A Price to Be Paid: A Scottish Highlander Romance (Legacy of the Laird Book 2)

Chapter 11

From the moment they walked into the blacksmith’s shop, Fynn was drawn to the swords hanging from a rack behind the counter. They were of a simple design; sturdy and capable, but not fancy. They were soldier’s swords that were built to last.

“Can I hold one?” Fynn asked.

“Better no”, lad,” Mathe replied. “They are mighty heavy and sharp besides; I dinnae want to have to explain to yer mother how ye chopped off yer own foot.”

“They do look heavy,” he said.

“And sharp. Why dinnae ye come over here, instead? Take a look at these hammers.”

“The swords are better,” Fynn said.

“Are they?” Mathe asked. “I suppose it depends on how ye look at such things. Swords are better for some tasks, nay doubt.”

“Like fighting,” the boy said, making mock sword thrusts into the air.

“Aye, like fighting. But swords are all about taking things away.”

“What kind of things?”

Mathe shrugged. “Honour, dignity, even life itself. A sword is a taker. And the only things it gives back are false feelings. It might make ye feel stronger or more powerful than someone else, but it’s an illusion. A sword-arm is a poor way to measure someone’s worth.”

“So why is a hammer better, then?” Fynn asked.

“Easy,” Mathe said “A hammer doesnae take anything. It gives. A hammer lets ye build, and mend, and make the world a better place. I dinnae know of any sword that made the world better.”

“Have ye ever owned a sword?”

Mathe thought back to the chest buried under the old farmhouse. If there was ever a sword that had made the world a worse place, it was his old sword. Mèirleach na Beatha - The Thief of Life. It was as much a part of MacBrennan’s legacy as he was himself; the most recognisable sword in the lands of McCaskills and McPhees and even beyond. It was a wicked sword with a red ruby embedded in the hilt, and over time it had taken on a life of its own. As long as MacBrennan wore Mèirleach na Beatha, the people knew he spoke with the voice of the old laird, and acted in his authority.

And more blood had been spilled on its blade than Mathe could ever hope to atone for.

“No” for a long while,” he said.

“But ye did, once?”

“Aye,” Mathe replied. “It was verra special to me, once upon a time. But no” anymore.”

The blacksmith emerged from the back room with a burlap bag, handing it over. “One set of chisels, two blades, and a hammer.”

Mathe nodded. “Aye. My thanks.” He opened the bag and checked the contents, pulling out the hammer. “Well made,” he remarked.

“Aye,” the blacksmith said. “Expect nothing less.”

Mathe passed the hammer down to Fynn. “See, lad? This is what ye want. Forget those swords and let’s build something together instead.”

Fynn took the hammer with both hands, turning it over, struggling with the weight. “It’s wonderful,” he said with wide eyes.

“It is. Now let’s get back, shall we?”

They walked together under a bright blue sky and Mathe gave silent thanks that the weather had turned, at least for now. The stables were cold and draughty, and he wasn’t relishing the thought of building Rabby’s new table by the meagre light of the fire. As he walked with Fynn, Mathe was overcome by a sudden feeling of contentment. He was home, he was with the son he didn’t even know he had, and he was about the spend the day building something. The sun was out and was warm on his face, and Mathe knew that he had been right to refuse the laird’s offer. He was here for Lilidh and Fynn, not for Blaine, and didn’t want to concern himself with anything that would come between his goals for them all.

The laird’s words had been concerning, of course. If Blaine was right, and there were people plotting against him, then there was certainly some element of risk for Mathe. He was reasonably sure that his presence back in Dun Lagaidh was unknown outside of the circles of the laird and the West Gate, and it was perhaps better to keep it that way for as long as he could. He remembered the type of men that were drawn to the old laird; those who valued strength and power over others. The idea of those types of men hiding in the shadows made Mathe feel both uncomfortable and strangely vulnerable.

He was sure they would see his return as a sign, and that brought complication that he had no desire to involve himself in.

Mathe’s neck prickled as they walked, and he saw traitors in every alleyway. With each person they passed, he put his head down. It was ridiculous, he knew, but Blaine’s words had taken root in his mind. The laird didn’t seem to know how many people were involved, which meant it could be a handful of troublemakers and nothing more, or it could be half the town. All he knew was that he didn’t care to find out. He pushed the West Gate door open and ducked through, holding it for Fynn.

Behind the counter, Rabby was organising plates and bowls, and looked up. “Ye have yer assistant again today, I see,” he said.

“Aye,” Mathe replied. “The lad is a good help, and he’s almost as excited to work on yer table as I am.”

“Ye get the tools ye need?”

Mathe nodded. “Good quality, too.”

“Oh, aye. I’ve travelled up and down the Highlands for years now,” Rabby said, “and I’ve yet to find another blacksmith as good as ours. Keep that in mind, if ye ever need something made up for yerself.”

“I’ll do that,” Mathe said and guided Fynn into the stables. It was still cool inside, but not as bad as the last few days, and Mathe knew it would warm up as the sun rose higher. He pulled the tools out and placed them on a small makeshift table he made up the night before, after Blaine had left. He’d been restless and tossed and turned in bed before giving up and coming downstairs; it seemed that working with the wood calmed his mind and soothed his thoughts.

