie. Most days they worked alongside the other clanswomen, helping to prepare meals for the men who were working daily on the keep or for those who trained. Other days, they worked at sewing and mending or gathering rushes, or tending the gardens.

Now that Muriel was more open-minded about the prospect of keeping her babe, the two women brought their children around her far more frequently.

Little Ada was a beautiful, cherubic babe, with round cheeks, deep blue eyes, and curly red hair. There was no mistaking who her father was, for she had his coloring, but Aggie’s beauty. She toddled around the keep, usually in pursuit of her older brother, Ailrig.

Then there was Rose’s babe, John. ’Twas difficult to tell yet who he resembled most; his mother or his father. He had blonde hair and big blue eyes. His disposition was such that Muriel believed he was more like his mother than his father, for he was a sweet, content babe. She was certain Ian either did not like her or trust her much, if the scowls and piercing looks were a gauge of such things.

When the weather allowed, the women would take the babes out of doors for fresh air and sunshine. They would not walk far from the protective walls of the keep, at least not without an armed escort. Muriel had known that Rose had been kidnapped not long ago by Rutger Bowie. Rose spoke very little of her time as his prisoner, and Muriel did not want to push the matter by asking too many questions.

The people of the clan were beginning to take notice of her. Most of the women folk were polite and even kind. There were only a small number who looked at her with scorn. Muriel had to assume it was because she was with child and unwed.

While she did find it embarrassing to be in her current predicament, her attitude had begun to improve. When those dark moments reared, she would go to her hut for some quiet reflection. There, she would remind herself that this babe might not be of her own choosing, but it could still be considered a blessing. Silently, she prayed for a girl child with the belief that the risk of it turning out like the man who sired her would be cut dramatically. If she had a boy, Muriel felt she might not end up as lucky as Aggie had with Ailrig.

At night, Rodrick would come for her to escort her to the evening meal. While many of the clans people ate in their own cottages, many invited guests supped with Ian and Rose. On any given night, there were at least thirty people dining in the keep.

After the meal, she and Rodrick would take a long walk together. Some nights they would take several trips around the walls and talk until the midnight hour. Other nights, when the rain was too much, they would sit in Muriel’s hut and talk for hours.

Muriel truly began to like Rodrick, not just for the kindness he had shown her, but for his sense of humor as well. There were times he made her laugh until her sides hurt. When she mentioned that to Rose and Aggie, they thought she was jesting. “I’ve never thought of Rodrick as humorous,” Rose admitted. “Stern, aye, but never humorous.”

Her spirits and mood had changed dramatically over the weeks. Muriel no longer prayed for a quick and timely death. Neither did she feel so totally lost and alone. Rose, Aggie, and Rodrick had become more than just friends. They were family.

After her third week amongst the clan, Aggie announced that they would be returning to their own home. They had been gone long enough, according to her husband, Fredrick. Aggie, however, was not as thrilled to be returning as he. “I still do no’ feel at home there,” she admitted. They were sitting under a tall elm tree as they watched Ailrig and the other children play. John was asleep in Rose’s arms, and ’twas all Aggie could do to keep Ada from running after them.

“But it be a grand keep,” Rose said. “I would think ‘twould be a nice change over where we grew up.”

“Did ye no’ grow up here?” Muriel asked as she lay on her back looking up at the blue sky poking through the trees.

Rose and Aggie giggled in unison. “Nay,” Rose replied. “The original McLaren keep is a mile or two away from here.”

“Why did ye move here?” Muriel asked, squinting her eyes against the sunlight.

“Because me father burned the original keep to the ground,” Aggie replied bluntly.

They now had Muriel’s full attention. She rolled onto her side and looked at them skeptically. “Ye jest.”

“Nay, she does no’ jest,” Rose told her. “’Tis true.”

“Why on earth would he do such a thing?” Muriel asked.

“Because he was a mad man,” Rose said.

“And because he did no’ want me to have it.”

Muriel listened as Rose and Aggie told the story of how Mermadak McLaren was not Aggie’s blood father. Of how Aggie’s mother had been in love with Douglas Carruthers but remained with Mermadak for Aggie’s sake. Muriel was dumbfounded to learn that Aggie not only had one keep, but two. Aggie had inherited the McLaren keep as well as her grandmother Genean Carrruthers’ keep a three-day ride north and east of here.

Muriel was about to ask why Aggie did not want to return when Ailrig came up to them. He looked deflated.

“What be the matter?” Aggie asked him as he sat down beside her.

“I want to go fishin’,” he said. “But none of the other lads want to go with me.”

“Mayhap yer da will take ye later,” Aggie told him with an encouraging smile.

“Nay,” Ailrig replied. “He be busy with Ian.”

