WHAT MAY HAPPEN
At breakfast the next morning, Brodgar concentrated on his plate. They ate in the solar – it was much warmer in the winter, and more intimate, with just the family around – but he was aware of his mother's inquiring gaze and daren't risk looking at Henriette.
“And the snow hasn't had any ill effects on the sheep pens, thankfully,” Broderick was saying to Duncan, his brother. Duncan cleared his throat.
“Good. I was worried. The crofters'd be ruined come spring, if that happened.”
“We could offer them succor here,” Alina pointed out, reaching across for a slice of ham as they talked. “We have more than enough stored for winter.”
“We do, dear. Bless your kind heart,” Duncan smiled. She looked at him with a tenderness she rarely showed to anyone.
Brodgar found himself wondering if he should approach her with his question.
Mayhap later. First I want to think about this matter.
“You going out today?” Alf asked from beside him. He was breaking bits off a bannock and eating with some enthusiasm. Brodgar smiled.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “You want to take a ride?”
“I thought we could take the horses up to the cliff again,” Alf said thoughtfully. “I want to get Fire used to narrow paths.”
Brodgar nodded. Fire was the offspring of his father's destrier and a local breed. Alf had insisted on helping to train him, and he and the horse were inseparable. The original destriers had been trained in France and, to Uncle Blaine's dismay, they spoke French; a language he himself did not, though his wife did. Trying to make the horses respond to Scottish words had been a real battle.
“At least Fire understands what we're saying,” Brodgar grinned.
“He does. He does,” Alf nodded. “Amice? Are you coming?”
“I'll stay inside today,” Brodgar's sister said softly. “I should finish up with my embroidery.” She made a face and Brodgar grinned. “Henriette?” Amice asked, calling down the table to where Henriette sat with Chrissie on her left, Broderick on her right.
“Yes?” Ettie asked. She looked across at Amice and Brodgar found himself desperately concentrating on his plate again.
“Will you sew with me?”
“I would like to,” Ettie said. “I want to make a border for a new kirtle.”
“Oh!” Amice looked much happier. “Then I shall have plenty of company. How nice. That makes sewing much more fun.” She made a face at their mother, who laughed.
“Aye, you will. And there'll be more people to sit still so I can wind skeins.”
Amice giggled. “I can run fast enough to escape now, Mama.”
Brodgar had to laugh. He and Amice had been subjected to sitting still while their mother wound her skeins of silk or wool round their hands – the perfect way, she always commented, of getting a nice even thread.
“I'll help,” Ettie volunteered. Brodgar saw a shuttered look cross his mother's face and wished she would be a bit nicer to their visitor.
“Thank you, Ettie,” she said politely.
Brodgar looked away, reaching for another bannock for breakfast. His father grinned.
“Come on, lad! You could look a bit more cheerful. How's the training with Arnold going?”
“Well, Father,” Brodgar agreed amiably. “He understands Scottish words, anyway.”
Broderick chuckled. “Good, good. I had to learn some French, you know.”
They laughed. Brodgar wondered if his father would not be persuaded to release him from the obligations he now had to the MacDonnell He was a kind man. It was worth finding out about.
“Well, I thought it was faster for the horse to learn Scottish,” Blaine spoke up. “So I didn't bother with learnin' th' French meself.”
They all roared with laughter. Brodgar grinned at Blaine. Blunt, bluff and kind, Blaine was always ready with wry humor and his own special insight.
“Well,” Broderick said, standing. “Excuse me. I ought to go and get the reports from the crofters. See if anyone needs our help. Duncan?”
“Yes, brother?”
“Will you come with me?”
“Of course.”
That left Brodgar at the table with Alf and his mother, Alina, Amice and Ettie. Chrissie and Blaine had excused themselves; Chrissie with some business with the seamstress, Blaine to go and exercise with the men-at-arms.
“I think the weather will hold today,” Alina observed to Brodgar and Alf. “Though you might catch a chill on the cliffs. And I recently had you in the sickroom, Sir Alf.”
Alf gave her a lopsided grin. “I'll be careful. I promise, Auntie.”
“You'd better be,” she said with a grin.
Brodgar waited until his mother and Amice had disappeared to the sewing room and Alf had gone to the stables. That left him, Alina, and Ettie together. Ettie was looking at her plate, trying very hard to be invisible. Brodgar felt bad about ignoring her, but for the life of him he couldn't do else with his mother's critical eye on him. He looked at Aunt Alina.
“Auntie?”
“Yes?”
“I have an...um...a question for you. If you have time later?”