“Now,” he said, turning to Fynn. “Let’s get to work. We have a table to build.”

* * *

The day woreon as the two of them worked side by side.

The table was coming together, forming before their very eyes, and Fynn grew excited once the final shape revealed itself. In truth, they were making better time that what Mathe had estimated, and he appreciated the help the boy could give. Even simple things like stacking wood, passing over nails and swapping tools was making the process easier, and allowed time for Mathe to occasionally pause work and teach the boy small things about the woodworking craft.

His earlier assessment of the boy’s quick learning certainly held up, and he seemed to absorb knowledge like a dishrag. Was it because he was bright, or was it because he’d never really been taught in such a way before? Perhaps it was like opening a water faucet, and now that his mind was becoming used to taking in new information, it craved more. All he knew was that Fynn was both eager and careful, listening to Mathe’s instructions and doing as he was told with maturity beyond his years.

Mathe was enjoying himself so much that he failed to notice the setting sun, and the banging of the stable door alerted him to someone’s arrival.

“Mama,” Fynn shouted and ran past the stalls.

Mathe cursed to himself. He’d meant to have Fynn back and cleaned up well before Lilidh finished work, but he’d gone and gotten himself so caught up in things that he’d lost track of the hour. “Lilidh,” he said, rising, “I’m sorry, I shouldnae have kept Fynn so long.”

To his utter surprise, Lilidh gave a quick wave. “It’s fine.”

“It is?” he asked dubiously.

“Ye two seem to be having fun.”

“Oh mama, we are,” Fynn said. “Come, look at the table that we’ve built.”

He dragged Lilidh over to the last stall, and she gasped. “Why, Fynn, this is amazing. The two of ye built this?”

“Building,” Mathe corrected. “Still have a way to go.”

“Well,” she said, “dinnae let me stop ye.”

Mathe glanced at her for a moment, but she was looking down at Fynn and the table. He felt his heart beat faster and for some inexplicable reason his hands felt suddenly clammy. He wiped them on his pants and picked up a chair.

“Here,” he said gruffly. “Make yerself comfortable.”

Lilidh glanced at him for a moment and then sat. Was that a smile he saw right before she looked down?

Mathe resumed work but found he couldn’t concentrate knowing Lilidh was there. He felt her eyes on his back and grew silent, not sure if he should act like she wasn’t there, or try to talk to her instead. Finally he growled and stood.

“Why dinnae ye give me a hand instead of sitting there?” he asked her.

“Me?” Lilidh asked with one eyebrow raised. It was an expression that she used to wear often in their youth, and for a moment she was a young woman in his eyes once again. He found himself as entranced with her as he had ever been.

“Aye,” Mathe said, “ye could help me brace the planks while I nail them together.”

“I’ve worked all day, and ye expect me to come down here and work all night.”

Mathe frowned, seeing the truth of her words. “Of course. I wasnae thinking. Why dinnae ye direct us, instead?”

Lilidh waved her hand and gave him another smile. “Mathe, I wasnae being serious. I dinnae mind helping.”

“All the same,” Mathe said, “ye can tell me if we’re square or no”. It’s hard to tell when I’m kneeling down.” With that he set to work, directing Fynn and squaring the planks. Lilidh remained silent for a time, watching, her knees pulled up and chin resting on them.

“That last plank isnae straight,” she said finally. “Move it down a bit on the left.”

Mathe adjusted it ever so slightly and looked up.

“Sorry,” she said. “Yer right; my left.”

He looked back down with a smile and adjusted it back the other way. “How’s that?”

“Let me,” she said and walked over, bending at the waist, adjusting the boards with a frown. The long linen dress she wore pulled up the back of her calves, and he saw her pale skin and found his mouth suddenly dry. His eyes rose higher, and he clenched his fists hard to resist the sudden urge to step up to her from behind; to grasp her hips and push himself into her. She’d always had a body that was more than pleasing to him, and it seemed that age hadn’t taken that away.

“Aye, well,” Mathe said in a rather hoarse voice, “ye were always better at getting things straight. Remember those shelves I made?”

“The ones that wouldnae hold anything because they were so crooked?” Lilidh asked.

“Aye, that’s the one,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I hadnae long started my apprenticeship, if ye remember.”

“Oh, I remember all yer excuses, dinnae worry,” she replied.

“Well, I suppose I should be thankful ye’re here to check our work,” Mathe said as he nailed the planks together. “Rabby wouldnae appreciate a table that cannae hold an ale.”

He hammered the last length of wood and straightened, unable to shake the image of Lilith bending over in front of him. He’d surprised even himself with the swift and sudden awakening of a deep hunger within; the almost overpowering urge to tear her dress apart and to see his wife naked before him. He’d tried so hard to keep his mind from turning to physical thoughts since his return, knowing that they would do nothing but torture him, but he realised with dismay that it was something he wouldn’t be able to forget.

To distract himself, Mathe stretched his back, reaching above to scrape his hands on the wooden beams overhead. He didn’t like kneeling down for so long, and it took a moment for the blood to work its way back down into his legs.

