Chapter 42 #2
“Then you’d best not go back to where they were minted,” Patrick said dryly, “lest you encounter our good Gilbert Fergusson and find him quite annoyed by his journey.”
Jamie ran his fingers through the gold. “There is quite a bit here, Patrick. Enough to put your wee ones through college, I’d say.”
“And yours, too,” Patrick said with a snort. “Maybe Ian’s as well.” He looked at Madelyn. “I’ll plant nettles.”
“Good plan.”
“They’re medicinal as well,” Sunny offered weakly, apparently having recovered enough to lean on the wall.
They were, but he wasn’t sure he was going to be harvesting anything from that patch any time soon. He took his sword back from his brother, then went to stand across the wall from his wife. It was then that he noticed that she was quite pale.
“Are you unwell?” he asked, jamming his sword into the dirt and grasping her by the shoulders.
She looked quite green all of a sudden.
And just as suddenly, she pulled away from him, stumbled away, and retched.
Patrick looked at the men of his family. They were looking quite green themselves.
“Patrick!” Lady Dorcas snapped.
He snapped to attention in spite of himself. “Aye?”
“Put your lady to bed. A woman in her delicate condition does not need to watch the excitement you’ve put her through this morning. I daresay she will require quite a bit of your solicitous care, if you can manage it. If not, Mistress Sunshine and I will see to it.”
Now Sunny was the one who was starting to look a bit green. He suspected she wasn’t quite adjusted to the otherworldly occupants of his and Madelyn’s home.
And then it hit him.
“Delicate condition?” he repeated.
Madelyn straightened, turned, and smiled weakly at him. She looked pale.
He felt a little pale himself.
But he was, after all, a MacLeod, and a MacLeod did not run.
And he was quite sure a MacLeod did not receive the news of his impending fatherhood flat upon his arse.
He hopped over the wall, then crossed the distance between them in two strides and pulled her into his arms.
“A babe?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said, leaning heavily against him. “And one who’ll grow up safe, thanks to you.”
He rested his cheek on top of her head and closed his eyes. He sighed deeply, unsure if he was more relieved that his enemy was out of reach, or more overwhelmed that he was going to be a father.
It was, perhaps, a bit of both.
He pulled back and looked at Madelyn. “Let me see you inside.”
She nodded.
He put his arm around her shoulder, then turned them around so he could look at his piper. “Thank you, Robert. Very inspiring.”
Robert nodded. “A pleasure, my friend. ’Twas the least I could do after all you’ve done for me.”
Patrick looked at the other Highlanders lining the walls. He wasn’t sure who they were—
“My posterity,” the Glum said proudly. “Fine, strapping lads, those. I imagine they’ll be around when ye need them, as well they should be to protect their laird.”
Patrick shut his mouth around the question of whether or not Lord Archibald was now going to be divining his thoughts with regularity. Better not to know that one, he suspected. But he nodded his thanks to that posterity of the Glum’s just the same, then turned to his own family.
“Well,” he said, looking at Ian and Alex, “that’s done.”
“Finally,” Ian said. He stretched his hands over his head, yawned, then scratched his belly.
“Entertaining morn, Pat, but I’ve things to do.
Have a new class coming in this afternoon and I’d best be ready for them.
Alex, have you time to look over a bit of new paperwork for me?
I’ve no mind to see myself in jail for scratches I might leave on these lads, and I suspect one of them is of the ilk to cry foul when bruised. ”
“Sure,” Alex said easily. He clapped a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Good work, brother. He was a tough one.”
Patrick nodded in agreement. Gilbert had been very skilled and quite ruthless, making his brothers in the past look quite incompetent by comparison. Patrick didn’t want to admit that he had been forced to stretch himself to best him, but there it was.
He was remarkably relieved that was over.
He watched Alex and Ian walk off toward Ian’s house, laughing companionably. He shivered, once, in spite of himself. Odd how life and death could play out so seriously one minute, then life could go on so easily the next.
He turned and looked at his brother, who was still fondling doubloons. “Well?” he asked.
Jamie looked up with a frown. “I’ll have to consult my coin man for a proper value for these. You’ll want to bring them inside, of course, out of the chill and out of sight. You never know who might wander over your land, see them, and think to help themselves.”
“How about you worry about that?” Patrick said.
“I think I’m going to be busy for the next little while.
My wife is, as you may or may not have noticed, in a delicate condition.
” And he hadn’t asked for his brother’s opinion on a chestful of gold; he’d asked, foolishly, for his opinion on the morning’s events.