Alina cast a quick glance at Ettie, almost as if she knew what it would be about. “Of course,” she said. “In the still-room. I'm heading there now. Come and find me when you're ready to talk.”
“Yes, Auntie.”
Brodgar waited until Aunt Alina left, her dark blue velvet skirt swishing silently out. He looked at Ettie, but she was still looking away. He stood. “I'd better go and talk to Alina,” he said gently.
“Yes,” Ettie said. When she looked up at him, he could have cursed himself for the confusion and sadness in her deep slate-blue eyes. He felt like the worst person on earth at that point, but there wasn't much he could do about it.
He turned and walked out. The still-room seemed to be surrounded in its own aura of herb-scents, and he stood in the corridor, breathing in the scent of thyme and myrrh and composing his thoughts. What do I want to ask her? Alina often only answered one question, so he'd better be sure about what he wished to know. He swallowed hard and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” a voice called. Lilting, warm and amused, it wrapped around him and nevertheless gave him a tense shiver.
“Aunt Alina?”
“Just checking this decoction,” Alina said, holding up a small vial in which dark liquid was draining through a linen cloth. “It's going to be for coughs. We'll need it before winter's done.”
“Yes. Um, Aunt?”
“Mm?” She turned those dreamy black eyes on him and Brodgar looked at his hands, feeling suddenly extremely tense.
“I...Ettie Fraser coming to the castle has, er, changed me. I was wondering if...” he trailed off, licking his lips worriedly.
“You want to know if you'll wed. Yes?” Alina raised one perfectly arched brow in questioning.
“Yes.” Brodgar clenched his hands. Damn it, but why could she see into his inmost thoughts? It was disconcerting! Everything about Alina was disconcerting, from her mysterious smile to her acerbic commentary sometimes.
“Well,” she said, laying the bottle aside and sitting down on a stool so she could look up at him. “It's complicated. That path is open, but there are obstacles on it. Some you know. Some you don't. Some will only happen because of how you choose to walk it. But in the end, it can be. You need to learn something.”
“I do?” Brodgar shivered. She smiled at him.
“Yes. Trust.”
“I do trust...” Brodgar protested. She gave him a blank stare.
“Well, that's all I have to say to you, young man. If you're finished, I'll be getting on with this preparation. Your sister needs a syrup for her lungs. And you can take it to her later, if you've a mind to?”
Brodgar swallowed hard. “Auntie? Uh...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.”
“You didn't,” she said with a sharp grin. She was as tall as he was and looking into those night-black eyes made him look away fearfully. She was worse than offended – she was enigmatic.
“I did,” he said.
“No,” she smiled. “You just proved my point. Now off you go.”
“Thank you,” Brodgar said quickly, remembering his manners. Then he hurried out. In the corridor, he was surprised to find he was sweating. The encounter with Alina had left him feeling tense. He was glad he had asked. It wasn't all bad.
She said it was possible. She said there were obstacles. She said I must learn trust.
Brodgar frowned. Of all the lessons he had expected, trust was not one of them. It felt like a hero tale of some kind: the hero has to perform some tasks to win the maiden. However, this time, the task was obscure. He would rather, he thought, have been set some straightforward exercise: retrieve some lost treasure, fight a beast. Like the tasks in the tales. He had been asked something that seemed harder.
Trust. Trust who? What for?
Feeling as if wasps were nesting in his mind, Brodgar headed off to the courtyard. There, Alf waited.
“There you are!” Alf said, grinning.
“Sorry I'm late. I wanted to speak to our aunt quickly. Ask her something.”
“Oh?” Alf asked, swinging up onto the back of his horse. “Easy, there.”
Brodgar mounted after him and the two of them rode side-by-side through the great gate, calling out to the sentries as they passed. Alf breathed out, watching his breath plume in the frosty air.
“So?” he said. “Ready for a ride?”
“Definitely,” Brodgar nodded. He considered what Alina had said. Obstacles. Trust. Did he trust Alf? Surprisingly, he found he did.
“I hope this weather settles. If it does, Amice can ride out with us tomorrow.”
“That would be good,” Brodgar agreed. “Um, Alf?”
“Yes? Easy, the track's slippery as polished slate.”
Brodgar nodded, feeling his horse slide a little as they rode over the muddy path. “I was wondering. Have you met Ambeal MacDonnell?”
“Your betrothed?” Alf asked. “Maybe once.”
“Was it the gathering I missed?” Brodgar asked. Three years before, when he was sixteen, he'd missed the gathering, being away with Blaine on a patrol of the border fortification.
“That's it,” Alf nodded. “Unfortunate miss. Oh, look. That brush ought to be cut back a little – path's getting overgrown. Remind Father, when we get back?”