Muriel felt truly sorry for the little boy. “Ailrig, would ye take me fishin’?” she asked. “Though I must tell ye, it has been many a year since I have done such.”

Ailrig raised a brow dubiously. “Ye want to go fishin’?” he asked skeptically.

“Why no’?” she said. ’Twas a gloriously beautiful day, with plenty of sunshine and clear skies. “Unless ye do no’ want to go fishin’ with a girl?” she said, feigning seriousness.

He thought it a rather odd thing to ask. “I fish with anyone who wants to go,” he said. “Man or woman, girl or boy.”

Aggie interjected with a protest. “Ye do no’ need to take him, Muriel. This boy would fish from sun-up until after sunset if we’d let him.”

Muriel got to her feet and stretched her back. “Nay, I do no mind,” she said. “I think I would like to impress Rodrick by catching at least a dozen fish.”

Ailrig laughed heartily at her declaration. “I wager that would impress him,” he said. “I ken fer certain it would impress me.”

* * *

In less than a half an hour, Ailrig and Muriel were sitting by the babbling stream with their strings in the water. Rose and Aggie had taken the other children back to the keep, leaving just the two of them alone.

Ailrig was munching on a hunk of bread, propped up on one elbow with his legs outstretched. Muriel was watching the boy out of the corner of her eye. “Why do ye like fishin’ so much?” she asked him in a hushed tone.

The boy shrugged his shoulders before answering. “The quiet, I reckon,” he replied. “And I like bein’ out of doors.”

It seemed a good enough answer for Muriel. They sat quietly for a long while, simply enjoying the solitude and stillness.

“It also gives a man time to think,” Ailrig said, adding to his earlier response.

Muriel stifled the urge to laugh at him. He seemed so serious and so adult like. “And what would a lad of yer age need to ponder on?” she asked.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Ye’d be surprised.”

She thought it a rather intriguing answer. “Such as?”

Another shrug of his shoulders was all she received. She was about to ask for further clarification when a fish tugged at his line. With an expertise she thought defied his age, he soon had the fish out of the water, freed from the tiny hook, and placed in the wicker basket. And moments later he had tossed his line back into the water.

Once he was happy with where his line was, he stretched out along the bank, with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed. The more Muriel studied him, the more she began to think he was quite old for such a young boy. Shouldn’t he be playing with other children? Mayhap playing with wooden swords and pretending to defend the keep from marauders?

“Mum says ye’re goin’ to have a babe,” Ailrig said quietly.

She felt her stomach tighten for the briefest of moments. “Aye, I am.”

“She says ye’re goin’ to marry Rodrick the Bold.”

“Rodrick the Bold?” she asked. “Why do ye call him that?”

“Because that be what everyone calls him,” Ailrig replied.

Muriel had to chuckle. “I mean why do they call him that?”

Ailrig shrugged his shoulders. “Mayhap because he be a mean son of—” he stopped and corrected his language. “He be a right fierce man on the battlefield, is what I be told. Most people be afraid of him.”

“Are ye?” Muriel asked. She wasn’t certain how much of this was rumor or truth. She thought back to how Rodrick had helped her escape from the ship. Aye, he’d been more than just fierce. If he hadn’t been there to protect her, she was certain she might have died from fright alone.

He thought on it for a moment. “Nay, I be no’ afraid of him. But neither would I want to anger him on purpose. ‘Twould be akin to pokin’ a wounded bear with a sharp stick, ye ken.”

Aye, she could very well see what he meant. Oddly, she didn’t find anything terrifying about Rodrick. Whenever he was with her, he was forever the gentleman. She felt safe with him, safer that she’d ever felt around anyone other than her father. Not even her brother Charles had left her feeling that way.

“I think Rodrick will make a good father,” Ailrig said. “Even if the babe be no’ his.”

A sense of dread and unease fell over Muriel then. She was still filled with doubt about the prospect of marrying Rodrick. And she still clung to the worry of keeping this babe. What if she or he looked too much like Fergus? Would she still be able to love the babe, or would it be naught more than a daily, constant reminder of what had happened?

“I heard mum and da talkin’ about it,” Ailrig added. “They think I can no’ hear them late at night, but I do.”

She wondered what else the boy had heard. Suddenly, that all-too-familiar sense of shame came rushing in. She didn’t want a boy so young to know that such violent things occurred in this world. And she did not want him to think less of her because of the actions of another. Before she could put to voice what she was thinking, Ailrig was speaking again.

“Can ye keep a secret?” he asked without moving.

Muriel could hear the seriousness in his voice. She remembered having ‘secrets’ as a little girl. They were naught tremendously important secrets to anyone but herself. They were silly things really, if one compared them to the significance of real, adult secrets or problems.