Jamie stood, tried to heave the trunk up and failed, then looked at Patrick. “I’ll need your aid,” he admitted.
“That must have cost much,” Patrick said with a snort.
Jamie looked at him thoughtfully for a moment or two. Then he put his hand to his chin and stroked.
Patrick made preparations to flee.
Jamie closed the lid of the trunk, then came over to the wall. He hopped over it, took the three paces required to reach Patrick, then put his hand on his shoulder.
“You fought well,” he said simply.
Patrick wanted to tell himself he didn’t care. He was, after all, a man with five-and-thirty summers behind him, not a green lad of twelve. But he couldn’t deny that praise from his elder brother didn’t leave him completely unaffected.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“Perhaps we can examine later why it is you feel the need for this validation—”
Patrick rolled his eyes and turned away before he said something to ruin the moment. He looked at Sunny.
“Welcome to Scotland,” he said.
She smiled weakly. “Great place. I’ll go make some tea.”
“I’ll help,” Lady Dorcas said with an imperious wave of her hand.
“Archibald, go stoke the fire for the sweet gel. Come, Mistress Sunshine, and we’ll chat whilst we steep.
You’ve a particular style about you that soothes me greatly.
Perhaps you might come offer me your opinion on the decor of my parlor. ”
Patrick watched as Sunny trailed off after a still-speaking Lady Dorcas—who was trailed by a hangdog Lord Glum—toward the house. Jamie gave him one final look, promised to return with aid for the moving of the gold, then left as well.
Stroking his chin.
Patrick knew that boded ill for his peace of mind.
But at least he finally found himself alone with his lady. No ghosts. No family. No former in-laws with mayhem on their minds. He looked down at Madelyn.
“Forgive me,” he said quickly, “I should have gotten you to bed—”
“I’m fine now,” she said. “A little queasy, but the air seems to help.”
“Well,” he said quietly, “that’s that.”
“That’s that,” she agreed. She looked up at him. “What will you tell Conal? Or Lisa’s mother?”
“Probably everything now. Helen deserves the truth about Lisa. I daresay she won’t be sorry about Gilbert. He was abusive to her, I think. Conal won’t be surprised to learn of his end. He’ll likely be relieved he doesn’t have to go about behind his brother-in-law, cleaning up his messes.”
“Will there be an inquest?”
He sighed deeply. “There may be.”
“What do we tell them?”
He looked at her seriously. “The truth, unfortunately, is unbelievable. I suppose we’ll just have to say we saw him last in our garden and that he went missing after that.”
She shivered. “I hope he doesn’t come back.”
“’Tis unlikely.”
“Life is complicated.” She paused. “I can see why you didn’t go after him after he set your place on fire.”
“No proof,” he said quietly. “No point.” He took her hand and kissed it. “It will all disappear in time. We’ll have our peace. Helen will find hers. Conal will have his.”
“And we’ll plant those nettles.”
“It would be best.”
She nestled herself closer in his arms. “Thank you, Patrick.”
“I’m simply trying to make good on my promise of peace and safety.”
“You did. As difficult as it was to watch . . . you did.”
“Did you think I would lose?” he asked, pulling back to look down at her in surprise.
“Get real,” she said with a smile. “I just figured you hadn’t had enough of a workout this morning and didn’t want to end it too soon. Really, Patrick, you should train more and get out all that excess energy Moraig claims you have.”
He scowled at her and ignored the laugh he received in return.
“Then again, you’ll probably be expending lots of energy chasing after your child in a year or so, so maybe you should rest up.”
“Excellent idea,” he said, though he doubted he could rest at the moment.
He was far too full of life and death and feelings that threatened to overwhelm him.
He would put his lady wife to bed, then search for a clutch of nettles to transplant onto his compost heap.
It would keep anyone from their day from falling into the past, and it might keep Gilbert at bay, should he somehow manage to come back the same way he’d gone.
A few howls from an errant time traveler coming through their garden’s time gate might be enough to at least alert them that something had gone amiss.
Then he would call Conal and Helen. He needed to be finished with that chapter of his life.
And once he’d seen to that, he would allow himself to sit and think.
About the miracle of life.
About the pleasures of family.
And about the blessing of the woman walking with her arm around him who had come into his life and given him a reason to live again.
To love again.
“I think you stroked your chin.”
He blinked and awoke from his thoughts. “I didn’t,” he said, aghast.
She only laughed and tightened her arm around his waist.
Patrick called her a saucy wench under his breath, received another laugh in return, then kissed the top of her riotous head of curls and walked with her back to the house.