“I will,” Brodgar agreed, biting his lip as he ducked under a low branch. “So? Alf, what's she like?”
“Who? Oh. Ambeal. She's nice. I suppose.”
“You spoke to her?”
“A little. She's a polite, nice girl,” Alf said firmly. “Why?”
“Oh.” Brodgar sighed. Alf didn't seem overly talkative on the subject of Ambeal, which was odd in itself, for his cousin was usually talkative about every subject. He frowned. How could he ask Alf? “Um...”
“Whoops! There was a fox! Pretty thing, too. All red against the leaves. What, cousin?”
“I wanted to ask,” Brodgar said patiently, “what I should do?”
“About what?”
“You see, the thing is...I rather like Ettie.”
“I saw,” Alf agreed. “Well?”
“Well, I want to...you know...find out if I could change this betrothal. Is it possible? I need help.”
Alf ran his tongue over front teeth. Paused. At length, he cleared his throat. “Could be.”
“You think so? How could I do it?”
“Well, two possibilities. First, I think we should meet her. Ask her about it.”
“Oh?” Brodgar felt his heart sink into his boots with nerves. How did Alf think he was going to meet a girl to tell her he wasn't marrying? How could he do that?
“But first,” Alf continued sensibly, “I think the best thing to do would be to alert your father. Ask his permission. What d'you think?”
Brodgar paused. The thought of confronting his father with this request made him nervous. The healing of the feud meant a great deal to Broderick and Amabel – it had plagued them several times during their lives, and harmed each member of the family. He knew they wanted it healed. Wouldn't his father be angry?
Trust. He drew in a deep breath. “Very well.”
Alf smiled at him, dazzlingly. “I'll come too?”
“Thanks, Alf,” Brodgar said, sighing. “I'd like that.”
The ride was short – Aunt Alina was right that the wind was blowing fitfully on the cliffs, and Alf, coughing, agreed they leave. When they reached the castle, their horses safe and warm with bran mash to eat, they went up to their chambers, agreeing to meet Broderick at the great hall as soon as they had changed their outer clothing.
In the hall, Brodgar waited in the wings as his father, on the dais, listened to aggrieved cottagers' needs. The steward, Alec, waved them forward after a brief lull in the proceedings.
“Father?”
“Yes. Son, Alf! This is a surprise. What is it?”
“Are you busy?”
“I don't know,” Broderick said pleasantly. “Alec?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Any more petitioners today?”
“No, sir. The inner hallway's empty right now.”
“Oh. Good. Whew,” he added with a grin. “Right, lads. I'm all ears now.”
Brodgar grinned at his father, feeling relieved to see him so cheerful. “Um, Father..?”
“Yes?”
Brodgar glanced sideways at Alf, who smiled encouragingly. Trust. He took a breath. “The betrothal. The one to Ambeal. I know I've not...I haven't done anything about it. Any courting or the like. Would it be possible to, er, reconsider it?”
Broderick frowned and Brodgar felt himself shiver. At length, his father nodded.
“It could be. Of course, we'd need to see her. And the MacDonnell, probably. Explain it. But nothing's impossible, son. If that was what you truly wanted.”
“Thank you, Father!”
“But...” Broderick paused. “I was always a hasty man. I caution you now. You should make sure to meet her. Talk with her. Spend some time there. Or how will you know you're making the right choice? You don't know anything about her, after all.”
Alf looked at Brodgar, who nodded back. “You did say it was a good idea,” he commented. Alf smiled.
“We were thinking about doing that, lord,” he said respectfully to Broderick. “Maybe today?”
“I don't see why not,” Broderick said. “Assuming the MacDonnell is at home, not in Edinburgh or somewhere else for the post-Yule festivities, of course.”
“Yes.” Brodgar nodded. “Well, with your permission, Father, we'll leave at once.”
Broderick nodded. “You have it, son. Tell your mother, and you, Alf, you'd best get some information from Alina. If you get a cold again she'll finish you off herself.”
Alf smiled wryly. “I believe it, sir.”
They all laughed.
“Thank you, Father,” Brodgar said again, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Of all the things he had expected to happen, his father's easy agreement was the last thing he had thought would occur.
Trust, he heard in his head. Saw Alina's scathing smile.
Well, he thought as he and Alf went out to go their separate ways to get ready, it seemed as if he was learning to trust. Slowly, but steadily. In addition, it seemed that, as usual, Alina was right. The main obstacle on his path was learning to trust. He followed Alf upstairs and hurried to pack. They might be at the MacDonnell fort for several days. Moreover, he would want to look his best; after all, it was his potential bride he was seeing.