There was something in the little lad’s tone of voice that told her she should not laugh or make light of him, even if she believed his secret ’twas naught more serious than what lass he might ‘like’ or that he took a sweet cake when his mother wasn’t looking. “Aye, I can keep a secret.”

Slowly, Ailrig sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. “Ye may no’ ken this, but I was bastard born.”

Aye, she knew that, for Aggie and Rose had told her. “Aye, I ken that, Ailrig,” she replied softly.

He wore the most serious expression. Turning away from her, he stared at the stream. “That used to bother me, when I was younger.”

She had to stifle the urge to laugh, for he was still quite young.

“That be no’ the secret,” he told her. “Me bein’ bastard born and all.”

With her curiosity piqued, she said, “What is yer secret then?”

“I ken the truth. I ken who me real da is.”

* * *

It took every ounce of energy not to gasp or otherwise look surprised. Muriel didn’t know what she should do or say, so she simply listened.

“I heard me mum and da talkin’ about it a long time ago. I ken that Eduard Bowie raped me mum.”

There was no way to hide her astonishment. She had to look away. This poor child! Her heart hurt for him. What if my own child some day learns the truth? It would be devastatin’ for her. Muriel began to rethink her decision to keep this babe and just why Ailrig was sharing this with her. Mayhap she should tell him that mayhap ‘twould be best to talk to his parents instead of her.

“At first, it was quite a shock. I was verra angry, ye ken. Angry that no one had told me the truth.” He grabbed a blade of grass and began to rub it betwixt his finger and thumb. “But I was even more angry that he had done that to me mum.”

An errant tear escaped Muriel’s eye and slid down her cheek. I can no’ do that to this babe. I can no’ keep a secret such as this, to pretend, to lie. ‘Twould no’ be fair. “I am so sorry, Ailrig,” she whispered, still unable to look at him.

“Do no’ feel sorry fer me,” he said. “Because I no longer feel sorry fer meself.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips before looking at him. “I do no’ understand.” She truly couldn’t. How could he not be filled with shame or rage at knowing the truth?

“I ken it might sound odd,” he began, “but I ken me mum and da love me. That is all that matters to me. I remember Mermadak, the man who raised mum. He was a mean, cruel son of a whore and I be glad he is dead.”

She took note that he didn’t correct his foul language and couldn’t chastise him for it.

“I be grateful me mum was nothin’ like him. I be grateful fer what I have, ye ken. Because, fer a verra long time, me and mum did no’ have anything to our names but the clothes on our backs. Fer a verra long time, we lived in constant fear of Mermadak, fear of his beatin’s, ye ken.”

No, that she did not ken. She knew there was more to Aggie’s story than she had shared. Now, Muriel was getting a bigger glimpse at her previous life.

“I also ken I be nothin’ like Eduard Bowie, the man who sired me. I will live the whole of me life tryin’ to be the opposite of everythin’ he was. I will be like Frederick and me mum. I will be a fierce warrior who protects the innocent, just like me da and uncles do. And like Rodrick does.”

Now she understood why he was telling her these things. He knew the truth about her babe. From his own experience, he was trying to give her hope.

Wise beyond his years, Ailrig scooted to sit next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Do no’ cry, Muriel,” he said. “I did no’ mean to make ye cry.”

Muriel felt absurdly foolish crying her eyes out in front of an eleven-year-old boy.

“I just wanted ye to ken that if ye love yer babe like me mum and Frederick love me, then all will be well,” he explained. “All that matters to a child is that they’re loved.”

* * *

All that matters is that they’re loved.

Those were wise words from a boy as young as Ailrig.

Muriel wiped away the rest of her tears and took in a deep cleansing breath. “Thank ye, Ailrig,” she told him. “I will do me best to remember what ye said.”

He patted her shoulder once before scooting away. “And ye’ll no’ tell anyone that I know the truth?” he asked.

“’Twill be a secret I take to me grave,” she told him.

He gave a quick nod before looking back to the fishing lines. After a long moment of silence, he said, “Ye best hurry with catchin’ fish, fer I do believe I be winnin’.”

Muriel giggled at him. “I did no’ realize ’twas a contest.”

He looked at her with mouth agape. “Fishin’ be always a contest,” he said.

Oh, the more she got to know this young lad, the more she liked him. “Verra well then,” she said with a smile. “I have nothin’ to wager, but let us say that whoever catches the most fish will be declared the King of Fisherman, aye?”

He seemed to like that idea a great deal. “And what shall the loser be declared?” he asked.

“The loser will simply have to live with the shame of losin’.”

He nodded in approval. “Do no’ worry,” he said. “I shall tell no one ye lost.”