Chapter 12
12
Lachlan had not slept well that night, but he often found that exercising hard helped him to wake up and tackle the day ahead. Accordingly, he challenged Gavin Ballantyne, his Captain of the Guard, to a sword fight in the courtyard. They were surrounded by off-duty guards and servants who were cheering them on, some for Gavin, some for Lachlan. The maidservants loved to see their handsome, muscular Laird display his considerable skills in front of them. It was a treat for the eyes, as Maisie put it.
This was a sight that would never have been seen in any other castle, but since his wife had been killed, Lachlan had always actively encouraged his staff to take an interest in self-defence. Even some of the maidservants were learning to use small weapons. They would never take part in any battles, of course, but at least they would have a chance of fending off an attacker for a while till help arrived.
The bout went on with first one combatant taking the upper hand and then the other, forward and back until Gavin suddenly lunged forward and had the point of his sword pointing straight at Lachlan’s throat. Lachlan laid down his weapon in surrender then shook hands with Gavin, smiling, while the staff went back to their duties.
“You win,” he said resignedly as he patted his friend on the back. “I am not at my best today, but watch out, next time you will not be so lucky!”
Gavin laughed, then his expression changed to one of concern. “Ye look tired today,” he remarked. “Did ye no’ sleep well?”
Lachlan yawned. “I had an awful night,” he replied, “but I have too much to do to lie in bed all day, Gavin. The tenants’ rents are due tomorrow.”
“But maybe a wee rest would dae ye good,” Gavin pointed out. “Ye need tae take the weight off your shoulders for a while; runnin’ an estate by yourself isnae easy, is it? It is a while since ye had a day off.”
This was true, and Lachlan was aware that if he did not give himself time to relax for a while, there was a serious chance that he would burn out altogether.
“Have ye thought any more about hirin’ a steward?” Gavin asked, looking gravely at Lachlan. “Ye will be nae good tae man nor beast if ye work yourself intae the ground.”
“You’re right, Gavin.” Lachlan nodded slowly. “I have said a hundred times that I’ll do it, but I never seem to get around to it.” He sighed. He had been working too hard, but he knew that this was not the source of his problem. That problem was Jeannie, the bewitching woman whom he could not get out of his mind.
What would Sandrina think of her, he wondered? His wife had been a strong, determined woman who had made her mark on him forever, but he knew she would be happy for him if he moved forward with his life.
One evening after dinner they had discussed it, since that was the time of day when they were most relaxed and had left work behind them, and Davina was in bed. Now was “their time” as Sandrina had put it. Lachlan had looked forward to these few hours all day.
“What will you do when I am gone?” he had asked her one evening as he lay on the sofa with his head in her lap. It was his favourite place to be apart from in bed with her.
Sandrina stroked his hair and her dark eyes twinkled as she replied, “I will find the first rich Laird I can and drag him to the altar!” she said dramatically. Then they laughed, but after a moment her expression softened and became serious.
“I have no idea,” she said. “I know Davina and I won’t starve, and we will have a roof over our head, but I cannot imagine a day when there will be no Lachlan by my side. Nobody to love and support me, laugh at me, tease me and quarrel with me. Never leave me, Lachie, please. I love you so much.” Her expression was desperately sad.
“I could never leave you, Sandie,” he said tenderly. “You and Davina are my heart and soul.”
“And you are mine,” she replied, kissing him softly. “But Lachie, if anything were to happen to me, and you were left alone, I want you to know that you have my blessing to find someone else to love. You have so much love to give—don’t waste it.”
“Don’t think about it, my sweetheart,” he had replied. “Nothing will ever happen to part us.”
However, Sandrina had never had the chance to live without him, since her life had been cruelly cut short a little while later, but he had somehow managed to suffer life without her. From the moment of her death, Lachlan had imagined a long, empty future stretching ahead of him until his own death, but that had all changed now with the arrival of the new maid.
He wanted Jeannie Dunbar so much that sometimes he found himself standing still, daydreaming about her while the world went on around him. Gavin had begun to notice this, and Lachlan had no doubt that others had too. Perhaps if he employed a steward and took a few days off he could excuse himself for a while and do some reading, something he never seemed to have time to do.
Maybe he could even begin to teach himself some basic French, since he had always found that it was a useful language to know when buying and selling wine and other products. He would stay away from Jeannie Dunbar—avoid her like the plague.
Out of sight, out of mind, he thought. The less he saw of her, the less he would think of her—or so he hoped.
Lachlan tried to imagine Jeannie being a permanent part of his life. He could not marry her, of course; that would condemn him in the eyes of society. Although he had never really cared what people thought of him, he had to remain on good terms with his neighbours because their livelihoods were intertwined. He also had to think of Davina’s future.
A mistress, then? Lachlan almost laughed out loud at the thought of it. He had slept with the woman once, and he was thinking of making her a fixture in his life. What was wrong with him? Of course, a man’s standing improved if he had a mistress; it was unfair, he knew, but it was a fact. A man was somehow more masculine if he had conquered more than one woman, whereas a woman who did the same was considered unethical.
Lachlan could imagine Jeannie sneaking out of her room to see him every night to keep their relationship a secret. They could make love in his study, as they had before, in his chamber, in fact, anywhere they liked.
He began to visualise it, imagining himself lifting her off her feet and onto his bed, feeling her hot breath on his skin, his lips against hers. He imagined himself rolling her onto her back, her legs wrapped around his waist. She would thrust up her hips and drive him to another fierce climax, and afterwards he would hold on to her, not wanting his bed to be empty and cold again. Even the thought made him sad.