“Ye”re still tall,” Lilidh said.

“Ye”re still bonny,” Mathe replied without thinking.

His wife fell silent and he felt her demeanour change instantly; like a wall had appeared in the air between them, her face suddenly closed. She looked away and wouldn’t meet his eyes, and in the light of the fire a flush grew up her neck.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I shouldnae have said that.”

“It’s fine,” she replied quickly, still looking away.

“I think we’re about done here, anyway. The next bit will take a lot longer, so it would be best to start on a new day. Fynn, why dinnae ye brush yerself off.”

“Aye,” the boy said, patting his clothing and frowning at the impressive amount of fine dust that swirled away into the air. Once he finished, Lilidh reached down and took his hand.

“Thank ye, Fynn,” Mathe said. “Ye were a great help. And so was yer mother.”

The boy smiled and waved, but Lilidh remained silent as they turned to leave. Mathe watched them, cursing himself for a fool. Why had he gone and said that to her? Just when things between them seemed to be improving.

“Lilidh, wait,” he called as they opened the stable door. “One word.”

Lilidh glanced at Fynn. “Stay here,” she said, and walked back towards the stall, eyeing him uneasily. “Aye? I said it was fine.”

“Actually, I just wanted to make sure I could take the lad again tomorrow,” Mathe said. “If it’s alright with ye.”

He thought Lilidh relaxed somewhat as she considered his request with pursed lips. They were moist and glistened in the soft light, and Mathe resisted the sudden urge to lean down and kiss them, knowing that it would probably be a terrible idea. Despite how much he wanted to.

“I suppose that’s fine,” she said in a reluctant voice.

“Only if it’s alright,” he said. “Ye can tell me if ye’re no” comfortable.”

“Nay, naught like that,” she said with a wave of her hand. “And as long as it’s just more of this woodworking, then I dinnae have a problem.”

Mathe hesitated. “Well, actually, I had something else in mind.”

“And what might that be?” she asked with narrowing eyes.

“I need some wood for the embellishments. Rabby wants the table to be a little fancy, so I thought I’d try to carve some corner pieces out of oak.”

“Well, that just sounds like more woodworking,” Lilidh pointed out. “So what’s the something else that ye have in mind?”

“I need to find the wood,” Mathe explained. “I’m no” sure if ye remember, but there’s a grove of auld oak trees in the McPhee lands. Down south past the castle.”

“Of course I remember,” Lilidh said, her voice growing a touch softer. “Ye took me there and surprised me with lunch.”

“Aye, I did,” Mathe said with a smile. “Must have been twenty years ago, now.”

“Eighteen,” Lilidh replied. “It was the year the Dundonnell ran high, remember? Ye needed to carry me over the ford.”

Mathe chuckled at the memory. “I threw ye over my shoulder,” he said. “Ye kicked so hard we both nearly went in.”

“Ye still got soaked up to yer armpits,” she said. “Even when we got to the grove, ye were still wet through.”

“Aye, but I remember we built a fire.” Mathe left the next words unsaid; how she had stripped off his wet clothes, and they had lain together on the soft grass, making love under the bright blue sky. Back when the world was full of hope and Mathe was simply Mathe, and they had loved each other with a fierce passion. As he looked at Lilidh’s face in the dim light, still beautiful but also bearing the scars of age and circumstance, it seemed like so long ago.

“Aye,” Lilidh said softly, her eyes down.

Mathe cleared his throat. “I thought maybe I’d see if I could find the place. If it’s still there, then there should be plenty of fallen branches I could scavenge. It could be an adventure for the lad. How often does he get out of town?”

“No” often,” Lilidh admitted with a shake of her head. “But I’m worried it… will be too much for him.”

“Is that all ye’re worried about?” Mathe asked.

“Nay,” Lilidh admitted. “What if he falls or hurts himself, all the way down in the McPhee lands, and I’m still here in Dun Lagaidh?”

“I’ll keep him safe, Lilidh, and I willnae push him. Ye have my word.”

“He’s still verra young, Mathe.”

“Which means he’s light enough to go over my shoulder if he gets himself into any trouble. So what do ye say? And I willnae be offended if ye say nay.”

“I want to come with ye,” Lilidh said quickly. “To make sure he’s safe.”

“Ye what?” Mathe asked in confusion, processing her words. She wanted to spend the day with him?

“I have tomorrow off,” Lilidh explained. “That’s why I hesitated earlier. I normally spend my days off with Fynn and we walk the town.”

“Ye should have said something,” Mathe said. “I would never want to come between ye and Fynn. I can go on my own and see ye both the next day.”

“Or I come with ye,” Lilidh said, “and we both get what we want. Ye’ll get yer helper, and I’ll get to make sure Fynn is safe.”

Mathe nodded to hide the sudden blooming of happiness that he felt surge through him. The entire day with his wife, on an adventure like the old days? He knew he didn’t deserve such a thing, and yet he wanted it more than life itself. It was funny how quickly the mind could do that; what was not even a possibility a few minutes ago was now the most important thing in Mathe’s life, and he wouldn’t be letting it go without a fight.

“Aye,” he said to her. “We both get what we want.”