Chapter Twenty
“Are ye bloody jesting?” Padraig exclaimed, standing from his chair in the commons hall.
The healer shook her head. “Nay. She’s a sweet sort. Quiet, and most certainly ashamed. She wants nothing, so she did nay come to angle for coin or compensation. I believe her to be an honest lass. She’s definitely carrying a bairn. ’Tis still early in the carriage, but the bairn seems well-attached, for she feels the sickness strongly.”
Rabbie released a scoff, shoving away from the wall where he had stood with a foot propped against it, his arms still crossed. “That wee bastard.”
“It’s no’ as if Teàrlach knew,” countered Seamus, always a reasonable man. “’Twas way too soon to know when he left her in Edinburgh.”
“He damn well should have waited to see the result of his seed sowing before he ran off to Ireland without a trace,” Rabbie retorted, moving to a pitcher and pouring watered-ale into a cup from which he then swilled.
“It makes sense now, though,” spoke Padraig’s wife, a handsome woman of middle years and mother to Padraig’s two sons and three daughters. “We all know Teàrlach well. The man’s a quiet giant and has always been careful betwixt a lass’s legs.”
Padraig harrumphed, also downing a long swallow of drink and taking his wife’s hand mindlessly. “Aye, careful in that he stayed out from betwixt them mostly.”
“Which means that if he begged her to elope, he felt something for her,” Padraig’s wife added. “And when she did nay beg out of her contract, he took it as rejection. His heart must have been broken,” Padraig’s wife sighed, “to take such drastic measures.”
“Her heart is indeed broken, too, I dare say,” the healer added.
“All of Scotland knows the Beast of Ayr’s repute,” Seamus spoke. “Defying the king and begging release from the marriage was probably hard for her to do, as was finding her way here to inform Teàrlach.”
“Well, he’s gone,” remarked Rabbie. “I nay know the first place to look for him. But we’ll damn-well search the entire bloody Irish isle and drag his arse back.”
“And if we do nay find him?” spoke Seamus, leaning forward. “What do we do then? Her bairn is Clan Gregor. She ought to live with us, so we can raise the bairn with family.”
“She can marry Rabbie, if Teàrlach can nay be found,” Padraig remarked, as if outlining a business proposal. Rabbie rolled his eyes. “Rabbie needs a wife and he’d treat her well. Her bairn, if a son, could be raised here with his cousins as Rabbie’s son, and if a lass, she’d have her mither and the protection of the full clan. If this bairn is Teàrlach’s, then Lady Crawford needs be part of the clan and protected, too.”
Rabbie shifted. The lass had just landed on their threshold and already Padraig was trying to marry him off again. It was true he was unmarried, and it was true, even if no one knew, that he felt a sense of clan duty to the lass. He might not be interested in marrying, but he was a good, solid man with a strong sword arm, and was in line to maintain the lairdship until Padraig’s oldest son was ready for the duty should Padraig prematurely die. He could extend clan protection to the Crawford lass by simply handfasting. Affection betwixt them might grow with time, and it might remain a simple friendship.
“You ought discuss such matters with the lady first, once you’ve informed her of Teàrlach’s whereabouts,” scolded Padraig’s wife. “’Twould seem after such an ordeal, she might nay be fond of more men planning away her life.”
Padraig nodded, eyeing Rabbie as if to say despite his wife’s opinion, he still thought it a good idea. Rabbie ignored the look. But each time before, when Padraig had tried to push a ceremony on him, he had bluntly refused. And this time, he hadn’t, even if he still disliked the notion. Which meant Padraig knew his stubborn second brother was at least considering the idea. The two men followed the healer through the portal leading to a set of winding steps up to the first floor of the central keep. They came to Madeline’s door, and when she proved to be decent, the healer ushered them in.
…
Madeline watched the men file in, Padraig in front, Rabbie behind. Padraig came to her side and sat on the foot of the bed, the bed ropes creaking under his weight. Rabbie leaned against the wall. Before anyone could speak, she lowered her head.
“I apologize for the scene I caused coming here. ’Twas a fool’s errand to behave as I have,” Madeline began. “I wish only to return to Dungarnock.
“Why?” Padraig furrowed his brow. “’Tis my brother’s bairn that grows in yer womb, lass. Yer wee one is a MacGregor.”
“But it’s a bastard,” she released on a whisper. “You owe me no obligation.”
Padraig’s brow hardened. Murder flashed in Rabbie’s eyes, a tick in his jaw indicating his anger. Anger at her? She swallowed. She needed to find her resolve.
“I’m sorry I’ve angered you,” she murmured, glancing at Rabbie, then down at her lap. “I realize you have no way to know that my, my bairn is Teàrlach’s seed, and I apologize for—”
Rabbie shoved from the wall, causing her to flinch backward.
Padraig took her hand, sending Rabbie a quelling glare. “Nay be frightened of my brother, Lady. He’s a hard man, but a kind one.”