He had always thought that no one could replace Sandie; she was the love of his life, but was it possible that a man could love two women, not at the same time, but could one replace the other? Then he shook his head irritably—she was a maidservant, for god’s sake! He was not thinking with his brain or his heart, but with a much more greedy and primitive part of himself.
Lachlan sighed. He was still tired, but there was too much work for him to do to allow him to sit and rest, so he trudged along to his study. He had heard of a drink called coffee which was said to invigorate and stimulate the drinker, as well as tasting delicious, so he decided to find a trader from Edinburg and buy some. However, he could not do that today.
Lachlan was surprised to find his office door open, since he knew he had locked it when he left the previous night. However, he often kept the keys in the pocket of one of his jackets in his chamber, and only one other person apart from Maisie knew they were there.
As he had expected, he heard some rattles and thumps coming from the drawers of his desk. He knew that his supposition had been right when he moved around it and saw Davina with her arms up to her shoulders in the bottom drawer, which was the deepest. It was always kept locked, but Davina was crafty and knew where all the keys fitted. She might not be able to speak well, but there was nothing wrong with her brain.
Now, Lachlan could see that she had taken some miscellaneous items out and laid them on the floor; his watch, a tin in which he kept pens, a letter opener and some sheets of parchment.
She looked up at him, trying to appear innocent, but that was impossible; guilt was written all over her little face and shone through, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Lachlan was always struck by how much she resembled him, but sometimes wished he looked a little more like her mother. He always felt a little disloyal for thinking this way because Davina was her own little person, perfect just as she was.
Lachlan could see that she was holding something between both her hands, and he frowned as he reached out to pick her up. “I will give you anything you want, my angel,” he said tenderly. “There is no need to take things that don’t belong to you.”
He sat down and set Davina on his lap, then gently unclasped her hands. She was holding a small, polished wooden box, and he took it away from her and studied it for a moment.
To his surprise, Davina pointed to it and said, “Necklace.”
Another word! They were coming thick and fast now; soon, he hoped, she would be speaking fluently. Jeannie’s influence again…
Lachlan opened the box and lifted out a gold chain on which hung an oval-shaped opal pendant. There was a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman inside it holding a baby who was probably only a few months old. It was a lovely piece of jewellery, and Lachlan felt guilty as he held it because he knew who owned it.
He sat studying it for a long time before he felt a tug on his sleeve. Davina was
smiling at him as she pointed to the pendant. Clearly she thought it was very beautiful.
“When you are grown up I will have one made for you,” he said. “Perhaps with a picture of you and me in it?” Davina nodded happily. “This belongs to someone else, someone who lost her life in the same war as your mother. You know how that feels, do you not?
War is never good and there are never any winners—everybody suffers. Now, this necklace must go back to the lady who lost her mother, just as you lost yours. I am sure she wants to have something of hers to remember her by. Sometimes, you see, you have to try to sympathise with your enemy too.”
Davina looked at him solemnly for a moment, nodded, then touched the pendant again. Lachlan carefully took the necklace and returned it to its box, then put it back in the drawer. When he looked at his daughter again, he saw her studying him intently as if trying to read his face. When he smiled at her, she did not return it, merely looked at him more closely.
What was going through her mind, he thought? It was at times like this that he wanted to throw up his hands in frustration and yell his helplessness to the heavens because sometimes dealing with Davina was almost more than he could bear. Then he reprimanded himself; it was not her fault.
He led Davina outside, and they walked along to where her nurse was standing waiting for her. “Jeannie,” she said, frowning.
“I am afraid Jeannie is busy, sweetheart,” he said regretfully. “But you will see her later, and I’m sure she has a wonderful story to read to you.”
Davina nodded, then reached up to pull his head down and kiss his cheek. He did not have to be told now that the expression on her face said, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Davina,” he murmured. He watched her walk away with her nanny, then thought about the pendant again.
Lachlan walked up to the first row of turrets and looked over to the surrounding rugged, mountainous countryside. It was a beautiful day, with not a cloud in the sky, yet it was icy cold with a stiff, cutting breeze that made the Scottish Saltire flag and the Carrick standard billow straight out like soldiers standing to attention.
Lachlan smiled; seeing his flags always made him feel proud. He had often heard of people who travelled to other far-flung places and saw wondrous things, but he had never wanted to leave his little country. It was far too precious to him because here was the grave of the woman he loved.
He thought about the pendant again. At some time in the future, he was going to have to return it to his rightful owner—as soon as he plucked up the courage to do so. Lachlan felt like such a coward, but the thought of confronting the daughter of a woman whose mother had died because of him was terrifying. Yet, it had to be done, and he would do it. Someday.
Alyth too was thinking about the pendant. She had to have it back, since it was all she had left of the mother she had loved so much. Yet, she had looked everywhere she could think of with no result, but the castle was a huge place, and she could not possibly search it all. There were dozens of empty rooms, storerooms that were full of all kinds of goods, as well as the stables, a laundry, dairy, buttery, and brewery.
She lay in her bed looking at the ceiling, thinking about whether or not to give up. It seemed like such a hopeless quest now, and she was beginning to wonder why she had even started it.
Perhaps it’s time to give up, Alyth, she thought despairingly. After all, finding it will not bring Mammy back.
She thought about using her feminine guile again to get closer to the Laird, but that had caused more problems than it had solved. She still had her memories, after all, and no one could take those away from her.
No , she thought. Trying to seduce Lachlan Carrick again was not the answer, especially since she was so very confused about how she felt about him.
However, she did not have the energy to worry about him any more. Eventually, Alyth drifted off to sleep and dreamed about lying in her mother’s embrace, listening to one of her stories. She smiled in her sleep, calm and content for once.