“I’m nay angered at ye, lass,” Rabbie replied. “I’m angered at my wee brother for abandoning ye.”
“He did nay abandon me,” she defended. “He could never have known, for I just learned of it myself.”
“Nay. A man has an obligation to a lass when he beds her, especially if he takes her innocence. He should have stayed long enough to see if his seed took root, nay run away like a coward with his tail betwixt his legs.” Rabbie growled.
Rabbie’s sense of honor struck her. She had mistaken him to be savage. Mayhap he was, but not how she had suspected. “He assumed I married,” she defended again, meekly this time. “Any seed would be understood to be my husband’s.”
“All the same, if he nay wished to marry ye, he should at least account for his bairn. Men might abandon a lass they bedded, but it’s nay the way of a MacGregor to shirk a duty, especially one as big as this.”
“Lady,” Padraig interrupted. “Ye’re most welcome here. But, eh, Teàrlach departed for Ireland only a couple days after returning home. He mentioned nay longer being able to work for Laird Moreville but remained mysterious about his reasons. Now that ye’ve come, it makes sense to us. He must indeed think ye married.”
She shook her head, swiping away the moisture from her eyes, and words began bubbling over her lips. “I should have begged the king sooner. I should never have let Teàrlach leave before I pled my case. The king was merciful to me. He blessed a marriage betwixt Teàrlach and myself. He said Teàrlach was most distraught… I let him go. I did nay make him feel important enough. It’s all my fault!”
She threw her face in her hands. Padraig dragged her hand free, holding it. She looked up at an abrupt movement and noticed Rabbie tamping down anger with a tensing of his muscles, before he dropped down to a knee before her. He looked so much like Teàrlach, and yet different. Rabbie might not have a face for swooning, but that was also something she had liked about Teàrlach. The MacGregor men were a handsome lot in their own wild way.
Rabbie sported a nick and scar across his nose, as well as over one ear. His jaw beneath his beard was undoubtedly chiseled. His hair, feral. He was nothing like Teàrlach and yet, was much like him. And then she watched his eyes, furrowed, gazing at her. Concern swirled in his brown depths. A shiver washed over her. She knew the look. Teàrlach looked at her in such a way, always had. It was the look of an interested and concerned man.
No one said as much, but she could sense it.
“Ye’re in no condition to return home, especially upon that nag ye rode in on,” Padraig scolded. “Ye’ve a welcome abode here and must regain yer strength. At which point, Rabbie will escort ye safely home, if ye choose nay to remain with the clan. And we’ll see ye supported, lass. If yer bairn is a lad, we’ll also see him fostered here when the time comes for him to begin training. I’ll nay allow any nephew of mine to be trained by a bloody Lowlander.” He grinned, winking at her. “I’ll leave ye to recuperate, lass. Rabbie, mayhap ye wish to discuss a matter with her?”
Padraig raised his eyebrow at him. Something silent passed betwixt them. Finally, Rabbie nodded, much like Teàrlach would. Padraig swept out the door. When the healer also left and pulled closed the door, Madeline felt wary prickles upon her arms.
He cleared his throat, looking nervously at her. For such a feral man who surely wasn’t intimidated by much, he looked intimidated now. “Eh, I ken it’s sudden, and ye’ve only just met us,” he began, taking a seat upon the bed where Padraig had just sat. “Seamus and I, eh… We plan to search for Teàrlach. We depart on the morrow and will ride overland to the coast to gather information. I’ll be back after that to take ye home, if it still be yer wish.” He cleared his throat again. “We’ll look after ye, lass. But, eh, if Teàrlach can nay be found… Well, our oldest brother, Padraig, has suggested a marriage of convenience betwixt us. I ken it’s sudden. I ken it’s nay a small thing to spring on ye now,” he remarked, staring at her ashen face. “I’ve never married. Thought about it, aye, but never made the move. But yer bairn is entitled to clan protection and legitimacy, and ye’re our clan’s responsibility as its mither. I nay expect an answer. I only wish to share such a notion with ye. Mayhap ye can think on it, and if I return empty-handed, ye can consider such an offer then.”
She sat dumbfounded. Rabbie nodded once, then stood.
“Right,” he continued, redness of embarrassment creeping up his neck to get lost in his beard. “I leave in the morn.”
…
The months proved fruitless. And Greta had lied. The Spout of Garnock was not magical. It offered no healing properties. It was just pretty water. Madeline had tried using it, desperate for anything to heal her torn heart. But Teàrlach had disappeared. Dungarnock was her home, like it or nay, and as she grew round with child, Madeline walked the outer wall every day, once in the morning, once in the evening, hoping to see a sign of Teàrlach.
A sign never came.
The days slowly became manageable again. John saw to the king’s monthly disbursement diligently. Her sister and her husband were due to arrive soon to assist her when the babe came and would be bringing their new child with them, too. Missives and supplies from the MacGregors came steadily and today, as Rabbie rode his massive warhorse down the road, followed by a guardsman hauling a cart of goods, she realized Teàrlach was never going to come. She had wasted months walking the walls, pining for him from her tower like the proverbial damsel.
Rabbie rode through the gates, gazing up at Madeline standing upon the wall over him. Her belly was swollen. Any sennight now she was expected to take to the birthing bed. Greta, no longer able to walk, their crippled daughter, and Josleyn the young maid, had spent the months sewing garments, blankets, and a sling in which Madeline could carry the child.
She regarded the firm look on Rabbie’s brow. Anger, so sudden, so intense, coursed through her. She clenched her hands to steady their shaking. She had searched all the way to the Highlands for Teàrlach, worrying John de Moreville to the point that the king and her sister had been notified and a month of search parties had embarked, only to find her in the safe keeping of Laird MacGregor. Both Rabbie and Seamus had traveled more than once to Ireland, searching to no avail, everyone whose path they crossed, every soldier, every guardsman, every chieftain, and every villager to tell Teàrlach to return home immediately, if they should ever encounter him. If Teàrlach was still in Ireland, he should have heard by now. Which meant he had decided not to come. He was over her. Or he was dead. And the latter wasn’t likely.
“He’s never coming, is he?” she greeted Rabbie.
Rabbie looked away from her, squinting out at the setting sun. “I fear he remains unaccounted for, Madeline.”
She turned away to come to the ladder. Rabbie dismounted to assist her, helping her find her footing in the dirt of the yard. He stepped back. “Padraig still wishes you to move to Domhnall Castle, lass.”
“I need to remain, in case he comes back,” she replied, a habitual response, though this time, the words rang empty.
“Madeline,” Rabbie began, his voice gruff. “I ken marriage to me is nay what ye want. I ken we nay make the match ye and Teàrlach made. But it’s been months, lass. We all worry for ye here.”
“I have five guardsmen to look after things,” she replied, brushing out her skirts.
“Aye, five guardsmen,” Rabbie scoffed, puffing out his cheeks to indicate that she had five lazy, overweight burdens on her pantry. “Ye have five sods who mean well but could nay protect ye from a fly.”
Madeline looked down.
“Have ye… Have ye thought more on my offer, lass? It would nay be the life ye envisioned with me wee brother, but it would be a good one.”
“What if he’s dead?” she muttered, making an excuse for his absence.
Rabbie fell silent, squinted at the sun again, then responded. “We pray every day for a sign he lives.” He looked at her, then took up her hand, bringing it to his mouth to place a kiss of friendship upon it. “I’ve given ye many months to think on the matter.”
“The bairn is due soon,” she deflected. “A marriage now would be poor timing.”
“Lass,” he said, catching her chin to lift it to him. “What’s your choice?”
She pulled away from him, walking to the cart. In the bed was a trunk, more wool fabric, and a cradle carved out of a single tree trunk. It looked old. She ran a finger over it. Rabbie came up behind her. She felt his presence. He rested his two palms on either of her shoulders as Fingal and his guardsman led the horses to the byre to water them. “’Twas Teàrlach’s cradle,” he murmured. “’Twas my idea to gift it to ye. I ken ye loved him.”
She shook her head. “What is this love? The bliss has long since waned and leaves only heartache.”
“We’re all worried about him,” Rabbie acknowledged. “But when Eejit does nay want to be found, he can turn bloody invisible.”
She simply stared at the cradle. No tears came. No expression. The tears had ceased long ago. Rabbie had made a symbolic gesture, gifting it to her. She knew Rabbie liked her but had qualms about marrying his brother’s woman. And yet she felt nothing. She rested a hand upon her belly and nodded, finally turning to Rabbie. Looking up at him, she spoke.
“Let me get through this birthing…and then I accept.”
Rabbie stood quietly and nodded, smiling, though it was distant and wistful. He was honorable, scarified skin, shaven head, and all. Could she actually marry him? What if Teàrlach came back and discovered her tethered to his brother? How angry would he be at Rabbie? At her? And yet a marriage of protection was a legitimate occurrence. A woman needed the protection of family, clans, and swords, none of which she had right now. Of course, she could also go to Huntington. But the babe deserved to know its uncles and heritage. Men often married their brothers’ widows or raised their nieces and nephews. It was hardly a radical idea.
It was reasonable. Rational. Basic. And it felt so very wrong. But how would she raise this child without the protection of a community? And how would she live with herself if she took the child south to Robert of Huntington’s estate to live with her sister, and raised it as English, when it had an entire paternal family that wanted it? For the first time since leaving Edinburgh, she finally surrendered the last shred of hope, prayers, and wishes that Teàrlach might materialize. She didn’t want to marry Rabbie yet. But she would, and she turned back to the main door to go inside. It was the last time she would wait by the gate for a man who had chosen his battles over her.